Product Placement: Subway Sleeper

CALL ME RICK

I had no idea how quickly Richard would take to the mind control. Not to mention how completely invested he was in this new persona.

Richard had been dating my sister for a year or so now. He was a good guy, a model citizen if you will. He was a nice, friendly happy go lucky sort of guy. Not to mention he was very handsome, but was very modest about it. We didn’t talk much but when we did he was always super friendly and tried to get to know me as best as he could. He knew I was gay and had no problem with it, he wasn’t weirded out like some of my sisters ex boyfriends had been. Honestly he was a really stand up guy. The problem was me. I have a serious problem. It’s kind of a strange fetish that I’m into and have always wanted to try on Richard.

Ever since high school I’ve found myself interested in hypnosis. I really enjoy watching a person, preferably and attractive man, go completely under then have their mind and personality altered. The more drastic the alteration usually the more arouse I get. This was why Richard would be the perfect subject, and I think I just found the perfect time for it.

I came to him and my sister about a problem I had. I needed to haul some stuff over from a friends house but they lived about 2 hours away and I needed a truck to do so. Richard offered right away to use his truck, which I knew he would. The. He even offered to come with me as kind of a bonding trip. This was exactly what I wanted to hear I graciously accepted the offer and the next morning we were on our way, just the two of us on the open road.

About an hour of the ways out, I finally brought up the subject of hypnosis. I asked if he’d ever been hypnotized and Richard kind of just laughed. He assumed hypnosis was just a bunch of tricks on tv, and that it couldn’t possibly work. I explained to him how interested I was in the subject, and he suddenly changed his tune. I guess he really wanted us to get along so he even offered if I’d like to try it on him. Everything was going so smoothly. I asked him to pull over so I could drive while I induct him into the trance. I didn’t want him falling asleep behind the wheel. I told him to watch the road as I slowly pulled him deep under control. He had been counting backwards from 20, but he barely made it to 8 before falling completely under. That’s when I started taking apart his personality and then piecing things back together, but piecing them the way I wanted.

I knew exactly what persona I wanted I give Richard the moment I met the guy. I wanted Richard to be the most Texan, masculine, hickish, cowboy he could be. As stereotypically sexy as I wanted. I started manipulating his speech first, making him think of westerns, and how the cowboys he has seen on tv would speak. Giving him a southern drawl. Then his attitude, I wanted him to feel like a proud Texan baron and raised all american cowboy. His ignorant, and rude attitude to be prominent, and his masculinity to be very important to him. I told him he would ease up on shaving, to avoid that clean shaven look he normally wore. I gave him love for hard work, nicotine, alcohol, and last but most importantly me. See, the thing about my hypnosis is that in the end I like to give my subjects an insatiable list for me. Because once they have changed there personality this much, all I want to do is fuck there manipulated brains out.

I pulled out a hat that I snuck into the glove department just for this occasion. I placed it on Richards head and told him that whenever he wore that hat he would become the person that I had been hypnotizing him to become.

He groggily nodded, “Ahuh, becomes that person.. When wearing hat..”

Unfortunately, the induction took longer then I thought and we were almost back home. I didn’t want to see this new persona of his until after he was ready, I gave him a shopping list of things he needed to discretely buy and then we would meet back up in two weeks time. That he would make an excuse to go with me somewhere so my sister wouldn’t get suspicious. He gave me the same groggy nodding as before but I’ve hypnotized enough people to know that I ha gotten through to him, I was getting so excited about this new personality I could barely stand it.

Two weeks of waiting were agony but I knew it would be worth it. I hadn’t seen Richard since then so I wasn’t positive if he’d done what I’d asked or not, but then I got a call from my sister. She told me that Richard was ready to go whenever I was and that I had offered to help him haul some cinderblocks to the dump since he helped me last week, she thanked me for being so helpful and was glad we were getting along so well. She had no idea.

I showed up at the house and when I saw him I could already see he had accomplished one of the things if asked him to do which was his facial hair had grown in. He had a duffle bad in hand with what I assumed was the items I asked him to get on my list. We took off in Richards truck. Richard still acting like himself completely unaware that he was doing all this under hypnosis I had placed on him. I was currently wearing the hat that I had basically infused what would be Richards new personality with. I waited until we were a bit a ways before I started complaining about my hat and how it didn’t fit me. Then I suggested he try it on, at first he just smiled and kindly refused. But I was so persistent and nagging about it, that he finally gave in. He placed the cap on his head and then suddenly his whole body stiffened and the car jeered a little at the sudden change in person. He blinked a few times then pulled the truck over.

“Something wrong Richard?” I asked feigning ignorance.

He looked over at me, his for head wrinkled in a confuse look that wasn’t like Richards normal happy face “You’re goddamn right there is, what kinda pansy ass shit m'I wearin?” He said looking down in disgust at his buttoned down collared polo and khakis.

“Beats me, here why don’t you try these on while I make a quick phone call,” I said handing him the duffle bag dull of the clothes if told Richard to buy. I stepped out of the truck and walked away to call my sister, and tell her that it might be well because were having car troubles. But I told her we had it under control but we might not make it back until late. I didn’t want her getting suspicious while I had my fun.

When I walked back Richard was sitting on the back of the truck completely decked out in his new Southern cowboy attire I made him buy, and was even smoking one of the cigarettes he had packed as well. He looked damn hot I could feel the blood rushing to my cock just looking at him. He took a drag blew out another stream of smoke before noticing me, then spit on the ground before waving me over.

“Hey Richard, feeling more comfortable in those clothes I hope.”

He responded by flipping me off while taking another drag, “Aye fuck you, call me Richard. What kinda bitch name is Richard?”

I laughed a little at how quickly he had become so appalled by his old life that even his name wasn’t manly enough for him anymore.

“My bad Rick. I forgot to mention I am loving the new tattoo.” I said just noticing the tattoo he now had on his right bicep that was visible now thanks to his sleeveless Texan shirt. His eyes glanced down to his new ink and then he smirked at me while flexing his bicep.

“Goddamn right,” he said continuing to flex and show off his new ink, “Got this innkeeper done about a week ago, Karen got all pissed off about when she first saw. She’ll quit her bitching soon though, I think she secretly likes it anyway.”

“I know I do.” I said a little flirtatious this time. I was ready to see how much of this hypnosis had gone through.

His smirk widened as he patted the seat next to him, “C'mere, why don’t ya take a load off?” He said blowing more smoke out of the corner of his mouth. I eagerly did as I was told and plopped down next to him.

“Ya know Karen told me you’re queer.” Was his opening sentence. I just nodded in agreement.

“At first that shit creeped me out, but now I get the feelin like I could get into it.” Then Rick grabbed my my hand guided it onto his crotch and had me grasp his junk through his tight jeans.

I looked over at Rick, and our eyes met. I could still see underneath this Country man bravado he’d been hypnotized to have, he was feeling shy and embarrassed at what he was about to do. He put his cigarette out on one of the cinderblocks then leaned in kissing me roughly.

“Ya better not say shit to your sister about this.” He threatened, but I took him by the back of his head and pulled him in for another quick kiss.

