Absolute Favorite. A Brutal Story Written Masterfully
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.”
More Posts from User211201 and Others
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.
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!
Hotel Korea: Chapter One
--- Originally posted on 2019-08-15 by dumb-and-jocked ---
The Lonely Husband
Lee Hae-jin stood at the top of his newest enterprise, filled with pride. Nobody could see him from below, as the immense building was over 50 stories tall, but he could see everyone below. The giant crowd had just begun the flood into the building. His latest accomplishment, one that would soon spread worldwide. His building, Hotel Korea, had just opened mere minutes ago. It was to become the biggest hotspot of the blooming American metropolis. It was filled with lavish resort accessories, including minibars, pools, spas, and a massive casino, all of which were authentically Korean.
Lee smirked to himself quietly, adjusting his crotch in his miniature running shorts. Most people wouldn’t recognize him in the running outfit, mistaking him as a guest rather than the owner of the soon-to-be expansive company, and that was the plan. He believed he could get the most honest, critical results if no one knew that he was Lee Hae-jin, but instead just his surname, Lee; so many people had the name that he’d simply hid in plain sight.
He looked one last time at the crowd, his muscles tensing before he began to walk away. He was excited to see the results after his guests’ stay. He believed they all had shockingly similar opinions after their time at the resort. He chuckled to himself as he remembered the simplicity of the hotel’s logo: “A Seoul-changing Experience.”
— —
James Parker was completely wiped out. In one day, he had married the woman of his dreams, taken a five hour flight to their honeymoon destination, and only halfway there realized that his new wife had accidentally boarded the wrong plane. He was a little embarrassed that he hadn’t noticed, but to be fair he was exhausted. He had called his wife once he had landed, the two too exhausted to have meltdowns but still fairly ravaged. The plan was for James to stay in the honeymoon suite for the night at the new hotel that had just opened days before, then the two would meet the next morning. James felt terrible that his wife would have to take a red-eye flight, but he knew she was strong.
The two were psychology majors back in college. They had both met in class and, almost instantly, became an inseparable couple. They both looked fairly average, but their wits and intelligence were quite impressive, especially when put together. The only thing physically special about James was his large feet, which did say wonders about his large penis. It was surprising how such a normal looking person could have eight inches of hard meat in his pouch. Once the two had graduated with honors, they got engaged and married a year later. They planned to have an extravagant honeymoon night after they married, but so far that looked quite questionable.
James walked slowly out of the cab and grabbed his things before walking into the Hotel Korea. The new hotel had received incredible reviews, each stating their own “life-changing” experience. The couple had chosen it for its location, but James was excited about what else the hotel had to offer. He walked up to the front desk, which was surprisingly empty, contrasting the rest of the lobby which seemed rather full.
“Hi, um…” James fumbled over his words, “James Parker.” The young Korean attendant, who James could tell was rather handsome, seemed confused for a moment, as if he didn’t understand what to do. Then, moments later, something flashed in his eyes and he began to type away slowly.
“Ahight…” the Korean said, his accent extremely heavy, “You ah on top flouh in da Seoulmates Suite.” The young attendant, looked around, trying to find James partner, but found no one.
“She’s… a little late,” James replied, lying through his teeth.
“Ahh,” the Korean replied, “youh consiehge shouh be with yoo shouhly. He at da pooh”
Before James could ask what that meant, the young attendant was whipped away to another guest. A bellboy, also a handsome young Korean man, grabbed James luggage and walked to the elevator, hopefully up to James room. James followed a few signs, struggling to differ between the little English and lots of Korean in each direction sign. After almost ten minutes of searching, he came to the pool.
The pool was filled with people of all ages, most of whom were Korean. All of the bellboys, waiters, and other hotel employees where just as visually stunning as the first two. The hotel’s owner obviously wanted to set some kind of atmosphere. As James’ eyes surveyed the layout, he heard his name being called out in the distance.
“친구!” the voice shouted, “Oveh heuh, James!”
James followed the voice to find a young, confident man lounging in a poolside chair. Just like all the other employees, he was rather handsome and Korean. James was getting a little nervous about what his wife would think with all these attractive men. The young man wore a tight, blue polo and sharp chino shorts. His accessories included fancy dark loafers and a pair of sunglasses that hid his mischievous eyes.
“I am Gong Soo-Hyun, youh consiehge foh you and youh wife while you stay,” he said, extending his hand. James wondered if everyone here had the thick accent. “You can call me Soo-Hyun.”
Soo-Hyun went on to explain the rest of the day while giving a tour for James, describing all the things he would do as a bachelor for the night. James quickly followed and was excited to see all the different things he could do, but decided to go to bed early. He wanted to get a headstart to spend all of the next day with his wife.
Once he got to his room, he realized just how disappointed he was that he was alone. The room was enormous, and the view was incredible. He knew his wife would’ve loved to see this. He jumped on the bed, looking for his suitcase, but realized that none of his belongings were there. Probably got mixed up somehow, he’d have to ask Soo-Hyun about it.
James looked all around the suite for his stuff, not giving up just yet. He looked in the mini kitchen, behind the couch, even on the balcony. When he walked to the bathroom, he yelped, not realizing that Soo-Hyun was there.
“WOAH!” he cried, jumping back and looking away, “What are you doing in here?”
Soo-Hyun was sitting in there contently on the bathtub, his feet in a spa, wearing nothing but a black robe. James was thankful he didn’t get a good look, otherwise he might have seen more than he had ever need to.
“Calm down, James,” Soo-Hyun said, shifting his feet around in the miniature tub, “I’m jus checkeen do see if da watuh is wahm.”
“That’s not why I’m freaking out!” James said, turning back slowly to look in the bathroom. He was desperately searching for eye contact, “What are you doing in my room?”
“Couples Mahssage?” Soo-Hyun said, pouring a few more salts in before picking up the spa and walking past him. James followed the handsome Korean man to find that his bed had been prepared this entire time. Lotions lined his bedside table and soft lighting had filled the room. Somehow, he hadn’t even notice the small machines spewing calming vapor into the air.
“I know yoh wife isn’ heuh, but I tought you migh need goo Korean massage,” Soo-Hyun said, placing the spa by the bed before tossing James a white robe. James didn’t really want to change, but Soo-Hyun told him too anyways. James met him halfway and stripped to his plane clothes, a soft gray tee and gym shorts, before putting the robe on. Soo-Hyun didn’t like it, saying it wouldn’t be an “authentic Korean massage,” but he didn’t fight it. James laid face-down on his bed, still not really getting why he was getting a massage, but as soon as the Korean’s hand pressed into his back, he didn’t have a single worry left.
As Soo-Hyun rubbed away, James began to realize how much stress he had on his shoulders. He couldn’t remember the last time he had actually relaxed, enjoying the fact that now he’d have an entire honeymoon to do it.
“You know,” Soo-Hyun remarked, getting some lotion into his hands, “youh 다리 (legs) are goouh. I don wemembeh de las time I saw Kowean man with haieh down deh.”
James was confused for a slight moment before forgetting as he grunted from Soo-Hyun hit a hard spot. He knew what Soo-Hyun meant, most men were hairless besides the head, pits, and pubes, but he was lucky enough to be graced with a very light coating of leg hairs. James was puzzled to why Soo-Hyun had mentioned Korean, but before he could think about it anymore, Soo-Hyun was caressing his legs with what immense pleasure. He hadn’t even noticed how he had translated the little Korean that was slipped into Soo-Hyun’s sentence.
