The Locker Room

Lil Bro Muscles Up, Finale added

Eighteen year old Jimmy looked in the mirror. Damn he looked good, he thought. Broad shoulders, nice muscles, damn handsome, if he said so himself. “Those Boston College girls won’t know what hit ‘em,” he growled. His beat up Corolla was all packed, all that was left to do was say goodbye to his lil bro, Roy. He felt a bit guilty leaving town for college. Nerdy Roy, only fifteen but going into his junior year since he skipped Grade Four, couldn’t count on the protection of his big bro anymore. He felt worse about leaving Roy to fend for himself than he felt about leaving Cindy, his girlfriend. She was hot, but he was going to be playing the field with college girls, he couldn’t stay attached to a high school senior.

“RoyBoy!” he yelled at his little bro as he stood at the front door. “Gonna miss you, bro! You gonna be okay?”

“Don’t worry about me, Jimmy,” his lil bro smiled. “I’m gonna use your weights in the basement to get big and strong, like you!”

Jimmy looked at the scrawny limbs of his shrimpy lil bro. He grabbed his upper arm, which was so thin, Jimmy’s fingers touched when he closed his hand. Those little dumbbells in the basement might not be up to the task. “Alright, RoyBoy, I wanna feel some muscle here when I come back for Columbus Day weekend.”

Roy winced. “You know they’re calling it Indigenous People’s Day on college campuses now, right, bro? Maybe it’s me that needs to worry about you, dummy!”

Jimmy laughed and picked his lil bro up and threw him over his shoulder, then spun in place like a helicopter. Roy giggled and yelled. “Put me down you big goof!”

Jimmy dumped him on floor and towered over him, flexing his biceps. “That’ll teach you to call your big bro a dummy.” Roy grinned and stood up, losing his balance. Jimmy righted him by putting his hand on his skinny shoulder. So thin, he thought.

“Okay, RoyBoy, I’m outta here. You do your workouts and make sure Mom feeds your skinny ass.”

He stuck out his hand to his bro, and Roy looked at it funny, but then shook it. They’d never shook hands before, and Jimmy noted that weirdly, his hand was only slightly bigger than Roy’s.

“You hear me?” Jimmy warned with a grin.

Roy squeezed Jimmy’s hand and cocked an eyebrow. “I’ll make you proud, big bro.”

Jimmy pulled up into the driveway at 11 PM after a five hour drive had turned into an eight hour drive due to an accident on the interstate. He was irritable that he missed dinner with the fam. He’d been more homesick than he expected going to college. He was looking forward to hanging out with his lil bro and folks, and maybe even calling up Cindy. With his good looks, he’d scored a lot of sex in his first month on campus at BC, but it all felt kind of empty. He realized that he’d had more of a connection with his high school girlfriend than he thought. He hadn’t texted her though, he thought they should talk in person.

Jimmy opened the front door with his key and all was dark and quiet inside. He walked into the kitchen where his mother had left a plate of food and a note:

“Welcome home honey! Too tired to wait up. Reheat this 2 min on high. Guest bedroom all made up for you. Sleep well and see you in the morning! xoxo”

Jimmy put the plate of food in the microwave and then looked at the note again. Guest bedroom? Is that what they were calling his bedroom now? Geez, he’d only been gone six weeks. The microwave dinged and he tested the food but it was only lukewarm, so he put it in another two minutes and then picked up his duffel bag and went upstairs to drop it in his room.

As he opened the door he practically gagged at the smell. The room reeked. Jimmy covered his mouth and nose with his hand. He looked around and saw that the furniture and posters on the walls were those of his lil bro Roy. “What the hell?” he thought.

There were dirty clothes strewn everywhere, as well as wadded up balls of tissue paper. Gross! He picked his way across the cluttered room to open the window. At least now there was some flow of air.

“Jimmy, you’re home!”

He turned to see his lil bro Roy at the door. Before he could say anything Roy had crossed the room in an instant and hugged his big bro tight.

“RoyBoy! It’s good to see you!”

Roy’s hug was so touching, Jimmy couldn’t be mad at him for taking his old room. Roy’s head was plastered against Jimmy’s t-shirt and his sweaty arms wrapped around his chest.

“But, man, lil bro. You stink!”

Roy let go of his tight hug and looked up into his big bro’s eyes. His face was sweaty and his brown hair was soaked.

“Ugh, I know, sorry Jimmy. I just ran all the way from Cindy’s.”

Cindy’s place was at least six miles from here. “What were you doing there?”

“We’re doing a school project together.”

Jimmy frowned. “But she’s a senior.”

“Oh yeah, I guess you wouldn’t have heard. I’m skipping Grade 11. That shit was just too easy for me.”

“Language, RoyBoy!” Jimmy was amazed and proud of his lil bro’s news, but he’d never known him to swear.

“Haha Jimmy you’re funny. You look good, big bro, you still working out?”

Jimmy laughed. “Of course, kiddo, it’s a lifestyle y’know.”

“Show me, big bro!” Roy gripped Jimmy’s right upper arm and squeezed.

“Oww, quit it!”

“Sorry big bro, did that hurt?”

Jimmy pulled his arm way. “Of course not, smelly! I just wasn’t flexing.” Jimmy put his hand around his lil bro’s arm. He could still make his fingers touch. “And I thought you were going to put on some muscle yourself while I was gone. You slacking, lil bro?”

“As if, big bro. It’s just that…”

In a flash, Roy pulled off his red t-shirt.

“…I wasn’t flexing!”

Jimmy stepped back and looked at his lil bro. He still looked skinny, but it almost looked like he had abs now. Then Roy flexed his arms and the muscles popped out.

Jimmy smiled. “Good for you, bro, you got little biceps!”

Roy grinned. He relaxed his arms and then flexed his right biceps right in Jimmy’s face. Was it Jimmy’s imagination or did it peak a little higher? “Feel it bro.” Roy said, excited.

Jimmy hesitated. The stench from Roy’s armpit, which had a tangle of dark hair in it now, was overpowering. “Nah, man.”

Roy suddenly looked angry. “I said feel it!” His voice this time was deeper, and insistent.

Jimmy immediately put his hand to his lil bro’s arm.

“What the fuck.”

Roy smirked. “Language, Jimmy.”

“Dude that is solid as a rock.” Jimmy couldn’t believe what he was feeling. Though it was small, Roy’s arm was all hard muscle. He couldn’t so much as dent the peak of the little biceps with his fingers.

Roy raised at eyebrow at Jimmy’s efforts. “Try both your hands.”

“Smartass!” Jimmy brought his other hand up, and pushed both his thumbs into the top of the muscle, while gripping the rest of his arm with his fingers. But Roy didn’t cry out as Jimmy expected. He just grunted and flexed harder, his face reddening. Jimmy started to sweat from the effort of trying to crush his lil bro’s muscle with both hands. Finally he felt a cramp in his hand and stopped.

Roy beamed while Jimmy shook out his hand. “I told you I was gonna make you proud, big bro!”

“That’s pretty great, bro.“ Jimmy said weakly. “You know, I’m beat after that long drive, let’s catch up more in the morning.”

Roy’s face broke out into a grin. “Sure thing, Jimmy! Let me take your bag to the guest room.” Roy dropped his t-shirt amid the smelly detritus on the floor and picked up Jimmy’s big duffel bag with one arm. He hauled it over his shoulder, and turned back to his brother. Now Jimmy could see he had triceps and well as biceps, and his dark pit hair was shiny with sweat from his six mile run. From my ex’s place. Jimmy remembered.

Jimmy gulped. “Thanks bro.”

Roy crossed the hall and opened the door to his old room, which their mother had done up as the guest room. Jimmy stepped in and frowned. The whole bedroom was pink. “Are we getting a little sister, or something, bro?”

Roy laughed. “Naw big bro, Mom just went a little overboard with the re-decorating.” He tossed Jimmy’s duffel bag on the taffeta bedspread. “See you in the morning big bro, sweet dreams.”

“Thanks bro, it’s good to be home.”

The door closed and Jimmy looked around the utterly unfamiliar room.

He took off his t-shirt and sniffed at the pits. Despite eight hours sweating in the car all he could smell was his deodorant. Then he put his nose lower down the side of the shirt where Roy had hugged him with his sweaty arms.  The stench was awful.

Jimmy looked up and and said out loud:

“What the fuck is happening?”

Jimmy insisted to his family that he was “too busy” to make it home for his lil bro Roy’s sixteen birthday, and made the same excuses for Thanksgiving. It was only on the long drive home for Christmas break that he really thought about the Columbus Day weekend visit and what it meant to him. He had always been the Golden Child in the family. First born, a good-looking athletic blond kid who grew up to be a handsome leader and Prom King in high school. Then to find coming home after only six weeks away to see his lil bro had taken over his old bedroom, and was spending time with his ex-girlfriend. Even if it was just for a school project, that seemed awkward, and Cindy had completely brushed him off when he’d tried to contact her. Admittedly, Jimmy had dumped her, so he had no right to expect she come running when he called. But, Jimmy had never begged a girl for sex in his life; he had sex thrown at him almost daily by horny undergraduates.

And then there was that weird thing with Roy’s hard little biceps. Jimmy had gone around to all his gym buddies after he got back to campus and made bets that he could crush their biceps. Most of them he could make cry out in pain with just one hand, let alone two hands, and none of their muscle felt as diamond hard as Roy’s had felt. The whole thing still weirded him out two months after the fact.

As he pulled into his suburban neighborhood, off the main road, his car died. Damn, Jimmy thought, this visit is off to a great start. After the long drive, he didn’t want to have to deal with tow-trucks and mechanics tonight. He phoned his Dad and asked him to come down the road and help him push the car the half-mile or so to the driveway.

“I’ll send Roy,” his Dad said.

“Well, I don’t think Roy’s going to be able…” Jimmy started to reply, but his Dad had already hung up.

Jimmy sat in the car as the temperature within started to drop, with no heater to keep the cold at bay. He began to shiver. Tired, he closed his eyes briefly as he thought. What’s taking him so long?

He was woken up by a rap on the window. Jimmy rolled the window down and his lil bro Roy’s face appeared, with a big smile. Wearing a Santa hat and a ski jacket, he leaned his arms onto the window sill.

“Merry Christmas, Jimmy! What’s up bro? Car trouble?”

“RoyBoy! It’s so good to see you!” Jimmy felt his irritation melting away as he stared at his lil bro. His smile seemed to light up the inside of the car, and Jimmy realized that he’d missed him despite all the weirdness of the last visit. “Yeah, this damn Corolla is on its last legs.”

“What a coincidence, today is leg day!” Roy said, and Jimmy looked puzzled. “Put her in neutral.” Jimmy did so and then reached for the door handle. But Roy put his hand on the sill. “No need, I got this.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’ll take the two of us to push.”

“But there’s a turn before we get home, you’ll have to steer.”

“Well then you get in and steer.” Jimmy said, he pulled on the door handle, but the door didn’t budge.

Roy stared at him, smirking. “Bro, I said I got this.”

Jimmy figured the door must be frozen shut. He sat back. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll steer, lil bro.”

Roy went to the rear of the car and Jimmy rolled up the window. He could tell that Roy had grown a little taller since he last saw him, and his face was leaner and more handsome. But even if he’d been working out (”Leg day” he’d said.) he’d never be able to push the car on his own. What was he thinking? Jimmy pulled out his phone to call his Dad again, but stopped dialing when the car started to move.

“I’ll be damned.” he said.

At first the car moved quite slowly, but it began to pick up speed. Jimmy looked behind him but all he could see was the red of the Santa hat. What a goofball, Jimmy smiled. He looked back to the front just in time to see the first turn coming up. He cranked hard on the steering wheel. With no power steering, it took some muscle. Took some muscle, he thought, mentally comparing the task of turning a steering wheel with his brother pushing a ton of steel and glass down a snowy road.

The snowy road. Oh shit. Jimmy realized, there was a stop sign coming up, and there were no power ABS brakes. Roy had got the car going at a good clip, and the brakes would no doubt lock. He tried the brakes, pushing down hard on the pedal, and that was exactly what happened.  Jimmy panicked as the stop sign approached fast, and he saw a speeding truck coming from the left. If they couldn’t stop they’d be t-boned. Jimmy threw himself into the back seat and pounded on the rear windshield to get Roy’s attention. He saw Roy’s face pop up under the Santa hat and then suddenly disappear. In what he thought were his last moments alive, Jimmy was glad that Roy had saved himself.

Then the car stopped dead and the truck roared past.

Jimmy looked out the front windshield and gasped. He opened the car door and jumped out, not sure what he was seeing. Roy was at the front of the car, arms outstretched, hands on the hood, legs bent. He stood up, breathing hard. Jimmy realized with a shock that they were now the same height.

“That was close, huh? Good thing I wore my good boots.” Roy grinned.

Jimmy was stunned speechless. Roy had- had run to the front of the car and stopped it with his bare hands with a truck bearing down on them?  How was that possible?

