Escape

Body to Brag

--- Originally posted by unknown before 2018-08-22 ---

So you want a body you can brag about, well since you been so nice and kind and you have helped me along this journey I can.

All I just need is you to put these on. Ohh, there to big for you.

I am sure you will grow into them.

You're feeling hot?

Why don't you just jump into the blue sea and cool off?

Wow, nice jump man.

Are you still feeling good? No? How?

All a sudden you feel great pain in the chest and feel great muscle grow, you feel six punches in your belly, you uncover a sweet six-pack.

You feel more muscle growth in your arms and legs, as you get stronger.

You feel that tension between your arms and your moans as they grow bigger and deeper.

Your legs get straight as all the muscle gets into a balance.

Heat goes to your face as you feel a rash and the more you started you felt a small beard form.

You soon feel you get longer and your nose straight and your eyes widened to show you beautiful eye color as it changes from green to black and soon that red hair becomes a beautiful brown shiny hair.

You begin to moan as your small ass gets bigger for fucking people with, your dick gets bigger and so do your balls, as you cum all over them.

You begin to moan, as your mind becomes clear and you're dumber, as it gets cleared with sexy guys.

Well if you are feeling good, you look good instead.

Well, get out of that water if you feeling good? No, why?

Who are you starting at? Him? Wow!

Why don't you get a piece of him?

You can brag to him about your body, but I think you're too dumb to understand me.

Well just go gets some ass because I think he is starting at you too and I think he needs help down there man.

And maybe after that, you can tell me the details.

Well, I don't think you need that Brian to brag, even though you can't because you're too dumb to understand me and you can just let your body do the work.

Oops sorry man I that I used too many words.

Don't stand around to get him.

Gamble

(This idea was formulated by Craftsman )

Josh threw the dice, these two little things bounced across the table as he held his breath. “Seven!” The dealer shouts and Josh jumps up and down in excitement. Josh looked like a stud, but his story didn’t start there. 

Casino’s have been trying to bring more people in, but with everyone becoming more tight on their wallets, they had to expand what you could bet. You can still bet money, but they’ve now made it so you can bet your looks, your intelligence, your sexuality, even your social class. Enter Josh, a 35 year old who wanted his bet his age. It started with a hand of blackjack. He put down 5 years which would’ve made him 40, he got a blackjack and ended up becoming 25. He doubled down and won 20 years. The Casino however couldn’t age him any less than 21, so he opted to cash out his extra 16 years for looks.

It started with his muscles, the sagging skin tightened up with muscle swelling underneath. His pecs swelling as his chest lifts up. He loved every second of it. He began to bet more and more, lady luck along side him the whole way. He grew beautiful blond hair, his leg muscles strengthened, and now he has a gorgeous six pack. He started stock piling some of the amazing things, so now he gets to stay 21 for the next hundred years, he’s famous, and gorgeous.

Problem is Josh didn’t know when to quit. He was so far ahead, but then he had to try roulette. He gave up having a hairless body. When he realized he wasn’t going to win that way, he opted to bet his intelligence thinking he could maybe just double it if he bet red or black. Five spins later and the Casino cut him off. They didn’t need him drooling all over the carpet. His once above average mind now just smart enough to form simple sentences and work out. He lost his money so he had to find a job doing something else.

Good thing he got to keep his looks and stay 21 for another 100 years because working for a gay strip club is helping him rake in the dough. Unfortunately, he’s no smart enough anymore to stay away from the casinos.

Better use of a twink

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gearing Up!

--- Originally posted by ZacharyEverlust@DA on 2014-11-07 ---

"Dude seriously, you rock!" I smiled, him getting me the limited edition "Rock You" headband of Sol Badguy was the greatest present he could ever gave me.

"Haha no problem man!" He smiled, Zach was an awesome guy despite being slightly peculiar in his obsession with his "stories", I never got to read them much...although some of them were quite interesting.

Ring Ring Ring!

"There goes the bell! See ya later Sean!" He made his way off to his lesson, literature of course. Leaving me to well...suffer, after all, it's P.E. I was never one to exercise frequently, although I managed to keep moderately fit, the rest of the jocks in my class ace the lesson in flying colours. Why do you ask I am in the same class as jocks? I don't know? Maybe its cause my Science is so poorly done that I'm classified with them.

Oh damn it, I'm going to be late...

I quickly changed into a white tee and blue jeans as I made my way to the school's outdo-

"You're late Sean Baker." The Coach humbly replied, and whenever she spouted words so gently like that, it means that someone's in trouble. And it's me.

"You know the drill right?" She smiled, whoever is late by more than five minutes have to run 2 laps around the gigantic track field or until class's dismissed, and if the coach isn't satisfied, you'll have to do 'make-up' sessions after school. Goddamn my luck. I could hear the giggles and snickers of the girls and the football team as I began to jog, trying my best to conserve my energy by not being annoyed by their taunts.

"Huff Puff" I began to jog, normally I wouldn't be one to exercise, but I guess I'm kind of forced to while the others play "simple" games. As I made my way to a quarter of the track, I felt the cool wind pressed against my skin.

"Huff Puff" I began to jog more, increasing my pace every minute, I'm not sure why but the more I jogged, moving my legs, it seemed to be easier and easier every second. "This...isn't...so bad..." I muttered, not noticing shreds of the sleeves of my tee-shirts beginning to fly off with one large RRRRRRIIIIIIPPPPPPPPPP!. Forming into a large, sleeveless, black undershirt with a white cross imprinted on it.

The Changes continued as jeans began to change in colour, turning a pure white in contrast to my shirt, thought becoming slightly baggy. My blue sneakers began to morph into red shoes that were larger and huger than what I used to wear, but allowing me to run faster than ever.

One Lap completed. I can hear the gossiping behind my back as I made my way around the second one, though I can see some of them having shocked expressions. Could it be because I'm faster than usual? U shrugged it off as I continued jogging, no, running.

As I made my way around the next lap, unknowingly, a belt began to form around my waist, tightening by the minute in order to support my new attire, with a belt buckle with the words "FREE" implemented on it. Finally, as the wind grew stronger and stronger, it began to materialise a jacket, a red sleeveless jacket, wrapping around my body tightly.

As I began to finish the lap, I finally realised my changed attire...and my improved body. It had a tan which symbolised glory and fitness while enough muscles to maintain the image slightly, and enough muscles to carry me around the two laps...without much effort.

"Whoa! You think your superman?" The Coach laughed, pointing to my new outfit which exposed several parts of my body, which in the past isn't a good thing, but now...

A handful of muscle began to show on the exposed areas, as though I've been working out for quite a while. And with today's progress, I doubt it's just the areas that were exposed. I assume that probably underneath the new fabric lies more lean muscle, which allowed me to succeed in today's "challenge".

"No way, your outfit really shows." A bimbo-tic cheerleader leaned on my arm as she continued to repeatedly squeeze, feeling and enjoying my developing muscles of each of my arms. Although they aren't as big, they do have some definition in them.

"Maybe you should join the football team." The captain nudges my shoulder, pleased with the progress and success I managed to accomplish in today's lesson. I guess this weird change did bring more good than bad, good thing neither of them suspected anything fishy going around in my body.

"Alright Class DISSMISSED!" The Coach yelled from the corner as the students one by one went back into the school, leaving the outdoor gigantic field track, each giving me a glance, with the occasional smirk and hi-fives as they left to their next lesson. "Alright...one lesson down...what's next?" I heaved a sigh of relief, good that everything went well just now, I can only hope this lasts for the rest of the lessons.

Reading the time table with my han.... "Oh shit! There's a test today!" I groaned, I didn't study at all yesterday, and what's worse, is that it's my worst subjects. Sighing as I made my way to the classroom, or should I say, my "hell room".

"Alright Students! You may begin." The Teacher proudly announced as every student began penning down their name, while I'm just searching and scanning for answers in my brain, I need a miracle to even pass this paper.

"Crap Science" I sighed, another one of the challenges of life, not knowing that the headband would help me out even further. I picked up my pen with my left hand...wait, I thought I was right-handed? "Well never mind about that." I thought, as I gracefully wrote down my name onto the piece of test paper, having a better penmanship than before. "Sean Baker." I said, as I finished off the finishing touches of my name and began reading the questions. Unknowingly, more things are about to change over time.

Belts beginning to form around each bicep, tightening by every minute as the clock ticked and ticked. They began to constrict the veins within my arms, removing every imperfection and bacteria which hindered muscle growth. As the process continued, his arms began to swell more and more as the snakes continue to suck the fats out of him, leaving only a chunk of muscle that has the potential to grow.