As Soo-Hyun massaged the lotion in, James’ legs began to slowly change. The masseuse smirked as he watched the brown leg hairs almost disappear, becoming a very light, black coat. The calves and thighs began to bulk up, taking on a yellowy, tanner tone as his quads began to form. Although his legs were thickening, they began to shrink too. James height began to lower, going from six foot to 177 centimeters. James, too involved in his one pleasure, didn’t even notice how his feet were no longer touching the end of the bed.
“Ahso impwessed by dese 무기,” Soo-Hyun continued, grabbing more of the lotion, “You wouhk ouh ofden.” Soo-Hyun said it more as a statement than a question.
“Fouh times a week,” James replied, not remembering how he hadn’t been in a gym since high school. He also didn’t notice the hint of a lisp as he spoke. The feeling of Soo-Hyun kneading his arm was sending him into a new universe, and he loved it. He moaned quietly into the pillow as Soo-Hyun continued onto his arms.
Soo-Hyun rubbed the lotion in, making James’ arms begin to enlarge. The once-weak limb now began to expand, large biceps and triceps inflating underneath the tanning skin. As his forearms began to yellow, all signs of arm hair began to disappear as his limbs began to shed themselves onto the bed. Small black hairs began to fill in their space, but so tiny that no one could see them unless they were using a microscope. Soo-Hyun grabbed James’ hands, rubbing the lotion into them as they grew into soft, masculine paws. With James loving the Korean’s touch so much, he didn’t even realize when he had lifted up the sleeves to massage his armpits. Soo-Hyun grabbed a different lotion and rubbed it inside James’ pits, the brown bushes underneath darkening into a pitch black as they grew. They were definitely more impressive, but due to James’ now muscled arms, they couldn’t be seen unless the limbs were raised. A subtle funk began to permeate near James’ nose, but he just assumed it was a lotion.
“You have amazeen 가슴, Wha do you lift?” Soo-Hyun asked, pushing up the robe and James’ shirt lightly as he began to massage his back. He was inserting more and more of the native language, hopefully subtle enough that James wouldn’t notice.
“Usually 90 kilograms, buh mouh on my better days,” James replied, his voice muffled. He hadn’t noticed how he was slipping more into the weird lisp, or how he had used the metric system instead of his own imperial. James was to busy remembering all the times he had worked out, and enjoying Soo-Hyun’s touch, to think about other things.
With James’ shirt almost pushed completely up, Soo-Hyun had complete access to James back. He began to pound away, rubbing the lotion in every crack. James’ torso began to slowly inflate, the once mere chest filling in with hard muscles. Pecs began to form as abs popped in, each taking on its own unique form. The hairs that once lined James’ belly began to fall away, instead begin replaced with black hairs invisible to the naked eye. James’ shoulders widened as a perfect V-shape began to appear along his hips. While his chest began to tint towards an amber, his nipples began to expand on his large pecs, becoming much more sensitive. James’ moans grew louder as Soo-Hyun moved towards the neck.
“How lon have you had dat 목소리?” Soo-Hyun said while caressing James’ growing Adam’s apple, switching quickly into Korean. “It is smooth and sexy.”
“Issa Park hing,” James said, referencing his surname and cementing the language, “We ah have 자극 voice.” James loved his deep, alluring voice. He had remembered how many times it had been the reason for his sexual conquests. He had pounded so many women with his powerful voice. It ran in his family, the Park family, for a very long time. As he thought to himself about how appealing his voice was, he hadn’t realized that he was slowly beginning to think in Korean. His English was dissipating, and he had yet to realize that he was slowly beginning to forget his own name.
As soon as James’ neck finished yellowing, Soo-Hyun moved up to James’ temples.
“제임스,” Soo-Hyun said, reinforcing the language into his client’s head by saying his name in Korean. Soo-Hyun stay in Korean, hoping to push the guest over. “You are stunning. You know you are hot.”
Jeimseu’s brain immediately absorbed the subtle command as Soo-Hyun massaged away. His naturally shy demeanor was washed away as a more cocky, confident aura surrounded him. He was hot, and he knew it. In fact, he was more than hot, he was a sexy, intoxicating beast, and every person, male and female knew it. They all saw it as he shot his sperm into them.
Soo-Hyun, ecstatic that everything was working perfectly, applied more lotion has he recreated Jeimseu’s head. First, he straightened the jaw, giving it a sharper angle as he began to make his lips slightly larger. Next came the nose, which he enlarged before removing all signs of facial imperfections. Any signs of previous acne or blemishes were completely erased as a yellower tone began to tan Jeimseu’s face. His face reconstructed slowly into one more of Asian descent as his eyebrows were corrected. His once green eyes darkened into a brown as his hair became a deep, intimidating black before shortening into a more trendy, messy cut. What used to be a small stubble disappeared as tiny black hairs began to appear, just dark enough that you could see the hints of a mustache but nothing else. Jeimseu was now so deep into the massage that he had lost all control of himself, softly beginning to grind his mediocre cock into the bed. He also hadn’t noticed his intellect leaking away, slowly draining itself.
Soo-Hyun smiled to himself as he picked up the spa and put it on the bed. It wouldn’t have fit before, but due to Jeimseu’s shrank height it now had a perfect spot right at the end for him to dip his feet into. Soo-Hyun slowly picked up Jeimseu’s large feet and delicately placed them into the tub. Jeimseu was still face down, but the pillows did nothing to block out the noise of his moaning. When Jeimseu had walked it on Soo-Hyun in the bathroom, he hadn’t actually been testing the water: he had been adding to it.
This was all part of Lee Hae-jin’s master plan. The lotions and salts, provided by the Hotel Korea, were specially made back in Seoul. They would act as regular soothers to the common man, but to the touch of a Korean, they would act as transmitters, replicating the Korean genes into the user. Lee had thought of the idea as a way to combat Korea’s diminishing population and popularity; instead of finding new people, why not create them? He had proposed the idea to many investors and all of them agreed that it was a fascinating plan. After almost a year spent building the hotel, finding funds, and creating the products, he had finally put it all into action. All the staff members at the hotel knew their roles, and their real roles. With the masseuse rubbing the lotion all over the client’s body with his hands, he was subtly massaging the Korean genetic code into the guest. When Soo-Hyun was “testing” the waters, he had been actually activating the salts, making sure they would duplicate and recreate Jeimseu’s feet.
“You have beautiful feet,” Soo-Hyun stated, caressing the bottoms softly, “They are big for a Korean man.”
“You know what they say about big feet,” Jeomsou replied back in Korean. As Soo-Hyun massaged his feet, Jeomsou remembered how important his feet were too him. They were quite large, for a Korean, and they had been another reason that he was quite a stunner with the men. So many guys had longed to be down at his feet, to kiss his luscious toes, and all he could do was smirk inside the pillow. He loved his feet, and he made sure to take care of them. Pedicures, long runs, nice shoes. He also loved the smell, so he made sure to never use any deodorants.