Roy guided Jimmy back into the front seat. “You’re in shock. Just get in, bro, I’ll take it from here.”  Jimmy sat dumbly in the front seat as Roy pushed the car the rest of the way. When they got to their house, Roy opened the door. “Home sweet home, bro. Does your garage opener still work?” Jimmy nodded silently. Roy reached in his arm and pressed the device clipped to Jimmy’s sunvisor. Jimmy felt like he was sitting in a room in the back in his head and observing what was happening on a TV screen. Roy’s right arm turned the steering wheel and Jimmy was sure he could see the muscles of his arm working under the padding of the ski jacket, but he didn’t see how that was possible. Roy guided the car into the garage of the family home and then offered a hand to his brother.

Jimmy got out and stood in one spot looking around the garage. There was barely room for his car because the rest of the garage was filled with gym equipment. A weight bench, a squat rack, barbells and dumbbells, and lots and lots of iron plates. Roy closed the door and saw his brothers look. “Pretty sweet, huh, bro? Can’t wait until we can get a workout in together.” He slapped his brother on the back and guffawed. “Hey I guess we just did, right bro? I’m sweating like a pig.”

Jimmy huffed his breath, which formed a small cloud in the sub-zero chill. He started to feel a rush of blood to his ears as his brother zipped open his ski jacket and shrugged it off. He was shirtless beneath, and was so perfectly proportioned and shredded that Jimmy didn’t know where to look first. At his broad shoulders with their rounded delts? His pecs, two slabs of muscle like armour plating that were dusted with black chest hair. At his abs, which looked carved from steel?

Then, Jimmy saw it… The sweat from Roy’s exertion pushing the care was evaporating off his astonishing physique, visible in the chilly air of the garage. 

His lil bro was so hot, he was literally steaming.

Roy stood there smiling for a minute until he saw Jimmy’s face, then he reached toward him. “You okay bro?” The motion caused his pectoral muscles to bounce.

“Oh God…” Jimmy said. Then everything went black and he fainted.

Jimmy had reached that point; he had brought his personal trainer Orlando to tears.

 “I don’t know what you want! I’ve trained you for four months and there’s only so much I can do!”

 “It’s not enough! It won’t be enough; I can feel it!” Jimmy raged.

 “You’re more jacked than me! You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met! I jack myself raw every night thinking about your golden perfection! What do you want? The angels to weep in envy?”

 Jimmy spat in Orlando’s face and walked away. “Waste of my fucking time and money.”

 But as Jimmy rode in the cab from the airport, he wondered. He felt up the heft of his pecs and the hard roundness of his delts. Would it be enough? He had certainly sacrificed enough. He’d focused so much on working out he’d failed his courses. With all his extra dough gone to supplements and Orlando’s useless personal training fees, he couldn’t afford to re-take his year and had to transfer to the state university and move back home. Meanwhile his brother Roy, and his ex Cindy, had gotten into MIT. He laughed bitterly. Guess I’ll get my room back.

 As the cab pulled up to the family home, Jimmy got out, pulling out his bags. The garage door was open, and he stepped up to edge, but couldn’t bring himself to enter. The man in the garage was repping the bench press with one and a half times Jimmy’s personal best on the squat. Plus there were heavy link chains added to each side of the bar that clinked in the spring air. Jimmy allowed himself to wonder, for a tantalizing few seconds, whether this was a new bodybuilding neighbor, maybe his Mom’s new lover, anybody but the man he knew it exactly to be. Man. Jesus fuck he’s only 16! He watched those pecs, covered in black hair, inflate from thick plates into rounded boulders at the top of the rep. He observed those deep armpits, each with more hair in them than he had on his chest. Yes, a man.

 He turned away from the garage and went in the front door. He dropped his bags, keeping only his laptop bag and went up to the emasculating pink guest room, ignoring his mother’s question: “Jimmy is that you?”

 He opened his laptop and logged into the wifi. He needed answers. Why? He suddenly remembered Abigail, that British chick who constantly talked about literature, and called out his name as she rode his cock. What was it she had said that time after they’d fucked? Something about names? “Names tell you all. Your name it your destiny.” Huh.

 He typed into Google: “Meaning of name Jimmy”

 He squinted at the answer: “Diminutive of James.”

 He typed into Wiktionary: “Diminutive”

Answer: “Extremely small, tiny.” Fuck.

 He typed again: “Meaning of name James”

 “English version of Hebrew Jacob. Examples from history: James the Lesser.”

 He stared blankly at the screen. Eventually he typed:

 “Meaning of name Hebrew Jacob.”

 Answer: “Envious of hairy brother. Heel grabber.”

 Jimmy nodded feeling a sense of relief. He felt his hands tremble as he typed, finally:

 “Meaning of name Roy.”

 ***

 Jimmy stepped into the garage. He stood calmly while his brother Roy rose from the bench. His body unfurled itself in its majesty until he was several inches taller, a foot wider and utterly superior in every possible way. Roy raised his arm to rub his neck as he greeted his bro, now clearly the “lil bro”.

 “Hey bro.”

 Jimmy leaned in slightly and sniffed, absorbing some of his brother’s testosterone funk.

 Then he bent the knee.

 “My king.”

 The End.

[Inspired by @theobromic​‘s amazing commission!]

Drawn

--- Originally posted on 2024-06-29 by breedertfs ---

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

I find myself getting drawn to your stories more and more often, it's scary! It's like I go into a trance anytime I'm horny and find my way to your blog

It’s almost like that’s my goal, bro.

All guys need a strong, masculine presence in their life. Someone who will guide them and mold them, and I can tell this is attracting you. Do you want someone to talk about what a big, powerful, bad mannered straight man you are? Did your parents fail to set you down the path that now excites you to no end? It’s not your fault, it’s not even theirs.

Sometimes, life isn’t able to give us the tools to become the men we want so badly to be. Maybe you’re a little heavier than the average, maybe you’re too delicate, but something in your upbringing has set you apart from the men that are making you shove your hand down your shorts, stroking your shaft to mental image of musk and muscle and douchebag behavior.

If it sounds so appealing, that’s because your deeper being is begging you to realize this is what you want. It makes you so hard, huh? When I describe a thin guy’s shoulders spreading outwards, broad and strong with bouncing pecs. Beefy arms, tree trunk legs, thick beards reeking of dried pussy juice. The men I specialize in are a special breed, the elite. Of course you’re attracted to them, of course your little brain goes fuzzy and dizzy when you start to jerk it to the idea of a fag becoming a conservative, straight man.

Your cock throbs in your hand, each jerk like a flash in your mind, urging you to look through the illusion you’ve created and see the truth. You get so turned on by these stories because you wish it would happen to you, as if these changes need any magic. Imagine a beautiful woman cupping her fat tits, her slender fingers squeezing her nipples, her body jiggling and shivering with pleasure.

If the idea of sliding your fat cock between her boobs excites you, thrusting until your seed coats her bimbo face, then I’m sorry to tell you, my friend: you’re a straight man. And your body, your former values, are clouding your former rationality and urging you to recognize the kind of man you should allow yourself to become. Just stop taking everything so seriously, allow your thoughts to slow, stop worrying about manners and woke views.

Just think about those huge tits, bro. Think about a squirting pussy, imagine your thick tongue sliding up and down her folds, plunging into her. Imagine your strong hands on her tiny waist, your own stubble on your chiseled jaw growing slick with sweat and juices. Lick your lip, listen to yourself growl, your voice is low and powerful and so demanding. This isn’t a story, this isn’t a wish gone wrong, this is a human male realizing how badly he wants to be a traditional man. No more holding in your farts or belches, no more caring about people’a opinions, no more seeing this woman as anything more than a sex toy to blow your load into. She’s not wife material, brah, but that doesn’t mean she’s not ready to be a mother. Women should know your place like you know yours.

Your bones crack and shift, your expression turns to a sneer, your smile is always so cocky. You are thick with muscle, a cloud of body odor lingering around your glorious muscles, and your fat nine incher is already oozing pre. This is the life you want, the version of you that you want so desperately to take the steering wheel. So let him, bro, let that lustful trance take you where you need to go. Hit the gym, change your political opinions, accept that your cock wants to be deep inside a warm, wet cunt.

Don’t wait for magic, my bro.

There’s nothing more magical than a man who knows his place: and you’re never going to forget where you stand. At the top of the ladder, biceps flexed and your grin smug. Lesser men will wish to be like you, fags are gonna jerk it to your pictures. You just focus on the finer things in life. Sports, cigars, letting your nasty habits be heard and smelled.

Like pulling that blonde bimbo closer, your huge cock thrusting inside her slick folds, her silicone filled tits jiggling from the force. She moans, and you echo the sound with a low growl. You’ll never need to stroke your cock again to my stories — knowing you’ll never run out of fresh, tight pussy to ruin.

Let the trance win, brother. Let the better version of you free.

Ostello della Moda: Christofano

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

Tyler tried arguing with the man at the luggage counter but it was getting him nowhere. "My luggage was never transferred from Oslo ... but what will I do?" Tyler had planned on arriving later than his friends, but at the last minute, his booking company offered him a free upgrade to travel earlier. He was supposed to get there in the evening, but it was only 10:00 AM. Clearly, this "free" upgrade had cost him a day without his luggage. He had checked everything except a small backpack with his passport, phone, and a sweatshirt. He basically had the clothes on his back.

"And ... when my luggage comes ... you will transfer it to my hotel?" he asked.

"Yes," said the man speaking with very broken English. "Ostello della Moda..." he continued in rapid Italian. A few minutes later, he had negotiated with a few more customer service agents to get a free taxi ride to the hostel. The driver said he worker for "Ostello" and would bring him there immediately. But after an hour of winding through the grimier streets of Milan, Tyler wasn't so sure he trusted the man. The taxi drove past what looked like the red carpet to a fashion show or celebrity event. A few meters later, the cab pulled into a gated courtyard.

"Ostello della Moda," said the driver.

"Are you sure?" said Tyler. "This doesn't look like the picture I remember." The driver opened the trunk, jumped out and grabbed his backpack. Before Tyler could open his door, the driver ran into the courtyard with his backpack.

"Shit!" Tyler shouted as he struggled with the door, stumbled out of the cab, and raced after the man. The man turned into a dark door and Tyler followed him. He needed to get his backpack! Otherwise, he was lost in Italy with no phone, no IDs, and no money! He burst into the dark room and was knocked out cold by a stranger hiding inside.

"No ... please ... I don't have anything ..." Tyler mumbled as a pair of men pinned him down. His cab driver had opened his backpack and found his money and ID. "Let me go ... please ..." But the men had him trapped. One of them put a cloth over his mouth that had a fragrant chemical -- almost cologne like. He gagged a little, but then relaxed. He drifted off to sleep...

When he woke up, he could faintly hear electronic dance music through the walls. He had expected to be tied up in a dark room somewhere, but was just sitting on a chair in what looked like a dressing room. He blinked in the bright lights and saw that he had been stripped except for pair of tight athletic shorts. He looked down at his body in shock. His dark tan skin was covered in short curly hairs. His torso and abs were chiseled. His arms had small veins popping out toned muscle. He looked in the mirror and saw dark eyes looking back, a sexy stubbled jaw, and a thin dark mustache and goatee.

"Merda, che ora è?" he thought to himself, realizing a second later, than he had thought the phrase in Italian, not English. His head was pounding and the music seemed to be getting louder.

A short aggressive woman burst into the room and shouted at him. "Christo! Mossa! Tu sei il prossimo!" He jumped up and raced after her. He was backstage of a theatre that was filled with smoke, bright lights, and upbeat electronic music. Dozens of other men were crowded around him, each surrounded by crew members adjusting their clothes, fixing their makeup, and pushing them towards the door onto the stage. One of the crew dangled some necklaces over his neck and placed a neon baseball cap on his head. They adjusted a few bracelets on his arms. A young man wearing a headset pointed at him as the crew finished by oiling his chest so he looked sweaty and rugged. In a second, he followed the man in front of him onto the runway.

It was an exhilarating experience. Dozens of cameras flashed as he walked down the runway, making his turns, and modeling his body and clothes. He felt empowered as they gazed on his nearly naked body. It was a primal and raw feeling. He turned back towards the entrance -- a completely changed man! He had become Christofano -- one of hundreds of male models working in fashion district of Milan. With every new outfit, every camera flash, and every trip down the runway, he was embracing his new life.

After the show, he found was given a backpack with a set of clothes. He assumed they were his, so his way back to the courtyard where the taxi had dropped him off. The driver was waiting there. He handed him a cell phone and passport, which he said that Christofano had left behind accidentally in the cab. He thanked him and they drove off to the "Ostello della Moda." He saw a message from the airport and the hostel on his phone. His bag had been transferred to the hostel, he was in Bunk C. He texted his friend, who he hoped would meet him at the bar for a night of celebration.

In his mind, the thoughts of the airport, the missing luggage, the mysterious taxi driver, reminded him of something -- it was odd! But, then he remembered that he had done a photo shoot in Oslo recently ... or had he? Was he meeting some American friends at the hostel? But, who did he know from America? And wasn't his career based in Milan? Was he living in a hostel? Didn't he have an apartment that he shared with his friends ... what were there names? He couldn't remember, but figured it was probably fatigue from the show.

He walked into the hostel and the host greeted him. He explained the whole situation with the luggage -- two of his friends had arrived, but he should just wait at the bar. He drained his first beer, still a little lost about why he was spending the night at this hostel. Suddenly, someone shouted out his name.

"Christo!"

He turned to the man, a wave of recognition passing over him. "Antonio!"