“Don’t worry cowboy, it’ll be our little secret.” I said as I pulled Ricks shirt up over his head admiring his muscles as he flexed and showed them off for me. He unbuckled his pants and then I reached down to pull off one of his board. Slowly removing them one by one and massaging his feet with my tongue, tasting his sweat as Rick started moaning and pulling off his pants completely, then as he stood there butt naked his picked me up carrying me. As I felt myself up against his naked buff torso, my hard cock scraping against his body. He lay me down across the seats in his truck and straddled me.

“Imma ride you’re ass so hard right now, you’re gonna be hollering something fierce.” He said in his sexy southern drawl. As he burrowed his cock deep inside of me, I moaned and shouted only to be muffled by Ricks mouth as he kissed me shutting me up and filling me with more pleasure. After Rick finally released the last of his juices inside of me he hovered over me his sweat trickling down from his muscles body. He wiped some sweat from his brow then pulled out another cigarette lighting it up and he pulled on his jeans and buckled his belt.

The rest of out trip was fun too, Rick pretty much did all the work throwing out the blocks of cinder, and I kind of just admired his strong body going to work. He knew I was watching too, because every once in awhile he would give me a really cocky smirk and a wink. Then on the ride back he had me give him a blow job while he blasted his country music to drown out the sound of his moans and shouts.

We made it home late that night, I gave Rick one more kiss before saying good by then I took off his hat and the look of confusion on Richards face was priceless, he looked down at his clothes in horror then looked at me his eyes wide and crazy.

“Something wrong Richard?” I asked feigning ignorance.

“I just.. How did I get here. And what am I wearing?” He breathed I to his hand took a whiff, “Have I been smoking?”

I laughed, “Woah Richard, buddy, I told you not too drink that much.”

His eyes got bigger, “I’ve been drinking? But.. I don’t even remember..”

“All day actually. I guess that’s why the call it black out drunk. You should probably go home and get some rest.” I suggested.

“Oh man.. Yeah you’re probably right.. Oh no, Karen! She’s going to be furious when she finds out be been drinking all night, first my tattoo and now this! She is going to kill me!”

I smiled at him reassuringly, “Don’t worry about it Rick, it’ll be our little secret.”

Aware Wolf

--- Original author: realhankmccoy ---

“You’re a fucking fascist,” the subRedditor from 4chan said to me. I could picture his nattering little voice in my head. “Can’t anyone take a joke anymore?” I tried to argue back. “I was being ironic.” “Well, ContraPoints said in her video on the alt-right that ironic usage often leads to actual fascism, which is why it’s this sort of material is not acceptable to use, and why it needs to be stomped out. Before he transitioned to female, he noted that he was just ironically dressing as transgender, and look what happened, now he’s a she.”

These lefties were so paranoid, so crazy, so outright delusional. I took a swig of Fireball. I didn’t see myself as a leftie, more of a centrist. I voted for Obama, and held my nose and voted for Hillary, but I did thing the right-wingers had some points and were good Americans, too. Now even I’m the fascist? I took another swig.

“What if there is truth to that?” I started to wonder. “What if I’m really turning alt-right and just ironically mocking them because it really is the path I’m headed down? I did know that sometimes, when I pretended to get all Fight Club, or when I interacted with right-wing ideas, even to mock them, it did get me kind of hard. It did get me kind of turned on. It was weird to admit. It wasn’t the ideas themselves, really. It was the barechested, testosterone-infused masculinity of it all. Most lefties were the sort of wet noodle who made itself hard to be attracted to, always calling me daddy, always insisting I pay for dinner, even though they were the ones with rich parents who still contributed to their bank accounts and fixed problems for them. They had nothing to offer. It was so frustrating, man. I’m a good person. Why does the world have to be so fucked up right now?

I slammed down the bottle on my desk. Sometimes just acting like a pissed off man felt good to me. I didn’t really act like that, but just would act so for myself – for effect – when nobody’s around. I took one more swig. Just because this had been such a crazy day and they were being such. little. bitches. online… I took a swig. I seriously feel like I could punch through the particle board of the basement door right now just for effect. Just to see what punching through a board feels like. I wonder if it would hurt my hand. The door was probably weak enough… it needed to be replaced anyhow due to a hinge not fitting the frame right….

POW it goes. I hit it as it splinters.

That was the trigger, I realised three months later. The trigger online that caused the change, that helped me find my true nature, the trigger that brought me to my true identity. That was the moment I decisively answered the call of my own destiny and fought back.

I searched out scientists. I found my injections, which helped me find the muscle and body hair my body had previously been lacking in. My cock started leaking more pre, and I had to cum at least twice a day now most days, not once, because my sex drive was just so much naturally higher now, in part from all the active activity instead of online activity. I took up weight training, folkstyle wrestling, and Taekwondo. I started reading about the symbology, from the wolfsangel – I sometimes now refer to myself as a wolf trap – to the black sun – love that song, black hole sun by Soundgarden – to the Labrys, anything a lot of guys use to wash away the pain caused by these folks trying to push their degradations on the world.

There’s fur on these forearms now, fur that wasn’t there before. It just makes me feel hot, like I’ve wolfed out, like I’ve freed this beast that they had caged so long.

It’s on my chest, too, crawls up above the collarbone even. Guys love it. Nothing like a furry chest rubbing against another furry chest, the feel of the hair entwining, the feel of your lover’s masculinity, the musk of his scent getting tangled up in your own fur, too.

My armpit goes from this smooth, shaved, clean place I used to hide under t-shirts to thicker and wilder by the day. The scant hair, week by week, was filling in, getting bushy, brambly, wild and thick, and with such a scent, man, sometimes I just flex and my own scent fills these nostrils and I feel like such a man. Such a fucking beast. A werebeast of sort, born of the hate and control mechanisms sent my way, and nothing gets me harder than the idea of utterly destroying the American left. Socialist Europe is too full of wimps, and the Eastern Bloc has seen a lot of masculine revival, which it never really lost hold of, it being a part of the culture for so long, so much depth there, man. Communism tried to kill the beast there, but it couldn’t. It’s different than our sissified nation. And these lefties, they love a guy like me, loathe as they are to admit it. Gets em so hard. So wet and leaking at the tip. I love to choke em and hurt their ass in bed, fuck knows they don’t have any skills so might as well make the experience violent. They don’t know how to be sensual and make a partner feel good, so why should I have to know it? Only I do know it, man, and I do make them feel good, but at the same time I know how to cunt them hard and make em scream. Just think how much hotter, how much more vain and sensual, how much more full of fucking sex and hot passion the world would be without them all…

I used to never show off this body in public now, but now I do. Love trying to catch guys catch a glimpse of this sweaty, ever-denser, increasingly-wiry pit fur and act like they aren’t trying to look. Act like they aren’t noticing… but I can see a lot. Call it the electric eye of a truly woke wolfman. Makes em hard. And I got an injection to get tonight, man, and just watch as a week or two from now, it’s gonna be even hairier, thicker and wolfier… there’s no other word for it, man, wolfier, I feel like a fuckin’ wolf now… and it feels soooo got when I got a tongue in there, even better a real man’s tongue, a man with the same values, same code signals, same highly sexual sensibility. You know what I mean about real men, dude. And if you want to know more, well… I highly encourage you find out. It started with just a little irony out of me, but look at me now.