"Gosh darn it!" I continued to write while bearing the weird sensation on his arms, there was only fifteen minutes left and he could not afford to waste any minute wincing or screaming for attention. He began to sweat, his body began to sweat as he oozed out more and more of his frustration and weakness, as well as any flaw or lack of knowledge of the subject. He began to answer the quiz in record time, not hesitating to slam down the remaining answers with his bare thickening hands.

"Phew! I wonder why I took that long. Although wasn't Science my weakest subject?" I thought to myself as I scanned through the paper for any errors, rectifying them before the bell rang. Unknowingly, the more I thought, the more knowledge began to flow into my head through the headband, even more than the basic subject, skills of engineering, building up machines, and even some skills like sword wielding came to mind. Despite that, there was a side effect I didn't know of, Age Progression.

"Pens down!" The teacher suddenly called, startling me in my thought process, causing me to crush my pen to pieces. "Huh?" I opened my left hand, watching the bits of pieces fall, and the ink smudges drip from my hands. Immediately, my hands were tucked deep into my pockets, deciding to sort it out later than explain it to my friends. Not questioning my much bigger and beefier arms despite them being more prominent than the crushed pen.

Everyone handed in their tests to the teacher before leaving, I followed in suit, trying to blend in with the crowd as I throw away the bits and pieces as I made my way to the bathroom. Not noticing my height increasing along the way, up to 184cm above 6ft tall even, rivalling a basketball. "Crap what's going on?" I began to wash the ink off my dominant hand, finally noticing their new size as...wait, huh?

The ink began spreading wildly on my left hand as I desperately attempt to wash it off with water, sadly it was my biggest mistake. The ink caught hold of my right hand as began to do the same as it did for my left hand, it began to crawl up my arm until it just before reaches my biceps. Materializing as the ink remained as deep black while solidifying until it becomes pure, smooth leather. The ink begins to form a complete shape, turning into thick, huge leather gloves with his non-dominant hand's fingers being slightly exposed, and forming finger-less gloves on the right, normal gloves on the left.

"Whoa!" I stared in astonishment, it's not every day that your hair changes, ace-ing P.E. even though your body is above average, flawlessly completing a science test despite it being the opposite of...well me. Little did I know as I thought of those imperfections, the belts constricting my chest, my waist, the ones on my arms began to glow and pulsate over my whole body.

First was my hair as "raven to brunette" was just the beginning of the change. My hair began to grow longer and longer, until it reached the side of my thighs. As it began to twist and turn, tieing a huge pony tail around the end of my neck. As it becomes tighter, my hair begins to puff up wildly, developing spikes throughout my mane until it was like a hedgehog. "Seriously?" I began to feel my spiked hairdo, feeling a sharp piercing sensation. "Ugh, better not do that again..."

The Second stage has arrived as the belts throughout my body continued to constrict, as though they are multiplying in number near the red drape around my buckle and white jeans. My muscles itched, ached, and began to expand and grow.

First were my legs and feet as they began to toughen up, not just made for running long distances, pressing and leaving imprints on each jean, clearly showing that I have well-defined, muscular trunks holding each feet? Speaking of feet, they began to grow fittingly to the shoes I'm wearing. My pectorals and abs became harder and harder along with my nearly fully developed biceps, giving me a really buff look which seemed like one of an extreme bodybuilder.

Finally, the remaining knowledge of...Gears? And...battling? It's as though I've been battling this whole time, as though I'm meant for battle...Huh?

I ran out of the restroom, trying to avoid the crowd and stares (even some drooling fan girls), as I made my way to my friend.

And Of course, he wasn't any help. Despite my various attempts of reasoning with him, he just seemed to "play dumb" and act as though nothing has been happening, I can feel like I'm growing older, with a matured body and face, as I continue to talk to him.

"Dude, you must be imagining things, you looked completely the same as you did since morning." Zach stared at me with confusion...grrr, godamn it Zach! Frustration boiling in my head as I began to age, becoming older than a guy in his late thirties, heck, I sworn that this body was older than that. Although my features said otherwise, I still looked younger, like a bodybuilder just out of his late twenties, or probably less than that. Probably anyone would agree on the second part...except Zach, damn his obliviousness.

"Zach if you are not going to help me, I'm going to leave." My voice sounding deep and gruff as I walked away from him, he wouldn't understand even if I tried responding to him. "Sean I..."His voice trailing off into nothingness as I walked further and further away... ...

...

...Huh? What's this? Where am I?

"Reality transportation...check."

A voice came nearby.

"Transformation complete...check."

It became louder and louder as a silhouette of a man started to appear before me.

"Mental change...not check."

I recognise him...he is the man known as...Ky Kiske...

"Sol! So glad to finally meet you once more." The Blonde smiled earnestly, as he placed an arm on my shoulder and began to lead me away to...where are we going? He seemed rather pleased with himself, and although I would like to interrupt him, I feel like best if I don't do so.

"Welcome Sol, to my laboratory!" Kiske proudly announced to Sol, not caring that he was slightly out of character to what he was portrayed in the anime. "You'll be working here until your adjustments are complete." Ky handed me a sword...wait, what's it called? Fireseal? Yeah it's the sword I...no Sol would normally carry around in his...battles...Wait, what?

"You must feel a little confused right now, don't worry, in time you'll don't have to worry about THAT other realm anymore." Ky replied calmly, what is he talking about? The OTHER world? Does he mean the world I live in, Earth? Where is this place? Why am I here? But I can't, I'm trapped here aren't I? And they only way out is through that man.

"But I..." I tried to respond and deny him, as a last desperate attempt to stay in the human world, and possibly to be normal aga... "Doesn't the sword give you a purpose in life? Didn't you seek for one so badly?" Ky Kiske smirked as he touched the sword, causing my hand to grip it ever so tightly as though it gives me pleasure...as though it's truly mine.

And honestly...I think Ky Kiske is right, with this sword I don't need to be what I was before, it's better that they just disappear over time...and I become Sol Badguy...unfortunately that may never happen, but I will do my best to adjust anyway, as I played the music on my iPod, I continued my training to defeat the man, even if I don't have a personal grudge against him, Sol does not me...but I will do my best to fulfil his duty.

Well, Time to Rock!

Well this isn't so bad, I mean, I used to hate exercising but this music makes it a whole lot better, now I can see why Sol enjoys the queen so much, it allows him to pump iron all day and fight these simulations of Dizzy, Justice, even Ky Kiske himself. He's an awesome guy I suppose, at least that's what I think.

Well it doesn't matter, I'm rocking in these tests, and I've even mastered the fireseal I thought it would be impossible to accomplish, heck, I'm in bullet Heaven. The tunes and jams of the Queen began to replay in my head from every day's work out, it is an awesome band isn't it? Modern Day pop being replaced with The Queen's singles that lasted for over a decade, not like that shit those youngsters listen to is cool to be honest.

Shit, this is getting boring, doing the same routine every day, I think I even caught myself talking back to those simulations. Hell, what can I do? Ky Kiske made some amazing simulations, even with some effort given to him...well what can I do? These battles are wearing me out, it ain't fun doing the same thing every day. Even with my advanced knowledge of gears and the field of science can't really do much when you are bored to death, with only the Queen's rock keeping you sane.

My patience running thin as I fought more...more...an endless amount of battles. Each opponent would constantly blabber about nonsense that serves no purpose, which really ticks me off. Some people say my attitude began changing to one of a rude and cocky individual, as he spoke little to nothing besides making taunts and witty comments about their appearances. Tch, they're just jealous I'm much stronger than them.

Heh, although, I find it more bearable whenever I respond to them and shout out commands when I fight them, heck, it's quite fun actually.

Although, I did learn to actually feel for others more though...I really understand what they've been through. Like Dizzy, heh, that brat said I've developed a heart as big as my muscles. Well I wouldn't...no, I made sure to show mercy to those who deserved better, it's all That Man's fault after all. I may be a Bounty Hunter, but I ain't one to take the life of a being who truly did no wrong.

Wait...wasn't I called Sean? No, I've been Sol Badguy, the one and only bounty hunter all this time haven't I? Heh, I must be dreaming. I used to say I worried about losing myself, becoming someone different from what I truly am, but wasn't I, me, this whole time? I scoffed, a big strong gear just like myself shouldn't worry over such trivial things, and it just gives me a headache.

Ky Kiske smiled, he finally managed to seal the last bit of transformation in order to balance the time and space. Of Course he wasn't really THE Ky Kiske, but rather, just an observer before he is sent back to the real world with the rest of the Crusaders. He laughed as he opened up the portal, back to the dimension of the dimension with the real Guilty Gears, who said memory alteration wouldn't happen with all the band's music he's been listening in my lab. "However even if he tried, the memories lost were like files deleted from a computer. Of course, Sol Badguy didn't even bother trying. After all..."

Can't you shut your mouth for a second, punk? I've got gears to rust.