They talked about how tonight they were celebrating with friends. First, they needed to drink! Then, they had a surprise for Bruno ... their friend waiting upstairs!

Barbarian Dungeon

Written by cinaedefuri as commission piece for yuan99.

Originally posted on 06-02-2022

Have received permission from author to repost.

---

Chapter 1

No one who had ever ventured into the dungeon came back out. But the High Paladin Roland thought that he could best the dungeon and find out what was at the end of it. The dungeon had been around for generations, and legend had it that it was a breeding ground for barbarians. Occasionally, muffled moans could be heard coming from it, but the people in the villages close to the dungeon had scant other information to go off of.

Roland employed two more men in his party, technically three. However, Damian was just their supply boy. He had a sword to fight with and knew how to swing it, but other than that, he didn't add much to the party except carrying their gear. The other two members were Grand Wizard Yuan and Archpriest Lux. Although the three men had similar skill sets, Roland thought they were different enough to easily traverse the dungeon.

The four of them soon arrived at the dungeon and entered. Roland naturally went in first. He was 53 years old, but didn't look like it, being quite muscular for his age, and strong enough to carry his heavy armor. He had fought in many wars over the years and rose up to the rank of High Paladin thanks to his skills, not because his father was some influential figure in the community. His armor was a silvery white color, an expensive one to create, and it had gold trim, with actual gold flakes flecked all around it.

However, Roland was quite stubborn, and believed that his way was always the best way to do things because of his experience. While he wasn't outright mean to Yuan and Lux, he would be considered a bit arrogant in his dealings with them, especially as he saw himself superior to them in every way. Damian was a bit of a different story, as Roland constantly called him weak and inexperienced, while Lux and Yuan were only called weak. He loved to show off his skills whenever he could and was always first to the fight, even in this dungeon. As the self-proclaimed leader of the group, Roland had brought the team to the dungeon in the first place, as his desire to be better than everyone else led him to not heed the advice of many of his fellow paladins and not risk venturing into the Barbarian's Dungeon.

In stark contrast to Roland was Yuan, who was only 18 years old. However, he had an incredible knack for magic, and as soon as he could start doing it, he was winning competitions and battles left and right throughout the land. His intelligence wasn't just limited to magic, though. However, since magic wasn't physical at all, and learning all of the elements meant reading books more than fighting battles, Yuan was on the skinny side as well. He was also a bit of a loner, since during the time when most young men were making friends, he was off fighting magic battles. He also clashed with Roland often since the older man didn't want to take the advice of anybody, especially not a younger man. Yuan usually did know what he was talking about, but men like Roland just never seemed to listen to him.

He was also a loner because he was painfully shy, only getting through his initial conversations with Roland because of his high rank in the community. He was also a bit prudish and did not want to show off his skinny body at all. He had a few different mage robes on, actually causing him to look slightly muscular, when that was certainly not the case at all. His party mates, as well as most others in their society, saw Yuan as cold and serious, but that was because he was a bit awkward socially and what he thought of as "fun" wasn't what most people thought of as fun. He and Damian were actually good friends, being born only a few days apart from one another.

Lux split the difference between the two men. He was 30 and had blond hair, along with pale white skin. He rarely talked, having the ability to fully converse if needed, though, and he liked to stay to the side, only taking part in the action when it was absolutely necessary. Much like Yuan, he was quite awkward socially, which some construed as mean, even though that was far from the case. However, since he was an archpriest, Lux hated anything and everything that he saw as impure. He disliked men going shirtless, which was quite common for many people in their society who could barely afford food for their family after working all day. He never drank alcohol and didn't partake in any drugs unless explicitly told to by a healer. He was even more prudish than Yuan, with more robes than him and two pairs of pants under those robes as well.

Finally, Damian was an orphan, his mom dying in childbirth and his dad killed in one of the many wars. The people who took him put him to work as a farmer, which he enjoyed doing, but was excited for the thrill of exploring a dungeon. He didn't know what path he wanted to take in life, but he knew that he didn't want to remain a farmer for the rest of his life. He was wearing a simple shirt and pants that his adopted parents gave to him after it no longer fit one of the other children on the farm. He was also wearing underwear that would be called boxers in the far future.

The four men in the party were walking down a long hallway in the dungeon. Roland had already bested some creatures with some help from Yuan and Lux. Damian didn't have a map in any of the supplies they were carrying, but the hallway seemed to be straight for quite some time. As Roland took a step forward, he suddenly disappeared from sight. Poor Yuan didn't realize that Roland had disappeared until it was too late, and while it was a bit of a struggle trying to escape from the portal, he disappeared too. Both Lux and Damian had tried to pull him out, but ended up falling into the portal as well. All four men woke up in separate dungeons, each magically created to make the best trial for them.

Chapter 2

Roland continued to walk forward for a few more steps before he realized he couldn't hear his men behind him, and he was in an entirely different place. "What is the meaning of this!?" he said out loud, and turned around. Unfortunately, there was a wall just a few feet away, and despite pressing seemingly every part of it, it didn't budge. Roland would have to go the other way, where there were a bunch of men ready to fight him. All of them looked quite young, around Yuan or Damian's age, but they were much more muscular than them.

He approached the first young man, and surprisingly, all of them did not attack him at once. "At least these barbarians know the rules of war," Roland said to himself, as he took out his sword and began to fight. He thought that it would be a quick and easy battle, since he had decades of experience over these men. However, the battle was not as easy as he thought it was going to be, and he soon found himself on the ground, defeated by someone who could easily be his grandson.

"You were just lucky today, boy. I will defeat the rest of you," Roland proclaimed, as the next young man took his place in front of Roland, who had gotten up and recovered from his defeat. What he didn't notice was that because of his loss, some physical changes had started to take place. His skin started to get a bit more tan, and while his muscles didn't shrink, they stayed in proportion to his body, which was getting smaller and younger too. He then clashed swords with the next young barbarian.

He still had all of his knowledge of fighting and of the wars he had fought in, but despite his best efforts, it was clearly no use. He had lost yet another battle to a young barbarian that he was shocked even knew what to do with a sword like the one he was holding. "I will prevail!" Roland defiantly stated. "You men will not best me, do you understand!" The physical changes continued to occur, with every loss turning him more and more into the barbarians that he was fighting. Surprisingly, Roland didn't notice the changes that were happening, even when their effects were much more apparent to him. He knew that he was struggling a bit more than he normally did, but didn't think it was because he had gotten much smaller, for example.

It was after about twelve barbarians were now standing off to the side, having defeated Roland, that the physical transformations were complete. His skin was now the same color as the other men in the room, a dark ruddy tan color, and despite having the same amount of muscle of his body, he was struggling to support his armor now because of his smaller frame and younger body. It did actually give him the appearance of bigger muscles than what he had before, though. He was physically 18 now, but he was still acting like the 53-year-old High Paladin. As he got up to fight the next barbarian, he had a different aura around him. Roland could sense that he was the leader of this group of men.

"I may have lost all of my battles against your troops, but I will win this one and win the war!" he triumphantly stated, although he was getting a bit impatient. The battles that he lost had taken a while, and he still didn't know where the other members of his party were. He wanted to get this over with and find them. It never crossed the leader's mind that this was a test of some kind, especially since the leader would be the thirteenth barbarian that he had fought in a dungeon named after them.

"Isn't it obvious, Roland? You don't have the strength or the power to best any of my barbarians, let alone me! You don't deserve to wear your armor anymore." The leader then struck Roland's armor with his sword, with him not questioning how he knew his name. Roland tried to block it, but swinging the sword and lugging all of the armor around was proving to be a bit more difficult now. He was shocked when the sword caused part of his armor to break off.

"No, not my armor!" he whined, but it was no use. With every strike, more and more of his armor fell to the ground until he was left standing there in just his underwear, which happened to be a loincloth. The barbarian leader then placed his sword on the ground, and put his hands behind his head, exposing his pits. His fellow barbarians did the same, and soon the smell of their musk began to waft through the air. Roland had gotten used to the smell of musk, being a paladin for so many years, but what he didn't realize was that this musk had magical powers as well.

It was dumbing him down with every breath he took, causing him to lose his memories of his battles and how to hold a sword, how to be a leader and how to make a backroom deal for your gold-flecked armor. As his intelligence dropped, the musk was also making him more humble. It was a few minutes later when the mental transformation was complete as well, and Roland no longer thought of himself as "Roland." He was now Ral.

Ral was 18 years old and was considered a barbarian youth, in training to become a full-fledged member of the tribe. He still had his loincloth on, but that was the only thing he had on. He hadn't proven his worth yet, which would allow him to get equipment like boots and harnesses. Despite his ability to use a sword being erased by the barbarians' musk, it was actually replaced with the ability to use an axe in combat, which was quite different from using a sword, despite some similarities. Instead of looking down at the members of his party, he instead looked up to them, wanting to be just like them. After all of the transformations were complete, the barbarian leader moved aside and showed Ral a door at the other end of the room. He walked through it, and waited in the antechamber for the other members of his party to arrive before walking through the door just a few steps away.

Chapter 3

Yuan tumbled into his dungeon, as he was trying to save Roland from whatever was happening to him. Thankfully, he didn't tumble too far, or he would have fallen into a pit of lava. "What happened?" Yuan thought to himself, knowing that there had to be some kind of magical explanation for this. He cast a spell to get rid of the lava. He waved his staff, and nothing happened. He tried again, and still, the lava bubbled and was a crimson red, not the water he was hoping it would turn into.

"Your magic doesn't work here," said a voice from above. Yuan looked up and saw a barbarian youth on one of the many towers sticking out from the lava. He was wearing nothing but a loincloth, and was quite muscular. "However, if you can reach me, then you will be freed from this dungeon and you will be able to use your magic again." The barbarian then expertly hopped to the next tower as Yuan figured out where the closest tower to the edge was. The first couple ones he could walk on, or take a step and land squarely in the middle.

Unfortunately, the next towers were all a bit too far away even for someone as limber as Yuan was. The many clothes that he wore certainly were not helping matters, and he didn't want to take any off. He decided to just take a leap of faith and jump to the next tower, since it was thankfully level with his platform, just a far distance away. As he had feared, his robes and underwear didn't allow him much room, and so he fell into the lava. He expected to be burned and preemptively cried out in pain, but instead he felt his body hit the floor.

"You have failed the first test," the barbarian said, from across the room. "Even though the lava wasn't completely real, it did have some effects." Yuan looked down, and was shocked by what he saw. Not all of his clothes were gone, but most of them were. He only had one layer left on, a thin layer that left little coverage. He instinctively covered himself up with his hands, even though everything sexual was still covered and was in no danger of slipping out. "You can still catch me and get your magic back. It's even less of a challenge than it was before!"

The barbarian ran away again, and Yuan tried to chase after him. Unfortunately, he wasn't too keen on letting his hands down, and he didn't want the barbarian to see his cock flopping around. That meant he was awkwardly moving forward, barely moving an inch with each step. Naturally, he was never going to catch up with the barbarian that way, and the barbarian had other plans for Yuan. Some plants appeared in Yuan's way, looking kind of like a venus fly trap. He was able to push them out of the way with his body, but the plants retaliated at him, spitting some kind of acid at him.

Much like the lava, the acid wasn't truly acid; Yuan's skin was left unscathed. However, it did still have some effects. Most of Yuan's shirt was burned off, and the parts that did remain changed as part of the effects of the acid. The cotton seemingly became leather, even Yuan not understanding how the process actually worked, unless the plant was magic as well. The shirt was also burnt in such a way that it ended up becoming a leather harness on him. However, it was a bit too big and barely stayed on his body as he continued to try and catch the barbarian.

His pants were also sprayed on by another plant that had popped up only a few feet away from the other one. Yuan's body still wasn't hurt, but this time around, his pants were completely burnt off, leaving him in just the harness and his underwear. As he had feared, his underwear changed as well, but he could see why a new plant was needed. Instead of being cotton, the underwear was now made out of fur, and enough of the underwear had burnt off as well that it could accurately be described as a loincloth now. Covering himself up now was no use.

"Please, let me use my magic and let me cover up again!" Yuan whined.

"It's quite simple, adventurer. All you need to do is reach me, and then you will escape and your magic will be restored. And since you don't need to worry about covering up anymore, I can make this a bit more fun again!" The barbarian spread his arms wide and the dungeon changed once more. This time, it turned into more of a maze, with three distinct paths starting where Yuan was standing. The barbarian's voice could still be heard loud and clear at the end of whichever path he was on. "I'll be waiting for you at the end!"

Yuan decided to take the middle path first. All three of them looked exactly the same, and he wasn't sure how he was going to remember which path he had taken already. However, all three paths had the same fruit at the start of it. Yuan could take a bite and then spit it out to mark his path. He found it a bit gross, but that was his best option right now with his lack of magic. He picked up the fruit at the start of the middle path and took a bite. He got ready to spit it out, but instead swallowed it.

It was the best thing he had ever tasted in his life! As he took another step forward, he took another bite of the fruit. While he didn't spit any of it out, he quickly realized that once he backtracked, the fruit on the other two paths would be waiting for him as well. Of course, the fruit was its own kind of trap, although it didn't seem like it at first. Its addictive qualities were causing some changes in Yuan, noticeable changes. With every bite that he took, he gained a bit more muscle.

