Mo-Mo Dainamaitu Vore

Mo-Mo Dainamaitu vore

CHAPTER 1: Roy Goes for A Walk

Roy awoke to the sound of birds chirping outside the bedroom window. What bedroom, and what window by extension, alluded him for a good couple of seconds. Did we make it to the house? was the first question to cross his mind, followed immediately by, where on earth am I?

He tried to move, but his joints protested. He remembered having a lot to drink, being with Lloyd, Rich and Max, and… some other guy. What was his name? He tried not to focus on the questions, which only seemed to pile higher and higher in his mind, and instead focused all his energy on getting out of the bed, specifically dislodging his body from underneath Rich, who must have rolled over in his sleep.

Rich. Roy smiled to himself and shook his head. He had known Rich longer than any of the other guys. The two had become friends at a summer camp in Junior year of high school. That they ended up in the same college—in the same dorm for that matter—was pure coincidence. Though their friendship often seemed like the most obviously hostile on the surface, it was easily the strongest. Roy had supported Rich through so many tough times, failed tests, ugly breakups, that by now they were inseparable.

And in this case, literally inseparable.

With all his strength, Roy shoved the unconscious Rich to the other side of the bed and slipped off. Rich landed with a THUD against Max, and gave an unassuming snore.

“Dipshit,” Roy said with a cackle, and sauntered out of the room.

He took immediate notice of the fact that he was still wearing his clothes. As he walked down the hallway out towards the kitchen and living room, the memories of the pervious night began to resurface one by one. How could they have been stupid enough to stay in some random stranger’s house? Roy thought. There must have been something in those beers, some drug that made them all want to pass out on that bed together. But the one question that remained swimming in Roy’s mind was simple: why?

Footsteps outside drew Roy’s attention to the window, where he could see someone starting to approach the house. He knew it must have been the ranch owner who’d seduced them last night. Why could he still not remember his name?

Wood creaking on the porch. Roy stood up straight, breathed in deep, preparing to tell the man off as soon as he walked inside. To demand answers to the questions that were now worrying him sick.

The door opened. Roy opened his mouth. And stopped.

“Well how’ya doin’ son?” the man asked, tipping his cowboy hat. This was not the man who’d got them drunk last night. This man was something else, a grade A charm bomb and easily the most attractive man Roy had ever seen.

Wait a minute, that didn’t make sense. No, you don’t like guys. Stop it. Roy shook his head. “I…” he stammered, “I’m sorry I thought you were—“

“Beck?” the cowboy laughed, “aw shoo. Nah, I’m his partner in crime. Thom’s the name.” He reached out a hand. Roy instinctively shook it. He needed to know how his skin felt against his. He needed to feel the roughness of his hands scratch his fingers. And when it did, it sent Roy into a dizzy haze.

“You must be one of the boys Beck brought in last night. How’d ya sleep?”

“Umm… agh… good! It was good I… sorry, we should probably get going. We were supposed to make it to my parent’s house by sunset.”

“Ah now, what’s a few more hours gonna hurt?” Thom slapped the young man’s shoulder. By now, he was having to hide the erection slowly building in his pants. “Why don’t I take you on a tour of the grounds?”

“No—Yes! I mean… shouldn’t I wake everyone else up first?” What a ridiculous question. And yet, Thom seemed to exercise a kind of control over Roy. For some reason, he felt like he needed the man’s permission.

Tom shook his head, “I think we’ll be alright.”

The ranch seemed to look even more beautiful in the morning. How this was possible, Roy did not know. All he knew is that the second he walked outside, he never wanted to go back in. The breeze was perfectly calm, the sun appropriately bright. The birds, which acted like an alarm clock in the bedroom, were now serenading him as he and the cowboy marched down the steps and out towards the barn.

“Where are we going?” Roy asked, to which Thom replied:

“To the storehouse! Can’t expect to be on a cowboy ranch without the right cowboy gear!”

Roy’s heart skipped a beat. Was he finally going to be able to jettison these awkward shorts and sandals in favor of something more appropriate? Something more manly, something like…

“Here we are!” Tom said as he fumbled with the lock on a small door on the side of the barn. It clicked open, and he swung the barn door aside to reveal the most beautiful thing Roy had ever seen in his life.