"And there goes Se...Sol Badguy, the newly improved one." Zach smirked, knowing his plan has been finally completed.

Unseen Self

--- Original author: brounderconstruction ---

bro’s got a tension inside himself. still thinks of himself as a writer and a rebel, even after he’s bulked up, inked up and started wearing his cap backwards with a white tee, just like his bro wants. looks like tough guy trash, but he thinks it fits his image. doesn’t take no shit, works in a proud proletariat tradition. it’s been a long time coming. he doesn’t see himself much anymore. sees one reflection, and another. his face looks better in profile. but those arms, bro? those arms are fuckin tight. back is really filling out. the way the white cotton clings to his body, hugging every bulge and contour. he wants this to happen. he’ll tell himself anything. every day it’s a new excuse. he’s not getting dumber, he’s just living in the moment. he’s not becoming an aggro meathead, he’s learning to stand up for himself. the man he really is? that’s out of frame. washed out. guess it’s gotta be that way, bro. like the light glowing on that tee, our identities aren’t fixed. they oscillate, wave, reveal by what they obscure. whoever you used to be? is that you? does it matter? don’t put the focus on him. look in the mirror and see your true self. see every aspect of the man you were born to become

Hotel Korea: Chapter Three

--- Originally posted on 2019-11-18 by dumb-and-jocked. ---

The Ignorant Passersby

Lee Hae-Jin looked at his watch anxiously, his bicep unintentionally flexing as he did. His workout gear stretched over his tight body as the seconds ticked away, counting down slowly. It had been almost a month since the first Hotel Korea had opened, and nearly a hundred more had been built since then, with even more being proposed in other cities. Lee’s idea had been a huge success, with more and more of the world’s population becoming Korean, but he still had more work to do.

One of his newest ideas for faster conversion was about to launch, and he had no idea how successful it would be. Lee had made sure that if it faltered, only he would be able to notice. Not everyone stayed at a hotel, so he had to find a way to change the everyday civilians. As the last second clicked away, his plan came to life. Lee looked out the window, hoping to see some sort of changes. His anxiousness quickly turned to glee.

— —

“I’ll be back in a second, bro!” Chandler said as he stomped his way to the restroom. He was lifting weights with another guy from his fraternity, Nathan, but had suddenly felt an urge to take a piss. Nathan waved him off as he ran into the men’s locker room. He looked in the mirror and was greeted by a fairly built white male, his blond hair slicked back with sweat. Although his face looked red, his Under Armour wife beater looked rather dry. Chandler grabbed his phone from his gym shorts and took a mirror selfie, the white wall behind him accenting his tanned skin.

Suddenly, Chandler felt a stirring in his bladder, a reminder to why he had come here in the first place. He rushed to a urinal and took out a heavy dick, one that was almost 6 inches and still soft. He began to piss and looked up towards posters on the wall, mindlessly reading about some concert from an unheard American band. He smirked, believing the Top 40 playlist he was listening to was much better.

As Chandler pissed away, he began to hear music playing through the vents. He focused his hearing in on the music and, after a few moments of thinking, determined that it wasn’t in English. He quickly figured out it was some K-pop boy band. It wasn’t his kind of music, or the gym’s for that matter, but he assumed there must have been some big party from the new Korean hotel down the street.

Chandler focused back on the posters, reading about the new boy band that was touring all the way from Korea. He suddenly became overjoyed as he remembered that they were his favorite band. As he finished, he tucked a smaller, yellow cock back into his gym shorts and walked back into the main area of the locker room. Each step he took slowly brought him lower until the 6’2 male was only about 175 centimeters. His arms and legs inflated and he suddenly rushed back into the stall, his dick now wanting to do more than just piss in the bathroom.

Chandler quickly closed the stall door behind him and sat on the ridge of the toilet, taking out his much smaller dick. Chandler didn’t notice the difference in length as he got hard, his cock much shorter than what it used to be hard. He moaned as he began to stroke, his once rough hands becoming small and soft with a lemony sheen. As he edged, his pecs began to fill out more, his pre-defined abs sharpening. He groaned as his shrunken balls began to churn, his hair growing out into black bangs on his head.

“신 이시여!” Chung-Hee shouted as he burst a load in the stall, the white cum sticking out on the black wall. He cleaned himself and walked out, his small, yellow feet moving quickly across the floor. He walked over to the sink and looked in the mirror, the K-pop still playing from the vents overhead and in his earbud. Chung-Hee was glad that Nam-Kyu had convinced him to come to the local Korean gym today. He was a little timid that it wasn’t going to be authentic, but the place seemed to be as if it had come straight out of his own South Korea itself. He smirked as he walked up to the mirror, his sexy Korean body looked incredible against the black wall. He brought up his phone and took a mirror selfie, making sure to hold a straight face. He was looking as 멋진 ever. He sent the picture to his boyfriend before running back into the gym.

— —

Officer Charleston sat in his car, surveying the land around him for any sort of disturbance. Right across the street from him was the Hotel Korea, a newer building that had been the center of multiple documented disappearances, as well as numerous other complaints. He had been dispatched there to see if there was any reason the department should be concerned, but as he lazily ate a bag of potato chips that rested on his large stomach, he couldn’t find anything that seemed out of place.

Officer Charleston watched strangers as he sat there, his floating eyes hiding behind a thick pair of sunglasses. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, just lots of random people around the busy street. He noticed the large Korean population that seemed to be spilling out of the hotel across the street, but he assumed that what the typical crowd for a chain targeted at a certain population. Officer Charleston scratched his bushy beard and placed the bag of chips next to him. He lined his large foot up to the brake and started the car.

Right as the car spurred to life, a blast of music began pounding from the building. Officer Charleston twitched from the sheer volume before turning off his car–this was obviously some sort of noise disturbance. He opened his door and shuffled out of the car, his large frame struggling slightly. The policeman strolled to a crosswalk and waited patiently, not realizing that as he stood there his foot tapped to the beat. He also didn’t realize that he was translating the Korean in his own head, beginning to understand every word.

A stoplight flashed red and the officer crossed with his fellow pedestrians. Each step brought the policeman closer to the earth, until he was barely 172 centimeters tall. His torso began to shrink as his stomach fell in on itself, the skin turning to a soft golden. His arms and legs plumped with definition, years of age being replaced with pounds of muscle. His shorter calves and forearms became solid as he made it to the other side of the street.

The policeman hummed along to the music as his thighs expanded inside of his pants. His hands became smaller as he adjusted his name badge, his name switching from the English phonetic system to Hangul. His feet also shrunk, now being able to slip comfortably into a pair of 250 mm boots.The yellowly tone overtook the rest of the officer’s body as his hair magically began to shed, all of it disappearing from the neck below. Even his beard fell away, revealing a sturdy jaw and the most flawless skin.

As a brown bob began to grow out on his head, the officer suddenly felt a sharp pain in his crotch. He rushed out to the side of the hotel behind a dumpster, pulling down pants to reveal a stubby, lemony cock begging for attention. He grabbed his cock and stroked it carefully, his whole hand not entirely fitting. He moaned quietly, its pitch rising as his Adam’s apple sunk in. He felt his balls tremble as he took in a harsh breath.

“커밍 해요!” Security Guard Choi howled as a small load poured into his hand. He sighed before wiping it on the side of his uniform. He was glad that he was able to sneak a session in during his shift at the Hotel Korea. They were fairly lenient on breaks, but sometimes a Korean man in his youth had to get in some extra time. The watchman turned the corner back around to the front of the building and noticed a car was abnormally parked on the street. It probably was just an accident, but he had to make sure that everything was perfect at the hotel. He strode over confidently: there was nothing a fine, young Korean like himself couldn’t deal with.

— —

John just needed a break. He wasn’t supposed to have his kid for the day, but his ex dropped him off a few days early. John hadn’t been able to take off work, so now he had to drag the 9-year-old around with him everywhere he went. It was completely agonizing. As they walked downtown, the kid had to see everything, point at everything, want everything. It was the worst when they passed the new hotel a few buildings back; there was way too much to look at. John eventually gave up, telling him to sit down outside and wait as he went into a brewery to get a drink. He knew it wasn’t the best idea, but he was about to explode.

John quickly ordered a strong scotch and took a seat. Getting closer to 50 everyday, he still couldn’t believe that he had a child so young. Wasn’t his sperm supposed to stop working at one point? The kid had put so much stress on his body, helping him gain weight and lose hair. The balding man sat there quietly as a glass was carefully placed in front of him. He grumbled before grabbing it, knowing he’d have to chug it. Why couldn’t the kid just grow up?

He grabbed the glass right as new song began. It wasn’t coming from the brewery, but instead from a distance away. John didn’t notice it at first, but he slowly began subconsciously focusing more and more on the music. It wasn’t in English, but John could feel himself slowly get more and more involved in the music. His gulping turned to sipping as he started fully investing his attention in the boy-band music.