The harness on his chest was starting to get tighter and tighter, and the skinny wizard was now gaining abs for the first time in his life! His arms and legs were getting bigger and bigger as well, and even his ass was gaining a bit more muscle. Despite the addictive qualities, the fruit didn't do anything to mask its changes to the eater. Eventually, Yuan did notice that he had been gaining muscle unnaturally fast, and for someone as smart as him, he quickly realized that it was the fruit. He threw it down the path and turned around, hoping that this path wasn't the one that led to the barbarian.

However, against all of his better judgment, he found himself running to pick up the fruit again and took another bite, even after it had been on the maze floor again. Yuan knew that it was wrong and that this was a trap now, but there was nothing he could do about it. He did stop walking through the maze, eating and gaining muscle in just one spot now. By the time the fruit was finished, the harness and loincloth were even tighter on Yuan's body and he rivaled the size that Roland was now, if not much bigger.

The walls of the maze retreated, and Yuan noticed that each path he could have taken would have led him to the same point. So the fruit really was a trap. "I see someone really enjoyed the fruit that I laid out for you. You couldn't put it down, right? Well, it'll help you catch me much easier now, so I'll have to make it a bit more of a challenge again." His arms were spread out once more and the towers from before returned, only this time, slime was on the ground underneath them. "Come and catch me," the barbarian taunted, as he jumped to the next tower.

Yuan was ready this time, as despite the loincloth being tight, it still provided a lot of freedom. He was easily able to bound from tower to tower, and he was catching up to the barbarian quickly. However, it couldn't be too easy for the muscular grand wizard to catch up to the barbarian, so Yuan watched in horror as the tower that he was jumping towards retreated back into the slime. There was no way that he could reach another tower in time, so he fell into the slime, and unlike the lava, he actually fell into it. It did have a similar effect to the lava, weirdly enough.

Instead of clothes, though, it was Yuan's hair that was removed. The slime seemed to collect the hair on top of his head and all over his body. Surprisingly, Yuan had been quite hairy, which even the barbarian was shocked by when his clothes were being torn to shreds. The barbarian himself only had some hair on the top of his head, and he watched as Yuan struggled in the slime until all of his hair was completely removed. As the dungeon became flat again and devoid of slime, Yuan had a glow about him now, almost like he was permanently covered in oil, thanks to the slime.

"Well, you're certainly looking good now, adventurer. But I have a few more tricks up my sleeve." The barbarian didn't actually have any sleeves, and the dungeon didn't change too much this time around. The only difference was that some spots were now brightly illuminated by the light outside, or some other source of light. The chase was on again, and Yuan was smart enough to not step into the sunlight, of course. He bobbed and weaved and was once again catching up to the barbarian. He expected his foe to play dirty again, but since he had no magic and didn't use his staff offensively and the barbarian was too far away for combat, he couldn't stop him.

Yuan soon found himself in the middle of a bright spot he knew was not there a second ago. No matter which way he ran, it was only getting bigger and bigger. The trap, of course, had a secondary effect, and Yuan watched as his skin darkened. Unlike with some of the other men who stayed out in the light too long, his skin was not turning red. Instead, it was turning Black, like some of the men in the local tribes. His skin was a deep Black color now, almost ebony by the time the sun spot closed and the barbarian laughed. "You have been quite the worthy adversary, adventurer," the barbarian noted. "So, you just have one final test to pass before you can complete the dungeon and you can have your magic back."

He moved his hand to the side, and a table with two vials of liquid appeared on it. Before he even said anything, Yuan knew that it was going to be a trap. "You're going to say one of these contains my magical essence, while the other one is going to be a trap. However, I know they're both going to be traps. You're not going to fool me, barbarian!"

"I see you are a very smart adventurer. You have a truth spell in your arsenal, do you not? Here, as a sign of good faith, I'll allow just enough magic for you to cast that spell." Yuan then felt a light tingle in his body, the same he had felt when he first started practicing magic. He didn't want to waste it on trying to get out of here by other means, so he cast the truth spell on the barbarian.

"The spell is now in effect."

"The left vial contains your magical essence, adventurer. The right one is the trap." Yuan smirked as he uncorked the left vial and swallowed the solution. He expected to feel the tingling sensation in full force again, but instead, he dropped to his knees, his head in serious pain. "You really thought your magic would work in this dungeon, adventurer? We know of your kind and made sure you thought you had your magic back. As you correctly assumed, both of them were traps!" The pain was so severe Yuan couldn't do anything else but remain on his knees as the effects of the trap took effect.

One of them was a drop in intelligence. Yuan was the smartest one in the group before, but now he had become the dumbest. However, his ability to use magic was not completely removed. He now had the ability to use the same magic that this barbarian had, since he was becoming a barbarian himself. He called himself a shaman now, not a grand wizard. His name didn't change, and he now knew that the oil that seemed to constantly be on his body was his source of mana, his power, and for someone like him, the oil was an innate substance that he secreted.

Additionally, Yuan found himself much more horny now. In addition to becoming a shaman, he was also a barbarian breeder. All of the good men in the barbarian tribe carried that title, as they were blessed with large cocks and were all quite horny. They were the ones who helped the tribe to grow. The barbarian then showed the new Black barbarian the door that led out of the dungeon. Yuan walked through it and arrived at the antechamber just seconds after Ral did. Both men were not shocked by the dramatic changes to the other's appearance.

Chapter 4

"GAAAAAHHHH!" Lux screamed, as he fell through the portal and into a different dungeon than his fellow adventurers. However, calling it a dungeon would be a bit of a stretch. While Lux clearly wasn't outside the dungeon yet, it was like he had stumbled upon a small encampment of barbarians just lounging around and living their lives. Unfortunately for Lux, these men were doing everything that he disliked. For starters, absolutely none of the men in here had shirts on. "Where are your shirts?" he asked one of the barbarians, and before bothering to get an answer, he cast a spell.

Even though he was mostly a healer, he did know several other spells, including one that would make clothing appear. However, he tried casting it a couple times, but to no avail. Another barbarian stood up, this one wearing nothing but a small pair of briefs with his bulge quite prominent. "Your magic does not work here, adventurer. But ours continues to do so." Lux was a bit puzzled by what the barbarian meant. He could barely look at him because of how obscene he was. That meant he was looking down at his clothes, and watched as two layers of his clothes suddenly disappeared.

"What's the meaning of this!?" he screamed out, and to his surprise, the barbarian talked back, although he avoided answering the question.

"Your challenge is quite simple, adventurer. All you need to do is remain here for one hour. After exactly one hour, the door to leave the dungeon will open up, and you will be free to go. It would be best if you kept an open mind throughout the hour, though. Your thoughts will curse you during this time period. The time begins now." A sundial then appeared in the group of barbarians, with clear lines marked for the start and the end of the hour.

"Oh, this will be so easy," Lux said to himself, as he sat down and began to wait. For the first couple of minutes, he thought about his life before stepping foot in the dungeon and the stories he would tell when he was able to leave. However, it didn't help that no matter where he looked, the barbarians were shirtless, and some were in tight loincloths or briefs that left very little to the imagination. He knew he shouldn't think about how indecent they were, and while he dared not say it out loud, he couldn't help but to think about it and grimace at the barbarians.

He soon felt a cool breeze on his chest, his nipples especially bearing the brunt of it. As he had feared, the curse was very real, and now he had no shirt on. Some of the barbarians laughed and snickered in his direction, but Lux didn't react, although he really wanted to. He didn't want to become one of those people. Unfortunately, in trying not to think about it, it only made things worse. Being shirtless was one thing, but some men were practically naked in the loincloths they were wearing. He knew what would happen if he thought about them, but if they would just cover up!

Seconds after thinking that, Lux cursed himself as he too was wearing a loincloth now. It was white with some blue gems towards the top, and actually covered a fair amount of his groin, all things considered. He despised the clothes he was now wearing, but knew that most of his temptations were gone, and the rest of the hour would be smooth sailing. However, it wasn't just their dress that Lux found impure. Nearly all of the barbarians in this camp were drinking alcohol. Of course, Lux could simply see that they were drinking that, and nothing would happen. He really did try not to think about how bad it was for them and all of the terrible effects it would have on their lives.

But even a kid was drinking it! He didn't speak up still, but he couldn't help but think of how messed up that was. There were no obvious outward changes after he thought about drinking alcohol, but now he had a strong desire to drink some. In fact, it was so strong, he walked over to the leader of the group and asked him for some. "Hmm, I didn't know that archpriests like you drank alcohol. But here, I have a special drink just for you." Lux accepted it, and it smelled like alcohol at least. It also vaguely tasted of it from the few drops he had accidentally drunk whenever there was a bar fight at a tavern he was staying at and a drink had been thrown in his direction.

As a result, he didn't suspect anything was amiss as he chugged the drink, craving the alcohol now. He didn't get drunk, and in fact, this was mild alcohol anyways, meaning that even the young barbarian kid wouldn't get drunk as fast. But this alcohol was imbued with something else. As he got his own pitcher of alcohol and a cup to bring over to the area where he had been waiting, Lux didn't notice that his muscles had begun to grow. He had very lean muscles that were usually hidden under layers of clothing, and only exposed now thanks to these barbarians.

But as the minutes of his waiting period passed, Lux was getting bigger and bigger, his muscles from his neck all the way down to his legs increasing in size. His pecs were no longer flat but jutted out from his body a fair amount, and their width also increased dramatically as well. Eight abs formed on his stomach, all clearly delineated and chiseled too. Both his hamstrings and his biceps looked like footballs had been inserted inside of them now, and his ass got much more pert as well. Even Lux's cock changed, growing in length and girth dramatically. The loincloth was now barely covering his groin.

He did eventually notice the changes, and thankfully, thinking about them didn't cause him to get even bigger, to become a muscle monster of sorts. He was still conflicted about the changes to his body and to his clothes, but he had to admit, being a muscular healer would probably have some positive side effects, even if he needed to get bigger robes to hide his new bulk. There was about a quarter of the time left between the two lines, and Lux wondered how he would explain all of these changes to the party when he encountered them again. However, the barbarians weren't done having fun with him. As the kids and younger members were moved back into the tents and other buildings, some of the other barbarians came out and started having sex right in the open. They were pretty loud too, but Lux knew that they were definitely testing him now, and so thought about anything else but the sex happening in front of him.

He even closed his eyes as well, but it wasn't long before all of the sound effects got to him, the slapping of balls against ass and the slurping of cocks, not to mention the moans and groans. "STOP!" he bellowed, but naturally, none of the barbarians did. He wondered what was going to happen to him now. This wasn't really a physical change, but more of a mental change. In addition to his addiction to alcohol, Lux loved having sex now. In fact, that was pretty much all he could think about. His libido went through the roof, and his cock got rock hard watching the sex happening in front of him. He hoped that he could join in, but it wouldn't be long before the door was open. His balls were now churning with copious amounts of cum as well.

Lux had turned into a barbarian pleasure giver, a distinctly different class than a breeder, although he was also a breeder as well. However, his class wasn't all about having sex; in fact, he was one of the many healers of the tribe. His cum had many medicinal properties now, and in addition to cumming on the wound, the afflicted could also swallow his cum or get bred by him to be healed as well. His blonde hair remained, but as part of the previous muscle growth, his skin had also gotten much more tan, slightly darker than Ral's skin now. Despite being a healer, he was still incredibly horny, barely able to think about anything other than having sex now, which he would do often when he wasn't healing.

The door to leave the dungeon then appeared a couple minutes later, but this time around, something, or more accurately, someone, was blocking it. It was not a barbarian, although it did have a humanoid appearance. Lux walked over to it, slightly turned on by it and also leaving the dungeon on autopilot. "Lux, it is my honor to bless you with the power of Pleasuriae," the god stated, as Lux was bathed in a white light tinted with gold. It only served to make him even more horny. Pleasuriae was the barbarian god of pleasure, and they blessed all pleasure givers with their gift. Lux soon stepped through the door and arrived in the antechamber, none of the three men noticing the changes in their fellow adventurers still.

Chapter 5

Damien, of course, wasn't much help in rescuing Yuan at all, and he tumbled in his dungeon even more strongly than Lux did. In sharp contrast to the dungeons of his fellow adventurers, Damien's dungeon could more accurately be described as a hallway, just like the one he had just been in. However, the walls were made out of an entirely different material, and there were recesses in the wall at equal increments for as long as the eye could see. Damien found that despite his tumbling, there was a wall almost directly behind where he was standing, so he had to walk forward.

He passed the first recesses and noticed a bust in it, the same one on both sides. He was quite shocked when they spoke to him, considering he didn't recognize who they were meant to represent. "Be blessed, young adventurer, with the clothes of a prince." Damien was a bit puzzled by what that meant, but as he looked down, his clothes were changing dramatically! His shirt had all but disappeared, being replaced with a leather harness. It would have shown off his pecs if he had any, but as it stood, it was a bit loose right now.

His pants seemed to shrink, eventually turning into a loincloth that covered his groin. It was quite small but still covered everything that it needed to. Additionally, he was given metal arm guards to protect his lower arms. While they were secure around his wrist, the guards were still a bit big and clattered around a bit as he walked forward. Damien was now wearing shoes for the first time in his life, fur boots appearing on his feet, high-quality and comfy fur boots. The clothing changes had all happened by the time that he had reached the next busts.