Rows of them. Cowboy hats. Leather boots with silver spurs, flannel tops and boot cut jeans. Belts and bolo ties, saddles and cow-skin jackets. It was the mother load: cowboy heaven. And for a moment, Roy actually felt like he was dead, and had entered some other realm.

“This is…” he stumbled over his words, looking over the clothes with wonder and admiration, “amazing.”

“Wanna try some on?” Thom asked.

Roy gazed up at him doe eyed. He didn’t even need to say yes for Thom to know. He walked over and ran his hand through a rack of jeans.

“What size are you?” he asked.

“30x32,” Roy replied, his eyes caught on the glistening edge of one of the belts. He’d always had an interest in clothing. Not ‘fashion’ per sea, but just in clothes, in presentability. The cowboy outfit was his favorite look, though he didn’t know that until he found himself standing there in the middle of that store room, gawking at the almost comical variety of clothes Thom and Beck had in that barn. He was just about to ask why they had so many outfits when he heard Thom’s voice from behind him.

“Well,” he said, holding a pair of jeans, “you just gonna stand there or what?”

“Right!” Roy said. He slipped out of his sandals, removed his shirt, and dropped his shorts. Thom laughed a bit as his boxers unraveled almost halfway down his thighs. “What?”

“What the hell you doin’ wearin’ those?”

“These?” He looked down at the blue undergarments. “What’s wrong with them?”

“You ain’t gonna be able to fit in these with those. It’s like wearin’ two sets of pants!”

Roy threw his arms up. “Well they’re all I have. Unless you got any better ideas!” The clever smirk on Thom’s face told him that he did. He set the jeans down and walked over to a small chest of drawers build into the wall. From the top drawer, he removed a fresh jockstrap.

Roy laughed. “Seriously?”

“Most comfortable I’ve ever been. I never leave home without one.” He lowered his jeans to show Roy the edge of his own strap, sending another rush of heat to his dick. “C’mon,” Thom continued, holding out the small piece of elastic and fabric, “if you don’t like it, you can always take it off.”

At this point, Roy didn’t need too much convincing. He took the jockstrap and dropped his underwear. He was already starting to get a little chubby, and he tried to angle his penis away from Thom as he slipped the elastic bands up his legs and over his ass. But when the pouch came over his dick, it only seemed to make the erection more prominent.

“Someone’s excited,” Thom remarked as he handed Roy the jeans. Roy blushed, and tried to come up with some way to tell him off as he pulled the jeans up his legs. Damn, he thought to himself, these are comfortable. He was right.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” It was as if he read Roy’s mind. He shifted around in the new, comfortable jeans, as Thom grabbed him a pair of black cowboy boots and a belt. “I think these’ll look good with those.”

Roy didn’t even think to question his opinion. He was so eager to get his feet inside those boots, he didn’t even think to put on socks. Within a matter of seconds, the belt and boots were on, and Roy looked as sharp as ever.

“Missing somethin’…” Thom said.

“A shirt?”

He laughed. “Nah, that’ll just slow you down.” He walked back over to the wall, and this time removed a beige cowboy hat. He handed it delicately to Roy, as if handling an infant. “I was thinkin’ about this.”

Roy’s mouth dropped. It was in his favorite shade of brown, a beautiful leather strap wrapped around the top. It was as if someone had tailor made the hat just for him.

“Try it on,” Thom said, but he didn’t even have to ask. Roy was already placing the hat on his head, feeling the rush of adrenaline through his veins, and the sudden feeling of horniness towards his dick. It was like he had turned into the most attractive specimen on earth, and all he could think about was how badass he looked donning that cowboy hat and boots.

And then, things began to feel weird.

His stomach lurched, and he stumbled back. But the feeling that followed wasn’t nauseousness; it felt like his stomach had vanished all of the sudden. He looked up at Thom, confused.

“What’s going o—“ Another lurch. This time, he felt his chest get even lighter, like he was somehow disappearing from the inside out.

Thom paced around the room, unconcerned. “Just relax son, the transformation is the hardest part. It’s smooth sailin’ after that.”

