Male Tf Story - Tumblr Posts

Working my usual white collar job, I sometimes I wonder if life would be easier if I were someone - or something - different. A firefighter, for instance! I could imagine being a hunky and hairy, manly and musky, daring and dirty firefighter who doesn't need to think so much all the time. Or, even a pair of underwear or a uniform for such a guy. But that's just daydreaming of course. Back to my job, I guess.

snap

I got you, bro. Strip down for me. Your life is about to change dramatically. Yes, take off your underwear too. I need a blank slate. I’m about to create a masterpiece.

Let’s start with your legs. Big, massive trunks of muscle. You could snap the head off of someone with those things. A thin, and chiselled chest, topped with a deep six pack. Look at that thing. It’s a fucking temple, man.

Broad shoulders and huge fucking arms. But these things aren’t for show man, you’re lifting things for real. Trust me, when you’re crawling around on the floor in the dark, smoke everywhere, a massive air tank on your shoulders, you’re going to thank me for giving you arms that big.

Okay now relax. Your life is simple. You wake up, jerk off, work out and you never buy drinks anymore. As soon as you tell someone you’re a firefighter, guys and girls line up to buy you a drink.

Here’s your bunker gear man. Jump into those boots and pull up the pants to your waist. The suspenders go over your shoulders. Ooh fuck man! You’re sexy already. And now put your coat on and there you go. Ready for anything.

im tired of being a twink quite nerd! can you make me an obnoxious jock that only cares about fucking and football?

snap

Heard you want to be an obnoxious football jock? I can do that, sure thing. Who wants to be a nerd anyway? Jocks are better.

Stand right there, let’s get a look at you. You’ll need to be taller. Your spine, legs and arms are crunching up as they all lengthen. Six foot will give us plenty to work with.

Your face is too… Nerdy. Needs to be way cuter. Let’s harden up your jaw, tighten up your nose. Perfect. You’re “ruggedly handsome” now.

What does every football bro need? Muscles! And you’re getting a lot of them. Roll your shoulders around for me, feel them get bigger and broader. Oh yeah. Lift up your arms for me to flex. Yeah, there’s nothing there right now but watch them inflate now. Look at those pythons! Fuck dude. You’re built. Your chest is pushing out, and your stomach is flattening into a tight six pack. The veins on your arms are popping out. You're a specimen.

But you don't have the brain to match. Your nerd days are over, long live the jock! You're a fuck boy now, fucking anyone that will consent. And it doesn't matter what their gender is. You're at school on a scholarship, but don't about classes, assignments or homework. Just keep flexing those muscles, working out that body, and winning on game days. You got this, bro.

Here's your gear. Go get dressed! It's game time.

I hate my job as a professor. I've been doing this for three decades. I see this big oafs that come on a football scholarship or wrestling scholarship and just wonder how easy my life would be if I was one of them.

snap

Professor, what’s another word for pirate treasure?

That’s right. Booty! Now back that ass up and let’s embiggen it. Embiggen? Is that a word? How would you know - you’re fucking dumb as shit. Look at you, laughing at your own farts.

But wait, your arms are too thin. Flex 'em for me and watch them grow. Amazing, right? Oh I forgot you're slower now. Let me take it down to your level: Arms big, bro!

I’ll add some muscle here, flatten this part there. Tighten up your pits a bit (I love jock pits). And there you are. A football muscle jock. Lift up that jersey and show us what you're working with you sexy beast.

snap

Welcome to my Changing Room. You look confused. What do you mean you forgot that you asked me to change you into a southern guy with no worries in his pretty little head. You definitely asked me, and I definitely didn't delete your request by accident.

Let me make it up to you. Put these jeans on and let me squeeze your butt. Not enough to squeeze, I'm afraid! Feel it expand and grow? That's so much better. You're filling out those pants now. It's gonna make guys and girls want to bury their noses in your tight ass.

That shirt you're wearing is no good! No more sleeves for you, partner. We want to show off your guns, and these sick tattoos you have. Oops, sorry. I forgot, they sting a little bit as I put them on you. You've got some Texas barbed wire going around your bicep. It'll make you look so fucking douchey. How about an AR15 on your forearm? You're big into 1A now. You're such a fucking prick.

I'll finish you off with a proper cowboy hat and a goatee. You look hot man. Us city slickers move way too fast for you. You're a slower kind of person — simple folk. Not a care in the world, and that's how you like it.

DILF tf, silver fox tf???

snap

Hello there! It’s not often I get asked to age someone up. I’d be happy to help you with this one.

Let’s see… Where should I start. You said silver fox, right? You’re feeling your head get itchy right now, and that’s only because I’m making it shorter. I’m making the sides grey, so there’s your silver! Your jawline is tingling as I make it more chiselled and I’m going to add just a hint of stubble too.

You said older, right? It’s going to show in your face. Some deep crevices and laugh lines, especially around your eyes and mouth. You still look handsome though. Especially now that I’ve made your eyes a piercing blue. Look at me a second. Wow, you’ll have people willing to do anything do you with baby blues like that.

But hey, it’s not all bad! Your body is expanding out as I make your muscles bigger and stronger. Do you want perky nipples? Of course you do. See how they point out on the end of your massive pecs? Holy fuck that’s hot dude.

Bigger arms next! Some massive guns on you. And a full sleeve tattoo. Oh baby it’ll drive your admirers wild.

Imagine getting out of the shower every morning, looking in the mirror and you see this. Actually, we don’t have to imagine. There you go! Like what you see? Yeah I thought so.

Okay but now you’re late for work! Here’s your uniform. Brown pants, brown shirt, black boots. Feel your mind changing as you’re putting them on? Here’s the last piece: a black tactical vest. You’re a cop dude.

But go ahead, snap a picture and send it to that guy you saw at the club. Tell him he’s going to jail unless you fill his hole tonight. Tell him to submit to you. You’re a boss, nobody fucks with you.

Sometimes I look into the mirror and hate how short and chubby I am. Is there something you can do to change that?

snap

Hey little buddy, I'm sorry you're so down on yourself. Let's see what I can do to help you out, shall I?

Your legs are getting thicker and more muscular. I'll thin out your stomach and harden it with some abs. Go ahead and flex them, run your fingers across your flat stomach. All that chub is gone. You like?

But look at your chest! It's expanding, growing and pushing out, right in front of your eyes. Massive man-tits. But don't worry, it's all muscle. That muscle will continue into your arms and shoulders. You've got a massive top shelf now.

Can I alter your face? Wait, why am I asking for permission. Let's add some facial hair: a tight and tidy moustache and a goatee? Short, curly hair on top. Dark hair, yeahhh that's it! Oh baby, we're gonna have to go all out now. Your skin is getting darker. A dark caramel-like brown.

And done! You're still short, but at least you're not short and chubby — you're short and muscular!

I love firefighter TFs.

Fire Captain Benedict

(Content: Age Progression, Muscle Growth, Body Hair, Beard Growth, Firefighter TF, Musk TF, Clothes TF, Uniform TF, Forced TF)

The intense summer heat of the day slowly gave place to the warm air of the summer night at the fire station. The firefighters, after an exhausting day of draining missions, were finally returning from their daily battles, their faces showing the fatigue and their big bodies fully drenched in sweat. The air was thick with the strong scent of smoke and the musk of their hard labor. Not that they cared about it, it was just a souvenir of their bravery.

As they entered, they passed by a van of a company of electrical services, that was pulled up in front of the station. “They still didn’t fix that shit?” Rick, one of the firemen, mumbled in annoyance.

Outside the van, three electricians were preparing their equipment for another night of attempts to fix the issues of the station. Accompanying the electricians, there was also a slender, scrawny young man, barely 20 years old, called Ben. This was his first major job as an intern, and he didn’t know what to expect of such an overwhelming place. Since he was hired, all he did was stay locked in a boring office all day, so he was happy to finally go out in a mission. Ben even got to wear a hi-vis suit for the first time, and he was particularly excited about this part.

Ben had always been a curious guy, and he wanted to explore the fire station. As the electrician team began unloading their tools, one of them handed Ben a checklist.

"Stay close. This place is a maze and we don't want to lose you."

Ben nodded in agreement, but his curiosity was winning against his desire to obey the orders and cause a good impression on his first mission. The huge fire station, with its huge trucks and handsome men, caught his attention too quickly. As the electricians were busy checking the station’s electrical systems, Ben found himself wandering through the corridors, sneaking into rooms to look at all the cool equipment.