While Jeomsou discovered a new foot fetish, Soo-Hyun worked away at the shrinking feet. Before, James had sported a quite surprising Size 14 US (above average), but Soo-Hyun had successfully brought the monsters to a much more appealing size. In honor of what they used to be, he made sure that Jeomsou had feet that were still quite big at 270 mm (above Korean average). The feet began to tan, blending in with the rest of the body, before pumping itself up. They used to be fat, but now they were plump with definition. The brown hair shed away, only to be replaced with a barely visible coating of black. The last thing that came was the funk. Soo-Hyun hadn’t meant for that to come, but he decided to keep it.
Before Jeomsou could react to the loss of rubbing on his feet, he was soon met by Soo-Hyun ripping off his shorts underneath the robe. Jeomsou, not remembering going commando, felt his buns being reshaped. He began to grind harder into the bed as his butt became two giant globes, bubbly and yellow. Once Soo-Hyun was done, he gave the round meat a slap and turned Jeomsou over, revealing the last part of Jeomsou’s previous life: his pouch.
“What are you…oh!” Joom-suo shouted as Soo-Hyun sprayed the cold lube on his large, white cock and balls. Not allowing Joom-suo to make anymore noise, Soo-Hyun quickly put his mouth over the large cock. Soo-Hyun was not at all ready for the immense size. The average size in his home country was just under 4 inches, so he was barely ready for double that. Joom-suo, after realizing what was happening, began to grind his pouch into the masseuse’s mouth, grabbing and yanking at his black hair in the process. Being a complete homosexual, he knew a good bottom when he felt one.
As Joom-suo moaned away, Soo-Hyun began to cup the balls and tickle them, riling up the almost-Korean sperm. As he did, Joom-suo’s large balls began to shrink, tanning and softening into something more reasonable from his soon-to-be homeland. As Joom-suo began to edge, Soo-Hyun began to ruffle the lube through the pubes, causing them to become a sheen black that shined. The last bits of lube were on Joom-suo’s dick, and as Soo-Hyun sucked away, it became more and more pleasurable for the top. It wasn’t because Soo-Hyun was getting better, but instead because his dick was becoming smaller and more sensitive. Joom-suo could feel his cock shrinking, each inch it lost making him more aroused. He didn’t know his dick was shrinking, but he loved the feeling of his head going from touching the back of Soo-Hyun’s mouth to slowly making its way across the roof. While he was sucked away, the last bits of intelligence were sucked away. Joom-suo had never been smart; he had always been on the dull side of things. He didn’t care though, why be smart when you can be sexy and stupid? It was all he needed.
As Soo-Hyun saw the last of the white skin sink into the ravaging, yellowy tan, he felt a geyser of pure cum pour down his throat. He pulled himself off, happy to see that the saying about big feet was still correct. There was still a rather large dick in front of him, standing proudly at 11 centimeters long. It was less than half of what it used to be, but it was still larger than the Korean average.
“Up here, babe,” a soft, yet demanding voice said to Soo-Hyun in Korean, ushering him to the head of the bed. Soo-Hyun laid his head to next to the former-client, present-lover. Soo-Hyun smiled as a lemony hand pushed off the messy hair of his head. His lover pushed himself up, placing his hand under his head.
“I think I might have to get a job here with you, it’s magnificent.”
“I know.” That was the last part of Lee’s plan, all of the clients would want to become employees in the end. Best way to expand.
“Put on some nicer clothes and go downstairs, there are open interviews right now,” Soo-Hyun said, getting up and fixing himself. That massage had proven to be a workout.
“Alright,” he replied, “but first…” As soon as Soo-Hyun turned around, he felt a gush of hot, steaming piss hit his face. He eagerly lapped it up and let it soak in his robe. He would love to adorn this scent later.
His lover quickly got dressed into the nice clothes conveniently placed under his bed before slapping Soo-Hyun on the butt and heading out. He walked down to the first floor, not needing any elevator. After a little bit of searching, and a lot of struggle trying to read, he finally found the spot for open interviews. He stood outside and waited, excited to pursue his dream career.
“Next!” someone shouted, and after spending a minute trying to translate the English, he walked in and took a seat, excited to begin.
“Name?” The interviewer now knew to stay in Korean.
“Park Joong-suk.”
“What job would you like?”
“Concierge.”
“You’re hired! Welcome to Hotel Korea.”
The Bald Bug
The parasite had gotten to work so quickly you hadn’t known how to react. It had all started with that one lick. That one, stupid, horny, misguided, inappropriate, deliciously perfect lick. Yet that one lick is what had gotten you sick.
“Go on,” the older male purred, maybe 10 years your senior at most. “I know you wanna.”
It was a rumor that had been spreading around the gay world everywhere. This new parasite that–unlike AIDS–actually only affected gay men. They called it the “Bald Bug,” and it spread by any bodily fluid. Apparently, the parasite turned any homosexual into a stereotypical straight man; one that was particularly ripe with a libido beyond control and an urge for semination. This bug wanted to conquer, multiply, and spread.
“Look at them,” he pushed his feet out further. “These bad boys want some…need some attention.”
But it had only been a rumor online. You didn’t really believe in the conspiracy theories. Some accounts had said it hadn’t reached the news because the government had released it, hoping to repopulate after years of low fertility rates. But again, you didn’t give in to the madness. A lot of facts didn’t line up, and others did too conveniently. Anyway, all you saw in this guy was a closeted hookup. And all you saw right now were his big, sweaty feet that were begging to be loved.
“Size 13.” He crossed his arms, getting tired of waiting for me to engage. “You gonna do it or what?”
I lunged, sending one long swipe of my tongue across his feet in a tantalizing movement. I moaned with delight as I tasted the salt that coated his soles sink into my mouth. I shivered in fear when a fiendish smirk wrapped itself around his bearded jaw.
“That’s right, fag,” he chuckled. “Hope you didn’t care for that pretty quiff of yours. That queerdo haircut will be wiped away in no time.”
That was the last part of the rumor. You could tell who had been infected because the victims all shared a particularly notable outcome: every man was left bald. And because no one was working on a cure (because these were all just rumors after all), the effects were irreversible. Your eyes widened as you lifted yourself up and away from his deliciously odorous toes, their beauty now tarnished. You looked him over; his bald head, his confident aura, his very soft cock in his very straight attire. Only now did you notice all the signs. You grabbed your things and ran, his brutish laugh following from behind. You were infected.
When you finally made it back to your apartment, you could already feel that the bug’s work had begun. Your original twinky frame would’ve never been able to carry you the last part of that run. Locking the door behind you, you dropped your things and ran to your bedroom, frantically investigating your body in your full-sized mirror. The shirt you wore now looked more like a crop top, being that it had lifted above the navel and appeared tighter around your upper chest. Your jeans had a similar problem, now landing partially over your enlarging calves when they should have brushed the tops of your feet. The feet that shouldn’t have looked so monstrously large.
Quickly, you grabbed the collar of your tee shirt and ripped it off your body, hoping to save it from a fate you feared could be possible. The fate your jeans suffered moments later. In moments, your height stretched up to well above 6 feet, stretching out the jeans beyond repair as large rips occurred near your newly bulky thighs and muscled bum. Not knowing what else to do, you tore away at the shredded remains of the denim, every pull becoming easier as the parasite expanded the tissues in your arms with strength more appropriate for holding a woman down in an animalistic fertilization.