"Be blessed, young adventurer, with the pecs of a prince." Damien knew what was probably going to happen next, and so as he slowly stepped forward, he was looking down at his pecs. He had barely had any muscle definition before, but now his pecs were getting bigger and bigger by the second. It took a few seconds for them to reach their new size, and the supply boy now had pecs that he could easily lay some crops on to carry them around. His nipples grew in size to match his massive pecs too, and they got extremely sensitive, although Damien wouldn't know that for a bit. He soon reached the next one.

"Be blessed, young adventurer, with the abs and legs of a prince." He looked down and watched as eight distinct abs began forming on his stomach. Damien had been skinny enough to be able to feel his ab muscles for a few years now, but they had never gotten this chiseled before and he had only seen them pop out that far on a couple men. His legs also gained a lot more muscle and got quite toned, easily able to support his new massive frame.

"Be blessed, young adventurer, with the arms of a prince." Damien watched as his arms, especially his biceps, got bigger and bigger. Damien's biceps were his biggest muscle group before all of these transformations started to occur, thanks to being a supply boy and working on a farm for so long. However, that didn't stop his biceps, triceps, and other arm muscles from growing huge. In fact, his arms could no longer hang right by his side; his obliques and biceps made it so that he was forced to have a wider frame at all times.

"Be blessed, young adventurer, with the groin of a prince." Damien looked down and felt as his flaccid cock was getting longer and longer by the second. His loincloth didn't grow in size to match, so soon enough, his mushroom head was plainly visible as he walked, and he added a fair bit of girth as well. This was all still completely flaccid, and it wouldn't be long before he experienced an erection with his new cock. His ass was no longer flat, having gained a lot of muscle as he walked down the hallway. He now had what would eventually be called a bubble butt, and a big one at that.

"Be blessed, young adventurer, with the looks of a prince." He wasn't exactly sure what was meant by that, since he had just undergone quite a bit of magical muscle growth. There were no reflective surfaces in the hallway to show it off, but one change was to Damian's hair, making him blonde and growing it out rapidly to reach his shoulders. His face also got more angular and striking, and his eyes became a piercing blue color. He was also blessed with the perfect amount of armpit hair.

"Be blessed, young adventurer, with the weapon of a prince." This was not some kind of metaphorical weapon that would instead make his balls bigger or something. A war ax appeared in his hands, just slightly bigger than he was now, which was certainly saying something. It barely fit in the hallway as it was, but Damien knew exactly how to use the weapon now, despite Roland not trusting him with anything bigger than a scythe.

"Be blessed, young adventurer, with the libido of a prince." Damien didn't know what "libido" meant, but he did feel wave after wave of pleasure wash over him as his libido skyrocketed. His cock was getting hard at just the thought of having sex, and he was able to see just how massive his erect cock was now. He could see why they thought of him as a prince. Despite him being just as horny as Lux was now, Damien wasn't as focused on having sex, at least he would be soon after passing the next busts.

"Be blessed, young adventurer, with the leadership of a prince." Damien also wasn't sure what exactly would change because of that, but that solidified his mental changes. He now thought of himself as prince of the barbarians, and unlike the other roles given to his fellow adventurers, there was only one prince. He knew that he was both the leader of the small group of barbarians venturing the dungeon under him, and leader of all the barbarians. He was especially interested in his youngest party member, Ral.

Despite there only being a couple years' difference between the two of them, Ral still had a lot to learn, and Damien was going to take him under his wing. He would help Ral get as big as the other barbarians were, and naturally, sex was a huge part of his training as well. With his princely transformation complete, he stepped through the door at the end of the hallway and arrived at the antechamber. He didn't stop walking, Ral, Yuan, and Lux following suit behind him as they walked through the other door and into the barbarian utopia.

None of the four men had any memories of who they were before they stepped foot in the barbarians' dungeon. Ral had always thought that that was his name, and that he was a young recruit and not some grizzled war hero. Yuan's changes weren't too dramatic in some senses when compared to his fellow party members, but it would no longer bother him to be practically naked and dripping with oil with every step and he always thought that he had been a Black man. Lux had no memories of trying to fight and reverse the changes made to him. In fact, he was much too horny to remember what he did yesterday, let alone what he was like five or so years ago. Even Damien had no memory of who he used to be, even though all of his changes were positive.

"The prince has returned! The prince has returned!" announced the barbarians close to the dungeon as Damien and his party stepped out. Many of the barbarians came rushing over to the group, and it wasn't long before a muscular oiled man who looked quite similar to Yuan stepped forward and knelt in front of Damien.

"We are blessed of your safe return, Prince Damien. Your reward for traversing the dungeon and protecting it from outsiders will be ready shortly. Do you wish for your current party members to join you, or would you like to pick three other men?"

"Ral, Yuan, and Lux have all gone through a lot with me. They deserve to be rewarded as well."

"Very well, my prince. Please, follow me." Damien and his group, along with a group of shamans all walked over to one of the many temples the barbarians had erected. As soon as Ral entered, the door to the temple magically closed, barring any other barbarians from entering and partaking in the pleasure.

Chapter 6

The group then walked into the middle of the temple. Summoning lines were written on the floor, and there was enough open area for four men to stand. The shamans took their place outside of the lines, making sure that they would not offend the gods by accidentally partaking in the reward. Damien stripped first, knowing what had to be done, and he showed off his enormous cock to all of the shamans and his fellow party members. While cock size wasn't the reason he was made prince, if it is, he would still be the barbarian prince. Yuan and Lux both had impressive cocks as well, but they paled in comparison to Damien's. Even Ral's cock was bigger than the average male cock in the twenty-first century, but much smaller than all of the other party members'.

The lead shaman then began speaking. "We call upon the powers of Pleasuriae to reward Damien and his party members for successfully keeping our lands free of invaders!" The shamans then began chanting in a language all four new barbarians seemed to know innately, but was foreign to them just earlier that day. Pleasuriae came up often in the chants, and a minute or so later, the chants ended. The smells of musk and sex permeated the air, and Lux felt a familiar presence as Pleasuriae appeared again, this time overlooking all four of the men and the shamans who summoned them.

"Welcome, Prince Damien, and his fellow party members. It is my honor to reward you for successfully protecting our community once again. You will be blessed with insatiable horniness for twelve hours, even greater than the horniness Lux has coursing through his veins now. You will be able to cum immediately after cumming, and you will never tire until my blessing has passed. However, that is not all. There is one final challenge, and one of you will win it regardless.

"The barbarian who cums the most shall receive a special reward. They will be blessed permanently with the abilities given to you during this reward session. The cum does not need to land on a party member's body or inside of them; it simply needs to come out of your cock and it will be added to the total. I will be watching the orgy the entire time, and whoever is the winner at the end will feel the same way even after the reward has finished. And yes, even our breeder Lux is able to receive this reward."

With that, Pleasuriae disappeared from the dungeon, but not after the effects of his blessing took place. All four men immediately got rock hard within seconds, and all of them were looking at each other with lust in their eyes. However, even in their horned-up state, they still knew the hierarchy they had, and so Damien sat on the ground as Yuan and Lux took turns sucking on his cock. Ral sat off to the side, furiously stroking his cock as his prince was pleasured. None of the four men had had experience in gay sex before, but with their transformations into barbarians, it was now second nature to them.

Damien had ejaculated twice and Yuan and Lux had each done so once, jerking off as they were sucking their prince off, before Ral was finally allowed to have a turn. To show deference to his prince, he crawled over to him on his hands and knees before opening his mouth and sucking on Damien's cock. Damien was the most inexperienced out of the bunch, though, and in fact, his blowjob didn't last too long. Damien didn't even get to cum before pushing Ral off of his cock. "Show me your hole!" he bellowed, and the young barbarian-in-training did just that.

What Pleasuriae had neglected to mention was that their assholes were also self-lubricating during this blessed period, and that would remain for the winner as well. Although lube wouldn't be invented for thousands of years, the barbarians used spit and other similar liquids so that their anal sex would be easier. Despite the self-lubrication, Ral's asshole was still quite tight, only having recently started his sexual training. Taking his prince's behemoth cock was probably not the smartest choice right now, but he was too horny to care.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!" he moaned, as Damien pressed his cock up against Ral's hole before it finally slid in. Yuan and Lux were jerking off at first to the hot breeding happening in front of them, but soon realized that they could have some fun together. They were of equal standing in barbarian society, so they quickly decided that Lux would fuck Yuan first. Lux was probably the most horny barbarian in existence right now, and he desperately wanted to feel his cock inside of another barbarian's hole.

As for Damien and Ral, the prince was slowly pushing his cock deeper and deeper into Ral's hole. Thanks to the self-lubrication, it was much easier to get more and more of his cock inside, but he had just barely made it halfway before it started to get more and more difficult. He did love a challenge, though, filling up one of his fellow barbarians with his enormous cock. Ral was moaning and panting the entire time, and his body was covered in as much sweat as Yuan usually was as he took more and more of his prince's cock.

Meanwhile, Lux was fucking Yuan like a rabbit. Once he was inside Yuan, his desire to breed as part of his role in society just took over, and it was barely a minute, if that, between his cumshots. Yuan certainly didn't mind getting filled up by Lux's seed, and he was stroking his cock the entire time, getting the temple floor covered in his cum as his ass was getting filled by Lux's. Eventually, the two of them decided to swap when Yuan's hole was leaking out cum and there seemed to be no more room inside of his cavernous hole.

Damien was still taking his time breeding Ral, although the young barbarian had ejaculated a few times from the pleasurable sensations he was feeling with such a big cock inside of him. Both men moaned quite loudly as Damien's balls finally slapped against Ral's ass. The prince's cock was so big that it actually made a faint bulge on Ral's stomach, and once Damien was in all of the way, the fucking could really pick up in intensity. Sweat was dripping onto the floor and the smell of sex and musk was even stronger in the air as it didn't take long for Damien to deposit the first of many loads into Ral's hole.

As Damien was getting himself balls-deep, it was Yuan's turn to fuck. In addition to having a cock that never seemed to quit, Lux's hole was already pretty wide and had a permanent gape, even before the blessing and on top of the self-lubrication. As a result, it only took a few thrusts for Yuan to go balls-deep as well, and it actually made it easier to hit Lux's prostate as well, as Yuan was easily able to line up his cock. This caused both men to cum quite frequently, and Yuan too filled up Lux's hole, but it took quite a few more cumshots to do that.

Eventually, Damien tired of fucking Ral, although he didn't completely fill him up with his load yet. He and Yuan switched partners, as he loved fucking the breeders, and shamans were just a smidge about breeders in the hierarchy anyways. It wasn't difficult at all for Damien to fuck Lux, although quite a bit of Yuan's cum was still inside of his hole. However, that just provided some easier lubrication, and it wasn't long before Damien was dumping loads inside of Lux as well. A small puddle had started to form around where Damien was fucking thanks to the numerous loads that Ral and now Lux were pumping out.

As for Yuan, even his cock was still too big for Ral's hole, despite the prince opening it up a bit more. Ral's moans were the loudest in the temple as Yuan pushed his cock in deeper and deeper. However, thanks to the loads from his prince and the self-lubrication already, it didn't take as long before Yuan's balls slapped against Ral's ass as well. He spewed the first load out of his cock not even a minute later, and the puddle of cum around this area was even bigger and deeper even, all thanks to the insatiable horniness of Lux.

Eventually, Lux's hole was filled up with cum again, and it wasn't long before Yuan had done the same to Ral. Poor Ral was forced to remain a bottom as Yuan finally bottomed again, this time for his prince. Lux was excited to breed again, especially with an impressionable young man like Ral. Yuan knew that even though he was second-in-command in this group, he still had to defer to the prince, and besides, he wanted his prince's big fat juicy cock inside of him. He got on his hands and knees and pushed some of the cum out of his ass as the smell of musk and sex in the air got even stronger.

In fact, it was making the men so horny that Yuan started to lap up the cum on the temple floor as Damien began to breed him. The prince just chuckled as he fucked one of his shamans, his favorite shaman. He knew that it probably won't be long before Yuan joined the shamans on the outside of the circle, summoning the sex god and their blessing instead of partaking in it. However, he quickly turned his mind back to fucking, and it wasn't too long before he added his loads to Lux's.

Lux was having the time of his life breeding the young barbarian-in-training. Thanks to his standing as a breeder, his body had a different reaction to the tight and likely virile hole Ral possessed. Even after factoring in both blessings from Pleasuriae he had received, Lux was still even more horny than the other three men, since someone like Ral would have the best chance of reproducing and giving birth successfully as well. He deposited quite a few loads into Ral's hole, literally cumming within seconds of each other sometimes. Unfortunately, due to the combination between top and bottom, Ral's hole was filled within minutes, and the two of them stopped having sex and watched as Damien continued to breed Yuan.

Since Yuan's hole wasn't filled up with as much seed, especially after he had pushed some out, Damien could fuck him for quite some time. The puddle of cum was surprisingly so high that it covered Yuan's fingers now as Damien finally shot his last load into Yuan's hole, his cock slipping out as well because of all of the cum inside of it. But despite both bottoms being filled with cum right now, there was still quite a bit of time for the blessing, and they had only fucked doggy-style so far.

