Mexican Flavor

Skater Stench

Inspired by Anon Ask

Clay was walking to work on an empty street, looking down at his phone he suddenly saw in the corner of his eye someone quickly moving towards him. All of a sudden, just as he was looking up from his phone, some dude on a skateboard crashed right into him knocking the both of them down. As the skater bro laid right on top of him Clay heard the guy start profusely apologizing, “Oh my gawd duuude im so sorry like I wasnt paying attention at all!”. Getting up first the skater held out his hand to help Clay up to his feet, looking down at himself Clay realized that his outfit was ruined from the fall. As the skater pulled him up Clay began to berate the guy, “How stupid could you be?! Some of us have actual responsibilities like work and I cant show up looking like this!”, etc etc. The skater obviously annoyed that Clay was getting so heated over an accident tried to apologize again, “Look man I am real sorry I-” Clay cut him off “I dont care if you’re sorry! How exactly do you plan on fixing this?!” The skater tried one last time to amend the situation “Look we got off on the wrong foot Im Apollo.” he held out his hand inviting Clay to shake his hand. Clay pushed Apollo's hand down and again just was insulting and berating the guy. Tired of this douchebag yelling at him Apollo furrowed his brows and pushed Clay back down to the ground. Falling on his ass Clay yelled out “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!?!”, Apollo responded “Dude you definitely need a reality check, i'm just helping give it to you”. Quickly turning around so that Clay was looking right at Apollo’s ass, Clay was assaulted with the stench of Apollo’s obviously unwashed ass “You smell so fou-” “PPPPPPFFFFBBBBBBBTTTTTTTT” Apollo interrupted Clay with a boisterous butt blast. “What….the…fuuuuuuuuck…” Clay said as the eggy stench that Apollo just shot into his face began to make him feel weird. Clay heard as Apollo said “Sorry man but I really think you need this” “FFFFRRRRTTT” another gust was inhaled by Clay. “...this…feels……wrong…” Clay was having an even harder time speaking than before. Turning back around and squatting to get face to face with him, Apollo held Clays head in place and told him “Look bro im gonna change you okay? You are gonna be waaaaay more chill once im done” Apollo watched as Clay gently nodded his head. “PPPPPPFFFBBBTTT” Apollo let out another fart and watched as Clay’s light brown pupil turned into swirling green spirals.

“Good boy” Apollo cooed out to Clay. “Skaters enjoy farting out rank clouds of gas, its the funniest thing to us” “FRAAAP” Clay felt as his nose began to like the fetid smell that was filling the air around the two boys. “Skaters don't mind getting knocked down, it’s part of skating” Clay felt as his anger and annoyance towards the fact the Apollo knocked him off his feet quickly rushed out of him. “FRAAAAP” those feelings quickly rushed out of his ass, producing a disgusting stench Clay would have normally been grossed out by but for some reason he found the meaty smelling fart humorous. “Skaters dont mind wearing ripped up and distressed clothes, in fact they like it” “FRAAAAP” Clay suddenly felt that his clothes were actually pretty cool, his temper would no longer rise if he was seen in ripped up clothes. “Skaters like spending their days skating and fucking other skater bros, its the best way to live” “FRAAAP” Clay’s mind grew lighter as his previous responsibilities evaporated into a smelly fart and were replaced with the desire to waste his days skating around and making his skater bros feel maximum amounts of pleasure. “Skaters are dumb mindless idiots whose brains have been replaced with their own ass stank” “BRRRRAAAAAPPPPP” Clay watched as Apollo recoiled due to the malodorous fart Clay just produced, feeling even more light headed than ever Clay began uncontrollably chuckling, “huhuhuhuhuhuh…” Apollo stood up and held out his hand and helped Clay up to his feet. Letting out one last fart Apollo watched as Clay’s eyes returned back to normal and he stood there with a goofy grin on his face. “How you feeling bro?” Apollo asked, “huhuh I feel… BRAAAP- sniff sniff gooood” Clay chuckled out. “What are you doin today duuuude?” Apollo questioned Clay, “Uhhhhhh skating…duhhhh…what else would I pfffbbbtt be doin?”

Man-Candle

Under the guise of a gag-gift Chad gives his bookish friend a candle based on his own b.o. Little does Stephen know, as soon as he lights the wick he sets off to join the jock in sweaty abandon.

Very musk forward Jock TF! Hope you enjoy this story of Stephen's scent-based (new)self-discovery, Best! -Occam

His ears ring with tinnitus as he opens the gift. It’s as if an explosion has gone off as he tries to process the pancake in his hands. Everything in him says to laugh, it’s clearly a gag gift, a Man-Candle? His mouth is dry and all the blood in his head rushes to its other epicenter as Stephen looks up, eyes wide, to the man who by all appearances has given him a candle of his own musk, Chad.

His cocky grin is a perfect likeness of the one on the candle’s label staring up from Stephen’s lap. Chad’s expression grows even smarmier as he winks and raises an arm to smell his pit. Stephen’s face burns red as he sees the clear patch of grey that must have been fermenting all morning, his cock bumps against the package.

Chad’s eyes shoot immediately to the sound and his smirk shifts and an eyebrow’s raised in curiosity, excited that his friend must quite like the gift. Stephen speaks up quickly, lest the two brain cells bouncing around the jock’s skull stumble across any ideas, “What the fuck?” The first volley, bounces off Chad’s steel confidence. The second “what the fuck,” causes an eye narrow as the idea that this may be a misstep finally occurs to him, the third repetition of Stephen’s new mantra apparent gets through through Chad’s thick skull.

The jock’s arm remains raised to scratch his back and Stephen’s cock is more than happy to see the grey patch return and his mind must remain focused on not staring directly at the few pit hairs sneaking above his sleeve. Chad clears his throat awkwardly, “I mean bro… Chicks are always talking about how they love, huh- y’know,” he gestures to the air around him, “my aura. Just thought, you know, uhhh- a dude like you might too?”

The jock braces as he sees Stephen’s eyes narrow as he clearly winds up to somehow lash out. Unfortunately for the twink he takes a deep breath to start and is hit with the full force of the man’s ‘aura,’ it catches him off guard and underneath the package his cock pushes again. Stephen grits his teeth and averts his eyes as he tries to hide his desire, “Chad! Those are people you’re sleeping with! I’m just- This is-” Stephen does everything in his power to quiet his lust as he finishes, “Why would I want this?” 

Chad tongues his cheek and juts his stubbled jaw. Scratching his meaty stomach in thought, Stephen can hear the hairs dragged underneath the jock’s tight shirt. Making up his mind Chad decides to speak on the elephant, or moreover the trunk, in the room. Nodding to the gift poorly hiding Stpehen’s erection, Chad shrugs “I mean bro, seems like you’re enjoying it just fine.” 

“Jesus Christ, fucking straight men!” As unfortunately turned on as Stephen is from the gift and the hunk he has long tried to not be attracted to, at the highlighting of his out of control cock he finds the will to defend his paltry dignity. Though instead of speaking up as his mind is not running on all cylinders, his hands instead reach for anything not breakable to hurl at the man still smirking.

Pillows fly at the man as he continues to try and explain his thoughts, “Yo bro! Watch it-” he grabs one to use as a shield against the continued volley, “I mean I can take it back if you want!” Stephen’s dreams of salvaging dignity perhaps fall to the wayside as this remark causes the hardest throw yet. Chad smirks behind the pillow and finally gets to the door, “Whatever dude! I’ll see ya later! Once you’ve cooled off a bit-” 

Chad stands behind the closed door with a shit-eating grin on his face, straight men huh. Awfully dismissive of the bi jock’s identity but whatever. He listens to Stephen huff and unbox the candle through the wall, unaware that the real gift is to come when he finally lights that bad boy up. Whenever the pair get drunk enough it always devolves into Stephen wishing he’d hit the gym more and Chad begging for his friend to join him. He’d love nothing more than a gym bro he can fuck, and soon enough, unless Stephen has the strength to nip his blue balls in the bud, both wishes are to be granted.

It does not take long for already riled-up Stephen to give in to his curious urges. As soon as the scent of Chad in the air dissipates and he hears the front door of his apartment close, the countdown begins. Stephen stares at the obnoxiously smug photo of Chad on the candle and narrows his eyes, “I mean surely it’s a bit? It can’t actually smell like him specifically? Seems hm, expensive to do.” 

He bites his lip as he shakily goes to remove the lid, driven by a mind less than conscious and more than hungry. Mouth on the precipice of watering, as soon as the seal is cracked the scent washes over him like a tidal wave. Somehow more powerful, more alluring than the real thing. Rich and grimy, and indisputably the essence of Chad distilled into waxen form.

His eyes are glazed over and his mouth is now pooling with drool. It's anyone’s guess as to how the candle gets lit, but so it does. Stephen falls back onto the couch as his hands struggle to free his cock quick enough from pants that force it down at an awkward angle. It finally bounces free, flinging more pre than he’s ever produced upward. Droplets land just shy of his own face as his mouth falls wantonly open and his hands begin their gleeful work.

The creation of Eau De Chad was not light work, the boiling down of man into a single candle is quite the ask. Perhaps even more so than the transformative magic that it is to instill in Stephen. Within the candle are notes from every musky epicenter of Chad’s being, more than powerful enough to distract Stephen as he begins his journey into a musky jock’s shoes himself.

Foremost of the mind-numbing notes that the lost man is bathing himself in is perhaps the one he’s smelled the least. As strong as in his jock after a workout, sweaty pubes and dripping pre. The medley of scents from Chad’s crotch is so powerful that even without clearly even knowing the source it’s on the tip of Stephen’s tongue, much like he would dream to have on his tongue in reality.

Each breath pulling him deeper than the last, Stephen continues to paw at his cock now free to the open, musky air. With each kneading thrust his hands struggle to encompass his dick as it begins to change. Years of pushing down primal desires for his friend, the Adonis, evaporate into the air as he pictures himself working Chad’s cock. Breathing and licking the heady swear straight from the source.

He imagines working the larger man’s spit-covered cock and with each new image in his mind his own beast begins to reform. Dripping more pre than he’s produced in his life up to this point, his hips thrust into wanting hands as his dick thickens and spears high into the air. Lengthening to press against his sternum, veins bulge and criss-cross across its length as its head regrows a foreskin he never had the chance to enjoy.