As John casually drank his whiskey, he didn’t notice his clothes slowly becoming looser on his frame. His stomach was coated in a light tan as pounds shed themselves away, the hair falling with them. While abs and pecs appeared on his frame, round biceps and triceps also began to pop up around his thickening arms. While his body became more muscular, years of age began to disappear. His shoulders and hips were coated in a lemony shade as they widened and shrunk respectively.

As more of the beer disappeared from the cup, so did John’s height. He slowly diminished in his chair, losing 16 centimeters to his height. Although his legs had contracted, his thighs and quads had become enormous. His calves had also becoming thicker, but they had lost their body hair along with the rest of John’s body. The only hair that grew in was on his head, which now was a soft, full stark-black part. John’s feet compressed as the rest of the golden shade covered his body.

Putting his root beer glass down, John began palming his groin. It had become increasingly agitated as time went on. John knew he was in public, but he had to relieve his dick right now. He dug his hands into his pants and began furiously stroking; his cock became more sensitive from its decreasing length. Suddenly, John felt his pouch scrunch up in his hands, ready for action.

“달콤한 방출!” Joon-ho squealed in a high tone as a small wet patch appeared on the front of his shirt. Joon-ho groaned in delight as he resituated himself in the chair. He picked up the Korean coffee and took a sip, smiling at its deliciousness. He knew it was dumb to come to a brewery and not get alcohol, but he didn’t care for it that much. He was still basically a kid in his early twenties, so it never appealed to him.

Speaking of feeling like a kid, he had to go find his boyfriend. He didn’t have a daddy kink, but it was clear who was in charge and who wasn’t between the two of them. Before he’d run off to find his boyfriend, he’d have to finish off this drink first.

— —

Timothy hated the hotel that had opened near his apartment. He had been living there for almost ten years, and all that time he had assumed that nothing would ever be built in the hideous lot a little less than a block away. Then, out of nowhere, a giant hotel was built, with people flowing in and out everyday. The strange thing though, Timothy noticed that people of every size, race, and age went into the hotel, but only young, attractive Koreans came out. The 40-year-old man could sense something was wrong.

Luckily for Timothy, he had just come home from work early, his boss feeling extra kind today. He rushed home and ran upstairs to his bathroom to take a hot, long bath. He prepared all the materials necessary before stripping his suit down slowly, his furry chest and legs becoming exposed to the world. Timothy knew he wasn’t the most attractive of people, with his beer gut and clunky height, but at least was fairly average. Once he was naked, the middle-aged man got into the tub, laying down so his feet stuck out the other side. Timothy rubbed a wet hand onto his head, the short, graying hair meeting him. He laid there in silence for a couple of minutes.

Timothy’s eyes jerked open as he began to hear music bouncing around his bathroom walls. He focused his ears to figure out that it was coming from the hotel, realizing it was in some kind of Asian language. At first, he was completely annoyed, but as he listened to it more, he began to like it. What the boys were singing about became enticing to him, relaxing him once more into the tub before he fell asleep.

Tae-won squinted as he woke up, his nap being a little longer than intended. He slowly pulled himself up, his small body wholely underwater. He looked over his lemony, muscled body, his proudest features all displayed finely under the bubbles. He looked over himself as he felt his small cock rise, with the absence of hair making it look even more miniscule. In fact, Tae-won was completely hairless from the armpits down–and he completely loved it.

Tae-won brought a small hand to his dick, carefully bringing it to full mast with three fingers. He whimpered as he jerked away, his cock sensitive. The boy band played in the background as he kept pushing, his short but powerful legs scrunching up to his defined torso. Tae-won pushed his brown locks to the side as he began to stroke faster. As he got to the edge, he felt his balls scrunch up to push out a load.

“여기 온다!” Tae-won yelled as his shot a miniscule load into the tub. Once he took a few deep breaths, he regained himself and slowly got out of the tub. He grabbed his red jockstrap and tight shorts, placing both on as he dried himself off. Tae-won restyled his hair into the classic chestnut bob before running downstairs. He picked up his phone and saw that he had a little less than an hour before he began his shift at the Hotel Korea. He also noticed that he had received a text from his boyfriend a few minutes ago. He opened the message, finding a picture of the other incredibly attractive Korean at the gym. Tae-won smiled, noticing his boyfriend was wearing one of the wife beaters he had given him at their last anniversary.

“Looking good, Chung-Hee,” Tae-won muttered in Korean, responding back to the picture. He guided himself back to the staircase, his tight, yellowy abs glistened under the sunlight from a nearby window. He pulled up his phone and brought it to the mirror, going from the same straight face that his partner had. His lemony features looked delicious after his long wash. He shot the picture and sent it to his boyfriend before running back upstairs to his room to get his uniform on. He had a long shift ahead of him, but, luckily for him, he loved his workplace.

— —

Milo had been waiting for his friend for almost an hour. He was parked outside of his hotel, the new one that had just opened, and he still hadn’t gotten any word from Kayler. He should’ve been worried, but for as long as he could remember, Kayler was never really one to be prompt; however, this was getting absurd.

Both Kayler and Milo had been friends since kindergarten, and the two of them would graduate in a few months from the highschool a little ways out of the city. Kayler was at the hotel for an assignment, one in which the student would observe a different culture. Of course, the Hotel Korea was the perfect choice, but Milo hadn’t heard any word from Kayler. He was supposed to pick him up after three days at the front door, but as Milo fiddled with his large shirt over his lithe body, no one ever approached his car.

Out of the blue, loud music exploded from the building Milo was parked in front of. Milo ducked for cover, taking a few moments to realize that it was not some sort of explosion, but instead K-pop. Milo didn’t know what to think of it at first, but what the boy band was singing about was strangely alluring. Milo concentrated on the noise, grooming his bright red hair as he followed along. The longer he listened to it, the more he began to enjoy it.

As the song started its first refrain, Milo hadn’t noticed how his feet were no longer tapping the brake pedal. He subconsciously pulled his chair a few inches forward as his shirt began to fill out. The once loose shirt began to tighten around the pecs and abs that were popping up by the beat. His once miniscule arms bloated, becoming muscular and dense. His calves and thighs also expanded while an amber color began to blotch out the pale white.

By the second refrain, Milo’s shirt was now strained, his large torso and biceps making it seem like the seams would rip any moment. Milo’s pants were also threatening to tear, with a large bubble butt and tree-trunk legs pushing at the silky boundaries. Hair dwindled away all around Milo’s body except for on his head, which shortened into a black sports cut. A few years packed onto to Milo as he shifted into his early twenties, while his feet shrunk into a softer size of 245 mm.

As the rest of the golden tan covered his body, Milo grabbed his average size cock and began to stroke. It got hard instantly, but didn’t lengthen at all. His hard length was now the same as what he was as soft previously. Milo didn’t notice however, for he was too focused on how incredible the bridge of the song was. As the last refrain came around the corner, Milo felt his testicles tense quickly.

“너무 좋아!” Min-kyu cried as a spray of white cum covered his shirt. He sat there for a second, breathing irregularly before regaining consciousness. He hadn’t even realized he had an audience at the passenger door.

“여보세요?” The stranger asked, causing Min-kyu to jump. He turned to the window to see his boyfriend standing at the window, still on his shift as a security guard at the hotel.

“Choissi, you scared me!” Min-kyu said in Korean as the watchman entered the car.

“Well, I didn’t know I was late to the party,” he replied back before leaning over for a kiss. As the two embraced, Min-kyu suddenly felt a buzzing in his pocket. He took out his phone to see that he had a text from his friend Kun-woo. He put his phone down and continued with the security guard. If Min-kyu had waited this long, Kun-woo could too.

— —

Gunnar sat on the uncomfortable chair extremely bored. He couldn’t believe that his lousy father had just left him at the front of a furniture store while he went off to get a drink. He didn’t even like his father. The two never connected because Gunnar had spent most of his time with his mom. They never really spent time together, and when they did, it was just awkward and always ended in some sort of argument. It was like he wasn’t even related to the man, but he knew that he had to try to stay friendly.

Gunnar brought a small bag into his lap, looking through all the things that his father did let him get. It wasn’t much, the reusable bag was just as ordinary as they things they had purchased. There were some water bottles, gloves, and a new game for his console back at his other home, but otherwise the day had proved uneventful. His father wouldn’t let him go into any of the buildings he wanted to see, especially the new hotel that had just opened down the street. Gunnar took out the water bottle to take a drink, not knowing what else to do.

Without warning, music began blasting from down the street. Gunnar choked for a second on the water he had just opened, surprised. He took the plastic bottle out of his mouth and looked towards the hotel. He could almost see the soundwaves emitting from the building, the K-pop becoming strangely alluring.