“Transformation?? What are you—“ but his voice disappeared. It was the strangest thing, he could no longer speak! He was just about to lunge at Thom, to demand answers, when Roy felt something in his lower region, something he had never felt before. A kind of super sensitivity that sent chills throughout the rest of his rapidly disappearing body.

It was like the jeans had become an extension of his legs. He could feel the calm breeze whisk against his skin… or his fabric. Even his feet, calloused and numb from years of wearing sandals, were suddenly more sensitive than his hands. He felt as they filed out the boots, as they merged with the leather, as they became the leather.

And then it hit him. What was really happening. He knew he had just enough time to look up at Thom once more, to make a silent plee, to change him back.

But Thom just smiled and nodded, charming as all hell, and clearly enjoying watching Roy transform before his eyes. He opened his mouth to try and scream one more thing, but then his mouth was gone. He reached up to touch it, but with what? Roy had no hands, no arms. And now, no torso.

The final stage of the transformation began. Roy felt his head shrink down towards his crotch. He felt the silky comfort of the jockstrap overtake his head, overtake his entire body for that matter. And then, everything went still.

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t look around, and yet Roy could perceive the entire space around him. It was bizarre, though not altogether uncomfortable.

“Welp,” Thom said getting up to collect Roy’s old sandals and shorts, “looks like you won’t be needing these anymore.”

What’s going on? Roy thought, what have you turned me into? What have you done to me??

“I suspect someone will come along and find you soon. The other boys will be wonderin’ where you are.” He looked down at Roy, now crumpled up on the floor. “But don’t worry though, they’ll take one good look at’cha and they’ll have to put you on.”

Put me on? But then Roy realized. As Thom walked out of the barn, he began to take notice of himself. Of his feet, two empty cowboy boots, waiting to be filled. Of his legs, a pair of jeans crumpled on the floor. The rest of him could only have been the jockstrap, who’s fabric pouch sat facing towards the ranch.

Roy had been transformed into a pile of clothes. Not just any pile of clothes though; the clothes he had wanted so desperately to try on. As this realization hit, he felt a wave of panic hit him like nothing else he’d ever experienced. This wasn’t possible! He thought. He had a life back home, a school to graduate from. How could he do any of those things as a pile of clothes?

He tried to run, but he was frozen. He tried to call for help, but the pouch of the strap merely fluttered in the wind. He was trapped, immobile and stuck in a singular position until someone could come and find him.

But what then? Would they just leave him? Would they even know it was him?

Just when it seemed like he was destined to a life of solitude, Roy heard a call. His name, out in the distance.

“Rooooooooy?” It was Rich. They were looking for him. For how long, he did not know. But it didn’t matter. Someone was coming. He heard their footsteps approach the open door of the barn and then…

Rich. Sweaty and tired. He rested a hand against the wood of the door, surveying the empty room. “Damnit,” he said, “he’s not here either.”

No! Roy screamed in his mind. I’m here! Please, Rich, it’s me! Rich… RICH. You dipshit, get back here!

Rich stopped. He turned around to look at the pile of clothes. Did he hear me? Roy thought, but the look on Rich’s face said otherwise. Instead, he looked at Roy with curiosity and a strange longing.

“That’s bizarre,” Rich said, kneeling down and looking at the clothes. He scanned the room again, as if there were some naked cowboy there just waiting to pop out and grab the clothes.

Roy was about to explode. He kept screaming at Rich for him to pick him up, try to communicate.

Finally, Rich shook his head. “Eh, why the hell not.” He began to take off his shoes and drop his pants.

What?? Roy thought. No, no. Don’t put me on! Rich it’s me! It’s your buddy Roy! From summer camp, from college! Don’t wear me, I’m not—

But then he took off his underwear. All 9 inches of his cock spilled out and waved in the sweet summer air. Roy had heard whispers about Rich’s dick. He always passed it off as girls spreading rumors, but laying there in a clump, staring up at his behemoth of a cock, he knew they were all true. Rich did have a 9 inch penis, and he was about to fill Roy with it.

At this, Roy felt excitement. Not like the excitement he felt at seeing Thom for the first time. This was primal, deeply sexual. This was his whole purpose, to support some guy’s dick and show off his ass.