When his smaller hands, unable to truly satisfy or encompass his new rod, shift down to try and cup balls bulging larger and pumping him full of masculinity, he hears them scratch against the new jungle of growing pubes. Though the jock tries to keep his chest relatively hairless, under the belt hair growth is wild enough to more than make up for it, and as Stephen begins changing into his new musky lover, he seems to be of the same persuasion.

The candle wick flickers as a new scent begins to rise in prominence. This one Stephen recognizes all too well, though usually poorly masked under cheap deodorant, the scent of Chad’s pits could never be truly hidden. His mouth waters as the scent washes through him and his whole body contorts in pleasure. When his own pits begin to itch he gasps and for the first time opens his eyes to find an impossibly large cock hanging over his thin thighs. His mouth quivers into a smile as the line between dream and reality shifts muddy.

For now though, for the pit fiend there is only one thing to do. He raises his arm and gasps as he sees his few pit hairs lengthening, while in between each one a few darker curls make themselves at home. Stephen forces his head into the sweaty spot and hungrily sniffs. Nose tickled by the growing jungle he moans as he encounters his own changing scent, currently overcoming his own, usually superfluous, deodorant it is but a pale imitation of Chad’s. Though it races to be something equivalent, no, greater. 

He continues taking deep breaths, switching between the candle burning strong and his own pit as his musk continues to heighten and shift. With each needy sniff it becomes clear that his odor is not the only part of him shifting. Previously undeveloped arms cramp as muscle begins to pile on. Veins pulse down their center as biceps that have scarcely known strain burn as muscle fibers break and reform to create an impressive peak.

Stephven’s face suddenly contracts into a smirk that he never quite understood before now as his arms force themselves into a pose. Flexing and exposing his newly hairy pits in what he now knows as a front lat spread, he almost laughs as his heady powerful musk begins to overpower the scent burning off the candle. 

Having not actually left the apartment, Chad puts an ear to the door as Stephven’s laughter and moans rise in volume and deepen in tone. He creaks open the door and is almost physically hit with the wave of musk as it pours out like a fog from Steven’s bedroom. His own brand mixing with the steam of sweat seeping from his new bros pits is almost more than he can handle. With every step his mind strains to not just give into his own hunger to pounce on his half-formed bro sitting in the chair. 

Hearing Steven’s socks fray and tear as a subtle note of foot funk rises to the top of the candle. Seeing his new partner’s legs fill his young-professional pants to their limit, bulging thighs pushing at and swiftly bursting the strained seams. Chad bites his lip almost to the point of drawing blood as he feels his own thighs cramp. He doesn’t know if he’s somehow growing as his new gym bro continues to edge larger or if he’s simply overwhelmed, if his own mind is too clouded from the hunger and musk.

Chad shambles towards Steven, mouth falling open as he sees the shimmering sweaty traps that have torn his shirt open. His eyes can’t look away from the newly heavy pecs that hang over his defined abs, he fights the urge to lean down and lap at the muscle as Steven delights in bouncing them. Sending cascading shadows across his sweaty core, and gaining more mass with every dancing flex.

 Instead, Chad leans in close to Steven’s delirium painted face. “Looks like ya liked my gift after all, huh Steve?” His breath mists across Steve’s face. Its heavy humidity barely overcomes the sweaty atmosphere but the sharp mint and undercurrent of musty breath underneath call to his nose like smelling salts. 

His jaw cracks and widens as the changes that have overtaken him finally begin their work on the final frontier. Unable to control himself Chad licks the man’s face as it prickles with stubble. Steve’s nose breaks then reforms, his brows thicken and cast a shadow over his eyes as they lose both their color and clarity. Deepening to brown as their default state becomes glazed and thoughtless.

Feeling Chad’s sticky tongue drag on his cheek, it’s like he was struck by lightning. Every new bulging muscle in Steve’s body flexes at once and he stands to his new height, able to make direct eye contact with the man staring at him, just inches away.

Steve tackles him onto the bed, knocking over the candle and sending wax flying through the air. The pair are sparingly coated in the Chad scented candle as they begin heavily exploring Steve’s new form. As their mouths that have always been left wanting find new delight, whatever shreds of the old Stephen that are left begin to vacate.

The anxieties and priorities of a small meek man who never let his id loose disappear as he positions himself over Chad. He bites his bro’s lip and thrusts downward as he pins the massive man’s hands above his head. Masked by the pleasure of true release, he doesn’t care as his old self washes away. Memories evaporate like the sweat pouring off his form. He delights in maneuvering across Chad’s form and enjoying his musk from the source.

His tongue dances across sweaty pecs that match his own as his collection of classics on a bookshelf disappear to be replaced by free weights. Steve’s nose finally shoves its way into Chad’s pits as his extensive collection of hygiene and beauty products down the hall clatter to the floor and disappear as they’re replaced by a single bar of clinical deodorant only used for special occasions. Sleeves fall off his wardrobe of cardigans and button ups as sweat stains yellow every garment. The tops throw themselves from hangers while musty shorts and jockstraps heap into a pile on the floor.

Sweat drips from his brow as with each thrust into Chad his mind gives up the ghost. Each impossible wave of pleasure erodes his old self, each drop of sweat an idea gone, each rivulet of pre dripping down his veiny cock a sign of his intelligence drained to increase the muscle mass of his new form. After all besides pleasure nothing matters to him nearly as much as his fucking hot bod.

He feels his balls pulse as every remaining aspect of Stephen’s self shoots down and is quickly converted. His eyes roll back as he cums the few specks of self remaining in a massive load onto Chad’s sweaty abs. After a few moments of total mindlessness from the jubilee of release, Steve awakens to find himself atop his bro and simply laughs, “Huhuh woah dude that’s a fuckin’ fat load huh?” He scratches at his hairy chest and grimaces as he imagines how that’s going to hide his gains.

Seeing the thoughts on his face as the two are evermore on the same wavelength Chad pauses rubbing Steve’s cum onto his abs and offers, “Lookin’ a little rough there bro, wanna go top up and then hit the gym?” Steve smirks as his bro basically reads his mind, “Yoooo totally let’s hit it!” He punches down into his bro as he stands, smirking as he watches Chad’s cock bounce before sprinting into the restroom and prepping to get pumped.

The gym starts to clear out as the pair arrive, judging by the musk already following in their wake no one dares risk having to smell what it’s like once they actually start going. Stopping in the locker room the pair stop publicly groping and sniffing each other long enough to take a pre-workout photo, tongues out as ever. When they see some poor soul who didn’t escape the gym quick enough covering his nose they eye each other up.

“Yo dude, looks like lil’ bro over there’s gotta problem with your stink.” Steve performatively sniffs his pit and shakes his head, “Nahnah bro. It’s definitely yours, check it.” They continue to talk up eachothers musk while the young man can’t help but sit there, stunned into silence. With each new statement the pair swagger closer until their sweat may as well be dripping on the man.

Gasping as he regains awareness just as the pair are almost standing over him, the sharp intake fills his lungs with their musk as a smile creeps over his face. “Looks like lil bro’s likin’ it after all Chad.” Throwing a sweaty arm over his bro, the man who can scarcely recall that his bro hasn’t always been like this laughs, “Huhuh, well obviously bro, no shot anyone’ll be able to resist us soon.” The pair help the hazy man up and begin ushering him through the ropes, eager to have another musky jock in their image and excited to see how far their little group will grow.

Jonny Get Your Gun

While thrift shopping Jon stumbles upon an old helmet from which he will not walk away the same. Sub to dom army masculinization!

Been a while since I’ve written a military TF and after somehow getting Over There stuck in my head this happened! Hope you enjoy! -Occam

Jon and Troy were at the thrift store looking for something cute to wear to a friend’s party this weekend. The couple certainly have established wardrobes to choose from but are looking for something new, something flashy. They’re looking for something that’s just calling out to them. Never wanting to spin their wheels in place they want something to mix it up. Lo and behold as Jon makes his way to the back of the store does he find a hat doing just that, or rather a helmet.

Almost out of place on a dust-covered in the back of the store, rack Jon’s interest is immediately piqued by the army helmet. Nearing it his mind shuffles through thoughts, each one drawing him closer and compelling him to just go ahead and try the helmet on. Camo is chic right now, surely this would be just the kind of quirky experimental look they’re going for. At the very least Jon can’t help but grin at what Troy’s reaction will be when he sees Jon do a little campy salute wearing it.

With a slightly scheming grin Jon’s hands grasp at the helm, ignoring the pleasant warmth as it sits in his fingers as he hoists it onto his head. Heavier than he thought it would be, he thinks before everything around him goes silent. For but a moment he is alone with his thoughts, he hasn’t even enough time to notice that his priorities have immediately realigned before the buzz of the outside world returns. Jon shakes his head presuming that to have been his ears popping as he returns to his business, only briefly struggling to recall what that business was.

He would almost forget the helmet was on his head were it not for the soothing comfort it offers. Scratching his thin chest as he pushes it lower on his head before seeing his boyfriend and lighting up. Jon quickly aways to meet his Troy standing at a rack of tacky clothing that he for some reason he can’t bring himself to care about. He almost laughs as he sees his boyfriend pull out a technicolor blouse, presuming it to be some kind of joke. Forgetting his own plan of using the helmet as a joke he greets his love.

“Troyyy, surely you’re not wearing that yeah?” His boyfriend turns and holds up the certainly eye-catching silk blouse with a sarcastic scoff, “Ugh! I thought it was cute!” He does a brief pose with it and Jon laughs transparently judgmentally. Jon holds for some witty remark on the garment that should well have spilled forth from his ever-clever boyfriend, but none arrives after his boyfriend laughs louder than usual. He rolls his eyes and then looks to his boyfriend shocked that he’s missed something so dreadful on his head.

“Oh you’re one to talk G.I. Jon.” He half smirks as he pokes fun, assuming this is what his boyfriend intended walking up dressed like they’re at some surplus store. For his part Jon looks briefly confused before feeling at his head and remembering his new accessory. He laughs harshly once more, Troy flinches at the volume and looks around hoping no one is disturbed by his boyfriend acting uncharacteristically boorish. “Hey keep it down babe!” Jon swiftly obeys, holding a finger to his mouth only slightly mockingly before forcing a hand onto his boyfriend’s head and ruffling his hair.