Gunnar brought the juice bottle back to his mouth, beginning to enjoy the music as it played on. As he drank, his legs began to extend themselves, the new meaty thighs and calves pushing him to a staggering 178 centimeters. Gunnar subconsciously began to manspread as his body became wider, his torso filling in with strong abs and pecs. An amber tone flooded his pale skin while his eyes became a deep brown.

While Gunnar continued guzzling pop from the bottle, his arms and shoulders began to fill out. Years of time in the gym became evident as pounds of meat were added to the boys frame. Veins became visible while his hand became round and hard, the results of numerous callouses. His expanding quads caused his shorts to pull up, now looking more like short-shorts than their previous knee-length.

As Gunnar topped off the beer bottle, he began to feel a rumbling in his balls. He had no idea what was happening, but something was telling him in the back of his mind that he should stroke his small cock. He grabbed it, and, with a sudden feeling of elation, began pumping furiously. As he did, he didn’t notice his grunts slowly becoming deeper, or how he now had to blow black bangs out of his face. Right as the yellow color covered the last of the pale skin, Gunnar felt a final push in his groin.

“달콤한 서울!” Gun-woo grunted as his jizz landed on his Corona shirt. He quickly rubbed it in before grabbing the matching bag and looking through it for a back-up outfit. All he had was an empty glass bottle, a beer koozie, and a Korean porn film for his date tonight. His date! He had completely forgotten about it, and where his partner had walked off to.

As if on cue, his boyfriend walked out of a nearby coffee shop. A grin plastered itself on Gun-woo’s face.

You look adorable, boy,” Gun-woo remarked in Korean as his boyfriend walked over.

“You aren’t too bad either, old man,” the man replied back.

“Joon-ho, you know I’m only five years older than you,” Gun-woo snarked.

“You’re talent in bed says otherwise.” Joon-ho replied, licking his lips. Gun-woo smirked as he got up to leave with his boyfriend, knowing he had a fun night ahead of him.

— —

Lee Hae-jin sat at his desk, the new information charts flooding in from every other Hotel Korea. His plan had been a huge success, as apparent by the massive spikes of local Korean populations in each location. The music was an easy choice for conversion while still being untrackable, but the problem was how he would transfer the Korean genetic code through the melodies. He had to write a song that would transform its listeners.

After tedious research, he finally came to an idea: Don’t create music, create a band. He designed his own K-pop boy band, which he cleverly named KOREABOO. They would seem like any other boy band from South Korea, but they’d only produce Lee’s music. Their voices would make the melodies that would become hypnotic to new listeners. Their words would help produce the new Korean population faster.

Lee closed the laptop and chuckled to himself. It would only be so long before the entire world would be Korean, and, more importantly, under his control.

Be of Service

--- Originally posted on 2024-04-06 by dumb-and-jocked.---

Round of applause to @mrrharper

I dumped my uniform and bag into the locker, my partner John doing likewise beside me. After a graveyard shift, the two of us had decided to hit the gym bright and early in the morning before sleeping through our day off. John and I had been partners since we had first joined the police force. As officers, we had done a lot together; rode together, drank together, laughed together. One time we were even in a foursome together with two chicks we had picked up at a bar.

Now in our early thirties though, we had begun to take life a little more seriously. Start choosing wisely, acting responsibly. Working out had been my idea, and after six months it had already shown some results. Both of us were average height and had gained some pudge over the years, but now we both had notable definition. I could not help but flex a little in the mirror, impressed by the beginnings of my triceps.

“Looking fire, broski!”

My eyes shifted over to one of the three football jocks who sauntered into the locker room. I was immediately annoyed by the trio of obnoxious meatheads, and I could tell John was as well.

“Have you been coming here for long?” the first asked. “We haven’t seen you around.”

“We come when we can,” I replied. “Working for the law gives us busy schedules.”

“Woah…so are you guys like, officers or something?” the second guffawed.

“Officers, yeah.” John was irked.

“Huhuhuh…cool bruh!” the third jock inserted. “You two should totally join us!”

Before we could respond, the first jock piped back in, “Yeah dudes! We could have a great sesh between the five of us. Brock here is stellar at arms, and Duke is the best at working those legs and glutes.”

“Jalen’s a pro with chest,” the second jock, Brock, finished. “And you two officer bros, what are you good at?”

I grunted, “Knowing how to refuse an offer.”

It took Brock and Duke, the third jock, a second to process what I had implied, their mental capacities obviously slower than the average male. Jalen was a little faster however, putting on a dumb smile. 

“Your loss bros, but totally understandable,” he shrugged. “In case it wasn’t obvious, we’re on the football team at the local college, so let us know if you need any workout tips or exercises.”

I barely nodded my head, offering a blunt, “Ok, thanks.” John and I then made our way past the bulky jocks, the three of them each larger than either of us. I took a breath as soon as we exited their collective earshot.

“Three cocky dicks,” I snorted. “No better way to start the morning.”

John mockingly agreed. Our workout was brutal, our bodies already tired due to our unusual sleep schedule. This, along with the occasional stare from one of the jocks, only encouraged us to work harder. Nothing was spared from our exercises, we utilized machines that hit multiple areas at once. Arms and chest, legs and back, abs and quads. At the end, we hit the treadmills for a thirty minute run, sneering back at the trio while they stood in front of one of the many mirrors and flexed their pumped arms, taking pictures for social media.

Eventually, we were back in the locker room cleaning up, both expecting the jocks to ambush us again. Fortunately, the lumbering footballers never arrived. John had joked they were probably still drooling over their own muscles in the mirror, and I had replied better they were drooling on themselves then us. I did not want their narcissistic, dim-witted reek all over me, and neither did my partner. We both opted to skip showers; we could take them back at our respective apartments before crashing into our own, cool beds.

As we left the locker rooms and headed towards the exit, we were immediately swarmed by our unwanted acquaintances. 

“You know, bros,” Jalen swung a beefy, sweaty arm around both of us. Brock paced behind me, and Duke followed suit with John. “We never caught your names? We’d like to thank you for your service, officers, whatever it is you do."

His tone was a little menacing, but I knew he would not try to pull something in broad daylight. “Darren,” I responded. “and John.”

Jalen grinned, moving his arms to pat the back of our necks. I felt a little sting at his touch, almost like an electric shock.

“Now c’mon bros, how about you come join us at the frat house where we can properly use your services.”

John frowned, and I retorted with, “I think you boys have had your fun.”

Brock chuckled, “Fun’s not even started broski.”

Duke’s response was even deeper and dumber, “Huhuhuh...dudes aren’t even ready.”

We had finally made it outside, the sun just beginning to rise over the horizon. I noticed our squad cars parked up front, we would be out of this mess in just a moment.

“Alright, this is our stop,” I exclaimed, making sure the three got my message. Suddenly, a piercing jolt was sent across my spine, traveling all the way from my brain to my toes.

“Our stop is actually over there, officers.” Jalen pointed to the two trucks past their cruisers. “Darren, you can come with me and Brock, Duke here is gonna take John.”

Robotically, my body followed Jalen’s command, tracing behind the first two jocks to their obnoxiously big vehicle. Although I could not turn my head, I could tell John’s body was following the orders as well.

“Disengage Operation Mode, security bypass JALEN, sleep.”

— —

“Engage 25% Operation Mode, security bypass JALEN, wake.”

My eyes fluttered open. I was standing in an empty room, not rigid but not slouching either. To my right, I could sense my partner’s presence, familiar with John’s aura. We were still in our dirty gym gear, although our body odor was nothing compared to the three jocks standing proudly before us. Through the windows behind them, I assumed it to still be some time in the morning, but that was the only piece of the situation that I could try to fathom.

“Bet you’ve never had a mind control chip implanted, have you, officers?”

I tried to respond with something snarky, but my mouth wouldn’t let me.

“We were just trying to be friendly, help some bros out, but you two insulted our kindness.” Jalen stepped a little closer, even from a distance I could feel his large, masculine presence. “Maybe next time you won’t mess with the son of a government-funded millionaire.”

Jalen pointed his fingers at his two goons. Brock and Duke each stepped forward, crossing the distance between them and John and I. They removed our shirts, and although I could see or move my feet, I realized my shoes had already been taken too.

“My dad gifted me some leftover mind-control chips he had built for the military, said I could use them if I ever needed them. Something along the lines of "accessing the nervous system" and "reprogramming capabilities". Didn't matter to me bros, it was all nerd-speak. I just needed the commands.”

If I could have, I would have gulped. Jalen stepped closer as the other jocks discarded our clothes.

“MC 1001, 50% Operation Mode.”

Suddenly, the feeling was restored throughout my body. I did not bother with attempting an escape, recognizing my body was still glued to the floor. When I turned to my partner, I realized John had not been released.