Thanks a lot for the crazy amount of support for my first story!

I hope you all had as much fun reading as I had writing it.

For those interested a new batch of archived stories will be posted the coming week!

The rings: Jake

--- First time writing my own story ---

--- Please let me know what you think ---

Just before the second year of college rolled around I was met with the unfortunate news that my best bro, my roommate, would not be making it to the second year.

Turned out he'd been spending too much time partying, and too little studying. Not even the coach could save him anymore.

Sure, being on a sports scholarship meant studying isn't your main priority but you still had to maintain your grades somewhat if you want to make it to the next year.

To make things worse, my new roommate turned out be some nerd.

Jacob was your average nerd that would be holed up in his room most of the time.

He didn't really bother me. It's just... I had hoped to have a new bro to go to the gym with instead of some wimpy kid.

Color me surprised when the guy came out of his room out of nowhere to ask me to help him some project he was doing for some course.

Something about trying some "telepathy" gear he was working on he was working on for a biomed class.

To be honest it all sounded really like some science mumbo jumbo to me. I must admit I wasn't too excited so I thought I'd struck a deal instead: he'd tutor me for my calc class and I'd try his stupid gear thing.

He seemed happy with the proposal and told me it'd be ready for testing in a couple days.

--

As I stepped out of the bathroom after just taking a shower I was met by Jacob holding two comically large rings which almost looked like miniature hula hoops.

It had been a week since he'd asked me for the favor. To be honest, I'd already forgotten about our agreement.

Though I was a man of my word and did need some help with calc, not wanting to end up like my old buddy.

He signaled for me to sit on the couch as he started to explain all about his new gadget.

Supposedly, the pair of rings were some new technology he was working on. He explained that it allowed the wearers to communicate with each other as if the other person was simply a voice in their head.

I accepted one of the nearly metal rings, the only discernable difference being a smaller engraved letter T on the side indicating that I would be on the receiving end according to Jacob.

Not thinking much of it, I held it over my head as he instructed.

As I pressed the button on the side of the device it quickly shrank, tightly sealing itself on my head.

Jacob, doing the same, had grabbed a small little tablet whilst the ring sealed itself on his head.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yeah, let's get this over with" I replied back.

A large shit-eating grin appeared on his face as he pressed a button on the ring.

"You jocks are real dumbasses, you know. Should've been more skep--" the nerd started saying before he suddenly stopped.

The twig had frozen right in his tracks. He looked as if his soul had left his body.

Testing if he was actually there, I waved my hand in front of his face.

Nothing.

Huh? What the fuck?

Okay, this is kinda weird.

I need to get rid of this ring.

It didn't budge. Not only that, this shitty thing just zapped me as well.

Hmm, think. The nerd mentioned something about telepathy, right?

Hey nerd, you hear me?

No response. Fuck.

I'm gonna look like some freak with this stupid headband there has to be something...

Maybe I should just try the telepathy again.

Hey Jacob, say something!

In an almost comical fashion what seemed like a corpse just uttered one word.

"something"

You've gotta be kidding me.

Uh, let's try something else.

Jacob, jump!

Without skipping a beat he jumped.

This is kinda awesome...

Jacob, explain what your plans were with these rings

"My intention was to use these rings to transform you into a nerd as well as do something other things..."

Explain what you mean with transform

"These rings are a technology I devloped that allows you to transform your target however you like by giving suggestions"

Heh. So, if I told him to grow a pair that would work?

As expected the nerd briefly twitched before a visible bulge started forming.

The Jacob's bulge wasn't the only thing growning larger in the room.

I noticed that my dick started to chub up as well, fueled by this new power I had just obtained.

I realized that with these rings I could do anything.

I could still get the roommate I wanted. And I could make him however I wanted.

--

Time to get to work.

Strip

The pudgy nerd took care of undressing, now showcasing his unimpressive body.

I could not help but feel pity for the guy.

He lacked any muscle definition. The only thing he had going for him was his now bull-sized nuts that looked mismatched compared to the rest of his body.

I should at least give him an appropriate cock to match.

Jacob, add a couple more inches to your cock

His average 5 incher started growing rapidly, reaching a monsterous size of what looked to be 8 inches.

I circled around him, proud of my work while I looked for the next area of improvement.

To be honest, there was a lot of work to be done. Maybe a rough approach would be better.

Adjust your body fat percentage to 7%

His already slim frame now became quite boney.

Add 40 lbs of muscle mass

The same arms that once lacked any muscle mass now had biceps that would rival an amateur body builder.

Veins also started bulging out, running from his large mitts upto his biceps.

The changes didn't stop there, however.

A pair of meat slabs started to form on his chest as well.

Unable to resist, I snuck up behind Jacob to fondle his newly formed pecs whilst also admiring his growing traps.

My hand went slipped down further, sliding into the deep crevasse formed by his 6-pack abs.

It seemed that Jacob hadn't missed leg day either. His legs now looked more like tree trunks that would be easily able to squash a watermelon.

To make the picture complete Jacob's feet had to match as well.

You've always worn a size 13

His feet grew large and veins appeared, much like what had happened to his previously tiny hands.

You've always prefered to keep your hair in a quiff

Jacob's unruly mop had started to style itself in a trendy quiff.

Now, flex for me

Jacob now struck a double bicep pose, his already large biceps forming sizeable peaks.

----

"You mentioned something about jocks and being a real dumbasses didn't you, Jacob?"

Ah, wait.

You will wake up

"Huh, what... Why do I feel heavy..." Jacob murmured before realizing it was caused by his new physique.

"Wait! No. You were supposed to get the receiver not the transmitter! How did I- argh" Jacob said fully grasping the situation now.

"I don't want to be some dumb brute!" Jacob told me, now reaching for the ring.

Don't move

Without missing a beat Jacob froze right in his tracks.

"What are you planning to do to me, you stupid jock?" he asked.

"Stupid jock, huh" I mocked.

"It's funny you say that because right now you look more like a jock than me." I told him.

"Perhaps you just don't think like one... yet" I snarked.

"I remember you said something before. Something about jocks being real dumbasses?"

"Wait no! Please-"

You've always been a dumb

"I- uh.. Hng.. What did I say again...?"

"A real jock wouldn't go by a nerdy name like Jacob, now would he?"

You have always been called Jake

"Bro, I don't know who the fuck you're talking about."

"Ah, nothing to worry about bro" I reassured him.

You only care about is lifting weights and partying. You never bothered with studying.

Oh, and you may move again

"So bro, what's up what are we doing here? We should go to the gym." He asked me, completely oblivious as what happened not even minutes earlier.

"You dumbass, we just got back from the gym." I told him.

"Oh, huhuh, sorry bro, I guess I forgot haha" he replied.

When I call you by the nickname brute, you will obey my instructions, no matter what I tell you

"Hey Brute, won't you help me with getting these rings off?" I ask.

"Of course, anything for you bro" he replied.

A bro is never afraid of a little bromance

A little fire in his eyes lit up.

"So bro, what do I need to do?" he asked.

"On the count on three, we both press the button on the side of the ring. I think that's the only way to get them off" I explained.

"Ready?" I asked.

3.. 2... 1..