Troy jumps back and rapidly sets to righting his pristine hair with a click of his tongue before returning the blouse to the rack, “Surprised you even but that on babe. Surely your hair looks like a nest now under that bowl.” Jon thinks about that for a second, sure that his boyfriend is right, that he should care about how messy his hair would be. After a second he is reminded of just how right the helmet feels and he knows he doesn’t mind whatever after effects there could possibly be. He begins scheming for a way to walk out of here with the helmet as it seems his boyfriend doesn’t seem to appreciate it nearly as much as he does. But Jon needs to have it.

They spend about half an hour longer browsing the aisles, Troy picks out a few things every so often turning to his boyfriend for his takes which come slower and less tactful at each turn. Jon’s mind swims as he feels this should be more enjoyable than it currently is. He briefly looks at some clothes for himself but with each passing minute the idea of him experimenting with clothes feels increasingly alien. Eventually he pulls out his phone and just trails behind his boyfriend, scrolling for any stimulation as he finds the idea of clothes shopping suddenly not only rote but impossibly boring. 

He groans loudly as Troy turns down another rack and his boyfriend turns in absolute shock to find Jon’s face plastered with genuine irritation. “Is everything alright Jon?” Seeing a look of concern on his boyfriend’s face Jon quickly struggles to hide his sour mood, pushing the hat down once more as he apologizes, “Uhh yeah of course, sorry I just read something, uh, on twitter.” Troy, grimaces at the phoned in lie and resolves to hurry up, “Sure sure, we can head out soon. I’ll grab this anddd you can put that helmet back and then we’re gone.”

Jon stands still in shock and Troy’s brows rise at the idea his boyfriend actually intended to keep wearing that stupid looking tin can. The idea is so bizarre to him he doesn’t even know how to respond, in the moment he just does an awkward smile and speaks through his teeth, “Oh, did you um. Want that? helmet?” Jon’s eyes race as he too struggles to find the words racing through his mind, overwhelmed by a level of desire he’s never even neared feeling before the army gear graced his head. Almost like hunger or the need to breathe is the desire for the helmet, his helmet, to stay where it belongs.

Seeing something strange painted on his boyfriend’s face Troy sighs and turns to walk to the counter, “If it’s more than thirty bucks we’re leaving it.” Jon’s heart thrums with excitement as he follows behind his boyfriend. For a brief moment that pings as uncomfortable for the man, surely he should be the one in front right? He shakes it off just as quick as they arrive at the counter, scratching at his hair underneath the helm, unaware as his lengthy curls almost seem shorter underneath, thicker and rigid as it pokes his hand and the helmet.

The cashier quickly rings up Troy’s pile of purchases before turning to see what Jon has brought, seeing the helmet on his head, “Oh, did you want to buy that as well?” Jon wordlessly nods with excitement that the cashier couldn’t miss, he continues, “Pshh, y’know what? That was going to be trash tomorrow so I don’t really mind just letting you have it.” Seeing the needy grin grow into a confident smirk on Jon’s face the cashier’s heart almost flutters as he concludes he made the right choice there. Despite knowing the two are definitely boyfriend’s he can’t help but flirt with Jon, “Consider it kismet, looks good on you.” with a wink. Troy scowls and the cashier quickly apologizes profusely before the two quickly usher themselves out the door.

Troy holds his tongue as they make their way to the car, less than thrilled that the helmet is coming with them. Even less thrilled at the fact that Jon’s gait is clearly shifting after being flirted with, in a manner Troy is quite familiar with. Not usually the jealous type, Troy easily pushes that down but remains on edge as he sees Jon maneuver to the driver side of the car. Holding the keys he honks the car to remind his boyfriend he’s the one driving. Jon scoffs and rolls his eyes before sauntering to the passenger side, deliberating adjusting his crotch as he does so. Troy narrows his eyes and lets loose his held tongue, “Are you just hungry or what Jon!? Can you chill?” Moving his hand from his package Jon raises his arms defensively but before he can answer his stomach indeed growls and he laughs. Taking this as confirmation that his boyfriend’s odd state is just some form of hanger Troy hops in the driver’s seat and starts the car.

Jon can’t help but grimace getting into the passenger’s seat, he knows this is his boyfriend’s car and that he doesn’t even like driving. But something just feels emasculating about this current situation. Try as he might, it's just bothering him, like a buzz in the back of his mind that something is wrong. Agreeing with Troy’s appraisal that he must just be ravished he reclines his chair as far back as it goes and shifts the helmet to cover his face. He can’t even hear as Troy chides him for doing so while driving, nor the playful judgment at how that helmet must stink. Instead he relishes the familiarity in its scent.

Eyes on the road Troy can’t see how Jon’s hair has changed in a manner totally unexpected. Rather than disheveling the long wavy curls as should have happened, his hair has completely changed to a look he would never be caught dead in, not quite a buzz or high and tight; his boyfriend is now sporting something jarringly jockish. Not only that but as he takes deep seemingly sleepish breaths of his helmet his chest rises higher, stretches wider than ever before, the hem of his shirt inching higher and exposing a waist not quite as thin as either man would have expected. Hearing snoring Troy steals a glance of the midriff exposed and blushes as he sees not only the barest hint of a treasure trail rising above the waist but that his bulge has returned with a vengeance, pulsing as whatever swift dream Jon has found is clearly more than a little alluring.

Under the helmet Jon isn’t quite asleep, as soon as the helmet covered his face he found himself obsessed with the scent that now bathes him. Something deep, musky, and impossibly familiar. Not quite the locker rooms of his youth, nor the sweaty bacchanals of pride events today. No it is something he knows he has never smelled before but with each breath the sweaty metallic scent imbues the not-quite memories with more reality. It’s at the edge of his mind, the edge of his tongue. He opens his mouth and looses his tongue into the humid breathy air underneath the helm and a memory that never was sears itself into his mind. Lifting weights with men clearly performatively masc, bodies stained with patriotic tattoos, grunts filling the air. Long dark nights in barracks, sweaty bodies grinding silently against each other in bunks.

Half-dreaming of a reality he never experienced and yet knows intimately his true body finds itself awkwardly catching in between his reclined seat and its seatbelt. He shifts as muscle groups never trained strain to grow. His ass hardens as in his mind he can’t help but picture grinding against other men in his cohort and his body responds in kind. Pushing against his seatbelt as it holds him tighter, his cock staining the jock-strap he threw on this morning with pre as his cock grows to push it further than it ever has before. Hearing the concerning sounds of fabric stretching and eventually a deep breathy moan Troy blushes and calls his boyfriend’s name, “Jon?”

Immediately cogent, the flashbacks of a life he hasn’t lived cease and Jon rockets up in his chair, slamming into his taut seatbelt, shooting his helmet into the windshield. “Fuck!” Going flying it thankfully bounces off safely before landing in Troy’s lap as he squints in irritation at his boyfriend. Without pause he stretches and yawns like a foghorn, his hands bumping against the low roof of Troy’s car as they rise higher than his thin arms should allow, “Yeah I could eat. You gonna cook?” Troy tilts his head at the question, both of them obviously knowing that Jon is the cook between the two. 

He pauses for a few seconds waiting for his boyfriend to address this in any form. Saying he doesn’t want to cook, that it’s a joke, anything at all. But after realizing how matter-of-fact Jon was Troy realizes that something is up. Biding his time he goes with something less than confrontational, “Did you want to grab something to eat?” Jon looks over at him in excitement, eyes flitting between his boyfriend and the hat in his lap, “Oooh Yeah! Fuck I’m craving some burgers babe!” 

Troy almost swerves as Jon says this, his boyfriend has been a vegetarian as long as the pair have dated, before even. He again waits for Jon to state this is an odd joke that simply hasn’t landed but the seconds slowly pass and judging by the dumb almost drooling expression on boyfriend’s face it’s clear that Jon is being nothing but genuine. Still driving he glances over to inspect his boyfriend closer and finally begins to pick away at his appearance. He balks at the bizarre haircut, sure that Jon did not have it this morning, nor could he picture a world where he boyfriend would deign to get it as it inches even shorter still. Trailing down to look at his body he sees the seatbelt straining to hold him down, he hears Jon grumble as it almost seems to cut in even tighter. Suddenly muscle that has never graced the chest of his boyfriend begins to rise underneath the belt.

Acting first out of concern Troy asks him, “Babe, I think your seatbelt is a little tight?” Jon guffaws in response, agreeing before undoing it and letting it slam into the window, “huhu you’re so right babe! So are we gonna stop at Micky D’s or what?” Seeing his boyfriend scratch at his pubes and refraining from returning his seatbelt Troy, ever a superstitious type, begins to suspect something sinister and otherworldly occuring and the root of it is more than clear. Clenching his own jaw as he sees Jon’s dumb smile above a jawline not nearly as petite as it should be, he rolls down his own window and prepares for the only recourse he can think of. 

When Jon checks his phone looking for the nearest fast food restaurant, Troy acts. Grabbing the helmet and launching it out the window. Unbuckled Jon drops his phone and launches himself onto his boyfriend, “What the fuck!” The helmet shoots back and crashes against the highway as Troy swerves with the weight of his boyfriend on his lap, heavier than Troy knows him to be. He ignores the harsh litany of swears being shot at him as Jon ambles back to his own seat and stares at the highway behind them. Each insult in his diatribe at Troy sounds crueler than the one before it, darker and almost deeper before he turns back and sulks in his chair. Arms clenched as anger begins to seep into every muscle in his form.

“Can you put your seatbelt back on?” Jon scoffs and ignores him, “Why did you do that?” Troy puffs his cheeks as he tries to think of a reasonable explanation for his actions, knowing that his boyfriend is generally against his superstitions, and certainly not knowing just how consumed his boyfriend had been by the helmet now dented in the dirt behind them. Eyes hidden by a brow higher and deeper than the pretty boy's face should have. Jon barely listens to his boyfriend’s justifications, finding absolutely nothing of note to justify such wanton destruction of something so meaningful, so tantamount to his own being. Troy continues to try and offer meaning, unaware that the damage has already been done in more ways than one.

The rest of the ride home is silent and brief. The boyfriends opt to fend for themselves for dinner. Hiding away from ire he simply can’t bring himself to understand, Troy goes to make himself a sandwich later that night and finds the kitchen in absolute shambles. The floor is littered with packaging from every piece of junk the two men had in the house, he balks as he tries to imagine his usually meek and pompous chef of a boyfriend stomaching the mess that lies at his feet. Almost a dozen egg shells lie tossed into the sink alongside tofacon that was clearly spit out and discarded after a single bite. 