“What’s the plan, Jalen?” I spat.

“You were so rude to us back at our gym when you are employed to be of service” Jalen smirked. "The bros and I thought we should remind you of your duty, and what better way then by dispatching you as our new security guards who obey our every wish and command?”

“So what, you’re going to 'reprogram' us?”

“How about you see for yourself?” Jalen then turned to John. “MC 1002, engage Modification Mode, security bypass JALEN.”

“MC 1002, Modification Mode engaged, security bypass confirmed." It may have been John’s mouth that had opened, but I knew it was not him who was speaking.

“Brock,” Jalen invited. “How about you take the first swing?”

Brock laughed and scratched at his crotch, “Get him jacked bro.”

Jalen turned to Duke, “Anything specific you’d like to add?”

To my surprise, Duke did have something to add–a lot to add: “Make them former rugby players bro, cause rugby is for idiots and rugby players should serve football jocks, the real alphas.”

Jalen raised his eyebrows, a bit surprised too. “Works for me. MC 1002, enter in keywords ‘Rugby’ and ‘Jock’ to the personality frame and set both at 88. Raise ‘Muscle’ by 40 base points and remove any post-secondary education from the mainframe.”

Watching the football neanderthal list off a series of programming commands put our situation into a new perspective. My eyes grew with fear as the changes installed into John’s body. It was like watching a horrible balloon inflation, his body contorting as it expanded. John’s once meager chest bloated into two massive pecs supported by two trunks of legs. His arms cartoonishly bulged until they were practically circular, his pits filling with hair as a tattoo wrapped itself around his right bicep. His face thickened too, adopting a square shape along with a wider nose and thicker stubble.

“Keywords ‘Rugby’ and ‘Jock’ successfully installed.” John’s voice was now deeper, gruffer. “‘Muscle’ upgraded, post-secondary education deleted.”

Jalen nodded, “MC 1002, add 10 base points to his age as well.”

“Adding 10 base points to ‘Age’.” To my shock, I helplessly observed my partner grow older beside me. The skin around his body tightened, pulling in to reveal the more delicate details of his veins and tendons. Wrinkles began to develop across his body along with other age marks. It was painful to watch his hairline slowly pull back, his scalp thinning out into a well-maintained crew cut.

“Here’s the fun part,” Jalen mocked, noting my face of terror. "Lower cognitive abilities by 20 base points and independent identity by 30 base points. Install the ‘Security’ package to the mainframe and boost the ‘Obedience’ category to max potential."

Although there were no visible alterations, I could have sworn the light went out behind my partner’s eyes. “All actions executed, please confirm modifications to MC 1002.”

Jalen smirked, making direct eye contact with me. “Confirm MC 1002, disengage Modification Mode, reengage total Operation Mode.”

To my delight, I watched as John’s body reanimated completely, indicating he now had full control over his body. But any hope I had was immediately crushed as soon as he stood at command, dumbly  grinning with his arms crossed over his chest.

“How can I be of service, sir?” John asked Jalen.

“Go do a full sweep of the yard of something, bro.” Jalen tossed John a pair of sunglasses, not even bothering to hand him any other clothes. Apparently his now too-tight joggers were enough. “Oh, and by the way, you go by Hammer now.”

“Hammer…” John processed. “Yes sir, thank you sir.”

I watched as my former partner stomped out of the room, out of our reality.

“Why ‘Hammer’, bro?” Brock piped in from behind me.

“‘Cause he’ll be laying down the law of the land.” Jalen then shifted back to me. “Our other friend here will be ‘Brute’.”

I heard two empty-headed laughs from the two empty-headed jocks behind me.

“He’ll be nothing more than a wall of meat,” Jalen taunted. Before I could insult him back, he instantly shut me up. “MC 1001, engage Modification Mode, security bypass JALEN.”

“MC 1001, Modification Mode engaged, security bypass confirmed." My mouth was out of my control. I tried to fight back, reanimate myself by any means possible.

“Alright Duke, it’s your turn.”

“Same thing as last time, bruh.”

Disappointed, Jalen shifted back to Brock, “Got something else?”

I prayed Brock would not say anything too damaging “Make him huge dude,” he requested, putting me at ease before following up with: “And make him like a butler too.”

Jalen laughed, and if I could have I would have cried.

“Oh MC 1001,” Jalen merrily instructed. “Copy MC 1002’s personality frame and mainframe, and enhance body and clothes proportions to 1.5. ”

“Modifications downloading,” I stated, a sudden sinking emerging in my stomach. In moments, I sprung upwards towards the ceiling, my height soaring above the jocks to an astonishing six and a half feet. Muscles exploded out of my body, bloating me thick with bulk. My arms were plump and my hands meaty. Two juicy pecs larger than my head were now carried by my absolute barrel of a chest, stretched out and taut. My legs were colossal, so dense that I would permanently be forced to take wide, swaggering steps. Even my neck thickened, supporting my newly masculinized skull.

“Copy and paste procedure successful.” My voice was husky, low, deep and booming. “Body and clothes proportions at 1.5.”

“Look at his socks, bro,” I heard Brock snigger behind me. “Whattya think those stompers are?”

“Huhuhuh…I don’t know dude…maybe Size 15?”

“Looks like I missed something,” Jalen appeared disappointed. “MC 1001, reduce reproductive size to 3.”

“Redacting 4 base points from ‘Reproduction’.” I screamed, pleading for this to stop. But no words exited my mouth. Instead, I remained painfully silent as I felt my cock and balls shrivel down within my shorts. 

“Helps with the obedience factor” Jalen stated. “Now, let's lower cognitive abilities by 40 base points and independent identity to 15 base points. Install the ‘Security’ package to the mainframe, boost the ‘Obedience’ category to max potential, and add in keywords ‘Respect’, ‘Humility’, and ‘Subservience’."

I would not give up, I would not cave in. “Please confirm modifications to MC 1002?”

Jalen was finished with his game. “Confirm modifications, disengage Modification Mode, reengage total Operation Mode.”

After a moment, I blinked. My head felt fuzzy, empty, as if some great weight of responsibility had been removed. I dumbly chuckled to myself.

"Feeling good there, bro?” Jalen smiled. “Excited to serve us jocks?"

"Uhhhh, yeah bruh…be of service."

"Well said, Brute."

"Brute?" I smiled lazily. “What can I uh…do bro?”

"First, let’s get you in uniform.” Jalen signaled to Duke, who then tossed a black cap to me. I secured it backwards onto my head proudly.

“Now, clean the frat house from top to bottom. I’m talking dirty laundry in the machine, trash taken out, floors scrubbed–the whole deal. I want this place looking slick before the party starts tonight. Once you’re done with that, you can go patrol the lawn for any feds. Got all that?”

It took a while for me to process everything, but eventually the dumb grin came back to my face.

“Yeah bruh…whatever you need.”

New Policeman

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

-----

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

 Everything was rather confusing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He let out an annoyed sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

<Come with us.>

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But the officer snapped, "Be silent."

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

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

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

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

— Stand up.

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

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

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

— Stand up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

— We know. Estela already confessed it to us.

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

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

The man in the suit let out a disappointed sigh.

— It's not as simple as that.

The smile vanished from Niko's face.

— But you said...

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

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

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

Niko hadn't thought about that either.

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

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

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

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

— We can give you a new life.

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

— What about the videos? — Niko asked.

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

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

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

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

— Is any of this legal? — Niko asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Crack.

Crack.

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

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

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

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

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

Crack.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Uber Frat

Tom had driven this route a hundred times before. The streets near the university were alive with students barhopping, loud music booming from nearby frat houses. His Uber beeped as a new ride request came in from Delta Sigma Gamma, one of the more notorious frats, known for their cocky jocks and constant partying. He sighed, not particularly excited about the prospect of dealing with another drunk frat boy.

The rider’s name popped up on his phone: Ryan.

"Another one of these guys," Tom muttered to himself, already dreading the ride. At thirty-five, Tom was happy with his life. He was engaged to Sarah, his high school sweet heart, and they were planning their wedding. Driving Uber was just a way to save up a little extra for the wedding. He was a simple guy; routine, stability, and a future with Sarah. He had no interest in wild parties or the frat life he’d never had.

When he pulled up to the massive Delta Sigma house, a shirtless, muscular figure stumbled out, carrying the telltale swagger of someone who had downed far too many beers. Ryan was massive, broad-shouldered, thick arms, chest bursting out of his soaked tank top. His feet dragged a little as he approached the car, and when he opened the door, the powerful stench of sweat and musk hit Tom like a truck.

Ryan collapsed into the backseat, reeking of alcohol, but worse than that, his scent was overpowering, the smell of sweat-soaked skin and dirty gym socks filling the car immediately. Tom gagged but tried to keep it under control.