Luckily, your underwear had been a little more conforming to the stretching nature of your situation. With your newly-callusing hands, you quickly disrobed and watched as your previously-small dick emerged forward. It piled on inch by inch as it thickened outwards, almost like watching a time lapse video of a tree’s growth. Your balls descended further too, yet the visibility of their drooping was becoming more hindered by plumping of your pecs.
You couldn’t help but be amazed by the new body the bug had created for you, a true stud of a man. A carpet of hair adorned a good lot of your torso, along with your arms and legs. Even your face had changed. A sharp jaw, thick brow, and permanent beard all reeking of masculinity. And speaking of reeking, your body now gave off an odor like no other. Pits, crotch, feet–if it could make a funk that could attract women, then it did. Your body had been crafted into a machine, one the parasite had designed to work as the perfect contamination device, whether through correcting this generation or creating the next.
Caught off guard, you felt a shock course through your body and down to your larger cock. Rolling your eyes backwards, you moved your naked body onto the bed and spread your legs apart. With your head against the headboard, you grabbed your cock and began stroking like you had hundreds of times before. However, this time around, new images were at the forefront of your fantasies. Women were everywhere. Boobs here, pussies there. Big swollen breasts and puckered lips. The women could be nearing 20 or nearing 40. They could have double D’s in the front and/or packed in the back. But the one thing that brought them all together was their ability to become mothers.
Your engorged dick began to spurt at that, the thought causing you to grunt in ecstasy. You continued pumping, no longer caring about the effects of the bug and just wanting to bust a load. Looking in the mirror across from you, your glossy eyes struggled to focus on the scene being reflected. Just like it had been prophesied, the chestnut-brown quiff you so heavily maintained began to falter. The parasite pushed any forms of homosexuality, personality, and resistance out of your body, purging it all through the follicles of hair it vowed to destroy.
One by one, you observed as your hairs began to evaporate into dust upon your scalp, thinning out before poofing away. You felt your head emptying as your quiff flattened in height, no longer able to support itself. The classic horseshoe formed first, before eventually the entire top of your head was smooth. Things that made you unique, different, and therefore could bring you on a divergent course than the one now planned for you were eliminated with the hairs that still remained along the sides of your head. If the bug was to survive, then its host would have to be completely committed to its existence. And the promise of impregnating tons of women and contaminating faggots made you so.
With one last huff of air, you watched as the final follicles on your head disappeared. You felt a cool shiver against your newly-exposed bald head, that shiver crawling its way down to your cock and releasing your long-awaited load.
“Oh fu-”
Your words shifted into a groan as your offspring squirt in their milky substance all over your body. You took a second to collect yourself in that moment of post-ecstasy, licking your lips at the epitome of masculinity looking back at you in the mirror. Grabbing the underwear from before, you wiped up the semen and tossed the tainted garment into a gym bag. You could bring it to the gym, knowing it to be the perfect trap for some helpless little homo.
Grinning, you rubbed a meaty hand over your Cueball head with pride. You snatched an old pair of sweats and grabbed your phone, ready to head out. The gym could come later; you had bald babies to make now.
Aronik
--- Originally posted by unknown on 2017-12-03 ---
I was a bit of nerd growing up. Actually, I was a complete nerd. Round red pimples dotted my face. Chalk white skin covered my body. Bulging stubborn fat covered my torso and thighs. Taped wireframe glasses hung on my large bird nose. I was quite the looker.
That all changed one day at the beach. I dreaded going to the beach. Where I'm from, the beach was the only place the good looking people ever went. Their tanned skin, taut muscles, sun kissed hair, glowing confidence all annoyed me. It was totally because I was envious of them. My parents urged me to come with them, and I obliged because what else would I do. I hadn't any friends and although going anywhere with parents at my age was social suicide, I was buried long ago, along with my social reputation.
Anyway, this time was different. I brought a hat and kept my shirt on to avoid the ridicule of the jocks I KNEW were going to be there, like Austin Keller, the hottest guy at school and the object of my affections since fourth grade when we shared my Crayola 64 pack. He didn't know who I was anymore but under my hat and with my book covering my face I would stare all day long at his glistening smile and big muscles bouncing in action. My parents urged me to go to the water and I finally obliged when I foot hit a hard object on my way to the waves. It hurt like a train on a track so I bent down and picked up what looked to be a small golden bee.
Suddenly a man appeared and smiled, saying "Hiya! Aw thanks man you found my statue!" I was perplexed and before handing it over asked why he had this weird idol with him. He responded "I use it for a little shoot I'm running. Thanks for returning it though. Here's a little something in return." He handed me a Speedo and continued, "If you want you can help me by modeling these. Just go into the changing room and swap out your shorts for these. I'm sure they'll look great on you!" I had a humble three inches down there, and my love handles were already spilling over my current shorts, so wearing these would be even more of a reason for the jocks to humiliate me. I gave the guy a deadpan look and he reassured me: "I swear it'll compliment your look. I'm looking for people with... unique looks... so I know you'd be the right fit."
There was nothing to lose so I waddled over to the changing rooms and swapped my shorts for the speedo. The second I put them on a wave of exhaustion came over me. I collapsed and passed out in the room. I opened my eyes and couldn't help but notice how I felt. Lighter, to say the least. I looked down and noticed my shirt was tight against my stomach anymore. In fact, I didn't even have a stomach anymore. The second I put my hand, my skinnier and tanner hand, on my stomach I felt nothing but abs and tight skin. I took off my shirt and was struck by the sight. Caramel tan skin adorned my body, covering round strong pecs and a tight six pack. I looked down at my legs and noticed their impeccable definition. The speedo fit me perfectly and showed off my butt, originally large because of my fat, but now tight and muscular. My arms were no longer chicken wings but huge with trained biceps and triceps that flexed with ease. I finally glanced at the mirror and took in my new face. My new sharp eyes pierced right into my soul. My nose looked brand new, as if I had gotten the best rhinoplasty in the world. My defined jawline was so defined. My plump lips pouted and made me look so. fucking. sexy.
I wanted to check out my new package, but there was a knock at the door. "Hey pal, enjoying the speedo?" I heard a familiar voice say.
"I've never felt better." I replied, hearing my new sultry deep voice for the first time. I opened the door and met the guy, who proceeded to take me down to the water for the photo shoot. As I posed, I noticed Austin not so subtly gawking at me. I offered him a wink and instantly saw his hard on. Let's just say the changing rooms were in need of a clean up after our little session.
Booty Text
--- Originally posted on 2019-03-11 by dumb-and-jocked ---
Text Message Sent 10:36 PM
David: Hey! Sorry to text you so late, but thanks for the present!
Matt: No probs bro. It’s for helping me study math
David: Well, if you ever need help in the future I’ll be there
Matt: ya can help me rite now by trying it on and send pics
David: ?
Matt: trust me bro, I got you the best cologne out there, and the socks have scented soles
David: uh ok?
Text Message Sent 10:39 PM
David: the socks are definitely to big, but they look nice
Matt: they’re the perfect size, you’ll see, how bout cologne?
David: dude, you didn’t tell me how powerful it was
Matt: but ya love it rite bro?