The four of them fucked in several different positions and they continued to suck each other as well, tasting just as much cum as had filled up their holes by the time the blessing was complete. They didn't just focus on anal and oral sex, though. There was some more worshiping involved, body worship and even musk worship as well. Damien naturally was worshiped the most, but even he took part in worshiping Yuan and Lux's sweaty, musky, muscular bodies as well. Ral was not worshiped during the blessing, but he did get turned on worshiping all three men above him in society, and also in height too. Just before it was set to complete, Pleasuriae appeared and lightly chuckled before speaking. There was a literal layer of cum plastered all over the temple floor, the party members had cummed so much. The smell of musk, sweat, and sex was so strong that it was quite noticeable even outside of the sealed temple walls, and all four men had cum leaking from the corners of their mouths, assholes, and cocks, not to mention dripping with sweat.

"It would appear as though that this has been a bountiful blessing. I hope all of you have enjoyed it, and I hope to see you, Yuan, here again soon, unfortunately not in the middle of the room again. But on a wholly unrelated note, it is, in fact, Yuan who had ejaculated the most during the blessing. He will continue to have the benefits of the blessing, which will likely help out with his magic. Thank you for this bountiful offering as well." Pleasuriae then slurped up the cum from the floor, swallowing every last drop as the blessing ceased.

Lux returned to a less horny state, but still hornier than Damien and Ral were right now. Yuan continued to feel the same way, although his mind wasn't as clouded by sex and horny thoughts as they had been, although it was still a lot of what he thought about. The four men then put their clothes back and the shamans opened the door to the temple so that they could all walk out. Yuan walked away with the other shamans, all of them glistening in the sunlight thanks to the oil on their bodies. Lux found himself drawn to the breeding tent, where men and women alike came to get bred and hopefully produce a younger barbarian. As for Ral, he soon found the other barbarian youth that were of age, and began training with them once more.

A barbarian with a scrying bowl rushed over to the prince, dressed a bit more conservatively than most barbarians, but not by much. "My prince, another party has entered the dungeon. When would you like the process to start?"

"I'd like to see the information we gathered first. I want to see what kinds of barbarians we're turning these four men into." Damien loved turning adventurers into barbarians, and their land was right next to a very gullible group of men who always seemed to want to prove their worth by successfully completing the Barbarian's Dungeon.

Protocol 69

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Originally posted on 2023-06-24 by dumb-and-jocked. (Thanks again for dumb-and-jocked for all your stories!)

This story was nuked quite quickly last time, I recall. So, please reblog in effort to keep multiple copies alive.

Last thing: I am sorry this post does not have any italics/bold! I had some issues properly saving it back then. If anyone cares I'll try recover the formatting.

---

“I’m sorry Officer, but did I do something wrong?”

After a 10 hour drive with tumultuous traffic, I’d expected to get some rest in the hotel room my company had paid for when they’d sent me to Texas for a business conference. I wasn’t too far out of the Dallas-Fort Worth area, but apparently far enough for some forms of homophobia to proudly exist. When I had pulled in, I immediately noticed the front desk glare at the pride sticker on my back window. When they’d picked up the phone right after, I’d assumed the two events were unrelated. But the cop standing calmly in front of his vehicle parked beside mine told me differently.

“Nothin’ we can’t fix,” the officer replied ominously in that classic drawl.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” I started politely. “But I’m very exhausted, and I’ve got some important meetings to attend first thing tomorrow. If you don’t have anything to arrest me for, then I’m going to respectfully leave.”

“Yer kind ain’t welcome in these parts.” The officer’s response was calculated. “Just cause I can’t arrest ya doesn’t mean I can’t still bring ya in.”

“Is that so?” I questioned, becoming a little agitated.

“They’re called ‘correctional facilities’ for a reason,” he added.

“So you’re gonna jail me for being gay?”

“For threatening this town’s good traditional values and lifestyle?” the officer manipulated. “Then yes, yes I sure will.”

The officer then approached me with a pair of handcuffs. I wanted to fight back, and it took everything in me not too, but I was familiar with how these things could go down. He stood fairly tall and was well-built; a classic All-American family man. I was a college runner who clocked in a few inches under 6 feet, so running could have been an option if I wanted to engage. But I’d wait it out, play the little game until my future lawsuit kicked this homophobe and his whole department to hell.

But something in the back of my mind was still flicking the panic button. All of this seemed too easy for the officer, too habitual. As if he knew exactly what he was doing. As if he’d done this many times before. As if this wasn’t the first time this had happened and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

— —

The last thing I could remember was sitting down in the back of that officer’s vehicle with my hands behind my back. He opened the door for me and I followed instructions, but I couldn’t place what happened after he’d started the car. In fact, I had no idea of how I had gotten into my current situation. The old interrogation room was empty, besides the entire back wall that was lit by a projector. My clothes were gone, leaving me completely naked. And my penis was placed in some kind of tube. I tried to yank it out, but the device was not going to give it up.

“Hello!” I shouted angrily. “You can’t do this!”

There was no reply, but the projector screen did light up. Letters began to appear along the bricks, spelling out what I prayed to anyone above was not actually possible: “Protocol 69: Conversion Operationalization Activated.”

“Hey!” Desperation was beginning to show in my voice. “No, please don’t! I don’t know what is happening but don’t do this! I’ll do whatever it is you want, please!”

My cries for help were meaningless however. No one appeared to hear me or respond. Instead, the words flashed before disappearing. Something new began to boot up on the screen, an introduction video of sorts.

“Welcome to Benbrook,” a cheery male voice began as an old cartoon began to play. It looked like some educational video from the Reagan Era. “This growing Texan city welcomes you to all the finer things in the American life.”

Suddenly, the tube my dick was currently stuck in began to move. As if awakening from a great slumber, a portion of the device groggily creaked before swiveling itself around my cock. All 5 inches were rapidly on display as the tube proceeded to jack me off, twisting and pulling and turning and releasing as it gave me the most sensual action of my life. I was no virgin, but I had never felt anything like this before.

“However, if you are currently watching this video, that means you’ve come to tarnish and harm the great opportunities Benbrook can provide you with.” The cartoon placed a word across the screen that flashed as if it was a warning alarm. The “H” in “Homosexual” appeared particularly loud. “We hope you understand that the upcoming process you’re about to undergo is meant to not only protect our safety and way of life, but to enhance your own as well.”

I was trying so hard to find a way to escape, but the dazzling colors of the projector and the edging experience down below were hindering my focus. Instead of fighting back, I simply moaned as my dick underwent its electronically-sensual torture and watched as a dingy spiral came into view. My eyes centered in on the old-timey display that swirled around in circles. I couldn’t tell if the fluttering of my eyelids were due to the sexual action below or what my eyes were now hypnotized by above.

While the spiral and the tube instrument performed their jobs, I began to feel something squirting out of my cock. It wasn’t semen, precum, or even piss for that matter. Although I wasn’t able to completely look down, I could see a glittery, luminescent stream now flowing through the tube. Something was being drained out of me, but I was too distracted by the spiral and too turned on by the mechanical sucking to care. It just felt so good to give in to the spiral and not worry about anything else but being pleased. The machines were doing me a favor really. I didn’t have to think; all I had to do was watch while I was given pleasure.

The glittery flow continued out of my body, causing my breathing to hurry a bit as the progression towards ecstasy continued. Grabbing the tube to steady myself, I didn’t notice my grip expand and solidify harder across the machine. My digits expanded, my feet following suit as they too bloated across the cold metal floor. After a while, my meaty fingers were able to surround the entirety of the tube. My feet–although I didn’t bother looking at them–were now able to grasp me firmly to the ground; their Size 14 nature containing the strength meant to hold the weight of a real man.

With the spiral and pump still working their magic, I couldn’t be bothered with watching how my legs and arms were changed next. As the homosexual energy was removed from my body, my ligaments were allowed to expand. Biceps and triceps that had never existed before blew up like balloons. Calves inflated in certain areas while shrinking in others, creating legs meant less for long distance running and more for shorter sprints. The quads swelled too, now able to do so being that they were no longer needed for any track. They were now created for sports played by alphas: football, basketball, and baseball. None of that cross country or tennis pansy crap.

After the shoulders had finished broadening with an incredible lengthening to my deltoids, the glitter was able to leave my torso next. My pits filled in with curly bushes of tangled hair, matted with sweat and stinking to the high Heaven. And even with the plump pecs and removal of body fat that was happening to my expanding frame, the forests would never be able to be completely hidden. By suctioning out the energy, my abs were showcased in a more elite form. Each abdominal was now hard across my stomach, all eight leading down to a perfect treasure trail that had never been able to grow before now. My height had been extended too, now putting me well over the 6 feet I’d never reached before.

The stream was flowing steadily now, extracting my homosexuality from what I assumed had to be the most concentrated areas: my head and my cock. Being that they were the only two parts of my real self left unscathed, this next part of the process would probably be gruesome. My buttocks were first to change, clenching hard as their luxurious fat was eliminated to create muscled pillows similar to my pecs. My hole closed in on itself almost immediately after, its purpose now reduced to duties only regarding objects exiting the body. My balls ripened and plumped into a generous sack, and my hard dick sputtered an extra few inches forward. The tube was still able to manage the added girth however, all 8 inches fitting into an even tighter squeeze than before.

With a grunt and dazed gaze at the projector screen, I watched lazily as words began to flutter across the screen. Although I was in no state of mind to focus–and I certainly should have been doing it towards literally anything else–I used all of my remaining willpower to try and decipher the letters that flashed upon the screen. While doing so, the tube continued to suck out the remaining substance of my homosexuality. My chin widened into a shape so square and masculine it was almost comical. My brow popped out to create a more Neanderthal-look, pursing my eyebrows and lips basically permanently. My hair was shaped into something more typical and douche-like. I couldn’t see it, but I knew I had been created into a breeding machine.

“Boobs” was the first word I was able to decipher from the projector. I grunted and began feeding my monster cock to the tube as if I was in charge. “Pussy” came next, followed by “Clit” and “Cunt”. The tube began to let up around my dick, but I didn’t care anymore. I was so hard, so horny, and for some reason it was for the words that flashed across the brick wall. With the help of “Vagina” and the simple “Woman”, I asserted my dominance and proceeded to thrust into the machine myself, my throbbing penis shooting in and out.

The tube had stopped moving, but it didn’t matter to me anymore. I had only one thing on my mind. “Impregnate” the screen suddenly read, adding to the list of words already revolving around the screen. “Propagate” wasn’t too far behind, and neither was “Seed.” Suddenly, my horny fantasies didn’t just revolve around women. I realized I wanted to fill them, get my babies to coat their entire inner bodies. I wanted to…I wanted to… “Breed.” Yes, I wanted to breed. I wanted to multiply, make an entire generation of me. Identical to me. Same looks, same goals, same ideologies.

And before I knew it, even more words had been tossed into the mix. “Homophobia” arrived with a sting, a certain loathsome tingle erupting out around my body. “Alpha” was preceded by “Dominant,” and “Superior” was proceeded by “Traditionality.” All of these words sunk into my brain, accepting the new mindset as my ideals connected with my sexuality.

The programming gradually flickered faster, each new pulse sending a tiny bit more pressure to my dick. My thrusting grew more aggressive in response. I grabbed onto the tube with a renewed sense of strength and felt my gaze leave the projector’s trance for the first time. Allowing my eyes to roll back into my head, I released a dumb groan as the glittery stream dried up.

With one final thrust, a massive shot of my own cum was sent down the tube. The projector had finally stopped, displaying only “Thanks for watching!” in cutesy, bouncing letters before shutting off. The room went dark after that, but I blacked out before I even realized it.

— —

“Oh yeah,” I groaned as she sat on my lap, my massive schlong shoved up her tight pussy. “Ain’t that just right.”

Without saying a word, I got to work and felt my cock immediately getting ready to fire. When it came down to business, I could get my babymaker spewing fast. And being that I still had at least two other girls in town that needed to get rid of their flat stomachs before I went to work in an hour, I had to fertilize these chicks FAST!

“That’s right babygirl,” I was able to say between grunts. However, my cock immediately deflated when I noticed a sedan pull up across the street. The sedan itself was a crime–only trucks should be driven in Texas after all–but the “LGBTQIA+” sticker on the back nauseated me beyond belief. Visible disgust came over my face quickly, causing as my current conquest to ask me what was wrong. I grabbed my phone and explained I had to make a quick call to her dad. It wouldn’t take more than a minute I promised.

“Benbrook Police Department,” a sturdy, masculine voice answered.

“Yo brochacho, I’d like to report in a Protocol 69.”

“Hmm,” the other side mumbled disapprovingly. “Location of the illegitimate?”

“’The Real Man’s Tools’.” I followed my answer with a dumb chuckle. I always forgot how clever the hardware store’s motto was: “…besides a woman that is!”

“Car make and model?”

“You’ll know it, bro.”

“Not American-made?”

The babe still riding my cock shoved a finger in my mouth, signaling she wanted to continue.

“Are they…evuh?” The words were barely able to escape my mouth. The officer laughed in response on the other end as she began sliding up and down my dick slowly, getting us back to where we had left off.

“Thanks for the report,” the officer replied. “Please continue yer civil duties.”