“Yo, driver!” Ryan slurred, kicking off his sneakers without a care and slapping his socked feet right between the two front seats on the arm rest “Take me to the next bar, bro.”

“Uh, can you put your feet down?” Tom asked, his voice tight with irritation.

Ryan didn’t even glance at him, wiggling his toes lazily. “Nah, man, you’ll get used to it. Just like everyone else. This is how it is when you’re part of the brotherhood.” His voice was thick with drunken confidence, a cocky grin spreading across his face.

“Look, man, I’m just trying to do my job,” Tom said, irritation rising as the smell intensified, like sour sweat and musk combining to form something nearly tangible.

Ryan chuckled, the sound low and mocking. “You think you’re better than us, huh? Driving your Uber, going back to your little pathetic, boring life, playing it all straight and safe. You don’t even know what you’re missing, bro.”

Tom glanced in the rearview mirror, trying to keep his temper in check. “I’m just trying to get you where you need to go.”

Ryan leaned forward; his eyes gleaming. “Yeah, well, maybe where you need to go isn’t where you think. You ever think about that? You’re just waiting for someone to show you the way.”

Before Tom could respond, Ryan started to laugh under his breath, a weird sound emitting from his mouth. The air in the car shifted, growing thick, almost suffocating. Tom felt his heart rate spike as a sudden, intense heat spread through his body, followed by a strange tingling sensation.

“What the hell are you doing?” Tom snapped, panic rising as his muscles began to twitch uncontrollably.

Ryan smirked. “Don’t worry, bro. You’re about to find out what it’s like to really live.”

Tom’s breath caught in his throat as the tingling spread, intensifying into sharp, searing pain. His body felt like it was on fire from the inside out, muscles spasming and bones popping. His hands, gripping the steering wheel tightly, began to thicken before his very eyes. His fingers lengthened, widening as his palms became rough and calloused, swelling with new, brute strength.

“No… what’s happening?” Tom gasped, watching in horror as his forearms bulged, veins popping out against his skin. His arms were growing, muscle piling onto muscle, forcing his sleeves to stretch tight against his biceps and forearms.

Ryan leaned back, grinning. “It’s starting, bro. You’re just getting jacked like the rest of us.”

Tom could feel his chest expanding, pecs pushing out as his once-slender frame grew broader and wider. His shirt strained against the sheer bulk of his chest, the fabric barely able to contain the growing mass of muscle beneath it. His ribs cracked, reforming to accommodate the new size of his upper body.

With a groan of agony, Tom’s spine elongated, forcing him to hunch forward in the seat as his height shot up. His back rippled with new muscle, his shoulders broadening into massive slabs of strength. The pain was unbearable, every bone in his body felt like it was being stretched and reshaped.

“Stop! Please, stop!” Tom begged, his voice shaky with fear, but his words only made Ryan grin wider.

“Why stop, bro? You’re looking real good now. Imagine how much the boys are gonna love you.” Said Ryan as he wiggled his toes.

Tom’s legs began to throb, his thighs thickening, swelling with raw power. His jeans ripped at the seams, unable to contain the bulging muscles that pushed outward. His calves, once average, now bulged with definition, covered in a layer of thick, coarse hair that sprouted up his legs, across his thighs, and up to his groin.

He felt a strange tug in his groin, and his breath hitched as his penis twitched, growing harder, swelling in size. His balls, once normal-sized, ballooned larger, filling with an almost unbearable pressure. The musk of Ryan’s feet, the overpowering scent that had once repelled him, now seemed intoxicating, and Tom could feel a growing hunger building in his chest.

“No… this isn’t me. This can’t be happening,” Tom whispered, his voice deepening, taking on a more masculine, gruff tone.

Ryan wiggled his toes again and crossed his feet, brushing Tom’s forearm along the way “Oh, it’s happening, bro. You’re gonna be just like the rest of us. You’re gonna love being with your bros. Trust me, man, it’s what you’ve always wanted.”

Tom’s mind screamed in protest, but his body continued to betray him. The hair follicles on his chest started to burn as Tom saw in the reflection of the mirror that his faint dark brown hair was turning clearer, taking a golden hue, almost disappearing in his skin. He saw the same happening in his armpits as they grew thicker and denser there. The scent of his own sweat mixed with Ryan’s musk, creating an overwhelming cocktail of testosterone that filled the car.

His abs rippled beneath his torn shirt, each muscle growing more defined until his midsection was a solid, chiseled six-pack. His body was drenched in sweat, the salty tang of it filling the air, and to his horror, Tom realized he didn’t hate the smell. He liked it. He craved it.

His face contorted in pain as his jawline shifted, becoming squarer and more pronounced. His cheekbones sharpened, his nose slightly thickened, and his brow became more prominent. His once-neatly dark brown trimmed hair grew wilder, curlier, messier style that looked perfect for a frat bro.

But the worst was yet to come. Tom’s groin pulsed with heat, his penis swelling to an obscene size. His balls hung low, filled with a primal need, a hunger for something more. His underwear strained to contain the sheer mass of his manhood, and Tom could feel his arousal building, stronger, hotter, and more insistent than anything he had ever experienced.

“No… no…” Tom moaned, but it wasn’t just the size that scared him. It was the desire. The growing lust, not for women, but for men, his bros. The idea of being surrounded by them, feeling their bodies pressed against his, touching, tasting, servicing them, it sent waves of unwanted pleasure through him as he was trying to restraint those foreign pulsion. Tom turned his head back to throw a look of pleading to Ryan, but the only thing he saw between his locks of curly blonde hair was Ryan gripping his own groin through his jeans while licking his lips looking at him.

Inside his mind, Tom was screaming, fighting to hold onto his old self, but his body was changing too fast, too much. His cock twitched, a bead of precum forming at the tip, staining the inside of his underwear turned into a kaki speedo. His new, massive muscles tensed, and every part of him screamed for release.

Ryan watched him struggle, a grin of satisfaction on his face. “You’re almost there, bro. You feel it, don’t you? You need to let go. Just blow it in your speedo, man, and it’ll all be over. You’ll be one of us.”

Tom’s mind rebelled, but his body was beyond his control. The overwhelming musk, the power coursing through his muscles, the heat in his groin, it was too much. He could feel his balls tighten, his cock throb, and his heart race as the tension built inside him.

“Come on, bro, I gave you a chance to really enjoy this all. Way too long…” Ryan urged, his voice low and commanding. “Fuck it, you wanted this. CUM!”

With a shuddering gasp, Tom’s body obeyed. His cock spasmed, and with a grunt of pure, animalistic pleasure, he came hard, his seed spilling into his speedo in a hot, sticky mess. The sensation was overwhelming, waves of ecstasy crashing through his entire body. His muscles flexed, his heart pounded, and his new frat bro self-emerged in full force. As the orgasm was subsiding, Tom’s clothes torn clothes started to vanish into pure manly musk, evaporating straight from his body and pushing the musk in the car even further. Tom stood there, his new kaki speedo damp with his cum. The outline of his huge cock still visible in the dampness of the tissue. Tom trying to find his breath as Ryan was still boringly stroking his cock and riding the hangover of alcohol and musk.

Tom’s conversion was complete, his body now entirely foreign to him, yet every part of it felt strong, powerful, and, worst of all, desperately needy. His new muscular frame was drenched in sweat, his speedo sticky and soaked with his release. His broad chest heaved, the musky scent of his own sweat mingled with the fresh cum soaking his crotch, the stench filling the car.

Tom opened his eyes after a while when his brain could connect the information around him. He tried to move to take a look but to his surprise he couldn’t do anything. IT was like he was frozen on his car seat. As he started to panic, Tom heard Ryan’s voice from behind him as he felt hands on his muscled sweaty shoulders. “I told you you should have let it go and accept it. But no, you had to fight… I’m sorry bro, but if you had accepted the changes, your soul would have been assimilated. Now you’ll have to live your life from the passenger seat. Too bad for a driver to be a passenger of his own life.” Inside, Tom was screaming in pure, abject horror. He could still feel everything, the slick wetness in his shorts, the stench of his own musk, and the weight of his massive muscles. But it was like he had been shoved into a tiny corner of his own brain, trapped as a mere observer while his new frat bro body had taken full control. He could see, hear, and feel, but he was no longer in command. “See? You should have accepted way earlier Tom, or should I call you Carter!”

Ryan leaned forward, inspecting his handiwork, and laughed. “Oh yeah, bro. You’re one of us now. Look at you—fucking perfect. Just wait until the other guys get a load of you.”

Tom wanted to scream, to shout at Ryan, but his body refused to respond. Instead, his lips parted into a cocky grin, and his voice, deep and full of arrogance, spoke words that Tom didn’t want to say. “Hell yeah, man. I’m ready. Let’s fucking go.”

