Himbo - Blog Posts
This is AJ Mayes. He was the last character I worked on for my class in the spring semester and I’m honestly not that proud of it. I don’t hate it, but I feel like I could’ve done better with his design and pose. Anyways, the character himself is a muscular Japanese-American boy who is kind of a dork and likes to draw. He’s the muscle of the group and has a relationship with Dawna Days while they’re alone in Gabe’s house. #strangerthings #sevenchronicles #stranger #things #himbo #ajmayes #aj #mayes #dawna #days #seven #chronicles https://www.instagram.com/p/ChLHxYGOUti/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
yan!butcher! ( ˘ ³˘)♥
a/n: yawnn gojo series coming sooonnnn :3
cw: gaslighting, gore (butchered body parts), dead dove, reader is a stereotypical horror movie character, gn!reader, paranoia
credits for dividers: @lavendergalactic ! please check out their work
yan!butcher who noticed the new person in town, hauling things out of a truck and moving in to a cottage nearby. he didn't pay attention much, he had a whole business to run! that is, until you showed up at his butchery.
you looked all confused, probably never having to talk to the butcher before and instead grabbing the meat from the shelves. you kept asking him questions about which part was the brisket and which one was the tenderloin. and he'll admit, his heart melted. he gave you a pound of beef and told you the best ways to keep it fresh, he even offered you a discount!
yan!butcher who remembers his mom telling him a way to a person's heart is through the stomach. which makes sense anatomy wise, so it must work with you too! so now he always asks if you're eating well and whatever your answer is you're still getting a pound of meat.
yan!butcher who notices you haven't been visiting lately, did he give so much meat you're stocked for the month that you don't even need to visit him anymore??? he asks some of the locals, and he comes back with the fact you went shopping in the far away mall...with your friends.
why do you even HAVE friends anyways...he's much more fun to be around...even his neighbors have been asking him why he's so gloomy! he has to do something about this! he can't let these..these friends steal you from him!
....looking at one of your friend's corpse, he can't help but think it was too easy. he propped them up at his butcher block, kind of just staring at them as if he didn't know he did it. oh well, he's one step closer to you! maybe he could give you a message, something to show he means business!
...you're terrified when you open the random box left at your doorstep to see your friends' hands and head. what do you do with this?! do you turn it in to the police? the police doesn't seem very capable around these areas...maybe if you ignore it and throw it out it won't be a problem.
then another one, and another one, and you're left with one. you beg them to leave early, not saying why, but you know they're scared too. so now you have no one but yan!butcher. a win for him!
you vent to him about how your friends 'disappeared', and how you're scared you're gonna be next. he only keeps reassuring you that no one would kill you because it'd be a war crime to kill someone so pretty like you. you don't seem comforted.
so...instead...yan!butcher invites you to stay over at his house! just to make sure! you very much reluctantly agree, figuring you have nothing to lose since he seems nice, and he's basically your only friend in town.
he sets up his spare bedroom just for you, remembering that he actually has to wash blankets he doesn't use because it'd be weird. he's very formal about the whole thing, so formal it's kind of endearing and a bit funny in some way?
you settle down, pulling your blankets over, still a bit paranoid, but eventually falling asleep.
if only you paid a little more attention to those cuts.
@ Buggy - WHAT is the ✨hair care routine✨???
Big himbo baby, Clark Kent
this sitcom that is playing on the tv (I'm watching youtube and only vaguely listening, it makes me feel less anxious) is doing an episode where the generic housewife's ex boyfriend is mentioned. nothing in particular except for the fact that his name is Chad and he wrote her poetry about her eyes (so the husband writes poetry about her ears or smth idk). whatever but my point is that now I'm imagining this guy as the himbo from emperor's new groove and keep snorting as I laugh about it
Layla: It’s dark in here, can you get a flashlight please?
Nabu: You’re the only light in my LIFE love.
Layla:NaBu I cAn’T fUcKiNg SeE!