“Will do, dude.”

The line hung up on itself, which was probably for the best with my hands already being wrapped back around my current score. I felt my load tense up as it began to prepare itself for semination. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see an officer’s cruiser pull up alongside the homo’s vehicle. Looks like we were both about to bring a straight, Texan, alpha male into the world.

Originally posted on 2019-09-03 by dumb-and-jocked

What a Johnson’s Made Of

Taylor was ecstatic.

Everything had gone right for him today. He had graduated with flying colors, he had just received special honors that lead to an incredible scholarship, and his longtime crush had just asked him out. Sure, the first two were amazing, but the fact that one of the hottest girls in the school had asked him on a date was the cherry on top. Taylor wasn’t that bad looking himself, being tall, slightly muscular, and having stark, black hair. His nerdy personality and short temper were usually what drove people away.

Taylor walked back slowly to his house, the evening sun setting behind him.The river was gleaming as he strode confidently down the path. Graduation had been that morning, and he had partied with friends throughout the day. Now, it almost being dinner time, he was heading back to the lavish mansion his family owned. As he strolled, he noticed a large new development being built. He gazed on, looking at the many construction workers. He scoffed in disgust - why couldn’t any of them get real jobs. He was on the route to be a neurosurgeon, worlds apart from what these dimwits had to offer. As he passed by, one of the construction workers noticed his staring and called out to him.

“Like what you see?” he shouted, flexing his arms to show off his furry pits.

Taylor quickly placed a hand to his mouth, holding back vomit. He gulped it down and then lashed out.

“Shut up you dirty fag! You really think someone of my life would lower to your animalistic standards!”

“Woah, bro,” the construction worker replied back, “I was just aski-”

“Asking what? If I’d suck your worthless dick?” Taylor shouted, furious.

“Alright, that’s it.” The worker jumped down from the platform he was standing on and quickly walked over to the student. Before Taylor could even move, he felt a large paw start dragging him into the fight.

“Hey! You can’t do this! THIS IS ILLEGAL!” Taylor tried to get out, but the worker was too strong.

“Shut it, bro!” The worker responded back roughly, dragging him to what seemed to be the middle of the sight. Taylor began to notice a weird funk surrounding him, realizing he was taking in the scent of his captor. He coughed, showing that he was obviously irritated. The worker, being dumb but not oblivous, grabbed the kid and gave him a noogie, shoving a pit in Taylor’s face. Taylor tried to escape, being covered in pit sweat and dark hairs.

Once the worker had taken him out, they stood in the middle of the development. There, in front of the worker and Taylor, stood a very muscular male. He looked to be in his late forties, with a rugged beard and dad gut. He definitely worked a very physical job, his body showing meaty strength and wearing age. He was reading the blueprints of what seemed to be the house being built around them.

“Boss?” The worker said, grabbing his attention.

“Harvey?” The boss replied, his voice stern and rough.

“This kid was causing trouble outside, I think you oughta be the one to deal with him.” The boss thought about this for a moment before creating a miniature smirk underneath his furry mustache.

“Thank you, Harvey, you can get back to work now.” Harvey pushed Taylor over to the boss before walking away. The boss pointed to the trailer beside the construction and walked towards it. Taylor wanted to run, but all he could do was follow. He couldn’t believe how much trouble he had gotten himself into. He knees shook as he opened the door to the trailer and closed it, sitting down at the desk where the boss had his boots up on the table. Taylor sat there quietly, waiting for the boss to say something. He couldn’t really see the boss - his rather large boots blocking the view - but Taylor could feel the immense power seeping out of the man before him.

“Luke Johnson,” the boss said, not extending a hand, “I am the manager of this development.”

“Taylor Stenson,” Taylor replied timidly.

“Well, Taylor, it seems yer creatin’ some kinda commotion, is that correct?”

“I wasn’t do-!”

“Is that correct?”

“Yes, sir.” Taylor didn’t know what he added that, it just felt appropriate.

“Then, let’s getta the point,” Luke responded, taking his boots off the desk and placing his feet under the table, “I don’t have time to deal with you, and you don’t have time to deal with me.”

Taylor sighed in relief, maybe all blue collar workers weren’t dumb jocks after all.

“Let’s make it so that you never existed, is that alright?”

“Yes!” Taylor said in glee. He couldn’t believe it was going to be this easy.

“Alright,” Luke said, standing up and extending his hand, “it’s a deal.”

“It’s a deal,” Taylor said, shaking it.

As soon as the shake was over, Luke grabbed Taylor’s arm and pulled him over the desk. Taylor screamed in fright before his face was slammed into a giant boot. Taylor held his breath for quite a while, but eventually gave in. He unintentionally took a deep breath, the musk invading his brain. The powerful scent of pure masculinity overrode his head, giving his a massive headache. Taking the boot with him, Luke slowly lifted Taylor back over the desk and into the chair. Luke sat on the desk in front of him, lowering the boot from his face.

“There, that’s a good boy,” Luke said, “Daddy’s got you.”

Luke put the first boot on the ground before removing the other and putting it next to its twin. The way he said “daddy” bounced around in Taylor’s head.

“Why… are…” Taylor tried to speak, but his head ached tremendously. The foot funk was still lingering deep within his mind.

“Shh… don’t worry. Daddy’s got you.”

With Taylor still in his haze, Luke swiftly removed his tight polo and khaki pants. Both items of clothing had been truly showing off what lay beneath, as Taylor now realized that a true male adonis stood before him. Luke was covered head-to-toe in muscles with defined abs, powerful pecs, and gigantic thighs among many things. As Luke sat back down, Taylor became even more scared at seeing the python begging for release underneath Luke’s yellowed jockstrap.

“You agreed to this,” Luke said, his deep voice soft and sensitive, “I’m going to make it so that you never existed. So instead of being a Stenson, yer gonna be a Johnson.”

“But… I don-”

“You don’t have to understand, because Daddy’s here for ya.” Before Taylor could jump in again, Luke stood up from the desk and turned around. Luke’s large, muscular bubble butt pushed its way back, lining up the crack right along the center of Taylor’s face. Taylor, being so mentally disorganized, couldn’t argue as he heard a small rumble build up from within in the meaty buttocks. Seconds later, Luke let rip a massive fart right into the teen’s face. Taylor tried to get air, but the only thing available was the gas.

As Taylor inhaled the putrid scent of a blue collar behind, he didn’t realize that his body was slowly changing. As he timidly sniffed away, his structure began to alter itself to the new reality it was to abide to.

First, his torso began to bulk up. Taylor had participated lightly in the gym and some sports, but now he was truly showcasing something drool worthy. Years of exterior work began to grow on him as hard pecs and abs formulated. Meat filled in the loose cracks as body fat shrunk away. A deep tan spread across his broadening shoulders and the unkempt hair upon his chest fell away. His belly button shrunk in as his nipples enlarged, becoming ever so sensitive to even the touch of a safety vest.

Even though his chest had developed quite noticeably, Taylor was still being bombarded by Luke’s crack to notice anything. He also didn’t recognize his memories beginning to alter, rearranging themselves to become more appropriate to the better reality. Images of being placed in advanced and enriched classes began to evaporate as they were replaced with a regular level education. Special honors and scholarships disappeared as he remembered passing with straight B’s.

Luke slowly unbuttoned Taylor shirt before ripping it off, proud to see the promising chest that was displayed beneath. Luke slowly backed away from Taylor, making sure that every last hair on his butt would caress Taylor’s face. Taylor blinked, still befuddled, but before he could fully regain consciousness he saw a giant foot shoved into his face. Not thinking straight, he began to sniff the foot and - to Taylor’s and Luke’s surprise - lick it. He was fairly timid, but Luke didn’t expect him to be such a quick learner. As Taylor sniffed away at the massive foot in front of him, he hadn’t realized how nasty the sock was. Luke hadn’t washed them in over a week, making them into a somewhat second skin. Taylor should have been far away from the feet, but he was too confused to care.

Next, Taylor’s legs began to reshape. Days of running became weeks, months, even years as muscle was poured into his calves and quads. Thighs thickened, pushing the seams of the skinny jeans as years of truly masculine sports flooded his brain. Hard meat popped out as his dark hairs took on a lighter hue. His quads expanded to the size of melons while his legs lengthened, stretching him to a dominant 6’3, but still shorter than Luke’s 6’4.

Taylor’s memories also shifted, becoming more suitable to his closer future. Study sessions with friends quickly became practices with bros. Thoughts of easy tests transitioned into hard, brain-wracking hours were sometimes Taylor wouldn’t even finish. Times at home now became times in the locker room, where he had learned to appreciate his fellow brothers instead of his family.

Luke, believing Taylor was done, removed his sweaty, sticky foot and leaned over from the desk.

“Get up, buddy,” Luke said, with the words “buddy” and “daddy” dancing in Taylor’s head, “I gotta get yer pants.”

Taylor obliged, not really understanding why as his jeans were pulled down. He hadn’t even noticed Luke had stripped him of his shoes and socks. Luke sat back down and ripped off his old socks too, leaving the pair in only their underwear.

“Alright, you can sit back down,” Luke said, and Taylor followed, “time for you to clean Daddy’s pits.”

Luke got up and sat on the edge of Taylor’s almost naked lap. The powerful alpha was barely held up by the aspiring student, but neither of them cared. Luke then took Taylor’s head and guided it towards a dark, furry armpit, letting him sniff away. The scent was just as powerful as the first two, but this one had a lot more hair. The soft fur coated Taylor face with sweat, making him even more lightheaded.

Following were Taylor’s arms, which inflated with each eager sniff. Biceps and triceps began to appear as powerful tendons emerged. Beef and brawn were packed on to the appendages as all dark hairs began to disappear to a lighter coat. Wrists inflated as Taylor’s hands became much larger, filled with meat. He now had the paws of a man, instead of the hands of a nerd. The once skinny arms now looked to be more like those of a gym rat. His armpits also lost most of their hair, now creating wispy, but much more potent, bushes.

Taylor coughed, the scent from the pit being so immense. He couldn’t comprehend the life that he had once planned out for himself. The plans of becoming a doctor, inheriting his parents fortunes, creating a stable foundation all fell out from beneath his feet. As the year of sports and passing C’s filled his head, he remember the new scholarships. Paths for the future were now made from pigskin and spandex rather than paper. Taylor didn’t have a promising future in academics, but he definitely did in sports.

Luke slowly pulled back, noticing Taylor leaning forward while the pit moved away. Luke smiled and got back up. Taylor moaned in disorientation as Luke slowly pulled of his jock. As he did, a huge cock flopped out, the biggest that Taylor had ever seen. It was a thick as a can and it was incredibly long, standing at a proud 10 inches The balls were just as impressive, both the size of tennis balls and covered in an animal-like fur. They definitely produced a hefty amount of man-milk.

While Taylor admired Luke’s package, he carefully placed his grimy jockstrap over Taylor’s face, lining up the pouch with his nose and mouth. Once he had secured it, he sat back down on the desk and place his feet on Taylor’s crotch, slowly bringing him to full mast. He wasn’t going to let him blow just yet, he had to edge Taylor first.

Fourth was Taylor’s feet, which were rapidly changing as he sniffed and licked away at the vulgar jockstrap. His once pristine Size 9 feet began to bloat, his naked toes pushing out against the cheap trailer carpet. The once lean feet became meaty as years of running and stomping replaced those of strolling and dance. Light hairs appeared as the toenails became rigid and dirty, looking more like those of a construction worker than those of a rich boy. Once the feet reached a promising Size 15, they began to emit their own obnoxious funk, one that would never be washed away.

Taylor didn’t realize it, but he was slightly enjoying the disgusting pouch in his face. He also didn’t realize that his heterosexuality was slipping away. Many girlfriends became many boyfriends, topping men rather than women. A strong love for penis replaced that of boobs, while the thought of being in the strong arms of a man aroused him more than being those arms for a woman. His bros were no longer just bros, as countless pictures of brojobs and “lending a hand” replaced conquering a fair share of women. Homosexuality slowly took the front seat as heterosexuality left, never to return again.

“You’ve been really good so far, son,” Luke said, the word “son” joining with the others. Like got up and removed the jockstrap, “I think it’s time that Daddy gave you a treat.”

Taylor looked up adoringly at the sexy alpha in front of him, not knowing what to expect. Luke grabbed his dick and - after grunting a bit - let loose a hot, steamy stream of yellow piss. It his Taylor right in the face.

“Drink up!” Luke said, aiming right for the mouth, “It’s gonna be part of yer diet.”

Taylor instantly obeyed, trying to get every drop into his mouth.

As the piss flooded his throat and stomach, his head and neck began to adapt. A sharp collar bone pushed its way out as his neck thickened, giving him access to a widening, deepening Adam’s apple. As his register lowered into that of a base, his face began to shift as well, becoming a younger version of Luke’s. Taylor’s face became squarer as his hair shortened, lightening into the proper sandy blond. His lips became larger as his eyes adapter a duller gray tone. His nose straightened while his skull became bigger and his brain became smaller. The A light stubble grew in, one day to hold the same beard of Luke’s size.Taylor’s chin jutted out, creating a larger jaw and a natural dumb guffaw tone to his voice.