David: yeah but it’s a little hard to concentrate
Matt: spray som more and smell, it helps
David: ok, one sec
Text Message Sent 10:41 PM
David: woah dude, u were right
Matt: ikr bro, u always should listen to me
David: I think I’m seein things, my body’s looking big
Matt: it’s not lookin big bro, I bet it’s swole
David: yeah, swole, ur right
Matt: yup bro, smell the socks and txt back
Text Message Sent 10:44 PM
David: bro, I’ve been smelling the air and socks and I think I’m losing it
Matt: wdym
David: my whole bodies expanded, it looks I went through puberty again
Matt: what?
David: I took of all my clothes except my compression shorts and like my body’s all buff now and my hands look like mitts and bro my abs are poppin
Matt: what else?
David: I got these huge pecs and super defined calves, I also have hair sprouting out everywhere
Matt: is that all?
David: almost, it seems like my feet have expanded too, once I’m done smelling all out my socks back on and see
Matt: listen to me david, just like usual
David: of course
Matt: spray more cologne and keep smelling the socks, check back in bro
David: sure thing bro
Text Message Sent 10:49 PM
David: hey bro
Matt: how you feelin?
David: foggier than before, and other things have changed
Matt: like?
David: my hair and head get longer and now I got this sick beard and my Adam’s apple grew so big and now I got this deep voice
Matt: and?
David: bro, I have hair and huge musk everywhere like my abs and legs are super hairy and my pits are forests that are so RANK I can barely smell the cologne don’t me get started on the pubes
Matt: what about the pubes?
David: the more I smell my pits with the cologne, the hairier my crotch gets, and my dick and balls are both expanding
Matt: how much?
David: bro, my pouch is huge
Matt: nice
David: oh my butt just got bigger too it’s like 2 bubbles
Matt: perfect
David: you gay or something bro?
Matt: you’ll soon be
David: ?
Matt: just keep sniffing bro, especially the socks, check back in once ur redy
David: bro I think ur crazy?
Matt: everything I say is right, isn’t it David?
David: oh, uh yeah
Matt: then just sniff
David: ok bro
Text Message Sent 10:55 PM
David: bro
Matt: yeah?
David: I just remembered how hot it was
Matt: you blasted that jock cock to the thought of ur self, didn’t you?
David: yeah, cum all over the walls
Matt: well, that big dick does blast testosterone, how long is it again?
David: bro, how did you forget it’s 8 inches
Matt: I don’t know, can I ask ya something
David: always bro, and if you wanna bang it’s always yes
Matt: yeah, but different question, are you missing anything?
David: one sec bro...
David: nah, im missing nothing when im with my bro
Matt: that’s correct! babe send me a pic of ur self I wanna see what my present looks like
David: of course bro
David: now u know why I nutted
Matt: of course ya meathead
David: the cologne smells great and the socks fit perfectly, howd you know?
Matt: ive been to town on those feet, they’re my best bros, so when I found a pair of size 14 socks I knew they were a steal
David: well thx again
Matt: of course bro
David: so you coming over to beat my meathead?
Matt: yeah of course, i wanna eat those cheeks too, i like you as my booty call
David: wouldn’t this be a booty text?
Matt: wow, I thot I was the smarter one
David: yeah you are, I haven’t passed remedial math for two year now
Matt: I was just joking dummy, I gotta call mark and then I’ll be there
David: oh and after we swallow loads help me with math, I hate that crap bro
Matt: of course bro of course
Becoming Bryce
--- Originally posted on 2021-04-15 by newyoutf ---
Alex opened the door of his apartment and threw his keys onto the counter, his eyes darting around. He’d been expecting a delivery today, the delivery notification came in just minutes ago.
“God damn Bryce, couldn’t even accept the delivery, the one favor I’ve asked,” Alex thought to himself.
Bryce was Alex’s roommate. A large, handsome jock of a man; quite the opposite of Alex. If Bryce wasn’t home he’d be at the beach, the gym, or out hitting on everything that had a pulse. Alex had always had a love/hate relationship with the jock, but he was also jealous that he wasn’t and couldn’t ever be muscular and manly in the same way that Bryce was.
“Hey, Bryce, you here? I had a delivery?” Alex asked loudly.
A few days ago Alex had seen an oddly specific ad in his Instagram feed for a special kind of spray-on supplement that claimed to be able to “bring out the jock in you!”. The twenty-four-year-old had been trying desperately to pack some weight onto his thin body, and in that desperation, anything that claimed it might help was an option.
Alex walked toward Bryce’s room, the door half shut but the light still on.
“Oh yeah man, got it here!”, Bryce’s unmistakable, deep voice echoed out from behind the door.
He opened the door to see the small box open on the floor, the shipping label torn through the middle with the words “From: New You Inc.” still partially legible.
The six-foot-two Bryce was standing at his desk, shirtless, with his strong, hairy chest on full display. Alex spied a small spray canister with the label “Jock Formula” written across it in Bryce’s meaty hand.
“No!“ Before Alex could stop him the dimwitted stud pressed down on the cap and sprayed it under his arm.
“Huh… it’s already empty?” the jock said, confused because he hadn’t bothered to read any of the included writing.
“Yeah, it’s a single dose, Bryce! That shit was expensive,” Alex bemoaned, barely containing his anger.
“Oh shit, sorry man,” Bryce turned to face Alex, a regretful grimace crossing his handsome face.
“What’s the deal anyway, it smells like… sweat? Aren’t these sorts of things meant to smell good?” Bryce said, sniffing his hairy underarm.
“That’s probably just you. It’s not a fragrance anyway, it’s was meant to be some kind of supplement, to help me you know, bulk up a bit,” Alex replied bashfully.
He snatched the empty canister from Bryce’s hand and examined the bottle, reading the fine print on the side: “Single-dose only. Warning: Strictly for use only by men who do not match the description of a jock. Effects are unknown outside of this group.”
“Weird warning... Whatever, it was probably just a scam like all the rest anyway,” Alex thought in defeat as he turned to leave Bryce’s sweaty room only to be startled by a heaving groan from behind him.
“Augh!”
The loud, lurching moan made Alex jump. He turned to see Bryce bracing against the desk with his mouth hanging open and breathing heavily.
“Ugh, fuck!”, Bryce lightly thrust his hips forward and slumped into the desk chair sitting next to him.
“Bryce? Are you okay?” Alex spoke slowly with genuine concern.
The jock now had an enormous, raging boner visible through his loose gym shorts. Alex blushed staring at the outline of his hunky roommate's long, thick cock.
“I… I think I’m having a reaction or something man...,” Bryce moaned, having difficulty moving off the chair. He tried repeatedly to stand only to moan and fall back down.
Alex thought back to the odd warning label on the bottle and began to panic. What would happen if a jock tried to use the spray? Bryce’s rolled his eyes back as he thrust slowly and deeply upward. A large, damp patch appeared on the front of the shorts, followed by large loads of cum seeping through the fabric. Alex watched in astonishment as the stained shorts began to disintegrate, revealing the throbbing eight-inch cock that was contained within. Bryce heaved and moaned as ropes of cum shot up his thick abs.
Something about Bryce’s body looked unusual at this stage. Alex could have sworn the tall man looked a bit shorter. Indeed, Bryce was shrinking, and at a rapidly accelerating pace. His chest appeared to flatten and his muscular limbs deflated and retracted. His entire body was taking on a fabric-like texture as it rapidly receded inwards. Soon, all that was left of Alex’s roommate was a jockstrap sitting in the chair.