Troy puts off his dinner to clean the mess made by his boyfriend. He knows it’s unlike Jon to leave a mess like this, or, he racks his brain to remember just how neat his boyfriend is supposed to be and struggles to really come to a conclusion. Soon enough he is completely overcome with a headache, one that grows with intensity as he tries to remember aspects of Jon. Though usually the human mind is skilled at holding contradictions Troy is struck with a migraine as two paradoxical images of his boyfriend come to mind.

The former the one he swears to be true. He remembers him at university, always going out of his way to speak up in class. Eager to go above and beyond. Showy but never too ostentatious. Anyone would describe him as kind and caring. Nothing like the man who jumped on top of him while he was driving. The Jon he knows would never go this long without checking in, especially after they had such a spat as they did. Nor would he leave half eaten tofu on the counter. Ugh but such is the sticking point, would he? He certainly has now. Troy scours his memory once more for another instance of indecency. His mind latches onto something, it is just like when they first moved in together! Right after Jonny finished his tour. What? Troy clenches at his head as it feels like a metaphysical ice pick just stabbed into his mind.

He screams and even more distress arrives after Jonny doesn’t even come to check on him. Troy hasn’t the prescience to care all too much at the moment as he feels but seconds away from passing out altogether. He barely gets up to his feet before stumbling down the hall to their bedroom. The room is filled with a musk that Troy doesn’t even have the prescience to notice. Seeing the man on his bed his vision blurs as the massive body is juxtaposed in his memory. Arms that hadn’t enough muscle to lift a cinder block fade before the powerful biceps in front of him. He moans as aftershocks of his migraine arrive before he collapses onto the bed, unconsciousness swiftly arriving as he feels the massive arms immediately encompass him.

He awakens completely entrapped in biceps that are larger than his own legs. Jonny’s new arms hold him tight to his sweat covered chest as Troy struggles to even have mobility to take a deep breath. “J- Jonny!” He chokes out before squirming around in Jonny’s iron grip, finding it easier than it should be as his torso is slicked by the inhuman amount of sweat drenching him. Troy tries to push off foolishly as his hands find no purchase. Changing strategies he instead slips out underneath as Jonny starts to stir, his face coming awfully close to a soaking wet package far larger than it should be. He sees tattoos stained across his boyfriend’s body. Ones that he wouldn’t in a thousand years imagine his boyfriend getting. Though as he does indeed imagine he finds he clearly remembers Jonny telling him about his plans to get each and every one.

Jonny awakens with a loud yawn, stretching as his whole form lengthens to its final height. Legs truly as thick as tree trucks hang off his bed while his arms raise high above their headboard before moving elsewhere to scratch the dense bushes in his pits and pubes. Troy pointedly looks away from the morning wood bobbing in the air between them as he desperately awaits for some sense of normalcy to return to his life. Finishing his morning ritual of feeling himself up and scratching at every itch that arises Jonny speaks up, his voice a harsh and raspy baritone that forces all, especially Troy, to pay attention, “Mornin’ babe. Yo can you make me some food while I get a morning pump on?” 

Troy is torn between nodding enthusiastically and fleeing for help, causing him to stand motionlessly in place. His mind is made up as Jonny stands suddenly a foot taller than him and reaches to pull him close once more, forcing his head into his sweaty pecs, inches from the forest of already musty pit hair. Troy struggles not to sharply inhale as Jonny grabs his hair and forces him to make eye contact, he smirks before releasing his boyfriend and heading off to their office, slapping him on the ass before beginning whatever work he sees fit.

This has never been their morning routine but Troy sets out like it is the only reason for his existence. He finds a fridge beyond stocked with everything such a massive trooper could desire. Swiftly preparing a meat filled breakfast Troy has barely any time to himself to even begin to question what has gone on, and when he does so his paranoia and discomfort is replaced with a desire to do nothing but obey his boyfriend. After all, is it not his place to please him? He is the man of their house. This is how it has always been.

Troy loads up a large plate to bring directly to his boyfriend, only pausing to tidy up his own appearance. He pulls an apron, one once monogrammed with a J, tight to highlight his slight curves as he knocks on their office door. He is washed with a rush of musk and sweat as if he were walking into a rainforest. Where there were once desks and bookshelves there are reams of free weights and other gym equipment, Troy’s head twitches before he has no problem at all, the room obviously is as it always has been. As it always will be, he blushes as he sees Jonny hard at work, his arms already far larger than when he woke up to them around his waist this morning.

He feels his cock stir as he sees Jonny’s pulse with every lift of the weight. The army green of his clothing highlighting every bulging muscle as he continues to exercise it towards perfection. Troy bites his lip as he imagines the things that could be done with that cock, memories of himself topping swiftly erasing as Jonny is so obviously the top it would require a rewrite of reality for it to not be the case. Hanging on the wall is an old helmet that Troy would have sworn he threw against the pavement at 60 miles per hour. His psyche immediately chastises him for the thought, how could he have done that! He knows how much Jonny loves that helmet!

Troy quickly goes to leave the food on a bench out of use before retreating from the room, not waiting for his boyfriend to say thanks. He skips making his own breakfast to instead tidy the kitchen and their living room, somehow already soiled with dirty laundry. He smells his boyfriend coming before he sees him, a trail of post-workout sweat steaming off in his wake as he goes to sit on the couch. Immediately staining it before discarding clothes onto the only recently tidied floor. He turns on the television before patting on his meaty thigh.

His boyfriend, knowing what this means, immediately rushes over to make his acquaintance. Doe eyes inspecting every bulging muscle and pulsing vein across his body. Jonny’s cock clearly begs for post-workout release as the two sit on the couch together. Troy gets to the floor and begins to pull at his boyfriend’s underwear when he hears the massive man click his tongue, “You know babe I’ve been thinking.” Already on the floor Troy waits patiently, his face inches away from the throbbing cock, “You ever wanted to enlist?”

Images of powerful army bodies dance through Troy’s mind. His small figure out of place among them certainly, but with each passing day he could fit in more. Be more. He imagines himself becoming far more than he is, running drills, pumping iron, commanding lesser men. The idea sends butterflies in his stomach as he pictures himself finally being on top, alongside Jonny. It’s barely enough for him to bear as whimpers on the floor in front of his boyfriend. Jonny just smirks and reclines, “Gotta start somewhere.” planning to go grab his favorite helmet off the wall as soon as the pair are done here. There’s always room for more men in the corps, and wouldn’t it be nice to get head from someone else who's fucking huge.

The Boxers and Bro Cap are 🥵🔥

Thank you, good boy. I really love to write an old-fashioned clothing transformation once in a while.

You know how, sometimes, you'll be out in the world and suddenly think of tf? Like, you see a snapback cap sitting abandoned on a bench, and you suddenly think "That cap would probably turn me into a total bro."

You imagine the kind of guy who would wear a cap like that. Sweaty. Douchey. Self-obsessed. Perpetually shirtless to show off his massive, perfectly aesthetic pecs and bulky biceps. Sexy stubble on his face. Totally brainless, massively horny. A toxic fuck machine who'll cum in any hole.

You can't help yourself. You have to pick up the hat, feel how stiff it is with hard-earned sweat. Put it on, feeling it settle on your scalp. Grab the brim and turn it around.

Fuck, bro, you fuckin' killed that chest day! Now go find some lame femme and pass the cap on, bro!

I'm not a huge coffee drinker, but what the heck I'll have something. How about an americano? Nice and strong.

You can't seem to take your eyes off the hot man on the packaging. You bought the DIY Hot Coffee Americano kit from the online storefront and was pleasantly surprised by how cheap it was and how quickly it was delivered. Literally within an hour of your order there it was, in a little cardboard box with the Hot Coffee logo on it. You took the supplies out of the box, set them on your desk, and then caught sight of the hot - who is he? the owner? - guy on the pre-made - just add hot water! - Coffee base.

It's almost like you can smell him...

Or maybe it's this water?

The water that came with the pre-made mix is so warm, like it's been boiled. But when you took the top off it, the smell of sweat and musk hit you in the face. You take big deep gulps of air as you bring the water to your nose. You sigh pleasurably as your cock begins to stir in your shorts.

That's not normal.

But you find yourself dumping the water into the Coffee anyway. Stirring it around with the coffee stirrer. God the smell is intoxicating. Your cock is fully hard now and pointing straight out of your shorts, the bulge visible and making you blush. It's like the sweaty, musky water is just blanketing your head and making your center of thought right now your twitching, pulsating cock. You start humping the desk as you take your first gulp of the Coffee.

Three things startle you: one, the Coffee doesn't burn your tongue like you expect; two, it tastes absolutely delicious and makes your cock eject a droplet of pre; and three, your roommate saying, "What is that smell?"

You swivel in your chair to see him standing in the doorway, sniffing the air. You blush even harder knowing your cock is at full attention, and you can't do much of anything except make a bunch of horny sounds into the thermos you're drinking out of. Your roommate sees your cock straining your shorts. You notice it feels...bigger. Harder and more prominent.

"Oh, sorry am I interrupting something?"

You've drank half the thermos that quickly. A hot rush of pleasurable heat fills your body, landing squarely in your balls which you can feel jostle around in your scrotum. Then both balls drop and start growing, blowing up like two tennis balls and when you sneak a glance down, you can see the imprint growing on the soft fabric of your shorts. You squeeze your legs together and let out a soft moan at the sensitivity.

"I'm just so horny bro."

Bro?

Your roommate stares at your cock again as you can feel it stretch larger, like the muscles are preparing for a hard workout. It's definitely not the 5 and a half inches you're used to. Now it's creeping past 6 and a half, the swollen head glistening with pre-cum that you can feel pump out at a steady rate from those still growing balls of yours. God they feel so weighty, pushing against your thighs and making you groan and grind against your desk chair.

No you're not grinding. You're fucking the air as you drain the last dregs of your Coffee.

"Okayyyyyy. Just don't make too much noise I guess?" Your roommate laughs and is about to turn when he sniffs the air again. You're covered in sweat, soaking through the plain gray shirt you're wearing. Huge swaths of sweat darken your pits as you feel hair growing out of them, the bump of testosterone making pubes blossom like a garden, pushing out of your waistband. "Is that you?"

It is you!

"Yeah bro, smell good?"

Your voice drops as your Adam's apple expands, throat thickening and growing larger. It's got the amount of vocal fry perfect for a frat boy, deep and...dopey. Dumb sounding. And you definitely wouldn't say something like that. Definitely wouldn't lift your arms up and expose those sweaty pits to your roommate, fatter cock bouncing and growing larger and girthier. You're 7 and a half inches now, cruising to 8 full inches of man meat. So thick, the bulge so tight. You wouldn't plow your roommate and make him scream your name as loud as he could. Wouldn't dump a big load in him right?