I immediately felt relief as the tight ring was now removed from my head.

"Brute, give that ring to me. You never want to touch that ring again. You know big bro will handle it for you" I instruct Jake.

"Here you go, bro" he said handing the ring.

I put the rings on the nearby coffee table.

I was happy. I now got myself the perfect roommate. And, if I needed it I could give additional to my brute.

"Hey Jake, there's a party tonight. You wanna go?" I asked him.

"Of course bro, always down"

"Before that, I've got to ask something" I said, sitting back down on the couch.

"I need a little help with something" I smirked, turned on by all the effort put in transforming my roommate

My dick had become rock hard and was begging for attention.

"You think you can help a bro out?"

The New Frat: Part 2

--- Original author: newyoutf ---

“C- Chris? No way… This is some sort of prank right?”, Todd stuttered.

“Not a prank, man! Tried on those slides and now look at me!”, Chris replied, “Guess I don’t need a costume now if I’m the real thing!”

“What slides? What is going on?!”, James yelled, puzzled.

“T- the frat bro costumes we ordered… We just got footwear, but this can’t be real… Wh- where’s Chris? Who are you?”, Todd answered.

“Todd, James, it’s me! You told me ten minutes ago to make the best with what we had for the party tonight!”

Todd’s mouth slackened slightly, no-one else could have heard that conversation…

“You guys should try this shit on too!”, Chris continued enthusiastically as he reached back into the shipping box, “I think these boat shoes might be a good match for you, bro!”

Chris tossed the box containing the boat shoes at a startled Todd, followed by the final box holding the flip-flops towards James.

Todd’s mind raced. If this was really, actually real then he might be able to *become* a frat boy instead of just lusting over them from a distance. Part of him still feared this was an elaborate hoax of some kind, but this was almost certainly Chris, no other explanation made sense. And the thought of actually being what he what desired most was too much to pass up.

“S- So… I put on the shoes, and I became a ‘bro’ or whatever?”, he asked nervously.

“Uh, I’m 99% positive, but only one way to be sure, bro!”

“Todd! You’re not actually believing this right?”, James interrupted.

“James, man, we all know Todd’s crazy for the prep bros, this is his one chance!”, Chris snapped back.

Both of the roommates were stunned, only the real Chris would know about Todd’s admittedly embarrassing predilection for the preppier men on campus.

“O- Okay, I’ll do it…”, Todd began to kick the shoes and socks off his feet while opening the box in his hands and tossing the leather boat shoes to the floor.

“I- uh… s- sure…”, James added while he more cautiously followed.

Todd slipped on the left shoe. It went on with ease being larger than his foot. At the same time James nervously stepped into the flip-flops. He couldn’t believe he’d ever fit into these, the massive slabs made his feet look tiny in comparison. In that moment he thought how crazy he was for falling for whatever joke this was.

“These are like wearing skis! This is ridic-”, James stuttered as he inhaled deeply.

Todd looked at his roommate in surprise just as the right shoe covered his remaining foot. Unimaginable waves of intense pressure and pleasure rocketed up the two men’s legs causing the sounds of moans to fill the room. Todd bucked his hips in the air, “C- Chris! You… urgh…. didn’t mention this p- paaaaart!”

Both men could feel their limbs stretching longer as they grew taller. Backs groaned upward and arms dangled down longer. Todd growled as his 5′9″ frame was stretched into one 6′0″ tall.

James - previously the tallest of the trio - grew slower going from 5′10″ to 6′2″ - a substantial increase, but leaving him to be now the middle height of the group. He staggered forward and tripped over the leather slabs loosely held by his toes, catching himself on his knee as the bones and tendons of his size 9 feet were forced to grow. Sweat rolled down his face to the floor as leant onto his bent knees, watching the exposed feet spreading wider, thicker and longer as they covered the size 13 leather soles completely.

By this stage Todd’s toes were stretching forward within the boat shoes. His heel eased backward while the rest of the sole grew forward. The feet pushed wider, his lengthening toes striking the sides as they filled up the size 12 shoes.

James began muttering senselessly with his lip trembling. All over his skin had darkened to a deep bronze surfers tan. He pulled desperately at the waistband of his pants and freed his hard 6 inch cock. His member quivered with tension as it began to very slowly extend extend longer…

Chris watched on as the mens four legs began to tremble as growth infected them. Thick muscle spread up from their strengthening ankles, wrapping up the back of their calves. James’ legs bulged harder and thicker than Todd’s, violently blowing apart his pants revealing thick, bulging thighs and sturdy, strong calves - all now devoid of hair.

Todd’s shorts, on the other hand, groaned under subtler pressure, tearing and falling away slowly as strong legs emerged from the ruins. Light hair spread across the powerful thighs and reached his pubes, which became tidier, revealing more of the gradually expanding cock.

Todd choked back a loud moan as head of his cock surged in size wildly. He stood panting and shaking as pecs and abs began to press against his shirt, the buttons struggling against the muscle. One by one the buttons popped away, revealing a lean, muscular chest decorated with light hair.

The other friend’s transformation was becoming more dramatic by now. Failing in an attempt to stifle a lustful growl, James collapsed backward onto the side of the bed, feeling abdominals bulge out of his stomach. He placed a hand on his abdomen and felt defined cum gutters chiselling their way out below his new abs. His pecs weren’t far behind as the sensitivity in his nipples rose to unbearable levels, the muscles beneath them surging outward. As his hand brushed along the meaty chest muscles, he felt what little body hair he had dissolving away, showing off his tanned skin and glistening muscles. His small shirt began to warp and tear before exploding under the pressure of the meaty pecs and huge shoulders.

“Fuck yeah, man!”, Chris chimed up, turned on and excited by his friends becoming frat studs like himself. He pawed gently at his own hard cock watching the transformations unfold in front of him.

James wailed, pushing his shoulders back as they expanded even wider. Muscles bulged from them and rippled down his biceps where they swelled even larger. Individual muscles could be seen wriggling and expanding, creating the deeply attractive bulges of muscle seen on other jocks. With the growth spreading down the limbs, hair faded from his inflating forearms. The fingers on his hands stretched outward as they grew longer and thicker alongside his palms. He watched as the digits cracked and flailed becoming intensely long and broad.

The disproportionately enormous hands would provide the world a hint of the massive cock he possessed, now sitting at 8 inches and continuing to swell. He gripped the shaft with his hand and began to stroke.

Todd meanwhile was growling with lust at his own expanding biceps. He gripped his scalp as the changes moved through his head. He could feel his fingers sliding longer through the mop of hair on his head, the hands becoming large and nimble. The hair pushed through the long, tidy fingers, sweeping into a neat, preppy part. He rubbed his face and moaned feeling short spiky stubble where none existed prior. His fingers traced a reshaping facial shape: a sharper jaw and chin, a smaller, cuter nose and ears, a steely-eyed brow.

Both men moaned in acceptance as their personalities were plucked apart and rearranged. Todd staggered, feeling thoughts and memories filling his head: sex, drinking, prep fashion, sex, more sex.