Alex stumbled backward in shock and sat on the side of Bryce’s bed. His mind was swirling with panic as he clasped his hands over his face, certain his situation was a bad dream and that he’d wake up any second. A light thud followed by brushing across his ankle caused him to lower his hands and see that the jockstrap had moved itself to the floor and attempted to push itself under his feet.
Alex screamed and recoiled his legs from the floor, jumping upright and unwittingly giving the jockstrap the perfect opportunity as it flew up his legs.
“Fuck! Get off!” Alex yelped as he hopped across the floor, slamming into the desk and drawers trying to pull the material away from his shorts. His horror only deepened when his shorts sizzled and frayed in contact with the jockstrap, melting into the air within seconds. His briefs met the same fate only moments later. There was no contest to be had. The jockstrap easily forced its way up his now bare legs and wrapped itself around his ass and cock.
“What the fuck?! Get off! G- get... augh!” Alex hunched over, stabilizing himself on Bryce’s desk. The sensation of the jockstrap hugging his soft cock was mind-blowing. Between gasps of pleasure, Alex heard a quiet cracking, whimpering in response as his legs began to creak, stretching longer. He thrashed backward from his hunched position allowing his back to soar taller. Alex’s arms felt heavier as they too stretched longer. Groans escaped his lips as the lengthening stopped. The formerly five-foot-nine man was now a lanky six-foot-two. However, he wouldn’t be lanky for long.
Alex’s thighs ached and pulsed. He placed his hands on them, groaning as the muscles swelled and expanded. He pushed harder into the throbbing muscles as if pushing back might stop what was happening. But the thighs just continued to bulge with muscle.
The straps around Alex’s rear tightened harder and harder as his ass swelled into them, round and firm. He grunted, shooting a massive load into the jockstrap while his cheeks expanded. Brown hair began to swirl out of the perfect globes and across his massive legs. It spread across his shins while his calves bubbled and bulged with strength.
Something about Alex’s new legs looked vaguely familiar to him, but his train of thought was interrupted by the upward spread of the changes.
“Please... no,” the groans bubbled from Alex’s throat as his stomach began to tighten. Looking downward he could see the soft outline of abs appear. The bulges of muscle only deepened as the abs thickened further. He delicately and fearfully brushed his hands against his new abs. Those legs, those abs... Alex recognized them now. They were unmistakably Bryce’s. His mind was gripped by fear, “No... no... I can’t be...”
He lurched and gasped feeling his nipples become erect, begging to be touched as muscle began to form below them. Alex blew another load feeling the thick, meaty pecs surge forth from his chest, coated in a dusting of dark, manly hair. Whatever doubt he had was washed away, this was his roommate’s chest. Alex couldn’t help but think ahead, that he’d gain Bryce’s muscular arms, his looks, his massive cock. Fear quickly gave way to desire. He couldn’t resist, he was turning into his hot roommate and the thought turned him on immensely.
“Oh fuck yeah,” a smirk crossed his face as the pressure rose in his shoulders, groaning as they pushed outwards, growing and broadening. He gripped one of the biceps with his hand tightly feeling his skinny arms begin to inflate. His biceps and triceps gradually swelled and packed on strong muscle, his grip being forced more and more open, unable to come close to holding the beautifully thick arms. Alex’s cock pulsed hard at the realization these dominant, muscular arms were truly his. His thin forearms writhed and twitched as muscle blossomed and grew within them. Veins snaked across them, running down his hands, and followed by a trail of new hairs. Alex held his trembling digits in front of his face, watching and feeling his palms creak and expand. The fingers twitched as they soared outward into the air, growing unbelievably long and proportionately meaty. Alex moaned in delight at the feeling of the weight and size of his new digits.
The same erotic stretching sensation that plagued Alex’s hands next infected his feet. Knowing that Bryce wore a size twelve, Alex knew what he was in for as the toes on his size eight feet began to stretch longer. His toes raged against his no-show socks, stretching the cotton beyond belief. Beneath the thin, strained material he could them stretching longer and thicker before they tore through. The hairy digits twitched and throbbed as his soles spread longer and wider across the floor. Alex gawked at the big feet, recognizing them as Bryce’s, but now his own.
Alex growled in anticipation as the changes rippled up his neck, causing it to widen and thicken. His sensual grunts lowered in pitch as his vocal cords morphed. His nostrils flared outward and inhaled deeply as the small button nose grew longer and thicker. A sharper, broader, more attractive jawline emerged from his face while his cheekbones shifted. His cock drooled with the knowledge that he was transforming into his handsome, jock roommate. The short hair on his head thickened and grew out, gaining waves and curls while darkening a shade. His teeth glimmered as his smile becoming a cocky smirk no one could resist. Reaching to his face, he could feel the short stubbly beard that Bryce usually had forcing its way out.
Alex turned to the mirrored wardrobe at his right, drenched in sweat, and immediately released a massive wad of cum at the sight of the manly face, Bryce’s face, looking back at him.
Alex felt his balls surge and rumble as they inflated. Emptied of cum from repeated orgasms prior, he felt them weighed down heavier, filling with new, hot, jock cum. He smiled with a dumb, devilish grin as his cock began to quiver and throb, signaling what was next to come.
An inhuman roar spilled from Alex’s mouth as his cock began to swell in size. The head bulged against the jockstrap, bloating outward and spewing more cum into the soaked jockstrap. The lengthening cock shoved against the material, pushing it further and further away from his waist and offering a view of the thickening, veiny shaft within.
Alex muttered under his breath, enthralled by the sensation of his cock morphing into a carbon copy of his roommate’s. He rubbed his hands across his beefy pecs and abs, taking in his new form and embracing the big, manly jock he now was.
His cock bounced upward as it slipped out the top of the jockstrap, having grown too large. The front of the jockstrap snapped back elastically against the top of Alex’s hairy legs. He gazed downward, panting at the massive, pulsating cock. Cum oozed out of the mushroom head, running down his eight-inch shaft. It quivered, longing to be stroked, and Alex was all too happy to oblige. He gripped the monster in his hand and throttled it.
The jock couldn’t last long, given he'd been teetering on the brink since the very beginning. Alex bellowed as the most intense orgasm of his life rocked his entire body. His large balls tensed as cum repeatedly rocketed out of the hard python, spraying up his hard, muscular chest and across the room; his shy, nerdy personality traits being pumped away with it.
Blinded from the pleasure, his mind blurred, the gaps that had formed being filled with new traits: sports, the gym, and sex were all that mattered to him now. Once the post-orgasmic glow passed the new and improved Alex made a stupid grin, impressed with the mess he’d made.
He stuffed his large, soft cock back into the jockstrap, smearing it with sweat and cum. He shuddered, feeling something strange across his body as if a moan were echoing out from the jockstrap.
He looked down at the piece of fabric, “Hey Bryce, hope you’re liking it down there, bro,” Alex snickered as he adjusted his package.
A Gamer's Dream
--- Originally posted on 2018-01-14 by paradisetf ---
You ever played the Sims? Maybe Fallout 4? Any game with character customization really.
Ever wanted to BE the character you made? Most likely, right? Well, then you’ll love The Gaming Paradise.
But, do you know how this mystical shop came to be? Well, let’s start with our favorite Admin.