Or would you?

What the hell is happening?

"I'm gonna - I'm gonna go." Your roommate is hard now, cock pressing against his sweatpants as he rubs himself absently. You close your eyes and groan as you feel your shoulders pop wider, broadening and putting immense strain on your shirt. In your head you're fucking a nice, tight bubble butt resting on that fat cock of yours.

You clench onto the armrests as your nipples harden against your shirt, sensitive and begging to be tugged or sucked on, the kind of special attention your chest deserves. Your big 8 inch cock flops out of your waistband and rests against your lower stomach. The stain on your underwear is unbelievable with your huge, churning bull balls and that thick tube of man meat on top. Your horniness feels so unnatural, so hot. You're so sweaty the entire front and back of your shirt is clouded with your sweat and thick with your strengthening musk that seems to be filling your entire room. Hell the entire apartment. Your cock pumps out pre at a steady rate and you can feel just how close you're getting to cumming.

And when your stomach sucks inwards and your pecs bulge out, taking advantage of those bigger broader shoulders, you lurch forward and moan lewdly in pleasure. It's loud, made even louder by your deep, bro voice. You clench your stomach and feel your waist widen with pure strength and muscle, hard, tight abs chiseling their way through the lost fat that's slid up to your chest and bulging it out. Still holding onto your stomach, you stand up on shaky legs and stagger over to your bed, shoving a pillow under your beyond hard cock as it finally rips through your underwear, the tension that was there and holding your cock back now gone. It presses freely against your shorts, the tent shoving the waistband away and giving you a full view of the base of your musky, huge cock and the bush of pubes above it.

But you immediately look away as muscle starts flowing into your pecs, perking them up and pressing them against your shirt, the hard nubs of your nipples brushing against your tight shirt. You collapse onto a pillow and start fucking it. Wrapping your arm around it and imagining one of your bros under you, getting absolutely railed by your big fat cock. You don't notice, but you can feel the pleasurable tickle of tattoos forming across your expanding forearms, the strength and blood flowing into them bloating and stretching them and making you fuck the pillow even more forcefully. You're moaning and groaning against the pillow, face buried against it in pure pleasure.

Muscle piles into your pecs, putting such strain on your shirt it tears clean down the middle, exposing your slightly hairy cleavage and the still swelling mounds of sweaty muscle mounting on your chest. They're huge and sensitive, the nipples expanding further as a little more fat from your stomach slides behind them, stretching the skin and increasing the sensitivity even more. You take your expanding, stronger hands, the palms and digits inflating into big meaty paws and rip your sweaty shirt clean off. You strip the soaked strands of your shirt off and flex your growing bicep, the muscle bulging and swelling into a bowling ball of muscle as you get your first whiff of your pit.

God I smell so fucking good.

You've managed to fuck a hole into your pillow and you drive your cock into it further and harder, licking and worshiping your expanding bicep, while your other hand goes down and explores your abs as they go into their final stages of growth and expansion. The strength of your core is undeniable as cum gutters carve their way to your throbbing cock, the etching of them making you moan and thrust your cock forward as cum drools out of your overly sensitive cock, your body riding the wave of this mini orgasm as your huge hands grab onto a nipple and tug, more muscle piling into your pecs and stretching them out and creating a real shelf of muscle on top of your abs. You bellow out loud, a deep horny moan as you continue fucking your pillow. You dimly think about your roommate as your smarts begin leaking out of your cock as well, the thick fluid going right through your shorts and into the pillow.

You hear a distant moan somewhere in the house.

Bro's probably horny as fuck too.

And why wouldn't he be? With your smell becoming a part of the apartment? With your deep moans and groans in that sexy voice of yours? What about now, the clap of your ass cheeks as you stick your ass out, totally unable to keep thrusting and surrendering to the pleasure ripping through your body, as both of your cheeks bloat and expand?

You grab one handful of a fatty, muscular cheek through your increasingly tight shorts as your ass cheeks take up whatever free space is left. You grit your teeth and howl with pleasure as your ass grows hairs that blossom out of your puckering, tight hole, and spread like a thick, musky rug across both of your fat cheeks. They fill your palm with dense, flexing muscle, enough fat to make them jiggle and bounce. A nice twerkable, fuckable ass. Your hips widen and become stronger, denser, making your now restarted thrusts harder and stronger. You press down on the pillow - god you're so strong now, the strength of those rippling biceps make you burp out more cum - as your ass stops growing, the cheeks swelling and clapping together one final time as they rip through your shorts and let your fat ass hang free in the air.

I'm so close. I'm so close.

Your feet crack and expand, the bones shifting around in the stretching skin as they expand wider and larger, thick toes ripping through the head of your socks. They feel much more sensitive now, and maybe that could just be because they're actively growing, huge meaty stompers. You cum again as your feet rip through your strained socks, huge size 13s. You look over the big curve of your bubbly ass as you see your feet for the first time, moaning loudly.

You definitely hear your roommate bro whining in the next room in pleasure. It sounds deeper than it did earlier. But...that can't be right?

The expansion of your thighs pop the few brain cells you've got left, whatever resistance you were going to try to mutter splattering into your pillow as a stronger orgasm rips through you. Cock just oozing cum as your thighs squeeze your big balls, huge thick pillars of flesh, the muscles expanding and pressing against the taut skin. Your calves grow to support not only that fat ass of yours, but that strong upper body. Those thick legs. All of which courtesy of you never skipping leg day. Your shorts are extremely tight, small tears forming around your thighs as they break the seams, becoming thick and solid. Like your ass, good to grab onto while you're fucking a bro, or while you're riding a bro with that strong core you've got.

As your hair grows blonde and styled, the big orgasm that you've been denied catches you off guard as you collapse, fat ass wobbling with the impact, as you fall flat on your pillow as your cock fires like a broken fire hydrant. You can't do much of anything but moan, so loud that the pillow is not doing anything to mute the sound as your cock fires rope after rope of thick, musky cum. Your tongue expands, fatter and longer, perfect for eating ass or sucking dick, making your bros feel every inch of your tongue on their hard cocks and in their tight asses. Your jawline sharpens. Your nose pops and expands bigger like invisible hands are pulling on it. A stubbly beard grows on your face, itchy and scraping pleasurably against your pillow as you give one, exhausted pump into the pillow to force the rest of your old self out of your still cumming cock, the steam not as strong as earlier but still enough to drip through your ruined shorts.

Out of breath, cock spent, covered in sweat, you sit up slowly on your shaky hands. A full length mirror has materialized out of your bookshelf and now you see yourself for the first time. The new you. The new sexy, frat boy you. A short king stacked with muscle everywhere. Dull, horny, lustful eyes.

You stick out your fat tongue and take a pic of your hot body, shoving your hand in your strained shorts and creating a bigger tear around your jiggly ass. You need to invest in more tight clothes. Your soft but still huge cock makes such a visible imprint you might as well be naked. You flex. Pop your pecs. Tighten up your abs. Each movement feels so good it makes your just spent cock stir again, your balls to rumble excitedly.

Your bro is quiet now.

You step out of the room and run right into him. He's a huge tank of a man, a pair of tight shorts, just like you, adorning his bloated, sweaty form. He's out of breath. His eyes are still a little sharp but there's a fogginess creeping behind them.

He looks like he's about to say something, a little dull panic creeping into his eyes.

You kiss him, roughly, pulling him in and feeling his tight, huge muscles relax into the kiss. Hands on your hips as you both makeout like horny porn stars in the doorway to your room. Your cock is hard again, and his equally large cock rips through the fabric of his tight shorts.

"You were gonna say something bro?" you ask.

His eyes dull over, horny and glassy.

"Oh yeah." A dumb laugh sounds from him, making his solid tits jiggle. "I was gonna ask who's turn it is to bottom. I'm super horny bro."

You clench your bubbly ass cheeks. An empty feeling creeps into your hole.

It's been a while since you've been filled. You give your bro boyfriend a dopey, horny smile as you kiss him again, guiding his big, meaty hand to your ass cheeks.

Then that thick finger right towards your sensitive, greedy hole.

I'm loving the stories! I'm heading to Mexico in a few weeks with work, but hoping to immerse myself in the culture a bit. Can you help me out?

You find yourself in front of your local Spanish-language association. You thought that taking a few classes in Spanish would help you recover some of the long forgotten classes you took in high school… though in all honesty, it won’t likely do much. You’re quite old, now, so it means that your brain cannot learn new languages as easily as it used to...

As you enter, you see the Mexican flag front and center, along with flags of many other Latin American countries, as well as that of Spain. You walk up to the receptionist, and she tells you, directly in Spanish :

“¡Bienvenidos! ¿Cuál es el motivo de usted venida? (Welcome ! What is the reason you came here ?) - Er…” You try to conjure some of the very old memories, and only manage a “Hola !” Before going back to English. “I’m sorry, I don’t really know Spanish… I’m here to take classes, in fact.”

The receptionist nods, and thinks a bit before taking out a timetable.

“Okay, well, you see, I have a... beginner’s course of Spanish in a few hours… It’s not perfect because they already started in January, but I think you can still catch up if you work hard enough.” She says, with a perfect American accent. She is visibly bilingual. - Oh, in a few hours ?”

You are quite interested, considering that you did want some beginner-level courses, but in a few hours… That’s too short to just go back home and come back later, but that’s also too long to just stay here and wait without getting bored !

The receptionist notices your embarrassment.

“You know, we are also a place where Spanish learners and native speakers can hang out. If you want, you can go to the hangout room while waiting ?” She offers sympathetically. - Well yeah, I could do that.” You nod. It may be geared towards more hard-core learners, but you can always try to immerse yourself…

You go to the room she waves you to. It isn’t loud, but there’s quite a lot of people in it, all speaking Spanish. You go and find somewhere to sit, when, on your way, someone hails you.

“¡Hola! ¿Cómo te llamas? (Hello ! (...) ?)”

Your long-buried memories start churning, as you recognize the second sentence as meaning something like “What’s your name ?”. You think a while, and then, flash of brilliance.

“Me llamo Charlie.” You answer, giving out your name in the most American of accents.

Your conversation partner smiles, and speaks quite slowly to let you understand what he means.