As he passed by the firemen, he couldn’t help but notice how burly and manly they were. They might train a lot. At the same time, he started to feel too small and out of place among all of them. His hi-vis gear was giving a few more confidence, but not enough to even compete against the firemen around him in their imposing uniforms.

b‘Are beards a requirement to be a firefighter now?’ he asked himself as he realised that many of the men were proudly showing their dense facial hair. He felt like he could taste all of the testosterone in that place, and it was suffocating.

As he walked, taking looks at every corner and details of the building, Ben eventually stumbled into the dressing room. The smell hit him first, a potent mix of sweat, smoke, musk and rubber. The room was filled with firefighters stripping off their gear after their long shift, with their faces marked by exhaustion and frustration. They looked up as Ben entered, not expect to see the skinny intruder.

"Hey, look who’s here," called out one of the firefighters, the burly man named Rick. "A little lost, right?"

Ben felt a bit of embarrassment but tried to keep his composure. "Hey, sir. I’m just, uh, checking things out," he said, showing his checklist and forcing a deep voice.

Rick’s eyes gleamed with mischief as he sized up the skinny intern. Shirtless, he was almost touching Ben’s face with his big chest. The smell of sweat was intoxicating. Rick took the checklist out of his hand to take a look, and then put it away. Then, he laid his eyes on Ben’s uniform, the loose hi-vis suit.

“Checking things out, huh? Are you sure you’re not here to take a look at how an actual work gear is supposed to look like?"

The room got filled with menacing looks, too harsh and mocking. Ben's face turned red as he tried to think of a response, but his mind went blank.

Another firefighter, a tall man named Dave, stepped forward.

"Hey, Rick, maybe we should give the kid a real taste of the action. You know, to make him feel welcome."

Rick’s mean smile widened.

“That’s a great idea, Dave." He pointed to a pile of dirty, sweat-soaked firefighting suits in the corner. "How about you put one of these on, young man?"

“No, Rick. Get him our special one.” Dave said as he went to a separate locker and took out a full firefighter gear. It looked heavy, big and dirty. Not only dirty, but its smell quickly consumed the already musky room. The gear had the smell of strong body odour, men’s body spray and salty sweat, sweat that seemed to be stuck in the suit for weeks if not months.

Ben hesitated, sensing the mockery but feeling too intimidated to refuse. "I don't think that's a good idea. I'm just an intern…”

"An intern, huh?" interrupted Rick. "Well, if you want to learn, you gotta put yourself in the shoes of actual labor. Put it on and let’s see.”

The firefighters crowded around Ben, their laughter consumed his ears as they threw that dirty suit near his feet. The gear was grimy, reeking of smoke and sweat, the fabric stiff with the residues and fluids of all the men that had ben inside it.

"Go on, dude," Rick urged, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Show us what you’re made of."

With trembling hands, Ben began to put it on. As soon as he took a closer look, se noticed that those men weren’t using that gear for work, but rather something else. He paralysed as he noticed the cum stains inside the pants and inside the boots. Stains that had been building up for several days.

“Don’t waste out time, boy.” Rick said and the other men got around him. No way that he could leave that place without doing what they asked.

He slowly started to dress up. The boots were too big, the pants were too heavy and loose for his thin legs. They were also too heavy for him to even move.

“Let me help you out, bro.” Another firefighter got behind him and took off Ben’s bright hi-vis vest and jacket. “Get a taste of what a real hard working man should wear.”

Ben wasn’t expecting that the man behind him would also grab his t-shirt to take it off, exposing his slender frame to all those muscular men.

“Hey, you gotta put this on first.” Dave took off his own uniform t-shirt, and used it to wipe off the sweat on his forehead before giving it to Ben. “You gotta pay respect to the uniform.”

The shirt was wet and warm. Way too loose. Rick put the suspenders on his shoulders and helped him to wear the heavy firefighter jacket. As soon as he saw it, his faced turned into disgust as there was also cum stains inside the jacket. Rick closed it up on Ben’s body. The gear was too heavy for him to even move and the jacket hung off him like a sack. He could feel the dampness of the sweat and cum that had been sealed into the suit, sticking to his skin. The firefighters’ laughter grew louder as he struggled with the gear.

"Look at him!" shouted Dave. "He can’t even stay standing. Maybe we should call his mommy to give a help."

"I-I can do it," Ben muttered, trying to ignore their bullying, feeling an urge to prove himself to those guys.

"Oh, he's got some spirit," said another firefighter, a bald man named Sam. "Maybe he could be our new mascot. Or a new place for us to put our cum since this gear is too over-worn already. What do you think, Rick?"

Rick chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah, he wouldn’t last a day here. He’s just a weak dude playing dress up. But he can be our new cum sock once he builds up a little.

"I bet he can't even lift a hose," Dave said with a smirk. "Probably doesn't even know the difference between a nozzle and a hydrant."

Ben couldn’t stand the rancid air, the despair, humiliation and discomfort.

“Let’s see how much weight you can handle.” Sam got closer carrying a bunch of firefighting equipment. A belt was wrapped around us body and so was a heavy backpack with a tank for oxygen. Finally, Sam took a helmet on the floor and put Ben’s small head.

As soon as the helmet touched his hair, his scalp started to itch. Then, a sudden and inexplicable energy spread throughout his body. His heart skipped a beat, and a strange warmth grew from his chest outward. He got nauseous from the weight of the gear as his body began to change. The laughter around him faded as the firefighters started to witness an unexpected scene.

“What's happening to him?" Dave whispered.

Rick stared with wide eyes. "What the fuck."

Each step of those changes were followed by intense pain and pressure. I’m front of the firemen’s eyes, Ben’s body stretched and shifted, and the oversized gear gradually started to fit him perfectly. His bones ached as they grew, his muscles burned as they swelled with newfound strength, exploding in size. He gritted his teeth as the pain intensified, and his body trembled as his height towered all the men in that room.

Suddenly, Ben felt a strange tingling on his scalp. He reached up and took off the helmet, running his fingers through his hair as it began to thin and recede. He could feel the strands slipping away, leaving his scalp exposed. The sensation was both weird and oddly freeing, like shedding an old skin. His hairline crept back more and more.

"Look at his hair!" Sam said, in awe and horror. "It’s falling!"

Ben’s face contorted with the pressure as more changes were happening. His skin toughened, becoming rough and tanned, as if it was refined by years of exposure to hard labour and elegant maturity. Lines of age and wisdom carved themselves deeper around his eyes and mouth. He felt his jawline grow more pronounced, his cheekbones sharper. Within moments, he was completely bald, the gleaming scalp reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights of the room. A thick, dense beard sprouted across his face in a contrast to his smooth scalp.

His face wasn’t the only place to be covered by a forest of thick hair. Underneath his t-shirt, that was perfectly fitting to his body now, chest hair was sprouting wildly all around his new massive muscles. The hair spread to his arms, shoulders, back, legs and his newly grown bulge. It was itchy and felt like burning.

"Wh-what are you?" Rick stepped back, shocked by what he be just seen.

Ben's thoughts raced as he tried to comprehend the miraculous transformation he just went through. The pain had been intense, but the result was astonishing. He felt powerful, confident, and fuelled by a sense of purpose he had never known before. The sudden and violent loss of his youth (and hair) was disorienting and disturbing. He was hit by a momentary panic about the permanent disappearance of his old and familiar self. But he also felt free. Free from his weakness and lack of confidence. Free from his small young frame that could never make anyone take him seriously. Free from his self imposed limited and finally ready to become the man that has always been hidden inside his youthful body. His mind welcomed those new strength and wisdom, a sense of authority and leadership that overshadowed his initial shock and fear of what had happened.

"I'm Captain Benedict now," he declared in a deep and commanding voice. He didn’t know where it was coming from or how did he even get this new posture. Now, all those firemen looked younger, smaller and shorter than him, and they all lifted their heads to look to him in the eye.

The room fell silent, the laughter and mockery were replaced by awe and disbelief. Rick and the others nodded quickly, their eyes wide with astonishment. Benedict was confused. What new prank was that? Were they all pretend to obey him just to pull another joke?

Dave, swallowing hard, finally found his voice. "Captain Benedict... what do you want us to do?"

Captain Benedict stepped forward with his imposing presence. Part of him was still suspicious of what was happening but the other accepted his role as a fire captain.

“First, you can start by cleaning this mess. And start acting like the adult men you are. There's no place for this behaviour in this station."

Sam nodded in shame. "Yes, Captain. We're sorry."

Rick, still stunned by the transformation he had just watched, lowered his head. "It won't happen again, Captain. We promise."