The concept of Dick and Jason both having their own Brucie Wayne versions to charm the public is SO funny to me. Not even the fact that the whole idea is amusing, but Bruce's reaction to it would heal me. Like, he is with Dick on some mission, and here goes Richie Grayson :> — your local bimbo and golden retriever, or you know, whatever you want him to be. That, at least, seems obvious.
But Jason turns into Jase Todd :3, the far too innocent for his own good guy with a big heart the minute paparazzi is around? Bruce is horrified.
Bruce: alright, I know social events are not your area of work, but try just to nod and smile
Jason: yeah, whatever, old man
(five minutes later)
Vickie Vale: well, mister Todd, such a smart and diligent man like you — how come you are still single?
Jase Todd :3 : oh, well... I-i actually think I am quite unlucky in this matter... Just recently, a person I dated told me that I was rather too shy 🥹 And the previous suitor was with me only because of dad's money... 🥺 Dad tells me to take it easy... I still wish to find my perfect romantic partner, of course, but-
Richie Grayson :>, mournfully: my little wing has such a warm, big heart (slaps his chest) and, of course, he deserves the best.
Vickie Vale: awww, you are so sweet!
Bruce, staring in terror, because who the hell are these sweet boys, and where did his two walking headaches go: ...
Hey, Y'all! Sorry, I haven't posted in a while my life is very STUFFED at the moment and in complete honesty... i forget I have an account on this website sometimes lol.
Had to call myself out on how I draw this boi hope you're all doing well and I'll try to get better about posting once my world slows down a little!
Miami Heat
When I told my fam I was goin' to Miami for college, they all said I'd regret it. And yeah, I guess it took some gettin' used to at first.
I remember showin' up to move-in day in jeans, sweatin' my ass off, totally soakin' through my shirt, haha. But my roomie came in clutch. He's been in Florida for, like, his whole life, so he gave me some of his stuff to borrow: tank tops, shorts, slides, Miami gear.
I was walkin' around campus cooler than ever. But damn, bro, that heat is something else. I'd come back to the dorm and be too tired to think, hahaha. My roomie and me just chilled out a lot, talked sports, that kinda stuff. Even started hitting the gym together - his idea. And lemme tell you, the AC in there? Fuckin' heavenly, dude.
Now, between all the workouts and the heat, I'm always sweatin'. Honestly...I kinda like it. Like, I smell good. Sorta...musky? I dunno, but I just stopped wearin' deodorant altogether. 'Cause if I'm gonna get drenched anyway, why bother, y'know? And doesn't sweat, like, keep you cool or somethin'? Yeah, so it all works out...
I gotta few minutes before class, right? Think I'm gonna go send my roomie a progress pic:
With each swing of their racket they became DUMBER. With each pass of the ball they became ROUGHER. Every time the ball bounced up, and down their muscles EXPANDED. Their clothes rip as their eyes lost FOCUS of the game.
They didn't know the court was enchanted. They were just two DUDES doing a few skirmishes. They had no clue that with each passing second they were getting HORNIER. They had no idea what they were craving as their mouths and holes yearned for something to fill. All it took was one pose in front of the net squatting for BRO to drop his shorts.
All it takes is one new COCK to make you a slut for em. I love making campus gayer.
I've been stressing a lot about getting a new job and filling out all the paper work and getting things to be prepared. So I'm just going to fangirl over my himbo partner. He's just so goofy and loving, I can't help it. Also I took this picture of him being babely during a photoshoot for his work. I love this monkey, he is my precious bean. 💖
The mechanic will see you now (via @allthewaywithlbj)
Healer WIP for my Character Design class last semester
Prompt: Cyber/Sci-fi Swole Healer 💚🚑🧪
Margo helped alot again with getting it to look more serene and healer-like! Also big ups to my friend Sarah for helping speedrun me through JoJo's Bizarre Adventure to expand my visual library of buff men serving 😳
I'm sorry, Rain is in a bad mood
Isn't it obvious (that I'll help you)
Just Sky being a protective, helpful & sulky bestie 🥺💙
Okay so I know probably no one will see this but I just wanna know if Jedi mind tricks would actually work on Din because he’s such a himbo? Like?