Similar mental changes zapped away at James’ mind. His days would now be consumed by sports, working out, the beach and fucking. Overrun with lust, he angrily stroked his cock as it stretched to its finale of 9 veiny inches. While he thrust desperately he gritted his teeth, feeling them shifting in his mouth. His face creaked and rippled as it shifted into that of a gorgeous, vain, beach-dwelling jock.

The fully transformed James was close to his climax now as he turned to Todd, witnessing his friend clamor and grasp in lust at his own shifting visage. His face was widening and elongating, accomodating a broad and ever more stubbly jaw. He was smiling and moaning, running his hands through his hair as it swept across and lightened a shade. His newly blued eyes fluttered open as he felt his cock surge outward.

“Oh shit, bro!”, James watched lustfully as his friend approached the end of his changes, “Almost… there, man!”.

Todd nodded at James, his mouth hanging open while his cock and balls inflated like balloons - what was once 5 inches minutes ago now pushed beyond 7.

“You ready… bro!”, James gasped loudly.

“I- I’m… r- ready… b- b- broooooooooo!”, with two simultaneous roars, Todd’s cock shot out to 8 long inches and ejected it’s preppy frat boy contents over and over. Similarly, James’ huge cock sprayed stream after stream of his hot jock cum across the floor and up his tanned abs.

“So you guys believe me now?”, Chris chimed in.

“Ha… ha… yeah, man…”, “Ch’yeah, bro…”, the two new additional frat boys replied.

“So, fuck tonight’s party. What do y’all think about throwing our own frat party? A few beers, maybe order some more shit from that site for some friends? What do you think, boys?”, Chris said with a smile as his yanked his phone off the bed and opened it to the website that had started all of this.

James and Todd looked each and smirked, nodding in approval.

“Hell yeah, bro…”

Hot inanimate TF stories, do check this blog out!

click for my original content

Roommate Needed 7

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

The barrista across the counter looked annoyed with me as I mumbled my way through my order.

"Um ... I'll have the ... uh ... a medium caramel latte."

"What kind of milk?" she asked, but before I could mutter an answer she continued, clearly anticipating my next question. "We have whole, 2%, skim, or soy."

"Whole milk, I guess."

"What's your name?"

"Um ... oh, right ... um ... Elliot"

She gave me a sour look at started working on my drink. She had a few other orders to make, so it would be a little bit of a wait. I suddenly realized that I really had to go to the bathroom and figured my drink would be ready by the time I got back. The coffee shop was pretty full with people, many of them staring into their computer screens or down at their books. No one seemed to notice me as I walked past.

I walked into the bathroom and shut the door. It was a small room, unisex, with a toilet in the corner, a few hooks for clothes or a backpack, a sink, and a mirror. I hung up my bag and saw my reflection in the mirror. My hair hung down over my eyes, touching the frame of my glass and darkening my pale face and watery eyes. My thin arms hung weakly at my side.

On the edge of the sink, I noticed a pair of sunglasses. I picked them up, thinking I would give them to the store manager for the lost and found. But as soon as I touched them, I felt the urge to try them on, just for a second. I had always worn glasses because I had terrible eyesight, so I never had the chance to wear sunglasses very often. I took off my glasses and saw my reflection become blurry in the mirror.

"What's the use," I thought to myself. "I won't really see how I look in them anyway ... I would need my real glasses."

But, as soon as I put on the dark shades, the reflection in the mirror transformed. Through the lenses, I saw the image of a muscular body, perfectly clear. I pulled off the glasses and the world brightened and blurred. I squinted at my reflection and saw that my shirt was unbuttoned. When I put the shades back on, I saw the image again, but this time noticed the tattoos covering his arms and chest. I looked down at my arms and saw that the same tattoos were winding their way up from my wrists, slowly covering my pale skin. This time when I looked at my reflection, I could see myself clearly, as if I no longer needed my glasses. I quickly pulled off my shirt and watched as the tattoos advanced onto my biceps and down my back. I put the shades on again, looked into the mirror and saw that stubble was bristling on my chin.

"This can't be real," I said to myself. I could never grow facial hair. "This must all be some optical illusion."

But, I rubbed my hand against my chin and felt the rough texture. I tipped the glasses down, expecting to see my body transform back into its original, pale and thin version. But the image stayed the same, only the light had changed back to the bright white of the room. I started flexing, watching my muscles tighten and bulge in the mirror. My chest was smooth and tan, clearly shaven and waxed. But at the base of my chiseled abs was a line of hair leading to my crotch.

I unbuckled my belt and pulled my pants down. There I found my manhood bursting out of a tight pair of sports underwear. I guided my erection into the sink and thrust towards my reflection. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the beautiful face and body in front of me. Was this really me? Was this really my body I was pleasuring? With every stroke I felt my mind relaxing into its new self. I was forgetting ... no ... I was remembering. With a final thrust, a hot stream of cum shot into the sink.

I backed away from sink, pleased with my new body. In my backpack, I found a white tank top and a plaid shirt to replace the one I had thrown on the ground. I changed into my new clothes and headed back out into the cafe.

As soon as I reached the counter, I heard the barrista call out a drink. She looked me straight, then scanned up and down, lingering a moment on my crotch, and then blushed as she said, "Medium raspberry mango protein shake for Mark."

I walked up to the counter, smiled a bit, watched the barrista blush even more, grabbed my shake and walked out the door, not wanting to be late for my lifting session with my roommates. They would be waiting for me at the gym.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

o

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

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

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

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

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

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

o

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

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

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

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

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

“INTERCEPTION!” 

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

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

o

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

o

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

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

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

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

“What?”

“You keep, uh, callin me Matt.”

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

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

“Want to sign up for the football team.”

“… Huh?”

“I’m joking.  What’s up?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

o

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

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

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

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

“How about your white whale?”

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

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

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

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

“Year after year.  Year after year.”

Better use of a twink

--- Originally posted on 2024-07-12 by breedertfs ---

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

Clark couldn’t stop pounding his cock in and out of the warm, slick sex toy that was now sprawled out in front of him. A black silicone body with an arched back like a bimbo presenting her ass in the air, not to mention the vertical slit opening and deliciously tight, lubed rubber folds that lined the inside. Clark moaned loudly and dumbly, hands pressing down on the leather and shoving it into his sweaty sheets, drool trickling out of his mouth, hips bucking back and forth as the last of his changes occur.

A chinstrap beard on his jaw, backwards ball cap on his head, thoughts full of fat bouncing tits and leaking pussies and blasting his load deep inside a bitch’s womb - unfortunately, he forgets entirely about the sweet, smooth twink he once loved, the one he was just celebrating his anniversary with only moments before the flash of red light came through their bedroom window and shone on them, and that was when Clark started bulking up and feeling horny and talking like a total douche despite his internal protests; “bro, I need to fuckin’ breed!”

He insisted, pleaded, pressing down on his skinny little boyfriend and holding him in place as his slender limbs were slurped back into his compacting body, head and face smoothing out as his tears turned into old cum stains, taking a vaguely feminine shape simply meant to help alpha men assert their dominance even in the mere act of jacking off their cocks.

When Clark shoots his load all over the sex toy’s insides, it forgets ever being anything more than its Master’s convenient fuck toy, enjoying the sensation of the cum cooling inside of it but feeling pity that the alpha seed was wasted on it. Master deserves to breed the real thing.