"Promises aren't enough. You'll all be on thin ice from now on. Any mistakes and you're out. Do I make myself clear?" The captain’s eyes hardened.

"Yes, Captain!" the firefighters said together with fear and respect and stepped aside, humbled and respectful, to make way for their new captain, who proudly wore that gear he was forced to wear.

On the outside, the electricians had finished their inspection and were starting to pack their stuff to go back.

"Where's the kid?" one of them asked the other as they noticed Benedict’s absence.

Before anyone could answer, they heard the door behind them being opened. Captain Benedict walked out, completely different from less than an hour before, but the resemblance was still there. He approached the electricians, his old coworkers, who stared at him in disbelief.

"Ben? Is that you?" Tom finally managed to ask, his voice a mix of disbelief and awe.

"It'’s Benedict, now. Captain Benedict.” the captain replied with a slight smile on his lips. "Thank you for your work. Our issues on the station are finally fixed."

The electricians stood in shock, as their memories started to twist to accommodate this new event in their lives. They finished packing their tools and left, still processing the event they had witnessed. The captain, who was nothing more than a useless intern, was right. The issue was fixed, they just needed a captain to put things in place.

dude. please make me into a huge fucking himbo!! i blow my wad at your tfs all the time.

snap

I'm honoured you would get off on my powers. It is what they're for, after all! Let's set you up with the ultimate jerk off.

We’ll take it from the bottom up. Close your eyes, stroke that cock of yours, and follow my words. By the time I'm done, you'll be a completely new man! Relax and enjoy yourself.

Feel your feet start to tingle? Creating some pressure in your socks and shoes? They're getting bigger, longer and stronger. That warmth is starting to slowly travel up your legs, making them to twitch and flex beneath you. 

Actually, let’s get you out of those clothes. With you stripped down, I can watch those muscles of yours grow in real time. Maybe I'll stroke my cock along with you.

Now that you're naked, let's keep going. Keep stroking your dick. That's it. Picture your dick, hard and leaking in your hand, growing thicker and longer with each stroke. Feel the heavy weight of your balls, full of cum, swinging between your legs as they draw up closer to your body. Feels good, right?

Your calves are growing now, the muscles hardening into solid columns of power. And your knees ... far too knobly. I'm going to make them powerful so they sit perfectly below your thighs. Speaking of your thighs, oh man, they're gonna be something else. Feel the muscles there expanding, becoming dense and powerful? These are the kind of legs that could crush a watermelon or thrust for hours!

That's it, keep rubbing your dick. It's okay to slow down as you feel these changes. Just don't cum until I say so.

I want to really indulge in your ass. The globes of your butt should be rounder and firmer. A perfect handful! Clench and release your muscles as you stroke your cock, imagining someone grabbing onto your transformed ass as they fuck you senseless. You fucking love it, you himbo slut.

I'm gonna move to your chest and arms. A himbo like you needs a huge chest. Take a deep breath as your pecs swell outward, your nipples hardening into stiff peaks. They might be a little more sensitive. You should check though. Go ahead and tweak them a little while you rub your cock. I bet that feels good, right?

Your arms are have to be more defined and vascular with the muscles pulsing with power. Your shoulders are broadening, with the bones shifting and reshaping to support your increasing mass. I think I'll make your neck thicker, so it can support the weight of your expanding head.

Speaking of your head... I'm going to square up that jaw and make those lips thicker too. How do you feel about facial hair? A himbo like you will need just a little bit of scruff.

You're breathing heavy now. Don't worry, we're almost done. Look at your dick leaking. Get ready to finish up - your mind is feeling lighter now. All your "big" thoughts are fizzling out and draining to your balls. From now on you're just care about gym, food and fucking. You ready?

Cum for me, bro. Show me what I've done to you. Let it all out—your cum, your smarts, everything that made you the man you used to be. You are a new you: a huge, musclebound himbo who lives for the lift, the pump, and the endless pursuit of pleasure. Welcome to the good life dude.

Inspired from your profile picture I wonder if it's possible to become a professional icehockey player too. I know they are quite dumb but they are famous, rich and have a lot of time enjoying their life. maybe they have a secret crush on a team mate but hiding it when dating cheerleaders, models and so on. Is there a way to exchange my life for one of them?

snap

So you want to be a hockey player, huh? First of all, you're way too small. You need to be BIGGER, much bigger. Like, 230 pounds of pure, tough fucking muscle. Yeah, that's better. What do you think of that? Look at yourself! Feel the raw power in your arms, your thighs, your core. Man, you're a big boy now. Go ahead and look at that ass I've made for you! From now on you'll be getting pants tailored for that ass — no more off the rack pants for you!

But I do have to take away some intelligence. You'll be saying "um" and "er" a lot, especially in those post-game interviews.

Take a look at yourself now. Built for strength, speed and shooting pucks. Get out on the ice and show them who's boss.

hey! I’ve always wanted to play hockey but wound up studying and focusing on school. I was wondering if you could make me into a meathead hockey player. Happy to exchange some of my smarts for the process.

snap

Another hockey player? Maybe I need to use my Everything Powers to make everyone forget that this is a soft spot for me? Or maybe not…

I've had a couple of guys in here who wanted to become hockey players too. You should see the asses on them! Oh wait, no need to see those asses… Check out your own ass, bud! That’s the result of squats for days. You like it?

Sorry about this bud, but you’re going to lose some height. Not a lot of height, don’t panic! But it’ll be some height. Like 5’11. And you’re younger. Barely 20 years old and playing in the ‘O’. You know all about the O! That’s Junior hockey in the OHL.

Since you’re young and just coming into your own, you’re not going to be as muscular and built as some of the other guys, but you’ll get there. One thing’s certain though, you fucking love hockey. It’s all you think about! Nothing is more important than playing puck and making it to the NHL.

One thing I will give you is some extra 'flow'. That's what hockey players call their long hair. You know all about that, of course. Run your fingers through it, and feel the length. Go ahead and slick it back, makes it easier to put your helmet on! How about a bit of facial hair to go with it? Just a little bit of scruff. Looking good, man.

Here’s your gear. Get dressed and head out. The team is waiting.

Yo bro, can you change me into a fuckboy too as wanna see what it like to be one please

Hey bro. You've come to the right guy to show you what you can achieve. The appeal is sexy, right? To be a fucking ruthless fuckboy. The idea latches on and doesn't let go. There's so many decent boys out there whose dicks harden at the idea of letting arrogance rule them. To be a living vice. Cocky, proud, selfish, and forever indulging in your own pleasure. It feels awesome to give into that fantasy. I should know for one.

I bet a guy like you is already ripped to shreds. You've packed on huge fucking muscles, and now you've realized they need admiring. Even though you don't actually need any smarts (since your subs will give you whatever you want to let you live like a king), you can't just be a drooling brainless meathead gymbro if you want to grow your fuckboy empire. You need to redirect your focus to your conquests. You are sly, cocky, and calculating. Your cock and your brain act in tandem. While perhaps they were at odds before, they have a singular goal now. To turn you into the center of the world, to let everything fall into your orbit, and to have you enjoy the worship you fucking deserve.

As a fuckboy, you have to wield your aloofness as a weapon. People are going to want you. Your body, your brooding muscles, your fucking god dick. You've got leverage. You can't make it easy on them. Time to get what you want, fuckboy.

You let them glorify you, let them worship you, let them fall to their knees, and let them compete over you. The key word is 'let'. Your power play is subtle. They'll believe it's all their idea if you want them to believe so. Of course, you can also take whatever the fuck you want, break a fag's resistance, tease them, cuck them, fuck them, treat them like a hole to dump your load into, take their hard-earned cash for you to spend on a night out, and admire yourself in the mirror while they lick your balls.

That's how the fuckboy in you grows, how the self-glorification runs its course. You deserve this, obviously. It's funny how being a toxic asshole enthralls so many boys. Don't be surprised when they fall in love with you. You can toy with them, act like a lovable doofus or a nice guy until you're balls deep again. Pushing their head down, spanking their ass, and growling how you own the fuck out of them while you rut and breed. Anything to get your dick wet, you know.

You can see the eternal dependence in their eyes when you leave with a load dripping from their hole. You leave your conquests with regrets, how could they let themselves be used like that? But already they want more of you. I bet you can't even be bothered to remember their name, though. You ghost them until they come begging to taste your god cock again. They get in line alongside every other useless slave you have.