I just imagine Luke bringing Din in while he’s visiting Grogu at the temple as an example of how to use your mind tricks:
Luke-(Jedi hand wave)”you will bring us some cookies”
Din-“...what”
Luke-(again, still as confident)”you will bring us some cookies”
Din tilts his head in confusion.
Luke-(slightly embarrassed, still trying)”you will bring us some cookies”
Din-(mocking the wave because he’s a himbo)”no”
And just all the students laugh and Luke gets really embarrassed and Din is still left confused trying to look to Grogu for an explanation
Mirabel and Isabela: Yes! *High fives*
4am thoughts:
I would like to propose that Zoro from One Piece is a himbo.
Hot? Check. (And very muscular)
Dumb? Have you seen his sense of direction? (among other things)
Respectful towards women? In his own way, but yeah. Yeah he is.
*Ends 50 slide PowerPoint presentation*
Me: And that's why Iskander is a himbo
*silence*
*From the back* Lord El-Melloi II and the entirety of the Ionian Hetairoi: She's right
move over unreliable narrator it’s time for himbo narrator
Absolute favorite. A brutal story written masterfully
End of Shift
Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.
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.”
Hey are you still taking transformation applications? Just found this blog and it's great. I was wonder if you could turn my into a dumb himbo surfer? I'm white, 5'9 and a little on the fat nerdy side, but I'd love to be a tall tanned lean surfer dude!
“Alright dude, welcome to the Amalia Aquatics Center. We have been looking for more surf instructors and you are the man for the job. The name’s Kellan and I’ll be your boss.”
You look at the tall surfer guessing he had to be about 6′7″, almost a foot taller than you. His muscles are lean and his skin is tan. He looks like a stereotypical, but tall and slightly more built, surfer. He even spoke like one. Hardly the professional you were expecting from what you saw at the front desk.
“I’m just here to help you get used to your job. I’m sure it won’t take long for you to fit in, brah.” He chuckled, “Now why are you wearing a shirt?”
You look down, a little embarrassed for even trying this. You look back up at Kellan and he his simply looking back at you with a smirk on his face. Your eyes look down at the beginnings of moobs and gut pushing at your shirt.
“You want to be a surfer or what?”
You grip the hem of your shirt in frustration. Struggling to pull it off, you finally do, red in the face. Kellan is just chuckling, “See that wasn’t so hard.”
A blush fills your cheeks again. You look down at your lean, tanned torso wondering why you wouldn’t want your shirt off. You love going shirtless.
“And we like our surfers to be blonde. Longer hair is preferred.”
You run a hand through your hair, remembering you got it died a few weeks ago.
“Oh and the clients usually like a big cock. From your swimsuit I see no problem there.”
You smirk, thinking of the 7-inch soft torpedo in your swimsuit.
“And our surfers always love getting fucked as a tip instead of cash.”
Your ass suddenly feels very hungry and your cock grows to a full 9 inches at the idea at your prospects for sex. Not that your brain even knows what a word like “prospects” means anymore.
“So dude I think your ready to start.”
You smile dumbly, not even realizing you had changed, “Awesome dude.”
An Exciting Life
Jason moved to New York with the hopes of making his life more exciting. The hipster had always regretted how much time he spent alone. While his peers were out partying, Jason was always studying or quietly listening to music in his bedroom. Jason thought that all of this would change when he moved to the Big Apple.
“My life will be nothing but bars, partying and strip clubs” he always said to himself
However, after two months in his Brooklyn apartment, Jason was just as lonely as before. He didn’t have friends to party with or bros to go to strip clubs and gawk at all the scantily clad women with. He was lonely.
Jason stepped out onto the fire escape. He gazed out onto the New York skyline and sighed.
“I wish my life was more exciting. Just partying, getting laid and going to strip clubs”
As soon as the words left his mouth, Jason began to feel faint. Jason quickly entered his apartment only to faint, hitting his head on his apartment floor.