No, stop it. This isn’t you. You’re a human. A normal human.

But Rich was already starting to handle Roy. He was already starting to slide him up the length of his legs, hot and wet with sweat. He was starting to fit his feet through the holes of Roy’s jeans, and into the two holes of his feet— his boots. With every motion he took, every time he touched Roy and ran his hands across his soft, fabric skin, the young man grew more and more attached to Rich. The more he longed to have his cock fill his jockstrap face. to have his ass fill his jeans and his feet fill out his leather boot legs.

He needed to be worn.

With one final motion, Rich pulled Roy up over his dick. Roy was immediately overcome with a rush of heat and force as the cock filled out his pouch. He felt his body expand and mold along with Rich’s. And as Rich fastened the buckle over Roy and sealed his fate, all apprehensions about living his life as clothing vanished. He loved clothing, after all, and he loved Rich. In the strangest way, everything felt right, and as Rich’s infamous dick slipped a little pre cum into Roy’s silky white skin, he felt himself orgasm so powerfully, he could swear the young man could hear his pleasure-fueled moans and groans.

“Hmm,” Rich mumbled, “that’s strange.” He could have sworn he heard his voice calling out to him from somewhere. Somewhere close, somewhere below him. But it wasn’t possible; there was no way Roy could have been in that empty dressing room. He was out on the ranch somewhere, and Rich had to find him if he had any hope of getting home.

Little did he know, their journey had only just begun.

T O  B E  C O N T I N U E D …

I'd love to see a villain become Captain America's uniform!

Every punch he took, every shot he fired, everything was aimed at Steve Rogers. Brock Rumlow (or as people were now calling him “Crossbones”) was obsessed with destroying Captain America once and for all.

So when he caught wind of a special serum that could turn the user into whatever they desired most, Rumlow was eager to get a taste. After breaking into a top secret government facility with his band of hired guns, he managed to nab a small injection tube full of what was then being called “Liquid Z.” It was all he needed, he thought, to take down the man who’d exposed Hyrda and scarred his face.

He locked himself up in his room, an underground bunker fortified with steel (he wasn’t exactly sure what Liquid Z would do to him specifically), and injected himself with the glowing green liquid. All the while, his thoughts were on Cap. On his body, beaten and bruised, under the rubber of his boot. He imagined stripping him naked, exposing him, humiliating him for what he’d done. All he could think of was smothering Steve Rogers, and that’s when the changes started.

Rumlow felt his stomach turn. He could feel his organs changing and rearranging themselves. What was he becoming? Some kind of beast? The thought excited him, and just as it did, he dropped to his knees.

He felt his whole body go numb. He felt lighter as his breathing slowed and his vision started to blur. Unexpectedly, Brock felt himself get aroused at the feeling. the only think he could feel was his crotch, which radiated with heat as the rest of him seemed to vanish into thin air.

Suddenly, he was no longer in his bunker. He was in an apartment, tidy and well dressed. The buzzing of the cars outside sounded a lot like New York. Had the serum transported him to Steve Roger’s apartment?

The thought excited him. But just as the excitement came, if vanished, replaced with sudden terror. Rumlow had looked down at his body… it was turning blue!

What was going on?? He thought, feeling his new skin. It was rough and elastic. Underneath, he felt his bones expand and hollow out like armor. It was as if he was wearing some kind of suit. Or becoming one…

“UGHHH,” Rumlow growled. The heat from his dick grew even stronger, and spread throughout his whole body. Every inch of him was so sensitive, so easily aroused, that even just kneeling down on the hard wood floor made him inches away from cumin. But he couldn’t cum. He could only kneel and writhe in sweet ecstasy as his body continued to change:

His hands vanished into two holes at the ends of his arms. His chest expanded out to fit Roger’s stature and his entire being went hollow. Just as he began to see the image of a star appear on his chest, Rumlow felt his face sink in.

“No!” he cried out with his last breath, “this is not what I wanted! This is not—“ But his mouth was gone. His head had disappeared along with his hands, and what was left of him lay crumpled on the floor.

He could still see the room, though not through his eyes. He couldn’t move, only watch as the door to the bathroom creaked open and out walked Steve Rogers. Stark naked, his massive muscles still dripping with water and sweat from a nice hot shower.