You see how being a fuckboy consists of playing mind games. It's effortless to fuck with someone's head and make their hole throb. It's just a game to you. You do it with a sly smile and the flex of your arm, subtle gestures and single-worded commands. At the end of the day you're in control, fuckboy. You just do what makes you shoot the most ropes, all the while making use of the tools as your disposal, the tools that are currently begging to lick your seed off the floor.

Wondering if this position is still available?

1:1

"You're my 1:30?"

Leo nearly jumps out of skin and looks up at the CEO in front of him.

"Y-Yes."

Leo fumbles as he stands up, awkwardly shoving his sweaty palm for the man to shake. The man, Costas Mandelieu, is not only hot as fuck, but also the CEO of some hugely popular coffee company that has a bunch of locations around the country. Leo remembered there being a location on campus before he graduated, and then noticing a rather large influx of hot gay men walking around campus. The place became this kind of second gay bar.

And he never stepped foot inside.

He was confident he would've been laughed right out the door. Everyone there was thickly built meatheads or otherwise muscular jocks. And Leo? Leo was a chubby little nerd who kept his head down so no one would notice him. Granted, the guys walking in and out of the coffee shop looked big and intimidating but they were genuinely some of the nicest (and dumbest) people Leo had ever spoken to.

But still, one too many cruel rejections later has taught Leo not to judge books by their covers.

"Pleasure to meet you."

Costas' voice is rich, deep, coming right out of his thick chest. Leo tries to ignore the flush of horny bashfulness that overtakes him. This is professional. The job interview that could set him up for life.

Costas' smile, warm and inviting, sends a flurry of butterflies in Leo's stomach as he follows Costas to his office. Inside, it's all warm wood and the smell of a rich, cedarwood air freshener hits his nose. It's the most beautiful space Leo has ever been in, and he gawks at everything openly as Costas shuts the door behind him.

Imposter syndrome sets in like a knife. Surely there's other candidates out here? Why him? And....is his hand on Leo's lower back? This close Leo can smell him - his expensive cologne, the heady smell of masculine sweat underneath - as Costas gently guides the befuddled man some leather chairs by his desk. He motions for Leo to sit and he does, confused and feeling a not entirely unwelcome horniness settle in his body. Costas makes a glass of tea. Leo closes his legs as he watches Costas sit and rearrange himself, his massive bulge obvious through his slacks.

"Now this position is a very intimate lifetime position with me, so I don't want you to get caught off guard if I ask some personal questions."

Leo nods and looks around. The job description was so coy with details he wouldn't be surprised (or upset) if Costas was asking him to be a personal sex toy.

"Ready?"

Costas smiles again and Leo's insides melt.

Focus.

"Yes."

Costas clears his throat. He takes a sip from his tea and sets it down again. The tea smells....weird. A funky odor normally associated with the gym seems to waft from the cup. It's not gross....but it does increase the haze of horniness that's really taking root in Leo's head.

Focus.

"So how old are you Leo?"

"23."

"23?" Costas whistles as if this is some impressive age. "I remember when I was your age I had a hair trigger at the best of times."

It all happens so fast.

One second he's listening to Costas, then the next he's gasping for air, clutching onto the chair's armrest and trying to stifle his moans as his cock shoots to full attention and makes a very, very obvious imprint on his jeans. Even worse: his cock starts firing like a hose, a huge wet spot spreading across his crotch.

"Oh my god! Oh my god! I'm so sorry. I don't -."

He lifts his crotch in the air as he cums, as if he's angling for one of the ropes of cum he's firing to splatter on the floor. The entirety of his dick and balls is lit up with warmth like a Christmas tree of pleasure. Costas holds up his hands and makes placating, calming a startled horse gestures.

"It's alright. No really it's okay. You didn't masturbate today, did you?"

No. No he didn't.

That's why he's so pent up.

When he finally stops cumming, he settles down and tries to cover the huge wet spot on his jeans. God he can smell it from here. And it's so much. He's never produced that much cum before, right? He sits down and when he readjusts himself, his eyes widen when he notices that his balls feel much bigger than they should, their weight is obvious and pressing down on the chair.

"How often do you usually masturbate?"

"Onc - uh - four times a day usually. Wait that's not true."

"I understand. I've got a pair of knockers down there as well."

With that, Leo's balls swell further. His cock once again springing to attention as his nuts droop and sag under their weight. Half of his bulge now seems to be made of his churning, swelling balls. He feels like he's being edged, cock dancing just on the edge of a lightning rod orgasm before pulling back. He's grinding his flabby ass against the seat, trying to relieve the sudden sexual pressure. He's white-knuckling the chair and gritting his teeth as beads of sweat drip down his forehead. He brings his knees together tight.

"What the fuck is - huff huff - happening?"

"An interview."

"No, something's ... Oh...."

Leo's cock begins raining pre. He can feel it travel up his cock and ooze out of the swollen mushroom head at the top. It doesn't help either that Costas is touching his own cock, the massive fuckstick spreading against his thigh.

"It's 10 inches." Costas smiles as Leo rocks back and forth in the chair. "And, sheesh, yours is, what, eight?"

Leo throws his head back, mouth falling open, as a chorus of sexual moans and sounds fall out of his mouth. His locked legs fly open into a huge V. He feels like he's actually being fucked, or an expert is giving him the best handjob of his life. His cock pulses and pounds with blood as it stretches forward, cum leaking to no end out of his cockhead, those 6 inches growing with each pulse of blood that forces his prized organ larger and larger. It swells against his thigh, thickening with proportional girth as well, slipping out of his underwear as the sensitive head flops against his hairy thigh. Leo whimpers as his cock pushes forward. It's taking all of his willpower not to touch it, stroke it like Costas is stroking his cock through his pants. He finally manages to look down at his now big cock, straining the fabric of his jeans, feeling so stifled with those massive balls, the zipper of his jeans pulling down to try and accommodate his newly massive genitals. His cock oozes more pre, as if his balls are taking advantage of the extra space to pump and produce more sexual fluids out of his cock. His brain feels like it's landed squarely in his balls. Whatever thoughts of escaping whatever Costas is doing to him are immediately interrupted by a new burning need to cum, by the dense thundercloud of hormones tearing through his body.

Costas has taken off his jacket and he's just in his expensive button down. He reaches into his shirt and gropes one of his huge pecs. Leo is so hard, so sweaty, so turned on by this. Mouth hanging open as he tries to focus on anything. But his brain is going haywire.

"Hung bottoms are my weakness."

Leo pitches forward, moaning like he's being fucked as his asshole twitches and throbs. He hangs onto the armrests to prevent from falling as his cock throbs harder, his bigger dick making him moan even more lewdly. It's pure pornography coming out of his mouth as his voice shoots up an octave, cracking a little as his gut gurgles and shifts. Everyone in this fucking office building can probably hear him.

But he.....doesn't care?

He feels the fat in his stomach sliding down into his tightening ass, the underused muscles strengthening and flexing against the onslaught of fatty mass that lands solidly in his ass, pushing it outwards and making it firm but still bouncy, and jiggly. He grits his teeth, hissing with pleasure as his ass rips through his underwear, and screams in pleasure as the sensitive, jiggling globes press against his jeans, putting immense pressure on them as the seams start breaking apart to let his massive ass take up the space it needs. He loses several inches in height, the lost mass resettling in his still inflating ass, the sensation mind-numbingly good.

The bones in his hands pop and rearrange, the palms inflating a little but not a lot, his fingers sucking away excess fat and moving it to his ass. His newly sensitive hole feels like it's burning. Burning with emptiness. He gyrates his massive ass - god they're like beach balls!! - against the leather, desperate for some relief in his increasingly horny, frazzled mind. It's the ass of his dreams. Except it's now hanging off his lower back at a severe angle, and he can feel the weight of it over his trembling thighs, as heat pours into them.

His thighs become fleshy pillars to support his fat ass. He squeezes his eyes shut as he feels the muscles grow and tone, solidifying as whatever excess fat his body can suck away in his flattening stomach falls into them, growing them big enough to split the seams of his jeans. He squeezes his thighs, like he's trying to prevent them from growing bigger, splitting apart his jeans as the muscles flex and continue growing. His calves harden and become solid diamonds pressing against his jeans. He rubs the smooth - wait, smooth!? - flesh of his thighs and shakes his legs, the rolling muscles making his eyes cross with pleasure as they close around the space of his overheated balls.

"M - Mr. Mandelieu."

Costas' Mr. Mandelieu's cock is in his hand, all 10 slick glorious inches.