“¿Cuántos años tiene?” You understand the sentence to mean ‘How old are you ?’ - Er… Soy… cuarenta y dos… años ?” You try, but he shakes his head. - No, ¡es ‘Tengo ventidós’ o ‘Tengo ventidós años’!”

You blush of embarrassment as he corrects you. Yes, you now remember that to mean “I am x years old” you say “Tengo x (años)”… you even remember the worksheets from way back when… Huh, it seems like it was less far of a memory than you thought.

“Lo siento…” You excuse yourself with sentence that came back strangely fast. - ¡Jajaja!” He laughs. “¡No te preocupes! ¡Hablar español es difícil! (Don’t worry ! Speaking Spanish is difficult !)”

You are surprised how easy it is to understand him. Visibly, you had more memories than you expected ! Then, that guy continues.

“¿De dónde es? (Where are you from ?) - Soy de… Mexico… Nuevo Mexico. (I’m from… Mexico… New Mexico.)”

You almost stumbled on yourself. There seems to be something wrong with that statement. You know you’re American, but something seems wrong…

“Ah, de... ¿Nuevo México? Pero tu acento no suena asi… (Ah, from… New Mexico ? But your accent doesn’t seem like it comes from there...) - Si, es verdad… (Yes, it’s true...)” You’re about to tell him that it’s because you’re American, but then you say : “La gente dice que tengo un acento de la Ciudad de Mexico. Sabes, Mexihco Hueyaltepetl. (People say that I have an accent from Mexico City. You know, Mexihco Hueyaltepetl (?).)”

Wait, why do people say that ? You never went to Mexico City ! Okay, yes, you did go there for the holidays, after all, your father lives there… Wait, your parents aren’t separated !

You get more and more confused as multiple versions of your history start competing with each other.

“¡Ah, tenía razón! Puedo verlo en tu cara que eres… eh… ¿mexiqueño? (Ah, I was right ! I can see by your face that you are… er… from Mexico City ?) - ¡Jajaja!” You laugh. “¡No se dice ‘mexiqueño’! ¡Se dice capitalino, o chilango si estás familiarizado! (You don’t say “Mexiqueño” ! You say “Capitalino”, or “Chilango” if you’re familiar !)” You don’t quite know where this knowledge comes from. It seems like something only locals would know… - Perdón, soy chileno, no lo sabía… (Sorry, I’m Chilean, I didn’t know...)”

You smile at him. Of course, he couldn’t know that, you’re familiar with these terms because you’re a Chilango through and through ! Born in the city, lived in the city ! Yet you furrow your brows, as something still feels off.

Somehow, you’re convinced that you’re American, even though it seems to be a more and more distant fact. Well, when you look down and see those tan arms, you know that you aren’t, like, a total gringo, you’re at least part Latino…

“¿Cómo es la vida allá? (How is life there ?)” The Chilean guy asks you, a torrent of memories coming back (?) to you. - ¡Es complicado de describir! Pero México es muy dinámico, ¡entonces siempre es interesante! (It’s difficult to describe ! But Mexico is very dynamic, so it’s always interesting !)” You think back to how frantic life is over there… and how much you love that. “Especialmente comparado con aquí, parece que esta citudad está muerta… ¡En México siempre hay un xochitzin con el que te puedes topar! (Especially when compared to here, this city seems dead… In Mexico, there’s always an xochitzin (?) you can run into !)”

As the Chilean nods, you keep getting quite confused. You know you’re from Mexico City, you know you’re American, yet somehow there is like… a piece of the puzzle missing. You keep on thinking strange words like “Mexihco Hueyaltepetl” or “ihni”, and you know it’s not Spanish, nor English – not that you would know too much of that language.

You continue thinking as your body starts feeling strange, as you feel it shifting. You put your hand on your forehead and sense your wrinkles relaxing. You feel quite queasy…

“¿Estás bien? (Are you alright ?) - Me siento un poco mareada… (I feel a bit dizzy…) - Sólo tienes que ir al baño. ¿Quieres que te ayude? (Just go to the toilets. You want me to help ?) - No, estará bien. Tlazohcamati. (No, it’s gonna be alright. (???)) - Okay… eh... ¿Eres indígenas? (Okay… er… Are you a Native American ?)”

You don’t answer the Chilean, only giving him a small wave to thank him. You find your way to the toilets, still queasy, and look at yourself.

You’ve got your usual short black hair, your nascent beard that doesn’t want to come along, your brownish tint, as well as your light muscles. Nothing looks out of place, yet something seems wrong.

Is it the fact that you are so youthful ? You know you’re quite twinky. Is it the fact that your skin looks weird ? You know that it’s clearer than the other’s because your mother is gringo.

You feel even more queasy, as you feel your entire body tensing. Memories come back of your time in the gym, but also of the time with all your xochitzmeh (bros)… Yes, you now remember how you’re the son of an American linguist and a Nahua man. How you grew up speaking Nahuatl along with the other kids from around Mexico City. How you started going to the gym to prove that gays aren’t cuiltemeh (sissies/fags). How you now cringe to that line of thought, yet continue doing it to attract guys.

As the pieces of your life go back together, your queasiness dissipates, and you feel better. You drink a bit of water, and then you go back to the hangout room. As you go in there, the Chilean hails you once again.

“¡Charlie! ¿Esta mejor? (Charlie ! Doing better ?)”

Laughable, “Charlie” is only the nickname your grandparents use when you’re at their house… Why does that guy even know it ?

“¡Mi nombre no es Charlie, es Carlos! ¡Carlos Zopiyactle! (My name isn’t Charlie, it’s Carlos ! Carlos Zopiyactle !)” You say in a very matter-of-fact fashion. - Lo siento, pensé que te llamabas Charlie… (Sorry, I thought that you were named Charlie...) - No es nada. (It’s nothing.)” You answer with a very Mexican accent, aspirating your ‘s’. “Pero, tengo que irme ahora. ¡Adiós! (However, I need to go now. Goodbye !) - ¡Adiós, Carlos! (Goodbye, Carlos !)”

You leave the room, go past the receptionist who smiles at you a bit weirdly, and make your way back to your grandparent’s home. You don’t really like going there, because you’re not very good in English, but eh. Pleasing your mom is a good enough reason.

Suddenly, you hear a very familiar-sounding sound from your phone. You open it, seeing a notification, smile, and answer it before calling your mother.

“¡Cualli teotlaltzintli! ¡Amo niyaz tlacualpan! (Good evening ! I’m not going to be there for dinner !) - Pff… ¡Aic timotlamahzehua nanmonahuac! (Pff… You never come eat with us !) - Nomati, pero tengo cosas que hacer. (I know, but I have things to do.)” You say, switching back a bit to Spanish. - ¿Zannima tihual mocuepaz? (You will come back soon ?) - Quema. Nantli, nimitz nequi. (Yes. Mom, I love you.) - Ohuihqui nimitz nequi. (I love you too.)”

You finish the call and smile. She doesn’t have to know that you’re missing the family dinners to be pounded. Those jocks on Grindr don’t know what your pseudonym “Moiztactlaca” means, but it sounds foreign, and they love it.

Soon, you’re going back home to Mexico City, but it doesn’t mean that you can’t take advantage of all the hot guys here in the meantime !

The Fog

Felix knew he shouldn’t go outside, it wasn’t safe. All the news stations in the area were constantly broadcasting that a fog has swept into the valley and since it appeared four days ago people have been going missing. The rumor is that there are monsters in the fog, people can hear groans and grunts out in the fog but anyone who has gone to explore where they are coming from has been consumed by the fog and hasn’t come back out. The weirdest thing of all is that the fog is green, its a light green color that has a lingering stench which has been slowly filling the house Felix is holding up in. Felix was with his girlfriend at her place when the fog came through, he was going to just head home after it cleared but it has been days and it hasn’t let up. At one point Felix was just going to walk home, given that he lived only a twenty minute walk from her place, but when he opened the door the fog started to rush in and fill the foyer with a rancid smell. Quickly closing the door he moved away from the stench, but that was two days ago and he needs to go take care of his cat, his roomate normally does when he isn’t home but with people going missing he can't be sure that anyone is there to watch Mittens. His girlfriend pleaded with him not to go out but Felix gathered all his stuff anyways. To make her feel better, and truthfully to make him feel a bit better, he went and found a face mask in her bathroom. Now ready to go he headed over to his place promising to return, he would come back with some food and water, and Mittens, if all goes off without a hitch.

During the walk which felt like it took forever, as he wandered through the thick green fog that limited his vision to just a foot or two in front of him, Felix could constantly hear the groaning and grunts that the news stations mentioned. They were accompanied with sounds of metal clanging and what sounded like deep, dull laughter. Luckily the entire journey was uninterrupted, Felix made it to his apartment in perfect condition. Coming up to the lobby of the building Felix could see that the glass doors were smashed and the fog filled the common area. Worrying for his furry friend he hurried over the shattered glass on the floor and through the lobby to the stairwell, not wanting to take a chance with the elevator. Walking through the lobby he heard it again, a low, guttural groan that sounded closer than all the others he heard on the way over. Looking around fearfully, he saw a huge monstrous sized man stretched out on the floor stirring in his sleep. Hastening his step Felix made it to the stairwell and rushed up the stairs to the fourth floor.

Coming upon his fourth floor apartment he was struck with a sense on confusion as he went to unlock the door to find it was left a little ajar. Quietly going inside, he sees the kitchen is much messier than normal, there are clothes all over the floor, and half the shoes on the shoe rack are at least a size 13. Searching around for his cat and trying to make as little noise as possible he comes up to his roommate's closed door, about to open it without thinking he looks down quickly and sees wisps of the smoke coming out of the room. Not wanting to reenter the fog, Fleix leaves the door closed and heads to the bathroom to continue the search. As he searches high and low in the bathroom, unbeknownst to him, the roommate’s door opens and Felix’s roommate comes out to find the source of the noise that is disturbing his nap. “What are you doing in my apartment pipsqueak?” Felix hears from behind him, “Andy! Thank god you're here! I can't find Mittens anywhere!” Felix says, turning around as he mentions Mittens. “WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!” Felix blurts out having turned around and been met with a huge hunk who is big enough to look like he could have eaten his roommate and smells like he just farted his roommate back out…

“Broooooooo” Andy groans “Who are you? This isn’t your place mannnnn. And why are you looking for Mittens? Mittens is my boyfriend's cat.”, “This IS my place and you don’t live here! I think you are in the wrong place!” Felix says scared to death of the huge stranger just a few feet away. “Huhuhuh you sound just like my roommate bro, you kinda look like him too, just…ya know he is more like me” Andy tells him, completely ignoring what he just said. “Eh whatever” Andy shrugs, “I think it’s time for you to go” Andy starts moving forward and reaches out to Felix. Felix tries to duck from the outstretched hand but his lithe movement doesn’t best the giant’s brute force, grabbing Felix by the shoulder Andy pulls Felix away and out of the bathroom and starts towards the door. Being pulled closer to the hunk Felix catches more than just a whiff of his funk. Between gags Felix pleads “PLEASE! PLEASE! NO THIS IS MY APARTMENT I NEED TO FIND MY CAT!” feeling pity on the weakling he is holding Andy bestows mercy upon Felix. “Uhhh okay sure you can look for your dumb cat but I'm gonna just stay here and watch.” Andy says audibly annoyed. Without saying a word he began looking around again for Mittens hoping he can find her before this reeking giant behind him loses his patience. After about ten minutes of looking, the entire time he can hear the hunk constantly fiddling around, making sounds of annoyance, and chuckling every time he belches out a blast of bad breath. Felix finally ends up in his roommate's bedroom, being the last place to look.