Inside, Tom’s soul wept. He tried to fight, to claw his way back to control, but the frat bro instincts that now filled his brain were stronger, overpowering his old self. He couldn’t stop the way his muscles flexed instinctively, couldn’t stop the pulse of desire that rushed through him at the thought of being with his bros, couldn’t stop the way his cock throbbed with excitement at the idea of being used by them.

Ryan clapped him on the back, his grin wide. “That’s the spirit, bro. Let’s head back to the house, just got a text from Cassidy and she cancelled our date. That’s okay though, looks like our brand-new slut just arrived. The guys are gonna fucking love you.”

Carter shifted in the seat, his large, muscular frame barely fitting in the compact space now. His legs stretched out, thick thighs brushing against the dash as he shifted, adjusting his still-hard cock in his shorts. His skin felt tight over his new muscles, the hair on his chest and legs sticking to his sweaty skin, adding to the overpowering scent that filled the car. His body, now perfect for the frat life, responded instinctively, craving the approval and attention of the bros waiting for him at the house.

After a while, they were both back at the frat house, every step sent a fresh wave of musk into the air, the smell clinging to his skin, marking him as one of them. Tom hated it, despised the way his new body seemed to revel in the scent, in the sheer masculinity of it all.

The door swung open, and the other Delta Sig brothers were already lounging on the couches, drinking and laughing. As soon as Carter walked in, all eyes were on him, and the room erupted into cheers.

“Damn, Ryan, you did a fucking good job on this one!” one of the bros called out, eyeing Carter with a mix of approval and lust.

Ryan grinned, clapping Carter on the shoulder. “Told you guys I’d bring us a new hole to fuck to replace the last one. He’s fucking perfect, right?”

Carter’s frat bro instincts kicked in, and he flexed his arms, showing off his massive biceps with a cocky grin. His body responded to their approval with an almost addictive high, a deep, primal desire to be wanted by them, to be used by them.

Inside, Tom was screaming, but his body was lost in the moment, his cock already twitching in anticipation as the bros crowded around him, patting him on the back, feeling his muscles, and welcoming him into their ranks.

Ryan leaned in close, his voice low and teasing. “You feel that, bro? You’re one of us now. Doesn’t it feel fucking amazing?”

Carter’s mouth opened, and his voice, deep, confident, and undeniably turned on answered, “Yeah, bro. Feels fucking incredible.”

Ryan smirked, satisfied. “Welcome to the brotherhood, man. Now, let’s get you upstairs and really show you what it means to be a Delta Sig.”

As the group led Tom toward the stairs, the weight of his new life fully settled in. Inside, his old self screamed and fought, desperate to break free. But his body, now a slave to the desires of the frat, couldn’t wait to submit to his bros, to be used by them in every way. ______________________________________________________________ Hey guys! Hope you'll enjoy this story based on this prompt from an anonymous: "An Uber driver picks up a drunk guy with smelly feet who taunts him with his scent and tfs him into a bro to go out drinking with." Hope you like it! As always feel free to message me in dms or ask if you want me to write prompts or just talk. Have a good day! :)

Trash

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

Spring break was almost over. After spending a few days at home with my family, it was time to head back to campus and finish out the year. I was an above average student -- not a complete nerd, but not stupid. In high school, I had always been smart but never really fit in. I didn't try very hard. College was liberating! I made friends that shared my interests and was going to graduate with a journalism degree.

I parked my car and headed towards my apartment. A few dirty snowbanks dotted the streets and the trash from last winter made everything look dirty. Most of the apartments in this area were rented by college kids who didn't really take care of their houses. In one front yard, I saw an old white "wife-beater" shirt scattered around empty beer bottles and red solo cups. The shirt was a little muddy, but otherwise in perfect condition. I figured some jock forgot about it one drunken night or basketball game.

Most people would describe me as a hipster. I often shopped at vintage stores and thrift shops for clothes. This abandoned shirt was a little gross, but if washed a few times would be perfectly wearable this summer. I was a skinny little white boy, but in the right weather, I could pull off a wife beater look like this.

I grabbed the shirt and kept walking, thinking nothing of it.

--

When I made it to my apartment, I tossed the shirt on my bed and unpacked my things. I didn't have much to do that day so I figured it might be a good idea to clean my apartment. I moved a few things around and decided to try on the shirt.

"It's still dirty … but, I'll be sweating anyway and take a shower later," I thought to myself. "Might as well try it on to see if it fits."

I unbuttoned my shirt, stripped down, and pulled the white shirt over my head. Looking down, I noticed how pale my skinny body was. With my skinny jeans, styled hair, and thick rim glasses, the look worked in my opinion. I continued cleaning.

With a minute or two, I noticed a strange taste in my mouth -- a combination of tobacco and stale beer. I had never been a smoker, but suddenly could smell cigarette smoke in my room.

"Must be the neighbors," I thought. But the taste grew stronger. I lifted up my shirt, realizing the smell was in the clothes. When I lifted up my arm, a new odor filled the room, a pungent manly scent seemed to pour out of my armpits, which were knotted with black hair. Instinctively, I scratched away an itch and lifted my fingers to my nose. My hands smelled like sweat and smoke. My fingers grazed my chin and I noticed that dark stubble was covering my jaw and cheeks.

I walked over to the bathroom to see if I was just imagining something. In the mirror, I saw that stubble had formed an even five-o-clock shadow. Between the two straps of the shirt, dark hairs started sprouting even though for years I could never grow chest hair. I felt a sharp pain on my right shoulder and grabbed my arm in pain. When I pulled it away, the skin was swollen and red, revealing a new tattoo on my bicep.

"What is happening," I thought to myself. I tried to pull the shirt off, but it was like it was stuck to my skin. After a minute of struggling with the shirt, I realized how thirsty I was becoming. I opened the refrigerator and cracked open a beer. Strangely, the entire bottom shelf was filled with cans and bottle.

"That's strange," I said out loud. "I never bought these!" But, I was so thirsty that I drained the beer in a few seconds and grabbed a second, then a third. The alcohol started to hit me and I staggered back into the bathroom. The shirt still wouldn't move, but the booze made me a little less worried. I looked at myself in the mirror and noticed that I had put on about twenty pounds of weight. My narrow chest had thickened with two firm pecs and tight abs. Massive shoulders and thick biceps replaced my skinny arms. Even my neck seemed thick with muscle. Before, the shirt hung loose on my body, but now it pressed against my body snugly.

Seeing my upper body bulge with muscle, I realized that my pants were uncomfortably tight. I was wearing a pair of skinny black jeans, but my things and calves were starting to ache. To my relief, I was able to unbutton my pants, but when I tried to pull them down, I noticed that they were not the jeans I remember putting on that morning. The waist line had grown, the cut was loose fitting, and the color was a dark blue. I pulled them down to my knees and realized that I was wearing a different pair of boxers too. Satisfied with these new, more comfortable, clothes, I pulled them back up and buttoned them.

When I looked in the mirror again, I was puzzled by the face looking back. "When did I get a hair cut?" I asked myself, rubbing my cropped black hair. Thick, dark eyebrows furrowed in confusion and combined with the dumb look in my eyes, I realized that I was slowly losing my memory.

"It's just the alcohol," I told myself. "People are always stupider when they drink." But when I walked back into my room, I couldn't remember what I was doing five minutes ago. I opened a dresser drawer and found shirts I couldn't remember ever buying, but looked like they would fit me perfectly. I found a pair of brown steel-toe work boots, a pocket knife, a lighter, a pack of cigarettes. When I saw the package of cigs, my body practically lurched with a craving to light up.

"Don't see why not," I told myself. But deep inside my mind, I remember that I had never liked smoking and that this urge was completely foreign to me.

The smoke filled my lungs and nostrils, and with every breath I felt more and more relaxed. Each puff of smoke was like a cloud of memories leaving me forever, being replaced by new ones. Through the haze, my room seemed to change as well. A baseball cap appeared on the dresser, a poster of a truck covered in mud above my bed, my shelf of college books erased from existence in the same way that my hard earned knowledge was gone from my mind. I walked out onto a small balcony to finish smoking and left the smoldering butt on the railing.

On my bed, I saw a blue shirt stained with grease and oil. The embroidered name patch said "Keith." When I put the shirt on, it was like stepping into a completely new identity. Years of experience working with engines in a mechanic's garage washed over me. I found a pair of keys in one of the pockets. When I stepped outside, a black and chrome motorcycle was parked next to the building. I turned the key and raced off for a day of working, completely unaware that I had never ridden this bike before.

They say that one man's trash is another man's treasure. But in my case, one man's trash transformed me forever into a completely different man. There was no way of turning back, for all I knew, this had always been my life.