Leo's feet shrink and collapse. The size 12s rearranging onto soft size 9s, his shoes slipping off and collapsing on the floor. His socks hanging off his diminished feet. He flexes his still shrinking toes and bucks, literally thrusts into the air like a bull, as his cock starts spurting cum again, this time breaking the zipper of his jeans and flopping out, firing all over the expensive carpet and his shirt, the cum raining down on his denser, muskier pubes. With each volley of cum, he feels more of himself slipping away. His head feels emptier, his thoughts taking longer to manifest and come together. He feels a little afraid as Mr. Mandelieu says, "You don't ever skip chest day, do you?"

Leo's nipples press so hard against his shirt his hands fly off the chair and grab them, twist and pull as the fat in his chest recedes into his ass and thighs, growing them bigger and causing more fabric to buckle and break under the pressure. A great slither of his crack sits against the leather making him moan and groan, pull his nipples harder as muscle swells behind them.

"Ahhh AH!"

His back arches as small, hard pecs begin mounting on his chest, right above his flat stomach. The muscles are tightening and expanding around his skin. He yanks and pulls on his nipples like he's trying to force milk out of his growing chest. But really he's just pulling his pecs forward, coaxing pure muscle into his hands as the pink buds in his hands bloat into sensitive salamis. His chest broadens and forces his shoulders wider to make room for his burgeoning chest, muscles flexing without his control as they surge forward, big tight slabs of jock muscle that split the buttons of his shirt with their size. It takes him more than a moment to realize the little strands of his chest hair he once grew are no longer there. When he looks into his waistband, he sees that the only hair on his body is the dense bush of pubes crowning his cock. And the smell....it's so...strong. His musk and man stink has never really been that intense. Now it smells like he's just been sweating all day in a jockstrap. The flesh behind his nipples surge one final time with muscle and his pecs firmly mount themselves on his upper torso, making him unleash a low, whiny groan.

Mr. Mandelieu's pants are down now. Cock and huge balls fully in view. The gamey wallop of his scent hits Leo in the nose and makes him moan louder, as he cums again. But this time, the orgasm doesn't even scratch the surface of his horny mind. It feels good, yes, but god there's a better orgasm hiding underneath that.

"Mr. - pant pant - Mandelieu."

"Yes?"

He's tweaking one of his own nipples now, heaving his hairy pecs out of his shirt. Leo tries his best to resettle, sitting on his cushion-like ass and spasming the unfamiliar pleasure racing through him.

"Please...."

"Do you want to stop?"

Do I?

"I just want to cum."

"Then cum."

That better orgasm lances through him like a sword. He arches his back into the bridge position and just lets cum rain all over his smooth, tight chest, his smaller torso. This time, he begins to feel...scratchy in his clothes. Like they're really not fitting him right. He takes off his torn jeans and his broken shirt. Stripping out of them as his orgasm begins to subside, his still dripping cock sending droplets of cum all over the carpet. He's vaguely aware of the seductive way he's stripping out of his clothes, like a stripper almost. Thrusting out his chest, cock, and ass. Throwing his clothes away and just lying there in his ruined briefs, which finally tear off as his hips creak wider and stronger, allowing a final flood of fatty muscle to land in his ass and send another cum rocket out of his cock.

"You're turning out nicely."

"Thank you Mr. - Sir."

Sir?

He places his hands on his stomach, writhing in the chair, completely naked, the leather sending sparks of jittery pleasure up his body because of how sensitive his sweaty skin is. The flatness is weird. Hot, but weird. He runs his smaller hands over it, afraid to go higher and accidentally touch one of his thumbtack hard, and sized, nipples.

"Sir, what's - what's happening to me?"

"Well I'll tell you. But first I have to compliment that core of yours."

The wind is knocked out of him in a breathy moan, as his stomach tightens. The tightening is accompanied by a rush of blood to his kind of softening cock, as cum gutters - genuine cum gutters - carve into his waist. He throws his head back against the headrest in pure bliss as abs forge their way through his taut and sensitive skin. He barely understands what Mr. Sir is saying. But from what he can gather from his increasingly addled mind is that that previous horny wish of being a personal sex toy might actually be happening.

Leo groans and shifts in his seat as his abs and core continue strengthening, his core strong enough along with his thighs, hips, and ass, to ride and milk a dick to within an inch of its life. His cock is just oozing, each pulse forcing out more cum like he's squeezing a dish rag full of cum.

"My usual, they're busy running the gym and all the other Coffee shops. I'm just looking for someone more consistent."

Leo's abs settle into place. They're beautiful. All lined up in a neat row. He runs his fingers up and down the tight, cobblestone skin.

"You smell so good sir."

"Thank you."

His laugh makes Leo whimper and moan.

"Why don't you come over here and give me a kiss with those big fat lips of yours."

And he does. He gets up and nearly falls backwards due to the weight hanging on his lower body. Sir meets him halfway and pulls him in, hand tantalizingly close to his round, voluptuous ass.

Leo's lips plump up and expand. Kissable, perky, lips to wrap around a cock and never let go. The kiss with Sir makes Leo nearly cum right then and there, made even more unbearable by Sir's big, massive hands rubbing and caressing, and spanking those bountiful cheeks. He has to stand on his tiptoes to meet Sir's beautiful lips.

Then he breaks it. Leo just whimpers.

"Flex for me."

His soft, flabby biceps expand and grow. It's an orgasm via his biceps, the fat redistributing throughout his body. Lower and into his pecs, filling them out more. Even lower and into his ass that pushes against Sir's hand as his pit hair grows bushier and stronger. He collapsed into Sir's body as his arms continue to grow lithe and muscular, strong but not overly large biceps. He kisses Sir's neck, grinding against his thigh, their fat cocks brushing against each other as Sir's grumbling moans resonate and bounce around in Leo's emptying skull. The world around him seems to warp and shimmer.

"Why don't you take a look at yourself?"

Suddenly, they're not in the office but a pool. Sir is in a Speedo with his fat cock visible right through it, the bulge making Leo's hole twinge.

A big sprawling house looms in the distance. Leo looks around, his dumbing mind confused but not at all frightened. When he sees himself in the reflection of the pool house's glass, he's floored.

Sir's Daddy's hand stays firmly on Leo's ass. Everything feels blindingly good. Except the emptiness that's been in his ass the entire time his body has been morphed and bent to Sir's will.

He's guided to one of the many couches and sits Leo on his lap, the sensation of Daddy's swollen cock between his massive ass, teasing that sensitive hole rocks Leo to his core.

"Do you want to be my himbo?"

Leo feverishly nods. To keep feeling everything this good. He doesn't feel worried, or afraid, or concerned. His old life drips and drops out of his cock. He knows that as soon as Daddy's cock enters him, that old life will be like a long dream.

A lifetime position.

Daddy lifts him up and is about to position him above his massive cock.

"Wait!"

He pauses.

"We can still stop if you don't want this."

Leo sheepishly looks around the gorgeous property. All his. His to use. His to fuck in. Do whatever.

"Can you make me a little beefier?"

Daddy nods.

Then he plunges all of his cock into Leo's ass. His brain ignites with pleasure, a huge campfire of sex just lit up. The Big One - the No Going Back orgasm - rocks his frame and he paints Daddy's big, broad chest with his cum as he bounces on Daddy's cock like a pogo stick. Working Daddy's cock deeper inside of him, stretching his hole and pounding his prostate, literally making him howl with sexual gratification. He sifts through his dulling mind and realizes that, okay, he can do basic math. He can still take care of himself. But whenever he tries reaching into that well of higher thought and concern, he simply draws a blank. Daddy wraps his arms around Leo as he cums, thick ropey cum landing deep in Leo's body.

This cum is then distributed around Leo's tight body as he groans and shakes, cum firing out of his cock again. His pecs become fuller, softer, fat filling in the space around his muscles, stretching and dragging his nipples and chest across Daddy's body, intensifying his orgasm. His ass and thighs grow jigglier but no less strong, squeezing Daddy's cock and making him groan. His abs bloat slightly and push against Daddy's stomach. He hugs Daddy tightly as he's overwhelmed with love and deep affection for him.

The horny fog finally lifts.

When Costas pulls out with a slick pop! , Leo sees his finalized form as he slumps into the empty space on the couch, exhausted and content.

"How do you feel big guy?"

Leo rests his head on Costas' chest, wraps his thicker, beefier arms around his body and begins drifting off to sleep with a faint smile on his face. Costas laughs and kisses Leo on the top of his head, pulling him in tight.

Truthfully, Leo's the happiest he's ever been.

Papi's Gear

Here's an older story that I have recently edited and cleaned up.

A hockey fan hopes to see his favourite player, Auston Matthews, but ends up getting closer than he could have imagined.