Alex was your normal hardcore gamer. His life was basically eat, sleep, and play games. It was always fun for him. He could make the characters do whatever he wanted.
Unfortunately, life wasn’t too kind on that front. He was picked on constantly. Whether it was his lanky body or how he obsessed over games, one way or another, some jock found a way to humiliate him.
But that all changed one day when a package arrived on his porch.
“Huh? I didn’t order any game. Why is this here?” He said, puzzled.
Last he checked there were no new games releasing, and certainly not from… wait, who even was this from?
Alex looked down and saw a note on the ground, underneath the box. He picked it up and opened it, being careful to not rip the paper.
“You are now the admin. Play this to begin. -L” It said.
Confused yet intrigued, Alex grabbed the box and stepped inside.
He ran into his room, opening the box and seeing a disc for the PlayStation. Kicking off his shorts he placed the disc inside and sat down on his couch.
“Welcome, Admin. Please enter your name.” The game said.
Alex wasn’t sure what the game meant by “admin”, but he shrugged it off.
Entering his name, an avatar popped up. When it did, he jumped. It looked… exactly like him!
Alex was tempted to turn the game off and throw it out… but something pulled him in. It was like he was destined to play it. Alex sighed as the game spoke again.
“Please confirm the changes you’d wish to make to your avatar.” It said.
“Well, it’s just a game… and my TV does have a built-in camera… so that’s probably how it made it.” He thought, trying to rationalize what was happening.
He thought about what he wanted to look like… big, beefy, like those damn jocks that always pushed him around.
He wanted to be hot, much more attractive then them. He wanted to be smarter than them. Better than them. He started to grin.
He edited the appearance of his avatar as he felt a searing pain pass through his body. He felt his facial features rearranging, his jawline getting more rugged and defined. He could feel his adam’s apple grow in his throat. His eyes changing from a murky brown to a deep blue. His skin becoming nice and golden. He tried to scream, but he couldn’t.
He felt his body expand, muscles filling out in places that he didn’t even think possible. His legs, arms, chest, everything. He felt his shaft lengthen, filling out his pants as his ass and balls steadily grew.
He was changing, and as much as it hurt… it felt good too. As the pain subsided, Alex looked down, seeing the new shredded body he had, matching the avatar on the screen.
“Modification complete. Building Gaming Paradise.” The game spoke, as Alex, still admiring his body, felt the ground underneath him shake.
He braced himself as the room changed around him, going from standard to luxurious. He looked out the window when the shaking stopped.
He was no longer in his house, but rather on the second floor of another building.
“Admin assignment complete. Good luck.” The game said, shutting down.
Speechless, Alex ran downstairs, seeing a shop full of games.
“What… is this mine?” He said. He heard the same voice of the game, not from his mouth, but in his ears. It replied to him.
“Yes, Admin. You are my master now. Your goal is to bring enrichment to peoples lives under thr guise of a game store clerk. I will be your guide on this mission. Please run Gaming Paradise with care.” It said.
Alex smirked, gears turning in his head. “Oh boy, this is gonna be fun.” He said, as he flipped the sign in the door from closed to open.
Enjoy, everyone! So glad people are liking Alex. He’s quite the charmer, isn’t he? Stop by your local Gaming Paradise, and he’ll be sure to get you the game that’ll make your wildest dreams come true.
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.
Inside
“Let me ask again- the FUCK do you think you’re doing!?”
I tremble in fear and stare in silence at the massive man in front of me, rank with the sweat of his daily session.
In my hands lay his used gym clothes, inches from my nose. My eyes widen. He was supposed to be showering. My eyes are drawn to the bar of soap among the pile in front of me. Shit.
Fear becomes arousal when he leans down to my ear, tantalizingly close, and whispers. “If you wanted me inside you so bad, all you had to fucking do was assssk”. He draws that last word out with his teeth, lacing it with venom and seduction.
“Cmon, fucking say it faggot. Say you want me inside you” he taunts.
Ashamed. Terrified. Spellbound. He had reduced me to my most minuscule self. I reply meekly to answer him. “…I want you inside me.”
I hear the corners of his face widen into an unsettling smirk. “Good Answer”.
In the blink of an eye, he vanishes from in front of me, rushing past my side to my back before I can even react. Oh shit this is really happening. I am prepared for the night of my life. “Strip.” I comply. I hear him make some movements and then… then… silence.
“What the hell?” I chuckle nervously as I look behind me in confusion and see his naked form crouching in a low squat with his hands clasped in a praying motion. I admire his massive sweaty muscles. He catches my gaze, looking up and giving me wink. I smile back awkwardly. “So-“
I am cut off by searing, unimaginable pain from the motion of him piercing my ass with his hands as he lunges toward me. Pound after pound of his thick arms shove up my asshole with so much force, he pushes me forward several feet. I stay still, breathing heavy for a few moments- not daring to look back- not daring to move an inch out of our precarious position. My mind races. “Shit. Shit. Shit. What was that!? God, was he ok?”
I finally muster the courage to look behind in horror. I could only see his shoulders. Shit. How is this even possible? God. Shit. I couldn’t see his head…he was probably dead- and judging by how far he pushed into me, I probably would be soon too. I whimper, tears streaming down my face, as recount my life and start fumbling for my phone. I felt sick to my stomach. How could this go so wrong? Every fucking time something good happens. Well… at least if I’m going out, I’m- My stomach churns. Wait. That… wasn’t my stomach.
Impossibly, I felt worms squiggle inside me- no they weren’t worms. I dial in on the sensation. They were fingers. His Fingers. He was moving his fingers. I feel them claw at my throat from the inside. My mouth opens uncontrollably as his digging hands choke me from the inside, scrambling for a grip. I reach up trying in vain to get him to stop. Shit Shit Shit. As my consciousness begins to dip, the hands have finally found a patch of my flesh around my shoulder. I pant in momentary relief.
With each patch of my flesh they touch, I feel our nerves intertwine, tangling into each other until I myself could feel his fingers as a supplement to my own. What the hell was going on? Then, I feel him wrap his arms around more of my flesh and bundle more of our nerves together. Whatever this was, whatever he was doing, it was intentional.
He uses his arms as leverage and pulls the rest of his sweat-slick body inside, almost forcing my own to the ground. I fill up. Near-bursting. Impossibly full. As I stagger to stand, I watch from the mirror as he shimmies more and more of himself into me. I retch unprompted, dry heaving at what was occurring before my very eyes, but the motion only seemed to suck in his fleshy mass further inside me. Still, I couldn’t help but begin to get hard. Him being in here was hot as hell.
I take shorter and shorter breaths, which again only slides more and more of him inside me, until the very last parts of him- his grimy toes- get slurped up in my asshole. My body wants to collapse from the strain of having to stretch to accommodate both our forms. Instead, I watch as his body is imprinted in my skin -near my stomach and chest, pulling me impossibly tight while he cemented himself in a fetal position. My legs begin to buckle from the pressure.