New Policeman

this is my first story, I hope you like it, if you see any mistake or something to improve don't hesitate to comment it, thanks.

-----

Niko didn't know how he had ended up in this situation.

 Everything was rather confusing.

He was at the Edgewood police station in Florida, in a room with several soundproof panels scattered around, though not so many as to resemble a recording booth, but enough to isolate the noise. The room contained only a two-legged white table and black acrylic conference chairs on either side.

It resembled a movie interrogation scene, with the only difference being the lights. Instead of a table lamp used to shine directly in his face when the officer demanded answers, there was, fortunately for him, a ceiling fan circulating the air in the room.

Niko began to recall everything that had led him to this situation. He had initially been at Fuego Night Club, having a good time. Niko couldn't help but think of Rosalina, although her real name was Anya. The nickname came from her appearance: a woman in her early twenties with blonde hair tied in a high ponytail, a white T-shirt, and black (or dark blue, he couldn't tell due to the nightclub lighting) shorts, fair skin, and star stickers on her cheeks.

He had been sitting on one of the club's sofas, enjoying himself and not thinking about anything in particular (thanks to the incredibly loud music). He took his plastic cup and took a big sip of his Blue Hawaii, sighing with pleasure. He placed the cup on the table and headed to the dance floor.

He walked with confidence but with enthusiasm, feeling the heat rise due to the rum in her drink. He started moving in tune as a remastered version of Onyra's "The Monster" began, moving his shoulders up and down, raising an arm when the music hit the speakers.

Niko closed his eyes when he decided to let the music take control, like a puppet whose master guided its movements but with some self-control to avoid hitting anyone. He felt the other people on the dance floor bump into him and move around him, several people brushed against his back or arms, but only for a few seconds before they pulled away.

When he opened his eyes, he snapped back to reality, feeling the ecstasy of the music recede, along with his fatigue. He weaved and zigzagged his way through the crowd to exit, and after a while, he was out of the crowd.

When he returned to his area, he sat down and let himself sink into the seat. He looked toward the table where he had left his drink and realized it was no longer there. He scanned the area in case someone had accidentally knocked it over, but it wasn't on the floor.

"Perhaps someone took it," he reasoned. Niko turned his head in both directions, looking at the people in the other seats and checking the drinks they held. But there was no trace of his Blue Hawaii.

He let out an annoyed sigh.

He spun on his heels and headed towards the crowd gathered around the drinks bar. After some maneuvering, as there were other people trying to get drinks or staking out their spots for conversations, which he despised, though he couldn't deny he had done the same before.

He observed one of the bartenders behind the bar. He was young, perhaps in his mid-thirties, Latino (he didn't know from exactly where), short hair and a neatly groomed beard, and brown eyes. He wore the standard uniform, consisting of a black T-shirt and pants. He was serving two beers to a group of patrons and briefly glanced up, probably to check for new customers approaching.

Niko raised his hand to get his attention, and the bartender nodded, approaching him. He announced his order, raising his voice a bit to be heard over the music, but it was audible as the bartender nodded and began preparing the drink.

Niko reached into his pocket, searching for his wallet, and paid with a five-dollar bill. When he took the drink, he took a sip. It was refreshing, followed by the warmth of the rum. He moved back to his spot, but now there was no place to sit because a girl, whom he would later learn was named Estela, was sitting but occupying two seats, leaving enough space on either side but not quite enough for someone (unless they were quite skinny) to sit comfortably.

He approached, leaning toward her, taking her by surprise as she instinctively moved her body back in an attempt to create distance. Although it didn't help much as her body hit the backrest of the seat. Seeing her reaction, Niko stepped back to give her space, trying to convey that he had no ill intentions.

Although it seemed the girl didn't see it that way as she appeared nervous. Niko spoke, hoping the music wasn't too loud to convey his message, informing her that he just wanted to sit.

But it seemed the girl was unwilling to respond, just looking at him, trembling. Niko gave up, turning on his heels and heading toward another section of the nightclub.

After another zigzag through the crowd, he found a spot on the other side of the dance floors, at the opposite end of where his seat was, near the speakers. The loud music drowned out any thoughts, and even laughter and conversations were muffled.

He stood there, enjoying the moment, when someone tapped his shoulder. As he turned, he noticed it was an older man in his late forties, pale skin, worn and plump build, wrinkles on his face, pronounced dark circles, and a fairly prominent receding hairline. He was wearing a light brown shirt and beige pants.

There was another person behind him, a man with black hair, in his thirties, maybe a bit older, with a sturdy build, dressed in a black T-shirt. The attire of a security personnel.

The older man said something, but it couldn't be heard. Niko pointed to his ears, annoyed. In response, he took out his phone, pressed a few keys, and turned the phone to show Niko directly in his face. On the screen, against a black background, probably one of those note-taking apps, was written in white letters,

<Come with us.>

Niko was perplexed by the request. Why would they be calling him? He looked at the man, who then turned and started walking. After a few steps, Niko noticed the security guy standing where he was, staring at him with an expression that made it clear he wouldn't hesitate to restrain him if he didn't follow.

Niko didn't want any trouble, so he followed them.

As they exited the club, they were greeted by a gust of cool air, but Niko noticed two police officers present on the premises. One officer was talking to two girls a few meters away, though it was hard to make out exactly what they were saying. Only one of them was visible, gesticulating quite a bit, while the other was mostly obscured by the officer's figure, with only one of her limbs visible on the side.

The other officer remained by the vehicle, leaning against the passenger door, looking toward the entrance, waiting. When the older man exited, he stepped aside and stood upright. He approached when Niko and the security guard continued. The older man stepped aside, leaving the officer face to face with Niko, who was still confused."

The officer grabbed his arm, the grip firm, and shoved him into the patrol car despite Niko's protests. He raised his head to continue protesting, but the officer was already moving to the other side of the car, making way for passersby who wasted no time in pulling out their phones and began recording, blinding him with the flashlights they had presumably activated for better visibility.

The older man turned and entered the building, closing the door behind him, leaving the security guard at the door, staring at him and with the doors closed.

He heard the driver's side door open, and Niko turned to see the officer.

— This is a mistake. — Niko began, but it seemed the officer had heard those words before, as he said nothing.

— You have to listen to me. — Niko persisted.

But the officer snapped, "Be silent."

The tone he used made it clear he wasn't joking, so Niko obeyed. He could hear the voices of people talking on the street and sensed the seconds passing as camera flashes went off. After a while, almost thirty minutes later, they arrived at the station.

They pulled him out of the vehicle when it stopped. Some officers were coming out of the door. They had taken away all his personal items – house keys, cap, wallet, and consequently his ID card, and his cell phone – and placed them in a tray, which was taken by another officer who headed toward the door they had entered through initially.

The officer took him by the shoulder and led him into a waiting room where he could be observed at all times. It appeared he had company, as there were three people sitting in rows of tables scattered throughout the area, serving as a waiting room, with desks arranged in columns, three by six. Several officers sat at their respective desks, typing or answering calls, while others conversed before looking at some papers. It looked more like a scene from a movie set in an office.

The officer sat him in one of the chairs in the makeshift waiting area. Niko watched him walk away, disappearing around the corner. He remained seated, staring in that direction, waiting to see him return.