As Felix searches around in the blinding fog he finds the source of it, Andy left his window open and the fog has just been filling the room for days now. Mittens probably got out through the window. He starts to worry he wont find his cat. Felix hears the hunk clear his throat and say to himself “I'm bored, I want my boyfriend.” Felix feels his large sweaty hand grab the nape of his neck once more and before Felix can say a word he lifts Felix up and rips the mask off of him. “NO I NEED THA-“ Buh-UUUuuuuurpppp

The hunk belches right into Felix’s open mouth. Being completely caught off guard by this show of masculine power, he gasps in suddenly filling his lungs with the dense, stinking fog and the giants horrid breath. Immediately having a violent coughing fit from the unnatural scent that has just penetrated into his body, the giant drops the scrawny bro to the floor. Felix can't help but inhale more fog as he tries to stop the coughing, as the fog fills more of his lungs it slowly also begins to fill the rest of his body. It fills his feet enlarging them so that they’re able to hold up a mass of muscle like the one who has just subjected him to this torture, his legs grow massive and muscley as his ass begins to inflate along side his legs. Felix’s hole begins to loosen up and his cheeks grow in respectable, hairless, beach balls that lightly clap behind him with every step. In the front a transformation was also occurring, changing Felix’s long. cut skinny-boy-dick into a shorter but chubbier uncut, cheesy, schlong. Felix’s tummy changes just a little, turning from a tough four pack into a soft tummy perfect for filling up from behind or resting your head on after a sensual “exercise” session. Felix tried to grab his stomach as it changed, as if that would stop the transformation. As Felix clutched his stomach his chest began to inflate into soft pecs more akin to pillows than true pectorals. And his arms followed suit, expanding into fatty tissue more than muscled mounds, soft and pliable muscles that are still capable of lifting up boulders. Felix felt a wild itching sensation in both of his armpits at the same time, as he moved one of his small hands to hopefully cease the itching he was met with a forest of hair invading his once always shaven pits. Shocked by this he ripped his hand away for just a second. Immediately his hands, much like his feet enlarged, his fingers fattened up and expanded and his palms became hugely swollen compared to his previously dainty hands. Felix felt his coughing die down and thinking he would finally be able to catch his breath was again caught off guard by another coughing attack. All while this is happening, standing above the himbofying Felix is the hunk that started the transformation, watching silently and groping his own cheesy, unwashed dick. Felix in the grasps of his second coughing fit heard his nose crack and felt it shift into a new form, changing from a longer nose with a more rounded end into a shorter, flatter nose, perfect for sticking it into an unwashed armpit or smelly crotch. He felt his eyes become slimmer and his eyebrows grow more hair than ever, and he felt as his mouth transformed into a perfect set of teeth holding back a large thick tongue perfectly for cleaning the funk off of someone’s feet. Keeping the newly minted tongue and teeth hidden was a pair of lips inflating into the best dick sucking lips ever. Felix could feel his sharp, cut jaw expand into a squarer and softer jawline that melted into his ever growing neck that needed to match the intake his plump lips would now be inviting. The last change was his hair as it turned from cute light brown curls into a mop of dark brown hair that crowned Felix’s perfect himbo body.

Felix, unable to escape the coughing fit, felt a throbbing in his head as he continued to writhe around on the floor of the fog-filled bedroom. His giant hands moved to grasp his big manly head. The fog had finally begun melting away his brain. Seeing this happen the hunk hovering above him got between Felix’s thunder thighs and unbuttoned Felix’s khakis, suctioning his mouth onto Felix's unwashed himbo dick, the giant began to suck which alleviated Felix’s throbbing headache. For a second the thought came across Felix’s mind that this stranger shouldn’t be sucking him off like this, but just as quickly as the thought came to him, he felt it sucked down and out of his brain. He felt this happening for all the thoughts he kept having about what was happening to him, but all of them kept disappearing until Felix simply stopped thinking and let blissful stupidity take over his mind. Soon the stupidity began to encroach onto pre-existing knowledge, Felix’s knowledge of advanced mathematical formulas got sucked into his sack and replaced with knowledge of how to douche and knowledge of physics melted down into cum and instead was replaced with knowledge of how to move his ass and hips to make his bros cum quicker. Soon not a single intelligent thought would be left behind, all replaced with dumb, gay thoughts making Felix the perfect fucktoy. The last thought Felix would have was “Why do I know so much gay stuffffff…Does my girlfriend like this?” Before he could even comprehend an answer his memories would start to dissolve into his sticky white seed. His years spent taking advanced courses in school turned into every summer being spent in summer school, him taking his girlfriend’s virginity became his ass being filled for the first time by his boyfriend Andy, and the years spent training to try and be a D1 Soccer player turned into wrestling other sweaty guys for hours every day. Soon just like his thoughts and knowledge every memory would be lost to the sticky sea in his balls. As the pressure in his brain built to its peak Felix felt his hips begin to buck into his boyfriend’s mouth, soon all that was Felix before he was himbofied was churning in his balls and then shot into the smelly hunk sucking on his dick, his once bright brown eyes fading like his brain into a dim, dull brown. With that the dazed himbo lays on the floor catching his breath. Getting up first Andy reches down and grabs Felix’s hand lifting him up, and in one swift motion lifts Felix’s arm into the air revealing his armpit. Leaning in for a sniff Andy forces his nose right into the forest of dark hair. Only catching a whiff of cheap AXE body spray, Andy pushes his boyfriend back onto his ass and pulls his own sweatpants down revealing his ass. “Wha-?” PFFFFBBBBTTTTT Felix starts to say as he is met with a direct hit to the face with a potent stream of gas. Becoming super dazed Felix barely knows what just happened as he is hit with another, this time wetter blast BWOMPPFFFFF. Having his hair pushed back Felix feels the stench cover his entire body, assisted by the fog and ass blast Felix finishes the last part of his himbofication. Felix’s large feet are incapable of wafting off any scent other than the buttery funk that has corrupted all of his shoes and the scent of the apartment. The gas going into Felix’s body through his mouth and nose reaches Felix’s gut giving it the ability to release butt blasts and malodorous burps. His armpits fill in with the purest himbo-stink, which quite literally contributes to the fog's green hue and absolutely rotten scent.

“Heh-Heh! Babe your butt stinks something awfullll” Felix dully says. Pulling up Felix once more Andy smells Felix’s armpit and grimaces and then dim-witted laughter burst out “Huhuhuhuhuh! You smell worse than my farts on a good day right now babe!” Andy kisses Felix and lets out a little burp into his mouth as he does so. “Huhuh. We really should help spread the fog to some un-himbofied weaklings around town.” Andy whispered to Felix. Thinking hard for a second, it slowly comes to Felix, the address he just came from is floating around in his brain, “Huhuh, just follow me babe, I know a place” Felix says to Andy. They both leave the bedroom and go grab their shoes on the shoe rack, now all the shoes are a comically large size and all reek of movie theater butter and a teenager boy’s feet that haven’t been washed in months. Slipping on the shoes without socks to maximize their stink Felix leads the way out of the apartment.

FYP Funk

Inspired by Anon Ask

Ezra had just gotten home from a long day at the gym and was scrolling on Tiktok and just relaxing on his couch. As he was scrolling past gym routines, movie clips, and scantily clad women showing lots of skin, he scrolled onto this weird video. It was a recording of a spiral that was taking up the entire screen, Ezra thought it was kinda weird for his FYP to show him that but he just kept on scrolling when a minutes later an almost identical video came up. After thinking to himself how weird it was he decided to keep scrolling. Yet again a few minutes later it popped up again, Ezra scrolled past but the video right after it was another hypnotic spiral. Aggressively scrolling, Ezra was being bombarded with more and more spiral videos, he was becoming increasingly frustrated and annoyed. He started to block the accounts that were producing such weird, garbage content.

Then all of a sudden as he scrolled again the video called him out by name, Ezra was shocked and felt the need to watch the video out of pure curiosity. The video repeated “Ezra, watch the spiral. Ezra, enjoy the spiral. Ezra, give in to the spiral. Ezra, watch the spiral. Ezra, enjoy the spiral. Ezra, give in to the spiral”. Feeling the desire to block the account begin to fade and his curiosity become benign, Ezra watched the spiral intensely. After a few minutes of the spiral and commands coming at Ezra the video commanded to Ezra, “Scroll”. Ezra dutifully followed the instructions and scrolled to the next Tiktok. He watched as a pink spiral illuminated his screen, he went to compulsively scroll past when the video began saying “Ezra, you are dumb. Ezra, you are stupid. Ezra, you are a moron. Ezra, you are dumb. Ezra, you are stupid. Ezra, you are a moron.” and it just kept saying it over and over. Ezra immediately began listening to the simple yet for some reason captivating commands directed at him for minutes on end. Not only did he listen but he also felt it changing him. He felt suddenly like he had gotten up way too fast, his head felt like it was spinning and he felt a little light headed and woozy. At first he thought nothing of it but then he heard the video go through its list commands one more time and suddenly he couldn’t remember what day or even what month it was. Ezra felt as his recent thoughts began to be sucked out of his brain, he completely forgot that his FYP isn’t normally all spirals, he forgot that he thought the videos were strange, he forgot everything he had currently floating around in his mind. Then it began to impact more cemented thoughts and knowledge, Ezra couldn’t seem to remember what he liked doing, who his friends were, his gym routine, etc. He couldn’t remember anything he had learned in middle school, high school, even college, it was all being vacuumed out of his brain. His mouth slowly hung open and he started to drool a little, without his mind fully intact he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. The hue of his eyes began to dull and they glossed over and made it perfectly obvious that behind those eyes there was not a thought in his head.