“Huh,” he said to himself, looking down at his suit, “don’t remember leaving that there”

As Rogers walked towards him, dick swinging back and forth, Rumlow felt tremendous fury. How was he supposed to destroy Rogers as a suit? But it didn’t matter, because as soon as Steve’s hands touched Rumlow’s rough blue skin, as soon as he felt the warmth of the man’s body fill his fibers, his fury turned to pure longing. He needed to be worn. He needed to be used.

One leg after another, Captain America slipped into his iconic outfit, his thick legs brushing up against the fabric and sending Rumlow into a state of perpetual orgasm. As his mountain pecs filled out Brock’s, his skin caressing the inner armor, he realized this is all he ever truly wanted. And as his cock pressed up against Rulmow’s crotch. he lost himself entirely in an explosion of unending pleasure.

As Rogers picked up his shield and left his apartment to go join the other Avengers, he felt a keen sense that some justice has been done. He also felt strangely horny, as his suit seemed to be warmer, hugging comfortably around his adonis physique. A bit of precum leaked from his dick and into the fabric, and he smiled thinking about all the fun, sexy times he’d had with that outfit, and all the fun that was to come.

He may be one of the biggest guys on his high school football team, but when Grant was at home, he was the picture of submission for his sexy older dad. He loved the contrast between their two bodies, his body which was young and smooth and muscled, and his father’s older, chubby hairier body. He loved cuddling up with his dad on the couch after a long day of school, and he especially loved falling asleep as the little spoon, his father’s furry arm draped across him, his dad’s cock rubbing up against his ass.

He’d felt the condom ripping soon after penetrating the boy’s tiny brown button hole but He continued anyway, silently please with Himself for being such a virile and powerful Man that even Magnums can’t contain Him.  The boy’s tight pucker had eventually loosened but only after a severe and brutal pounding which proved too much for the thin latex. All that remained was curled up around the thick base of His cock like a thin wedding ring.  He smiled at the analogy.  It wasn’t His fit and muscular body that seemed to get all the young fags so worked up; it was His wedding ring.

His son’s best friend had been no exception, always respectfully addressing Him as “Mr. Johnson” and always staring and lingering just a little too long.  What the fuck, He’d thought - why not.  He’d be an easy and convenient fuck toy; no one would suspect a thing. The boy had finally quietened down - what a drama queen!  “You wanted this, remember?” He’d reminded him, even though the truth was that He’d manipulated and coordinated the whole thing.  Even though he was no longer screaming, the boy’s young, smooth body still felt taunt and tense as he continued to suffer through the assault.  Now that He’d broken through the condom He could enjoy the slick wetness of the boy’s clenching, spasming pussy which felt warm and inviting.  He couldn’t wait to breed it.   “That’s it, Jimmy … you’re doing just fine.”  

“Oh, God, Mr. Johnson!  You’re so big!”

“Yes, Jimmy, so you’ve said many times today.  I don’t need you to keep telling me that.  You understand?“

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do you know the problem with having a big dick, Jimmy? It takes an extra long time to cum … “

Jimmy whimpered at the implication as Mr. Johnson continued slow-fucking His new toy.  

“You’re going to be raw and sore by the time I’m done, Jimmy.  Does that excite you?”

Jimmy hesitated.  “Yes, Sir … very much.”

He chuckled.  “I know it does.  That’s why you’re going to be such a good little whore for me aren’t you.  Daddy’s going to fuck you good, baby … give you what you need.  It will be our little secret … or not so little, as the case would be.  You breath a word of this to anyone and I’ll find you, Jimmy.  I’ll hurt you.  Do you understand?”

Jimmy only nodded; it was a rhetorical question anyway.  Of course he understood.  Mr. Johnson was a respected and feared Man - a powerful Man.  And Jimmy was just a punk.  No one would believe him. And no one would care if anything happened to him.

He was getting close.  Leaning in He whispered in Jimmy’s ear.  “This is going to feel very … wet, Jimmy.  I want you to hold it in … every drop of it.”

“Whhat??  What are you saying?  You have a condom on!  I saw it!”  Jimmy started to struggle so He tightened His grip, causing Jimmy to wince.