When Jason woke up, he was shocked. He opened his eyes to see that he was no longer in his apartment. No longer was he in his cozy home. He was sitting in a comfy chair with a young man sitting next to him. He was in... a club? A strip club? Jason looked around to see the bright neon lights illuminating the room. There were stripper poles dispersed throughout the club and a big stage for the strippers to suggestively dance on. There were men sitting with stacks of $1 bills in their hands patiently waiting for the hot babes to come out onto the stage.
“Hey Jason, you okay?” the man sitting next to me laughed and punched Jason’s shoulder. “You look surprised, buddy”
The man looked like every stereotypical jock. He was handsome. Muscular. And didn’t look too smart. Jason wasn’t gay but even he could see the jock was attractive.
Jason began to get excited. Was his wish granted? Was his life of banging babes and going to strip clubs about to begin? Jason felt like the luckiest person in the world.
“Dude, it’s showtime. Come on” Jason’s new friend said as he jumped up from his seat.
Jason didn’t know where the jock was going. But before Jason had time to think, the man pulled Jason up from his chair and walked off. Jason’s body began to follow the jock against his will.
“Where are we going? I’m confused”
Jason’s new friend continued to walk backstage with Jason. The two eventually reached a secluded room backstage. The jock shut the door behind them.
“Who are you?” Jason asked suspiciously.
“Jason, you know who I am” the man laughed condescendingly. “I’m your coworker. We’re best friends, remember”
New memories began to flood Jason’s mind. Memories of his coworker, Danny, filled his mind. They were best friends. They spent every living moment together. They partied. They banged babes together. They watched football together. They loved to spend time in clubs, especially strip clubs.
“Sorry Danny. I don’t know how I forgot. I’ve been having a weird day. I could never forget about you” Jason smiled at Danny.
“It’s okay, you big dummy. Now let’s do some warmups” Danny began stripping until he was left in nothing but underwear. He made eye contact with Jason. Danny was towering over him. Jason was intimidated by the sheer size of the jock.
“What’re you doing, brah? Warm up and shake that famous bubble butt of yours, bro”
SHAKE. BUBBLE BUTT. The words rang out in Jason’s mind. Almost like he was under Danny’s complete control. Danny unwillingly got on the ground. He spread his legs and began shaking his flat ass. Suddenly, a pleasurable heat began to fill Jason’s ass checks. The heat inflated his cheeks filling them with fat. His ass became big and round. The more Jason twerked the fatter and juicier his ass got. It got so big and round that his ass jiggled like two full waterballoons. Jason moaned and smiled as the pleasure of shaking his juicy melons became too much for him.
“That’s a good, boy. Now strip. Get ready to show off those big muscles”
STRIP. MUSCLES. The hot pleasure filled Jason’s body, focusing on his muscles. Especially his chest. The hot pleasure caused his skinny body to grow. He became big and muscular. His arms the size of footballs. His legs like sturdy tree trunks. His pecs becoming big and round. They became big and soft. Jason couldn’t help but rub his big muscles. It felt so good. It felt so... erotic.
“Attaboy. Show off them big muscles. Damn bro, you’re such an exhibitionist”
SHOW OFF. EXHIBITIONIST. Jason lost all rational thought. Following the commands of Danny just made Jason feel so good. He couldn’t help but just do anything his coworker told him to. Jason wanted to feel good. He wanted to show off. He wanted women to just gawk at him. Admire his godly body. Jason flexed and let out a cocky grin.

“Damn bro. I’m surprised you’re able to understand me so well. I mean, you are Mexican, right? I’m pretty sure you speak little to no English. You can only speak Spanish. Isn’t that right Miguel?”
Jason began to get worried. He had mostly been okay with the changes Danny had been making to him. Big muscles and a cocky attitude were things Jason never had. He secretly loved being huge. Jason did hate how big and juicy his ass looked. But his new big muscular body definitely made up for it.