— Stand up.

"Heard someone calling, which startled him as he was caught off guard. He centered his attention on the person who had called him, and in front of him stood a woman, dressed like the others. Brown hair, tanned skin, perhaps in her thirties, with a serious expression on her face.

Niko simply obeyed. He didn't know how much time had passed, even though he started counting (he had reached five hundred and fifty-six) and only stopped when he began to feel drowsy out of sheer boredom.

Perhaps an hour passed, although it felt like five to Niko. He felt the door open, and a officer in his late forties, white, with a neatly groomed three-day beard and a pronounced mustache, and brown eyes, appeared. He wore the standard uniform and looked at Niko without showing any expression, approaching the table.

— Stand up.

<<Is this some kind of joke? How many more times are you going to make me stand up?>> Niko complained, but he did as ordered and stood up from the chair.

That's when they led him into this new cinematic room. He waited there for about ten minutes before the door opened again. This time, it wasn't a police officer, and the person wasn't even dressed as an officer. He was wearing a light gray tuxedo.

As if he had done this many times before, he approached the table, took the remaining chair and moved it aside, causing it to screech, and then sat down. He remained silent, staring at Niko as if he were a zoo animal.

He sat like this for what seemed to be ten minutes, although Niko was no longer sure.

— ¿Can I know why I’m here? — Niko finally asked.

The man seemed to smile, although the smile was small.

— Of course you can. — the man said, though his voice was higher-pitched than his appearance suggested. "You overstepped with a girl."

The news took Niko by surprise. Overstepped with a girl? But he didn't even try to talk to anyone... Then, as if it were presenting itself in his mind, the image of the girl he had asked for a seat came to his mind.

— I wasn't overstepping with her; I just asked for the seat— Niko stated.

— We know. Estela already confessed it to us.

Happiness welled up in Niko, and it was evident in the smile on his face.

— ¿So, can I go back home then? — Niko didn't hide his happiness.

The man in the suit let out a disappointed sigh.

— It's not as simple as that.

The smile vanished from Niko's face.

— But you said...

— I know what I said. — the man in the suit interrupted. — But did you think about what people saw?

Niko shook his head. Now that he thought about it, he was right. Not only had people seen him in the patrol car, but the officer had also turned to face the onlookers.

— Exactly. — the man in the suit continued, raising his index finger. — The evidence might disappear, but people have probably already shared your face on social media.

Niko hadn't thought about that either.

— Which means. — the man in the suit went on. — anyone who recognizes you, whether they were inside the nightclub or in the waiting room, will spell serious trouble for you.

Niko brought his hands to his head, looking down at the table. It felt like his world was falling apart.

— But don't worry; it's not the end of the world. — the man said reassuringly.

Niko looked up but didn't remove his hands from his head.

— We can give you a new life.

That didn't sound entirely certain, as if he could wave a magic wand and make the incident disappear from people's memories.

— What about the videos? — Niko asked.

— We'll make them disappear. — the stranger replied.

The stranger turned the page on the table without taking his eyes off Niko and then slid it in front of him.

Niko glanced at the paper, not paying much attention as the man took a pen from his pocket and placed it on the table. Written on the sheet was a declaration that Mr. Niko Lingray allowed the Florida Supreme Court to take responsibility for providing him with accommodation and enough money to subsist, in exchange for working a thirty-six-hour weekly schedule for an annual salary of seventy-five thousand dollars.

And below are several clauses, with the first one stating that you cannot engage in a second job. You must fulfill your duties and possess the necessary skills to perform them," the man explained.

— Is any of this legal? — Niko asked.

The man leaned his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together, still smiling.

— Of course, it is. You're applying for a job.

Niko felt that the situation was far from just a job application. But thinking about the situation, he didn't have many options. He could refuse, but just walking down the street and having people stare at him as if he were dangerous, and knowing that he might be hounded by people without any decency asking why he did what he did, wasn't a life worth living.

Niko gave in. He knew he didn't have a better way out of the situation. He picked up the pen from the table and began signing the paper. His signature consisted of his name written in cursive, with the 'N' in uppercase, curving into a serpentine pattern that connected with the 'I'.

The man in the suit took the paper, rose from his chair with a grating noise, and left the room. The door closed behind him. Now alone, Niko began to contemplate the situation he was in. So much had happened in just one day, and fatigue was catching up to him. He just wanted this to be over soon.

Niko waited and felt the room getting warmer. He sensed the gusts of air from the fan, but they had turned warm, adding to the heat. He waved his hand, trying to fan himself, but it didn't seem to work. He wondered if he was getting sick. He planned to ask the man in the suit if they could check on him or give him something for the discomfort.

Niko felt drops of sweat forming on his forehead and removed his cap, tossing it on the table. He wiped his forehead with his hand, not realizing that the area he touched began to take on a bronzed tone.

As he lowered his hand, he felt an itching sensation, as if it had fallen asleep. He began shaking it to get rid of the feeling, but without success. He opened and closed his hand to regain feeling, but that didn't seem to work either. He looked at his hand to see what was happening.

With horror, Niko watched as the veins on his hand bulged and moved as if they were snakes, slithering and extending down his arm.

He felt a tightness in his arm, as if someone were pulling it, as if it were about to be torn off. He raised both hands, placing them in front of his eyes, trying to convince himself that he wasn't seeing what he was seeing.

With horror, he realized that he wasn't hallucinating. It was clear that his right arm had elongated and was now much longer than his left, with his sleeve revealing the extended half of his arm, unlike the other. It was accompanied by a thick mass of black hair.

He looked at both hands, alternating between palm and back, inadvertently hitting the table due to the newfound length of his arms. His mind struggled to process what he was seeing, trying to convince himself that it was an illusion, but a part of him knew that wasn't the case, and he needed to call one of the officers.

He glanced at the door, screaming for help, waiting impatiently for someone to hear him. He felt a stabbing pain in his shoulder. He grabbed it tightly in an attempt to alleviate the pain, although Niko didn't notice that his shoulder was expanding and becoming quite prominent.

The burning sensation in his other hand began, and he knew what would happen next. He had to get up and show the officers what was happening. He rose from the chair, letting it drop with a horrible noise. He approached the exit, gripped the doorknob, but it wouldn't open.

Niko looked perplexed at the door, wondering why it was locked when he knew it had no lock. He hadn't heard the sound of a door being locked. He began pounding on it, begging to be let out, resisting the pulling sensation in his arm. He struck it once, twice, thrice... eight times with force, but the door wouldn't budge, and his hand hurt from the impact.

Then, the pain intensified. He thought he might have dislocated a joint in his hand from the pounding. He leaned his head against the door for support, examining his hand to assess the damage. He noticed that the top of his index finger was swollen, doubling in thickness compared to the others.

He cried out for help again, but no one seemed to hear him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He exhaled and inhaled again, attempting to manage the pain. It seemed to work, as the pain became more bearable.

Crack.

Crack.

Two more cracks followed. He howled in agony, throwing his head back. He examined his hand, thinking he had broken a finger. But as he looked at it, he saw that there was nothing visibly wrong, oblivious to the fact that the palm of his hand had become wider.