“Shh … what’s done is done.  It was meant to be.  You were meant to be impregnated … like a woman, Jimmy.  Lucky for you it’s by a Man like me.  Someone you can trust.  Can I trust you, Jimmy?”  

Jimmy paused and moaned before replying.  “Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.  Now give me that pussy, Jimmy.  Take Daddy’s cum … take it!”

Rightfully Mine

Jake Webster had been the most popular jock throughout middle school, entering high school he’d been ready to take that over too, rule the school as you might say. Until he was hit by a bus that very morning of his freshman year.

The school didn’t even mourn him really cause they didn’t know him. A few of his friends did but they quickly moved on.

Tristan Moore was the nerd of middle school, braces, glasses, bad acne. But a transformation over the summer; contact lenses, braces off, clearer skin and a growth spurt, a whopping 6’3 made him go from nerd to hunk. He quickly became the school’s IT boy, growing in muscle mass too over the next few years and claiming football captain. By senior year he was the top candidate for Prom King, him and his boyfriend Tyler Grove.

But not everyone was happy about this physical transformation, oh no, Jake Webster who was now entering his fourth year of being a ghost was beside himself at this point. Tristan was his total obsession by this point, he followed him home, to school, anywhere he could really. An overwhelming presence, a dark aura around the other.

“That fucking nerd! Who does he think he is?! Stealing my life, my friends, my boy- I didn’t even get the chance to come out! I am sick of this fucking guy!”

Flying down, he landed gracefully on the floor of Tristan’s bedroom, the jock was currently reading a letter that had been delivered half an hour ago. A warm smile spread across the male’s face, excitement lighting up his eyes, Jake leaned closer to read the contents of said letter.

“A Scholar- Full ride in sports. That’s IT!” He roared, lunging for Tristan, he intended to kill him, forgetting for a moment that he was merely vapour, but as his fist aimed true at Tristan’s back, Tristan moved a little, Jake’s entire right arm, slid into Tristan’s, Jake felt numb for a moment until he felt the breeze on Tristan’s right arm.

Tristan frowned “I can’t feel my arm? Must have worked out a little too hard this morning.” He shrugged a little with a low chuckle, his deep voice echoed throughout the bedroom. Jake’s eyes lit up as he flexed the right arm, the bicep bulged, muscle swole, veins popping, he clenched Tristan’s fist.

A low groan rippled from Jake’s ghostly throat, eyes narrowing “You wanted this life nerd. Wanted to be a jock, yeah? Let me show you what it takes to be a real fucking alpha jock.”

Wasting no time, he plunged into the other arm, pulling Tristan towards him as he inserted his legs into the tree trunk thighs on display, his small feet sliding into Tristan’s size 14’s.

After a few minutes, Jake had completely overwhelmed Tristan’s body, the only thing left to be taken was his face, his brain.

Tristan’s eyes were wide as his entire body seemed to be out of his control, he tried to move but he couldn’t.

“W-What is happening to M-ARGHH!” He cried out in pain, Jake had forced his ectoplasmic face into the back of Tristan’s head, entering his brain. New memories began to surge as the two men merged, Jake overwhelmed Tristan completely. His eyes which had been rolling into the back of his head due to the intrusion, snapped back into place, narrowing as they took in the room.

Inhaling sharply Tristan let a roar of ecstasy

“FUCKKKKK!”

A low grunt escaped the jocks throat, baring his teeth together as he took a step forward towards the full length mirror, his new reflection glared back at him.

“Thanks for the upgrade nerd. That was glorious.” He was wearing nothing but a pair of tight gym shorts which fit snugly around his large muscular frame, leaving no room to the imagination about the size of the bulge lingering beneath them.

“BRUH.” He growled, flexing his arms, letting out another alpha-like roar, his biceps swelled like watermelons as he flexed.

He dropped the shorts, a large hand gripping the base of his new meat and he watched hungrily as it grew.

“Who’s your Daddy subs?” His eyes lit up as his cock stopped growing, now thick in length and long. “I am.”

“Time to cause some damage… Tristan Moore.”

Biting down on his lower lip, his pecs bounced, hand jerking his cock till he came with another roar.

“WORSHIP ME!”