But this was too far. Jason‘s English thoughts began to dissipate, being replaced by Spanish. His memories began to change. No longer did he remember being raised in Seattle. He remembered growing up in Mexico. He remembered being bullied for his big fat juicy ass in school.
“¿Qué? ¡Soy americana! ¡¿Que me esta pasando?!” Jason was shocked by the words that left his mouth.
“Damn, you really don’t speak any English. But you don’t need English for this job. You just need to look sexy. And you are a very sexy gay Mexican himbo, aren’t you... Miguel?” Danny grinned deviously.
GAY. MEXICAN. HIMBO. Jason... or Miguel’s appearance began to change. His hair becoming long and black. A thick luscious beard began to form. His eyes becoming dark brown. His skin darkening. Miguel’s appearance began to reflect his Mexican heritage. His entire body became Mexican. His average 5 inch white cock shot forward becoming a thick 12 inch Mexican cock. There was no trace of Miguel ever being a skinny, white hipster. He had always been a big sexy Mexican himbo.
The words GAY HIMBO rang out in Miguel’s head. Miguel’s ivy league college education began to drain out of his head. His thoughts began to turn in drool. Miguel stared blankly at Danny as his thoughts, ambition and old personality leaked out of his mouth, dribbling onto the floor. His mouth was forever stuck hanging open. His jaw so relaxed. So relaxed it would just let his drool leak right out of his mouth. His face looked so dumb. So vacant.
Miguel’s sexuality began to shift. Thoughts of cock and getting his new bouncy ass stuffed full of cum filled his mind. He loved cock. He needed cock. Miguel didn’t care about women anymore. He only wanted men to see his body. He wanted to show off his body to men. It felt so natural to show off to men. It felt so... right. Like his entire purpose in life was to show off his big bouncy ass to the horny daddies in the crowd.
“Soy un marica estupido” Jason dumbly giggled as drool dribbled from his hanging mouth.
“Alright, bud. You ready to do your job and strip?” Danny smirked.
“Sí, papi” Miguel drooled and let out a dumb vacant chuckle.
Miguel confidently strode out onto the stage and began his new life as a dumb Mexican stripper. No longer would he have to worry about being smart or even being able to form a coherent sentence. All he had to focus on was being sexy and enticing all the sexy gay men in the crowd.
Jason was now nothing more than a fat assed, dumb, Mexican stripper. But Jason got what he wanted. His life is exciting now. He is forever stuck as a dumb horny stripper dancing and gyrating his body for the men in the crowd. Jason wanted to be in a strip club and now he is forever bound to one.
That’s a good dumb himbo. Strip for daddy.

FIRST TIME COCK CAGED
Has been years since Fran and I started this journey. Years where we have been building our self, discovering, exploring and learning.
We know our places. He is my Owner and I am his muscle object.
And now, we are reaching a new milestone, finally I have been cock caged. It feels right, it feels the right moment, I’m physically, mentally and emotionally ready. My Master chose the perfect cage for me and I’m so happy to wearing it. I am his. He own me.
He is taking his time to slowly training me to use the cage and feel comfortable with it. He takes care of me like that. But the ultimate goal is soon be caged for 5 weeks.
If you have been following our journey, let me tell you there is still a lot ahead of us. We are not even close to be finishing. Come along with us in this ride. Enjoy (as I am enjoying it so horny all the time)
Still growing for my Master. In case you were wondering…
-Arturo
Lock and chain
When I arrived to my house I saw a package at my door. That was weird because I know I did not ordered anything recently. I took the package and I went inside.
When I opened i immediately got hard. It was a chain with a lock from my Master.
Almost immediately my Sir texted me and instructed me to put the chain on. Fuck, I felt so sexy wearing it. Feeling the metal against my skin. He told me to wear it all day next day and send him pictures of me wearing it everywhere I go. So I did.
I took pics in my car, at work, in the supermarket, at the street, at home. I felt so manly and owned showing off my new chain and lock. I haven’t cum since I got the chain (I’m not allowed yet) so I have blue balls and a hard erection while I write this. It’s feels good to be somebody’s muscle toy.
-Arturo