And as if a switch had been flipped, the sound of his fingers breaking became audible. Each finger started to elongate and thicken, resembling sausages, filling and forming a large, fleshy hand. His skin tightened, hardened, and formed calluses. Niko's eyes welled up with tears due to the excruciating pain.

The pain extended up his arm, and his skin began to ripple, resembling boiling water. With each ripple, his arm expanded, filling the muscles and creating strong biceps that burst through his shirt, tearing the fabric apart. Niko felt the weight unbalancing him, and he struggled to hold himself up until he couldn't bear it anymore, collapsing to the floor, his chin and knees hitting the ground with force as he cried out in pain.

Sweat had accumulated on his forehead and began to roll down his face, forming small puddles on the floor. Niko threw his head back in an attempt to suppress the pain, but it only spread to his chest. Unbeknownst to him, his pectoral muscles began to expand, pushing against his shirt. As his back arched and stretched like a candy cane, his shirt and jacket failed to cover his entire body, leaving his stomach exposed.

A tickling sensation in his throat intensified, causing him to cough uncontrollably. With each cough, his voice grew deeper, and the Adam's apple was pushed outward even more than it already was.

Crack.

Another crack echoed through the room, eliciting another scream. Niko brought his hands to his face, attempting to pull at his skin in a futile attempt to relieve the pain, but it was in vain. Unbeknownst to him, his jaw had retracted, making his chin more prominent. A tingling sensation filled his face as the hairs of his beard, especially on his chin, began to pull. As they grew, they tugged at the skin. The same happened with his eyebrows, which, though prominent, grew even thicker. His nose lengthened, and his skin stretched, leaving traces of exhaustion on his face, making him appear more mature.

Niko stumbled, barely managing to hold onto the table as his legs threatened to give way due to the excessive weight of his new body. Amidst the staggering, he observed how his skin was covered in a sheen of sweat, with droplets sliding down his body and falling to the floor. He moved his hand, noticing how the sweat glistened in the light.

Sweat continued to slide, depositing itself in his eyes, causing a stinging sensation. He rubbed his eyes desperately, unaware that the bluish color of his eyes was starting to darken, turning them into a dark brown.

Sweat now covered his entire body, leaving clear stains on the remaining clothes. One of the affected areas was his legs, which began to swell with muscle, tearing the fabric as it stretched with each passing second until it finally ripped open, leaving his jeans looking like extremely tight shorts.

He groaned as he felt his feet being constricted, as they had elongated to the point where they pressed against the shoe's rubber and leather. He clenched his fists in a desperate hope that the transformation would stop, fearing that his fingers would break as they were pushed against the sole of his shoes.

It seemed that his wish was granted as he started to hear the fabric tearing. He sighed in relief as each toe punctured through the material, emerging from the shoe's insole, allowing him to feel the coldness of the floor beneath him.

But something Nick didn't know was that with each breath, his memories were beginning to fade, leaving behind traces of his life, family, and studies. They were all melting away, dripping like an ice cream in the sun, sliding down to his balls. Where, upon feeling the extra load, he felt a blow to his testicles. As his thoughts emptied, he felt a sharp pressure as if someone were driving needles into his head. He pressed his forehead with both hands, but to no avail. Amidst several camera flashes, resembling scenes from an old movie, new memories emerged. Yet, upon reflection, he knew they were scenes from his own life.

He remembered being raised by his parents in a house in Silver Spring, completing his studies, and asking his father to enroll him in a gym, explaining his desire to become an officer, much like in the TV series "Blue Bloods." He recalled the time and dedication he had put into the tests, as well as the celebration that followed when his commanding officer handed him the paper stating he would work at the Edgewood police station for 14 years. He could still feel how his boss had called him just twenty minutes ago, informing him that he needed to return to the police station. When he inquired further about the order, his boss had mentioned that a member of the Department of Justice wanted to speak with him.

Niko took deep breaths to alleviate his fatigue, detecting a bitter, acrid sensation in the air. It was his sweat, which surprised him as he used deodorant every day. He raised his arm, wincing due to sore muscles, but as he brought it up, his armpit seemed as usual, with no excess hair. However, the odor was strong, as if even deodorant couldn't conceal it.

His crotch shoots forward, as if someone is pulling on an invisible rope. With each tug it slides down his thigh. Pulling and pulling, growing in size. Sliding down the side of his briefs, getting tight against his thigh like a fishing net.

Nick looked down as he watched his member grow inch by inch, leaving it at 7 inches. He moaned, because the fabric of the briefs was squeezing tightly. Nick arched his back as he felt a squeeze in his lower back, similar to someone squeezing his butt cheeks, contracting them. With each contraction, the buttocks became firmer and firmer, and consequently more prominent. Pulling at the fabric of the briefs, squeezing his member tighter, which elicited a moan. In an act of release, Nick tried to remove his underpants, which already looked like a thong because of how constricted they were. But he couldn't, he couldn't even get his fingertips in, so he pinched them, though also pricking his skin in the process. Stretching the fabric enough to get his fingers in, and in one motion he had removed them.

The heat seemed to subside, leaving him gasping for breath at the bad moment he was experiencing, though it seemed to focus on his crotch.He grabbed the chair that fell to the floor and sat down, grabbed his member and began to grope it.After a few seconds, his body began to spasm, as his member shot its load and with it, everything that represented Niko.

The door opens, and Nick turns to see the man in the suit returning, holding a uniform in one arm against his chest and a set of papers in his hand, presumably to keep the other arm free. Nick gets up from the chair, ignoring the drops still dripping from the tip of his member.

— Welcome aboard, Officer Mayers. — the man comments as he sees Nick standing. He offers a smile and extends the set of clothing.

Nick nods in response and accepts the outfit, laying it on the table. He searches through it until he finds a pair of boxer shorts. But then he remembers.

He looks over his shoulder at the man in the suit, indicating for him to leave the room so he can change. He's relieved to find that the man is standing with his back to him, which he appreciates.

With that, he begins to dress, starting with the boxer shorts.

— While you get ready, — the man in the suit announces, the sound of papers rustling. — I'll inform you of your new workplace and responsibilities.

Nick wanted to tell him that it wouldn't be necessary, as his only missions were to protect civilians and punish criminals. But he can only hope that he won't have to deal with paperwork.

After ten minutes of explanation, the man in the suit left the papers on the table, informing Nick that all the information he needed was there.

— It's a pleasure to begin, sir... — Nick left the sentence hanging as he didn't know the man's name.

— You can call me Vincent. — the man in the suit replied.

Nick nodded, and Vincent gestured towards the door, proceeding to leave the room. He returned to the office area where everyone seemed to be engrossed in their work. However, there were now two new faces in the waiting section.

Meanwhile, Nick continued walking towards the exit. If only he had looked back, he would have noticed that the man in the suit was still in the room, holding the door and then closing it. The door began to vanish, merging with the wall and disappearing as if it had never existed.

The early morning air was refreshing as Nick left the police station, crossing the parking lot to reach his Toyota Tundra. He took out his keys, started the engine, and left the parking lot to head home and rest. He needed to be as well-rested as possible because he had a lot of work to do with the move.

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

***

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

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

"Black, totally not your color,"

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

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

"Of course babe, see you,"

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

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

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

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

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