-

A crowd had already formed in the players tunnel underneath the Scotiabank Arena in downtown Toronto. The crowd buzzed excitedly, waiting for the arrival of the Toronto Maple Leafs hockey team. I was anxiousing hopping from one foot to another, hoping to see my favourite player, Auston Matthews, walk by. Maybe I'd get to give him a fist bump before he jumped on the ice with the rest of the team. I tried to angle my way closer to the front of the crowd, to get a better view of the guys as they walked past. With some polite pushes, I was able to squeeze beside a wall next to the cordoned off section. 

A surge of energy swept through the gathered crowd as we caught a glimpse of blue and white coming down the tunnel. The team was on their way to the ice! One by one the players walked by. They looked so handsome and masculine in their royal blue jerseys. I held out my fist for the players to pound with their gloves, hoping to make a connection with someone. Frustratingly, I was too close to a wall, and not easily seen as they walked by, so nobody noticed my fist. I was able to get a good look at each player as they walked by. Their hockey equipment was bulky and broad, making their already impressive bodies seem even bigger. As the players walked by, I caught quick whiffs of their equipment and bodies, and swallowed their scent greedily. I looked for Auston, number 34, but didn’t see him anywhere. 

“Oh man. That sucks.” I said to myself. 

Auston Matthews was my favourite player and one of the best players in the NHL, so it was weird not seeing him come down the tunnel with the rest of the team. I hadn’t heard anything about him being injured… It was very unusual that he wasn’t in the team line-up tonight. His skill and speed was unmatched by any player in the NHL. I’d give anything to play like him. 

I was about to leave the tunnel and head to my seat when another surge of energy fired the crowd. 

“Auston!” Someone yelled. 

I turned, and sure enough, there he was: number 34. Auston Matthews. He was walking casually towards us but he wasn’t dressed in the Maple Leafs’ uniform. He was wearing a blue Leafs hoodie and black work-out shorts. A Maple Leafs cap was on his head, allowing his long greasy hair to be slicked back. Why wasn’t he dressed to play? 

I stretched out my fist for him to bump. He looked massive up close. His thigh and leg muscles were like tree trunks. His shoulders were built and angular with strong muscle. He looked robust, tough and incredible. 

“Auston!” I yelled, but deep down I knew he wasn’t going to fist bump me. I tried to get his attention my flashing the number 34 on my jersey. 

“Auston!” I yelled again. But he was already walking by me. Ignored. 

“Auston! Why aren’t you playing tonight? Is there anything I can do to help?”

Something I said must have clicked with him. He stopped and began to walk back towards me. I saw him scan the crowd, looking for the person that had yelled at him. The look on my face must have betrayed me because he walked towards me as soon as our eyes met. My fist was still stretched out, but instead of bumping it with his own fist, he gripped my entire hand with his own so that the palm of his hand was on my fist and knuckles. It felt warm and slightly sweaty. 

“I can’t find my equipment! Can you help me look for it? He said. 

I nodded. Anything for Auston Matthews! I turned and left the crowd. I didn’t know where to start looking, but I knew I had to start somewhere. 

As I left the tunnel and the crowd behind, I felt a sudden sharp pain in my stomach and a warm, itchy sensation all over my skin. I tried to ignore it, but was quickly overcome by discomfort and ducked into the nearest bathroom. The room was empty, with clean white floors and large mirrors on the wall. My entire body was hot and uncomfortable. I was wearing an old and stained Maple Leafs jersey, and tore it, tossing it to the ground. My other clothes followed almost; my skin was so hot and uncomfortable that I needed to remove anything that was touching it. 

I stood in the bathroom, naked, and breathing heavily. The heat and pain was dying down, and instead my skin was tingling. A wave of calm and euphoria went through my legs and arms.

Small blue dots began forming on my shoulders. They were small at first, but deepened into dimples evenly spaced on my skin. They quickly spread across, replacing my own natural pores and hair follicles and stopped just before my biceps. The skin on top of my shoulders and neck turned completely blue, and a white collar appeared from of my neck. A silver and black NHL shield popped into existence just above the white lace under my collar bone. The blue colour continued down my arms, and my skin stretched and reformed into a blue mesh-like material. A pair of white numbers formed at both of my biceps: 34. My skin seemed to shift and separate from my torso, it made me look bigger. Was I growing a jersey? 

The blue mesh continued down my arms, stopping at my wrist. Two white stripes formed just above and below my elbows, and wrapped around my arms. Another white stripe formed at my waist, wrapping all around my stomach and back. I saw my nipples stretch, flatten and disappear into blue fabric. All of my chest hair fell out. The skin on my chest also stretched and wove into blue meshy fabric: a lightweight Areolite fabric made by adidas. A length of white lace snaked its way in the middle of my chest. I felt an itch along the top of my back and twisted my body to see my behind in the mirror. Letters began forming along the top half of my back on my shoulders: MATTHEWS. Two huge numbers etched their way into my skin: 34. From this angle, I could see how my back had sort of billowed out from the rest of my body with some of the jersey material hanging below my butt.

A final detail appeared in the form of a large white Toronto Maple Leafs logo forming on my front. It looked like I was wearing a jersey; a jersey that was a little too big for me, but I knew I was the jersey. 

“Instead of helping Auston to look for his equipment, maybe I can be his equipment.” I thought to myself. 

Whatever had started this changed seemed to agree, as more changes continued. 

I felt my insides begin to twist and turn. My shoulder blades and collar bone melted and began reforming into shoulder pads. My shoulder caps grew bigger, enough to be able to protect Auston from body checks on the ice. I felt my rip cage crack and disappear, and my abdominal muscles and fat transitioned into velcro straps, protective foams and plastic. More bones cracked and transformed into other materials. It felt amazing to change from an organic being into plastic and artificial materials. The entire top half of my body ballooned and grew bigger; my previous frame was too slender and tight for Auston Matthews, he would need more comprehensive protection. The part of me that was a jersey began to fill out as the rest of my insides grew and shifted in order to fit better.

My elbows popped and disconnected from my arms. My bones fused into elbow pads: a two-piece system to protect Auston’s forearm and bicep. A soft cuff formed from my bicep muscle and arm bone and a hard cap solidified at my elbow and forearm. I used my hand to squish my new elbow: it was hollow but sturdy and protective. Elastic Velco straps formed from the muscle around my bicep and forearm. As my upper body changed fully into Auston’s equipment, I started to feel distinctly separate and different. I knew part of me was now a blue Maple Leafs sweater, another part of me were shoulder pads, and another part of me were elbow pads. I was rapidly becoming hockey equipment, and it felt good.

Glancing in the mirror, it looked like I was wearing Auston’s gear. My hands dangled from the wrists of the jersey. My bare, naked legs were holding up the top part of Auston’s gear, with my fully erect penis poking out from the bottom. 

“No,” I said to myself. I didn’t want to wear Auston’s gear: I wanted to be Auston’s gear. 

My hands began to enlarge; they were smaller than Auston’s hands and wouldn’t work at their current size if they were going to be his hockey gloves. Bones and muscle shifted and melted into more protective foams and plastic. My hands hollowed into hockey gloves. The tips of my fingers bubbled outwards and became more square-like. My joints became longer, enough to provide good dexterity for Auston’s own fingers. My skin turned blue and white. A large white cuff popped out of my wrist, ready to protect Auston’s wrist from slashes and pucks. The letters CCM appeared and wove out of my skin. The palm of my hands turned a pale white with a slight grippy texture in the middle. The material thinned out and stretched across the gloves. My hands were now hollow, empty hockey gloves.

At this point, I somehow ended up on the ground. I collapsed and fell backwards with a soft thud against the bathroom floor. I must have looked a slight: a human head buried in a Leafs jersey, shoulder pads and gloves. I loved it; it felt like I was returning home.  

My erect penis, glistening with pre-cum, suddenly deflated and flattened. It turned grey and hard and shaped into a bulbous domed cup. It completely detached from my crotch and became Auston’s athletic cup. I chuckled as I thought about Auston positioning what used to be my penis over top of his own penis and testicles. 

The bottom half changes happened almost simultaneously. My hips and thighs pushed outwards and became bigger and roomier. Everything inside deflated and disappeared, becoming yet more protective padding. I felt my pelvic bones shrink and twist as they turned into protective plastic caps. My butt cheeks dissolved and melted into nylon and foam. I couldn’t wait for Auston’s big hockey butt to slide around mine in his new hockey pants. My skin toughened and turned blue, the same shade as my torso. A single white stripe appeared on the sides of my legs as my pelvic region truly became Auston’s hockey pants. A second lace and adjustment strap popped out of my waist and crotch. Auston would use it to tighten the fit around his own waist. As my waist and pelvic area hollowed and emptied, Auston’s new athletic cup shifted and tumbled out of the pants, lying next to them on the ground.