Before I fall, he stretches out his legs out inside my skin, stacking his over my own. They are sticky when they slide over my bones and musculature, likely from the sweat he was aiming to wash off with his shower. As he fills into my skin, my toes are lifted off the ground as my body rises to accommodate his far-larger form. My very own body betrays its owner, as it is drawn to his legs over my own and he hastens the process by corralling my skin to realign to match his legs instead. I can only watch and feel in silence as I feel the skin covering my toes detach from myself and overlap over his. I feel pricks as our nerves entangle together. His legs then digests mine, inflating themselves from my added mass. My skin constricts in turn around his legs, crushing them from all sides. From the depths of my body, a moan in his voice escapes my still-hanging mouth. Skin constricts even tighter and I wince in anticipation from the pain. Instead, I am met with pleasure as nerves fire and I reconnect to my new legs. Oh my god. This was everything… I’ve never been this tall nor my legs this muscular.
I wait in anticipation of his next move. His arms unfurl from their place, and I watch them slip over my shoulders. I look hungrily at my soon-to-be biceps. Yummy. This time, I put no resistance, as readily I allow his pythons to coil around my two stick-appendages. I give these arms of mine to him willingly, which he happily assimilates. Then, a massive tension in the skin of my arms, as they are forced to spread out, rocketed outwards from the mass of his flesh filling into them. By all accounts, it was uncomfortable, but knowing what was soon to come had overwritten any fear, any doubt, any discomfort I could ever have with lust. My arms were never buff, so watching him rearrange his arms to become mine makes me go lightheaded with an abundance of elation and desire. As his nerves join with mine, and I finally feel the strength inherent in my new arms, my head leans back from the sheer sensation of our parts being one. He flexes our new arm together, before caressing it over the imprint of his body still in my chest and stomach. This was a dream come true. Still… more to come.
I watch expectantly as the large mass of his head begins to travel up my neck. I prepare to accept my new self. I could want nothing more than to live as this god of a man as his new flesh. Before his head can reach me, however, I watch as the remainder of his body fill into mine, including that perky ass. My arms are helpless to my whim as he commands them himself. He smears my skin around the outline of his body, slotting his abs over my flat stomach, tracing their indents as they fill over, and giving me the exact very same six-pack I had always fantasized over. He pinches my nipples- holy shit- stretching them forward, before releasing. They rebound back, slotting into their rightfully place- right over his. They’re rock hard.
When the bare outline of his forehead head begins to peek over my neck, I feel him flex our entire body. He tenses our entire form, forcing my skin to compress even tighter around him. He continues until I feel a pop in myself. I look down and see the results. I see his wavy hairs pierce and poke through my skin. The scene was bizarre. He was literally wearing me. Though it was my normally supple skin, it was dotted by the roughness of his hairs. When our pores align, I finally release some excess heat. The scent was immaculate. I sweated his sweat, emanated his scent. By all accounts, I am his body. There would be no turning back. In the continuing process, I feel his organs and blood rush into mine. He was I and I was him. We now shared the same insides. With his blood rushing through us, I felt invigorated. Fuck. God. This was what he felt like every fucking day. I happily invite his wellspring of strength and energy as my own. This is what I am going to be feeling like every day from now on. We could do a million pushups right now without breaking a sweat. With him driving me, we would be unstoppable. My trance is broken when I noticed my dick in disappointment, unchanged from the whole process.
I licked my lips as his head finally slotted over mine. I screamed from the pain of my face being stretched out to accommodate both of ours. He had far better control of us and instead contorted my outer face into a crooked smile. He began panting and moaning as the force of my skin stuck our heads closer and closer together. At long last, I feel sweet release when some arbitrary barrier inside me breaks and a spark lights in me as his head accelerates and smashes into mine. I welcome him inside with open ‘arms’. ‘I want you inside me.’
He complies, greedily overlaying his very being into me. In all my memory, in all my thoughts, feelings, perversions, there he was and there he would be. I yield them all willingly, allowing him to become me, to transcend me. Our shared eyes close from the wealth of new identity he has captured as he and I become one. We would have each other in a way no one else ever could. It was beyond intimacy. With his tongue inside mine, he sticks it out of my face with a sneer. It’s a face I never made, but with our new selves, this just felt right. He guides them over my teeth. My jaw redefines itself on his terms, nose corrects itself to his shape. Altogether, he was wearing me as his own, comfortably taking and rearranging me to be a better vessel for him. Fuck did it feel good to be his outer shell. I think we both looked better like this- greater than the sum of our parts.
Dirty, lewd thoughts mix with my own as his personality bleeds into mine. I reflexively try to shake it off, but he is relentless. In his barrage of self into me, tears well in my face. Still… he continues to inject more and more of his self into me. And then… I finally let go. This felt good. Being his. Who’s to say if it was my thoughts on their own or our combined derangement, but the thought of him forever using me, forever being me? Sheer Fucking Ecstasy. This felt great. He subjugates my sense of self to forever be a part of him but I offer it willingly. Becoming me probably shaved a few years off him. Like my skin, He stretches my personality around his, further and further until we congeal into one. Goddamn. Fuck Yeah. This is fucking great. We lick our lips.
I feel a rush of confidence. The new me is brimming with it. We are alpha. My mouth and body move in a way that was alien to myself. He stands up straighter and cracks our neck, getting comfortable in our new form. We take our first real breath together as a new person, taking in more air than my old lungs had been used to. Amazing.
Then, his hormones rush through our body. Fuck. I feel an outpouring of raw, sexual energy. Our body steams up in the heat- look at me, who wouldn’t- and, before I could react further, he starts pumping my dick in manic glee. Fuck. As it stiffens, I hit my old body’s limit. Average. Our grin widens by his command. “Time for an upgrade, baby” I say with a jock-like inflection in my voice. It sounds immediately comfortable, self-assured, and it rolls off my new tongue naturally. It feels wholly unnatural. He speaks in a lower register than I normally do. Still I yield to him, trusting in my new owner and allowing his parts to coalesce into my vocal chords. A disturbing itch runs through my throat as our voices meld together but I know it’s for the best. This newer, hotter me needs a newer, hotter voice. We take a deep breath before roaring “FUUUUUCK YEAH! Muuuuch better!” in a voice that resembled a harmonius mix both of ours.
The itch courses through the rest of my body as I allow him to fully wear the rest of me. He brings my head to face the new me in the mirror for a closeup giving another wink. Beautiful. I watch as my eyes water uncontrollably. His amber eyes then eclipse mine, and we blink away the tears. In my head, I feel his thick, wavy hair push out beside my own, as my old hair merge into his. In its place, we now wear a crown of his hair signifying my new place as royalty. He drags my now-vascular hand across our chin, pulling slightly while a bit of scruff grows where bare skin used to be. He quickly nods our new head in approval as more of my features contort to accommodate their new owner. Yeah. We were fucking hot.
Then, I feel his thick dick slot into mine, filling it out. Jesus fucking christ it was so big. It stretches me further and further, until I am hit by another wave of paralysis, until my skin snaps back into his, constricting weapon and sheath together. The sheer pressure merges them into one. Goddamn we were huge. Our shared tongue hangs from our open mouth, as we release a massive wave of cum. It rockets everywhere, covering me in my new, alpha seed. We sample a taste of our shared genetics. Fucking delicious.
God we were so hot together. The feeling is surreal. There was nothing like it in the world. I was forever his. I am wrack in permanent pleasure from being us. He walks over to his old pile of clothes, putting them on. As they brush over my new body, I am flush with a sense of completeness. A perfect match.
—End—
Ok, Ok, so not as ‘light’ as I would have expected. I was gonna make something cute for Valentines day, but got sidetracked by… I mean… look at him.
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