Ezra got to the end of the video when yet again it commanded him to scroll, the next video he scrolled to had a blue spiral taking over the screen. This video began to say “Ezra, you are weak. Ezra, you are small. Ezra, you are scrawny. Ezra, you are weak. Ezra, you are small. Ezra, you are scrawny.”. It felt like his body was deflating. His big muscles began to shrink and shrivel away to almost nothing compared to what he had. He still had some muscle and meat on his bones, but he wasn’t going to be doing much heavy lifting anymore. He also lost a few inches in two ways, he began to feel himself compress down losing a solid 10 inches. He went from a decent 6’3 to short king status sitting at 5’5 on a good day. His dick began to undergo the same shrinking transformation losing half of what his height lost. Ezra went from having an 8” yogurt slinger to a small 3” wiener. Sure it could please someone but he was not going to be destroying anyone or anything with those 3 inches. Ezra was left as a scrawny twinkish version of himself, the only part of him that retained the same muscle mass as before was his plump ass. Perfect for being pounded.

The video concluded and told him one more “Scroll” and the brainless twink obediently did as he was told. Scrolling to the next Tiktok Ezra was met this time with a green spiral. As it captured his vulnerable mind it began to command “Ezra, you love to fart. Ezra you love the stench of rancid flatulence. Ezra, you need the smell of your own funky ass to be happy”. Ezra immediately let out a silent but deadly fart, and then the commands were repeated, and Ezra let out a just as rancid but more audible fart. As the commands were repeated over and over again he began to let out stinkier and more boisterous farts. “pffft” was all that Ezra could muster up in the beginning but by the end of the video the scent in his room was absolutely rank and the sound of his farts echoed throughout the room. The video ended and told him to scroll, the next video was just a normal video of a gym bro thirst trapping.

Suddenly he got a notification from Grindr, and then another and another. He went to respond and found matches galore. He thought to himself “I don’t like guys…” but he couldn’t get a more complex thought out because he was interrupted by his own bottom “PPPPPFFFFBBBBTTTTTT” He breathed in his repulsive ass vapors and looked back at his phone, “heheh he’s hot…really *pffft* uhhh hot…” his brain was being fried even more by his own stink and he didn’t mind one bit, his own farts turned his preference for petite blondes into a preference for big, dominant men.

He ended up having a guy come over that night and became the guys own personal farty fucktoy. The hunk manhandled Ezra all night but Ezra loved being a submissive little twink for him.

Hey so I’ve been totally friend zoned by this dude, he claims to be into fuck boys (I wish I was joking) any chance you could help me out so he might see me in a different way?

You stood speechless as the guy wandered off back into the club. It was useless though you clearly weren't his type. He was looking for vapid dumb fuckboys who would probably move on from him within less than a day. You go back to your drinks but feel an urge to go to the toilet.  You navigate the crowd to the door and enter. The room is empty, but then a gush of cold air hits you on your back, and you relax. Suddenly you feel cold hands on your shoulder and hear whispers in your ear.

"Mmmm, tasty wasn't he? Shame you're not his type," came a cute voice in your ear.

"Perhaps I can help?" it continued, before laughing. You wanted to say something, to move out of his hands but you couldn't. He started massaging your shoulders, sending pulses of energy into your body.

"Ya know what a fuckboy is like, don't you? They're idiots who work out at the gym regularly, pushing themselves to get that toned summer body," The voice spoke as his massages got harder. You felt your body change. Your stomach sucked in, while your chest inflated slightly pushing out a pair of nice pillowy pecs. A six-pack gradually formed itself out of your stomach. Your arms and legs slowly added a bit of toned muscle, but not much. The growth feels so good your dick begins to harden. Your mind is taken by euphoria and pleasure you can't think anymore.

"Yes, it feels so good doesn't it?" the voice asks.

"Yes, yes," you moan.

The massaging stops, but the euphoria doesn't. One hand is placed on your head, and you feel as it pushes down on you. You were quite tall, but you could feel as you got shorter. Your legs and arms began sucking in somewhat, and the spare mass from this was transformed, into yet more tonnage. Your around 5'9 in height now, quite a bit shorter. The hands then moved all over your body, feeling you knew toned muscles. Everywhere the hands touched left a mark of tanned, soft, youthful skin that spread over the rest. All your hairs vanished from your body leaving you with a tanned and youthful look. The hand came back up to your face rubbing your cheeks, spreading the youthful tan to your face. All your stubble went, leaving your face feeling smooth and clean.

"Looking much nicer now aren't we, but we still got to cuten out those features,"

His hands then rubbed over your face like it was mouldable jelly. He began reshaping each feature, making out the cutest possible face imaginable. Your lips plumped up turning them pouty, he moved onto your nose, which became thinner but sharper.

Then his hands came up to your ears. He kept them flat on the skin, before suddenly squeezing your head. He moved them around the sides of your head until it got to the back. The hairs shorten down into faded cut, and the hair turns chestnut brown. He moved his hands up to the top your head and began styling your hair as if there was gel in it. He started waving his hands through it, lengthening it out, before spiking out your hair all over the place making it into a dumb extravagant style.

He turns you to look in the mirror and you almost gasp, except you can't since you seem to have lost control of your body. You find your new look sexy, but can't help find this wrong. You weren't a fuckboy, were you? No, you had smarts, standards, and a decent personality. You knew what fuckboy's were like; only focusing on looks and status, sex and a vapid personality.

"I sense your doubts, don't worry we can fix that,"

One hand remained on your head while the other slid down into your pants, groping your dick. There was a sucking sensation around the hand on your head as he began to suck out your brains. This had gone too far, you wanted to get out of this grip. But the pleasure was too great, you couldn't help but be helpless as all your education, hobbies, and other interests were sucked out of your head.  It wasn't until you felt a stroking sensation in your pants that you realised all this waste from your head was being used to grow out your dick. Your balls grew massively as they were filled with new fuckboy seed that sought out and replaced your old weaker seed. Your mind was racing to preserve itself, but you could feel a great vanity growing in you. The desire to workout to make yourself look cute only so you could score more guy every week, putting yourself above others, becoming addicted to how your social media followers saw you. Yeah, that was you now, a dumb guy obsessed with getting all the sex he could.

The stroking got harder and faster and before you could do anything you creamed your pants.

"YEAH FUCKBOY!" you howled as the hands vanished. You turned around suddenly forgetting anything that had happened moments ago. You look back in the mirror and your clothes had changed, you now wore a trendy tank top, a pair of grey shorts and chain around your neck. You took a selfie for all your followers to jerk themselves to before remembering that guy who rejected you for some odd reason. Maybe now that you've freshened up he might think twice.

As I walked into the gym, I couldn't help but notice the overly sweaty jock working out on the bench press. He was drenched in sweat and the smell emanating from him was so overpowering that nobody would even go near him. I found the smell disgusting and couldn't understand how anyone could be so oblivious to their own stench.

I sighed as I looked at my own chubby body in the mirror and wished I had abs like his. I had been trying to lose weight for months but it seemed like no matter how hard I tried, the fat just wouldn't budge. I felt envious of the jock and his perfect body, but at the same time I was repulsed by his smell.

I decided to focus on my own workout and started with some light cardio on the treadmill. As I ran, I couldn't help but sneak glances at the jock, who was now lifting heavy weights and grunting loudly with each repetition. The sweat was pouring off him and I couldn't help but feel a strange fascination with his body.

After a few minutes, I felt a strange sensation wash over me. Suddenly, I found myself standing in front of the mirror, but it wasn't my reflection staring back at me. It was the jock's! I was shocked and confused, but at the same time I was incredibly turned on by the feel of his muscled body.

I flexed my abs and felt a surge of excitement as I realized I was now in the jock's body. I could feel his muscles flexing and contracting with each movement, and the smell of his sweat was intoxicating. I felt an overwhelming need to touch myself, to feel my own muscles and to explore this new body.

I walked over to the bench press and started lifting the heavy weights, feeling the strength and power coursing through my veins. I couldn't believe how strong I was and how good it felt to be in this body. I was completely addicted to the smell of myself and it was making me incredibly horny.

I looked around the gym and saw that everyone was staring at me, no doubt impressed by my physique and performance. I felt like the king of the gym and couldn't wait to show off my new body to my friends.

As the workout came to an end, I felt my body craving more. I needed to release the pent-up energy and tension, and the only way to do that was to jack off. I walked into the locker room and locked myself in a private stall, where I proceeded to rub one out to the thought of my own muscled body and the smell of my own sweat.

As I locked myself in the private stall of the locker room, I couldn't wait to explore my new body. I was so turned on by the smell of my own sweat and the thought of my muscled physique that I could hardly contain myself.

I reached down and grabbed my cock, which was thick and pulsating with desire. It was longer and more musky than I had ever imagined, and the smell of my sweat was so rancid that it was almost overwhelming. I felt my balls hanging heavy and large between my legs, and I couldn't wait to release the tension that was building inside me.

I began to stroke my cock, feeling the warmth and pleasure as it grew harder and more engorged with each movement. The smell of my sweat was driving me wild, and I could hardly believe how amazing it felt to be in this body. I moaned and groaned as I jacked off, feeling the intensity and pleasure building to a crescendo.

Suddenly, I felt a surge of energy and I came non-stop, load after load, for what felt like a minute. It was the most intense and satisfying orgasm I had ever experienced, and I was completely overwhelmed by the sensations. I could barely catch my breath as I came again and again, feeling the warmth and pleasure coursing through my veins.

The room was filled with the pungent smells of my rancid cum and body odor. The stench was overpowering and I could barely stand it, but at the same time I was completely turned on by the kinky sensations.

The smell of my sweat was so intense that it was almost suffocating, and I could barely breathe as I caught my breath. The smell of my cum was equally rancid, and I could feel it sticking to my hand and the floor of the stall.

It was the most intense and satisfying orgasm I had ever experienced, and I was completely addicted to the kinky sensations of this new body. I knew I would never be able to go back to my old self, and I was determined to make the most of this amazing opportunity.