The skin on my knees and shins turned the same blue as the rest of my body, and two more white stripes wrapped around my calves. My leg skin were hockey socks now. Under the socks, both of my knee caps disconnected from my legs and shifted into hard plastic domes. The rest of my muscle and sinew became high-density foam. Meanwhile, my shin bones cracked and groaned as they formed into rigid and ribbed plastic. My legs were now properly hockey shin guards and hockey pants. 

It was clear that I was no longer a man: I was hockey equipment. Lifting my head from the ground ever so slightly, I could still see but I couldn’t move my old body freely. Obviously hockey gear wasn’t supposed to move. I knew my changes weren’t complete, however. And even though I had stopped breathing when my chest turned into Auston's shoulder pads, my sense of smell was still working. I could weirdly feel the scent of sweat and Auston's body odour in the air; it was coming from me! I stunk to high heaven, and it was all Auston's sweat.

Another hardening sensation began on my ankle bone. Despite not being connected to my feet with blood and nerves, I was still able to feel the full transformation take place. The ankle bones flattened into the rest of my foot and smoothed away into black carbon fibre. My entire foot ballooned and thickened. Lace holes appeared on the top of my foot and travelled up to my ankle and filled with a white lace. My toes fused into a strong plastic cap. A V-shaped point dropped out of the bottom of my foot and formed into white plastic. Then a narrow steel blade transitioned out of the plastic holder. My skin turned black with a few silver and red graphics etched around. The letters CCM formed on the sides of both feet. I felt the rest of my bones melt and disappear as my foot hollowed into empty hockey skates. 

Almost done. I was so excited.

My scalp burned for a second as all of my hair dissolved and fell out. The skin on my head stretched and hardened into smooth blue plastic. Small holes and slits for ventilation dotted around the side of my skull and forehead. The insides melted and transitioned into more hard, high density foams. My chin separated and became a strap. My eyes and nose squished together and became curved and translucent. They relocated together to the top half of where my head used to be and became a visor attached to Auston’s new helmet. Inside my mouth, my bottom row of teeth and tongue liquified and disappeared. My top row of teeth turned soft and translucent, they flattened and hollowed out into a mouth guard. As the inside of my head was now empty and void, ready for Auston's own head to slip into, the mouth guard just flopped down to the inside of the helmet, ready for Auston to chew on between periods.

Finally, I was hockey equipment. I was Auston Matthews’ hockey equipment. I couldn’t think, feel or move anymore. It felt like a return to normal; like my old life was leading up to this moment, to be part of Auston’s body and to protect him while he played hockey in the NHL for the Toronto Maple Leafs. I was nothing but a pile of hockey equipment.

A door squeaked open and footsteps entered the room. 

“There it is!” Auston yelled. “Hey guys! I found my gear.”

He gathered up the gear from the floor and hurried out of the room. Go Leafs, go!

I'm your average girly girl of a cheerleader who hears the football team complain how hard they have it compared to us cheerleaders. Can you make me one of them so I can show them how easy they have it?

Easy as Pie

Jocks have a lot of nerve to complain about their so-called struggles. They have it so much easier than us cheerleaders! I've gotten more praise from throwing around a filthy pig skin in my first few days of being a jock than my entire cheerleading career. Everyone looks at you like a god, the absolute peek of masculine performance! It's so wild having everyone suddenly respect you! I've never felt like such a man, a real man!

I have to confess, it's been a little addicting.

I initially took a jockification potion that only lasted three days, but I'm on my third week. I just can't help myself. Jocks just have it so easy! I'm running out of time, though. In my haste to keep my jock life going, I accidentally took a potion that keeps my transformation permanent if I cum before the timer runs out, which is tonight. It should be an easy thing to avoid, but when you're a jock with raging testosterone, sex is all you think about. I can't keep my lustful eyes off the cheerleaders, and I don't mean the male ones.

I guess that's one thing I forgot to mention, these positions fuck with your sexuality! Like, a lot!

Suddenly being into the opposite sex was a hard pill to swallow at first, but fuck have I gotten used to it. I've jerked off to straight porn every night and have even gotten sucked off a few times by the sluttiest girl on the cheerleading team, who happens to be my old fag hag! I gotta admit, she's got a great mouth on her! Better than any guy I've had. Fuck… just fantasizing about what that pierced tongue of hers can do is getting me hard… she does live across the street… one little peek out my window into hers wouldn't be so… oh fuck!! She's naked!!! Did she just get out of the shower? Fuck, she did! Oh my god, that fucking body of hers! Those tits! That pussy! That fucking ass! …Where's my damn phone! I need her now!!!

"Get a piercing," they said. "It'd be cool," they said. I've always struggled with resisting peer pressure. Just my luck, getting pierced by a witch or whatever he was. I knew I saw his eyes glow purple when he pierced my sensitive nip, but none of my stupid friends would believe me! Fuck, my body won't stop growing. I can't believe how much muscle I've put on! A few minutes ago I was a scrawny twink and now I look like I could go head-to-head with the jocks on the football team! I'd probably win too, with these new massive biceps. My god, why does it have to feel so fucking good! I don't want to be a dumb jock, but losing my brain feels better than any orgasm!

Straight Boy.MP3 Part 3

What the fuck is happening to my boyfriend?! With every bounce, little by little, his slim twink body transformed into a ripped muscle beast!

Is it the song he's listening to? ...Damn, Pierre! What the fuck did you send him!

I just can't get over how big he's gotten! And I've never seen him sweat so much, it's like he just got out of a pool! Fuck, I can smell him from here, his scent indistinguishable from men's locker room. I mean, it is a nice masculine aroma and he does look good.

But, still, I loved how twinky he was, the perfect bottom boy physique!! Although, his new bubble butt would feel a lot better than his former ass. Hell, he may finally start topping! You know he's packing a big one now, which is saying a lot compared to his former 7 inches. I bet it's 10... no, 11 inches now! God, I can already taste it. He'd stretch me out really bad, utterly ruining my tight hole.

Man, he's taken on such a dumb expression! I loved how smart he was, but I can't deny how hotter he looks with that empty-headed look of his ...maybe this whole thing isn't gonna be such a bad thing after all.

Wait, why is he checking out the girls over there?

"Look, Amir! I'm like you late a night!" My dad childishly joked, shaking his protein shake in the exact manner you would for jerking off.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. God, my dad has turned into such a meathead. He also won't stop eye fucking himself! Ever since joining this stupid gym and getting, I admit impressively, swole, it's like all his brains were sucked out! Was that the cost of a membership here: your IQ?!

I guess it isn't all bad, I mean, he has lightened up a lot since dumbing down. He used to be such a stick in the mud, always painfully serious with a lecture in hand. However, now, I can hardly keep up with him. From the constant jokes and smothering hugs, he's turned into such a teddy bear! And don't get me started on the smell! Every time he hugs me I'm practically suffocated with his musk, a thick aroma of masculine stink and sweat. I hate that I like it sometimes ... actually, most of the time. Damn, dad. Why do you have to be so fucking sexy?! It's cause of you that I beat my meat silly every night! ...Dumb, meathead.

I Guess I Have Two Dads Now

It was just supposed to be a silly picture, nothing more. Why? Why did it have to change him!

But, I guess I'm getting ahead of myself.

A few days ago, my younger brother and I decided to pay our dad a visit. It was so nice being together again in our childhood home, after all these years. Late one night, while our dad was out cold, we decided to throw back a few. It did start as a few, I swear, but you know men, we seldom can control ourselves. A few quickly became a lot, with our father's good stuff no less. I don't know why we thought it was so funny, but we got the biggest kick out of going through our dad's things. You could chalk it up to nostalgia, but I think it was the alcohol.

My younger brother thought it'd be hilarious to take a pic of him wearing our dad's infamous cowboy hat. I also thought it was a funny idea and took out my phone. He was simply supposed to put it on and take it off, after a short pic. However, that's not what happened.

The mere moment after I took the picture, something changed in him. It was instant, frighteningly fast. His voice abruptly dropped significantly, exactly in the middle of laughing. His voice suddenly sounded exactly like our father's, a deep masculine pitch with a hint of rugged smoker husk. Just thinking about that moment still gives me a chill. I still find it odd how he didn't react to it, or my reaction of utter confusion. He just kept on laughing, like he was in his own hysterical bubble.

Seconds later, his body started to change. First, it was his feet, shooting out and expanding. They became meaty, resembling a middle-aged man—exactly like our father's. Next, the transformation moved up his lower limbs, turning his already masculine legs into two muscle logs covered in thick hair. Once again, identical to our father. It traveled up him further, hitting his crotch. I felt like the biggest pervert, watching my little bro's cock and balls expand and grow in his shorts. I don't know if it was his new massive pecker or the new bubble butt or both but his former loose shorts were suddenly in danger of ripping. Next was his entire midsection. In a flash, his frame tripled in size, going from average-toned to muscle beast. His new biceps were the size of my head—exactly like our father's. At that point, I horrifically realized what was happening to him. He was becoming our father. I know it must have seemed obvious from the start, but I didn't realize it till then. I think I was too scared to accept it. Finally, was his head. Watching it morph and grow into an exact copy of our father's was pure horror.

The worst part though, of the entire experience, was my brother's laughing. Not once did it stop. He just kept laughing like it was the funniest thing ever, from beginning to end.

I guess I have two dads now.

"A straight foward Halloween"

Tags: gay to straight, dumbification, fartkink, burpkink.

Marco y Jalil, vivían juntos en su lindo y ordenado departamento, cada Halloween solían impactar en las fiestas con elaborados disfraces, sin embargo habían decidido un disfraz de Halloween menos producido, pero divertido para este año: los dos novios se disfrazarian de hombres heterosexuales.

Era una idea estúpida, pero todos aman una buena sátira.

Jalil se había decidido por unas bermudas y una camisa de fútbol de la selección del país.

Por otro lado Marco estaba usando unos pants flojos y un sport blanco sin mangas que además había tintado de un marrón amarillento en la zona de las axilas para hacerlo parecer un Sport sudado.

Todo habia sido comprado en lugares de segunda mano.

- Nos quedó increíble, 'Bro' - bromeó Marco dándole una nalgada a su novio

Después de aquel golpe, el trasero de Jalil liberó un corto pero sonoro pedo PPTTTTTTTTTRRRFT. El joven se sonrojo de inmediato.

- Jaja alguien se está metiendo demasiado en personaje - bromeó su novio

- Sí... No se que paso, lo siento Bro, ¡digo!, amor - contestó, sintiéndose un poco confundido

- No te preocupes amor... - Marco le dio un beso a su novio, no sabiendo que aquel sería el último...

Pronto arrugó la nariz, un hedor rancio estaba invadiendo sus fosas nasales. Era el gas de Jalil.

No quería demostrarlo e incomodar a su novio, pero aquel gas apestaba demasiado, era bastante sorprendente, jamás había sentido a Jalil apestar así. Para no incomodar a su novio, pero dejar de sentir aquel hedor, Marco caminó hacia el baño.

Estando ahí, aspiró profundamente, pero otro olor igual de rancio invadió sus fosas nasales, comenzó a buscar la fuente para toparse que venía de las manchas de falso sudor de su camiseta.

Pero era imposible... Las había hecho con colorante, agua y esencia de vainilla...

Sin embargo entre más olía, más seguro estaba de que aquel olor venía de esas manchas. ¡No podía ir a la fiesta oliendo así!, Así que se quitó la playera y decidió que también iría con una camiseta de fútbol, como Jalil. Que suerte que habían obtenido 2 camisetas de fútbol en aquel extraño bazar... Un momento... Aún estando sin camiseta el hedor lo acompañaba, olisqueo nuevamente y se dió cuenta de que ahora el hedor venía directamente de sus axilas.

Olió directamente y un olor a atleta después de partido lo invadió.

Algo muy raro estaba pasando.

Mientras, en la sala, Jalil se rascaba constantemente la entrepierna, había algo en aquellas bermudas que le causaba una constante picazón. Y eso solo podía resolverse de una forma: Jalil metió una mano a su ropa interior y rascó fuertemente.

Cuando terminó de hacerlo por alguna razón sintió curiosidad de oler sus dedos... así que lo hizo, un olor a sudor guardado y húmedo invadió sus fosas nasales.

"Tal vez necesito un baño... Tal vez" pensó y rió.

Pronto desde el baño se escuchó un enorme:

- PRRRRRIFFRRRFRRRRPT

Marco estaba teniendo una incontrolable cantidad de gases.

Jalil rió, sintiéndose incluso algo humillado, eso por mucho lo había superado

- ¡Buena Bro! - gritó Jalil, está vez no cambiando el Bro por algo más cariñoso.

Pronto marco abrió la puerta saliendo del baño y el hedor invadió todo el departamento, pero esta vez ninguno de los dos arrugó la nariz. Ambos aspiraron aquel masculino olor que les recordaba tanto al olor del locker room después de entrenar, el olor del sofá cuando los 2 se juntaban a jugar videojuegos, el olor que ellos consideraban olor a hombría; todos nuevos recuerdos implantados por aquel mismo olor de las camisetas y sus propios pedos que estaba alterando todo en ellos:

Marcos y Jalil ya no eran aquella ordenada y culta pareja gay, ahora eran 2 sucios, descuidados y descerebrados mejores amigos, dos bros que vivían juntos ya que eran los únicos capaces de aguantar el hedor y desorden del otro.

Marco hizo una reverencia a modo de broma, aunque realmente sí estaba orgulloso, seguro que aquel pedo había sido audible hasta en la habitación del nerd que tenían de vecino. Se puso su camisa de fútbol, y ambos estaban listos.

Este año los dos amigos habían decidido usar sus uniformes de fútbol como disfraz para Halloween, no era un disfraz muy creativo, pero ellos tampoco lo eran y no era como que a sus amigos hetero de la fiesta a la que iban les importará.

- ¿Listo, bro?

- Como siempre

Marco nalgeo a su mejor amigo, a lo cual este contestó con un ruidoso pedo, pero esta vez no hubo besos ni vergüenza, solo risas como los buenos jugadores de fútbol heterosexuales que eran.

"This ass Is your for farting"

Tags: dumbification, male tfs, fart kink, wish went wrong.

This Is my fault. I tought my boyfriend was too femenine, too flamboyant...

I liked him, he was handsome, smart, lovely ... and With the Best ass around, but just not really into girly guys, he kinda embarrasses me when im with my mates... So i push him to convice him to join to the soccer team, maybe he could learn one or two Things about being masculine around those studs of the team.

After lots of trying, telling him i had a 'phantasy with soccer players' he said yes, he pick the team in base of the uniform tho.., the one who 'make him look Better', obviously the pink.

At start he wasnt enjoying It, but with the Time i saw him getting More excited about It, Until the day he came to our place excited about his first game, that day also notice something diferent... A slightly stench, i tought he just forgot to put some deodorant that day, but that stench just got stronger and stronger With time..., and he looked ok With it, a little too much i would say:

PRRRRPFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT he lifted a leg and farted while we were at the couch together watching a movie - huh huh! Protein fart!

-Sweetheart, wtf!? - i said covering my nose

- Just some Man scent, "sweetheart" - i felt some anoy in His voice, and More in that last part - and this thing Is getting to boring, Let me find something Better - he quit or drama queer movie and changed It into the sport channel - there you go! Thats Better

"Well, at least hes not Girly anymore..." I said to myself. That couldnt console me for everything that was about to happen tho.

His stench was More and More strong, sometimes he wasnt getting showers or bath at all, and the one time i convince him to take a bath together saying we needed it something romantic (but being honest just needed him to get rid of the smell) he just...

-Hey, Babe, want me to turn this into a jacuzzi? - then he farted for like half of minute, flooding everything with its bubbles of stink

And as if that were not enough, he wasnt bottoming at all.

- "This ass Is your for farting, Bro"

With the Time i get he got sick of me trying to school him to being the educated cute bot he used to be, so he started saying i should join His team.

- "Maybe we can show you one thing or two of how to be a real Man"

It was devastated. Now i was the Girly one of the relationship, It seems.

And im tired, of the new him, of the new me, of the new us... So im doing something about It.

I walk to the training camp, ready for my first day in the team. Maybe he has reason. And he acept when I tried to change him, so... Maybe Is my turn.

I see my stud boyfriend pushing one of His buttcheeks while Lets out a really long fartp

PPPPRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTRRRFTFFFT

Liberates With a dumb face expresion while His mates laugh loudly like a Group of childs.

I sigh and take a sip of my protein shake, I don't want to embarrass him in front of his mates.