The yellow piss flooded Taylor’s system, enveloping him in a warm aura. He couldn’t feel his intelligence being boiled away, the urine eroding away the little left inside Taylor’s head. Memories of sports scholarships passed away as C’s faded into D’s and F’s. Graduation became a joke as Taylor began to remember dropping out of high school. Time at school became time at numerous construction sites, finding the bros who really understood him. The last bits of his old family and friends melted away as the new reality began to firm.

The last drops slowly fell and soon there was nothing left from Luke’s bladder. Knowing it was time to wrap things up, he grabbed Taylor and threw him on his knees.

“Time for Daddy to show you where we get the family name - what a Johnson’s made of.”

Before Taylor could react, Luke’s colossal dick was shoved in his mouth and down his throat. Luke wasn’t a patient man, but Taylor had never sucked a dick before. He immediately sputtered and began to choke, but Luke quickly readjusted. Taylor sucked and quickly got the hang of it. Not only was he a natural, but not many professionals could even handle Luke’s size. He couldn’t say he wasn’t impressed.

The last bits of Taylor changed as the furry oranges Luke called testicles hit against Taylor’s chin. Taylor’s dick slowly began to enlarge, the once erect 6 incher beginning to stand taller. As it rose to new heights, his balls also began to change, growing from average to extra large. His butt plumped up as his cheeks filled with solid meat. Light hairs replaced the dark pubes as his cock thickened, reaching 9 inches of pure masculinity and looking almost as thick as Luke’s. He was meant to be an alpha, but just below this one man. His balls churned as he felt Luke getting close.

While Taylor became more and more skilled at the art of cocksucking, he hadn’t realized that his balls were churning with the remaining memories of his former life. He now felt a certain kinship to this man, almost as if he was his own father. The more Taylor dwelled on the subject however, the more he remembered Luke as a father figure. He had helped lead him to construction, show him it was best to be blue collar, made him realize that each bro was there to help him - or be helped by him. But Luke was more than just a father figure, he WAS his father. His earliest memories were filled with his dad. Showing him how to ride a bike, catching his first fish, helping him shave. He also showed him how fathers and sons were to always be naked with each other, how the son would deepthroat his own father when needed, how he was only allowed to act and wear what his father wanted him to.

As Luke approached the climax, Taylor’s body twitched violently. It was barely noticeable, but Taylor had just gained an extra five years to his age. His body had barely matured, his muscles were a little firmer, and his hairline slightly receded, but otherwise he still looked like the proud son of his amazing father.

Luke shouted as he violently came, semen rushing down Taylor’s throat right down into his balls. His own cum was instantly pushed out, being evicted by the superior seed of his father. Taylor ejaculated, completely ridding himself of his old life and reality. Taylor Stenson soaked into the cheap carpet, never to be seen again.

As soon as the two had gotten over their post-ejaculation high, the father and son cleaned up the trailer to get back to work.

“Crap!” Luke shouted.

“What?”

“I don’t have any extra clothes here besides these shorts.” Luke held up a pair of basketball shorts. They had definitely been used and worn many times. “You’ll have to wear these until we get to the warehouse.”

“Sounds rad, daddy,” the son said, walking over and grabbing the shorts. Luke himself was going to be rather exposed, wearing only an old pair of cargo shorts and large sneakers. The original outfit was used to clean up his son’s cum.

While the son placed the shorts over his naked body, he felt his father grind him from behind. His father’s bare chest felt so sensual against his own. The cargo shorts did nothing to hide his father’s erection.

“Can’t wait to see what ya look like in a safety vest,” Luke whispered, his beard caressing his son’s face. The two quickly made their way out of the trailer and walked two the other side of the development. As the son walked ahead, Luke could only smile: he was so incredibly proud. He couldn’t believe how perfectly he had turned out.

“Hey, son,” Luke said, causing the other man to turn around, “show me where the family name comes from.” The son smirked cockily.

“Johnson?” he asked innocently.

“Yes.”

“Well, there’s a Johnson here,” the son pointed to his left pec

“Yeah?”

“A Johnson here,” he then pointed to his right pec.

“Wow!”

“And a lot of Johnsons right here.” The son pointed at each of his abs.

“So hot!”

“And the best Johnson here!” he pulled down his shorts quickly to show his erect dick. His father applauded him before the son pulled his shorts back up and struck a confident pose.

“Wow, you’ll make a fine Johnson indeed!” His father said before the two continued.

— —

Once they made it to the warehouse, Luke quickly dressed his son up. The proper safety vest, toll belt, old jeans, giant boots, and a large hard hat to fit his giant, but empty, head. Once he was suited up, the father jumped on a crane to get back to work.

“See you at 8, son!” He shouted, “Yer gonna show me what a Johnson’s made of.”

Luke drove off, leaving the son there on his own. As soon as his father was out of sight, another construction worker came into the warehouse. He was hairy, dumb, and extremely sexy.

“Hey, I’m Harvey,” he said, he deep voice rumbling

“Travis,” the son replied.

“While ya wait for him,” Harvey started, referring to Luke, “ya wanna show me what a Johnson’s made of?”

“I’ll tell you it starts right here,” Travis said, pulling back his safety vest to show Harvey his chest. Travis knew the furst Johnsons were good, but he knew Harvery would think the last one was the best.

Escape

Inspired by the amazing vocal work of Amalianetwork

It was just another boring day at home for me. The rain was hitting my window rapidly as the clouds outside stormed on. A welcome noise to drown out my arguing family downstairs. I just sighed and silently wished for an escape from this mess I call my life.

I didn’t have the worst life. I was just a guy home from college this weekend. Part of me missed the nostalgia of being in my old room, while part of me remembered why I was so eager to get back to my less boring life in my dorm.

These were the thoughts that filled my head right before I blacked out.

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End of Shift

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My life is over. I’ve been playing a high stakes game, and somehow landed on one side of the odds all the time, but my luck was bound to run out sooner or later. I guess I should be happy that it turned out to be later, but it sucks no less. I got sloppy. I was looking through the items near the cashier, as always, trying to mostly use reflective surfaces to see what was going on, as always. I need to be within 15 feet or latency becomes an issue. Some old lady still using the old wallet was buying KokaKola and a pack of Ziffs. This would be easy, as always. I discreetly pressed my watch as she was ready to make the purchase, activating my EM-swiper. I wouldn’t take much, a few credits more. She probably wouldn’t notice it, or think the store stiffed her, or think she bought two packs of Ziffs and lost one. I’m not stealing to get rich, just to get by.

As the EM-swiper went off a high pitched beeping starts behind me. I barely have time to turn my head enough to see the charging police officer, before he slams me into the side of a KokaKola fridge. Shit, I hadn’t done a survey pass through the store as I always do. I could barely register what he was screaming in my ear. “Drop it,” I realize, and let go of the magazine. He must have thought I had the EM-swiper in my hand. He told me to put my hands against the wall and performed a pat-down. It’s only him, so he must be off duty or not on a real patrol. He empties my pockets on the cashier table. Nothing of value, and certainly not something incriminating. I may not have been fortunate enough to afford academy, but I’m not stupid.

“You are detained under suspicion of committing proximity fraud. Do you understand?” he asks me in that commanding yet bored tone of a laborer having to recite corporate bullshit, only in his case it is in the pretense of justice. “Yes,” I answer him. He doesn’t have anything on me or he would have arrested me right away. Probably. “Put this on to acknowledge you’ve read the Citizen Rights Act and agree to an investigation in this matter.” He hands me a pair of handcuffs to put on. I hesitate for a second. He is behind me and in the way of the store exit. I can stall for time and tell him to recite the CRA, but that immediately counts against you, as it is your duty to know it. I have no choice but to put them on. It’s the latest model. I haven’t seen any up close before. Light, thin, all metal, no key hole. Probably opened remotely or only inside a police cell or some shit. I put them on.

“Turn around, pick up your stuff, and exit the store.” I do as told, turn around and begin to pick up my stuff and put them back where he took them. It’s an older police officer. None of them young, jacked up types. Perhaps he is one of the fair ones. But then I am the criminal, so what good would that do me? There’s a small, black duffle bag by his side. So he is on his way home. Perhaps he is tired. Perhaps I can shake him. Have Leo remove the shackles and then stay low for a fucking long time. Or this just doesn’t amount to anything more than a slap on the wrist. I walk towards the door, him behind me.

“Nice watch,” he says, pointing at my wrist as I reach or the door.

He knows. Unless I can get away now my life is over. All I can think of is the monstrosities the state churn out as punishment. Equal part labor force and sadism. I open the door as little as possible and as soon as I am through I dash down the block. I don’t dare look behind me, but I don’t hear him in pursuit. Halfway down the block I swerve into the alley that cuts across the building and out on the block on the other side. If I can cross that block and then down south I’m in the park and there are plenty of places to hide there.

My hands are not on fire. This surprises me as I look down on my hands, screaming in pain. There is a high pitched sound coming out of the handcuffs, like capacitors charging, but it is continuous. The pain emanating from my hands is something unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. My legs buckle. I know I need to move, somehow, somewhere. It’s just so difficult to think of anything but my hands that are not on fire. It would probably be a good idea to not scream my lungs out, but I don’t really have a choice in that.

Just as suddenly as it started it stops. I’m still writhing in pain, but my hands are not on fire in a much more comforting way. “The payment proxy is in your watch, is it not?” the policeman asks, standing a few steps away. I’m panting, I realize when I attempt to answer him. Panting and sweaty. I can’t manage to speak. I just nod my head.

“The state vs. item RK-220553 finds the defendant guilty to breach of contract with the state, executed by judicial AI 5” he reads off his handheld screen. I’m confused to what just happened. “No trial?” I manage to wheeze out. “You entered into a cooperation contract when you put on the handcuffs, as you are aware of as you claimed to know the Citizens Rights Act. Disobedience at that point allows for immediate trial by AI as long as no forensic work is needed.” He sounded like the same bored cop as he was in the store, reciting memorized text for the thousandth time.

I struggle to get up on my feet. Not only am I shaky, but having my hands locked together makes it surprisingly difficult to get up. “You know, this is bad timing,” the cop starts. “I was on my way home and don’t have all the standard gear. It’s supposed to be a swift punishment, for deterrence, but there is really only one thing I can do.” Why is he so apologetic? He opens the bag and pulls out a fucking tactical human transformer. I’ve never even seen one in person before. He turns it on, selects something on the screen, and points the device towards me. “No, I can…”

This time I am on fire, if only so briefly. There is a blinding light, a pulse of heat, and the smell of burnt plastic. As the transient heat subsides it keeps falling colder and colder. I’m naked. All my clothes have been singed from my body. My watch is gone. My shoes are gone. Underwear gone. And, I realize, my hair is gone. The cop keeps punching in selections in the menus of the devices. I manage to get up on my feet. “Stay on the ground,” he tells me. Not so much as an order, but as an advice. I sit down again and he trains the device on me.

I don’t know how to describe it. It’s not pain exactly. There is something about rewriting the code and cellular structure of your body while your brain is engaged that makes it give up in disbelief. “This can’t be what’s actually happening,” it thinks and gives you completely nonsense sensory interpretations. But it also gives up on all other tasks. Time becomes irrelevant. Critical thinking put on hold. When the device stops you are utterly confused for seconds. Possibly by design, but it makes sense that you can’t rewire the brain in flight without some glitches.

“I want you to stand up,” the cop says in a firm voice. “Who?” I ask, still dazed, just to make sure. “You. Get up on both feet. Take this.” He throws an orange bundle to me, and I feebly grasp for it but my one arm yanks the chain to the cuff of the other arm. The bundle brushes by and lands on the ground next to me. He looks disappointed, more at himself for thinking it would work than on me for not catching it.

I look down at my hand and see something orange in my grip, but it is not the orange that interests my but the grip. My arms, thin from lack of food and nimble from grabbing P2 storage modules out of vendor racks. are enormous. Big, well defined muscles with popped veins going up and around them. They look longer than before and even the hands are larger than they used to be. I can see that not only my arms are different. My chest is all lean and strong-looking as well, the legs have these weird lines showing different groups of muscles under the skin, and I can almost bet that the ground is further down than it used to be. Orange! I’m holding something orange in my hand.

“I only have an emergency kit with me, so not very many options for you I’m afraid. If you had come with me I think they would have found some better use for you, but as I said, I didn’t have much to chose from beside himbot,” the cop said while putting some beat-up looking boots from his bag next to me. He grabs the chain between my cuffs, and both of them pop open instantly, and he folds them up and begins to place them back into the cuff holder in his belt.

There was something he said that was important. Like, really important. I feel cobwebs like I had just been awakened from a deep sleep. “Put on the jock,” he tells me, and again I am confused, but of a different kind. It’s like I urgently need to know what he means, somehow. “You’re holding them in your hand.” I again look down at my hand and see the orange piece of cloth, which obviously is what he meant. I flip it around in my hands and finds it to be an orange jockstrap with a generous pouch. Looking down I also see the reason for that, since my dick and balls are large. Much larger than I remember them to be. I don’t want to keep him waiting, so as quickly as I can manage, with my balance a bit off, I manage to place one leg in each loop and pull up the jockstrap. It neatly collects everything in front into a large orange ball.

Himbot! That’s what he had said. It’s like the government robots but human. What was the I and M now again? Wait, those are just mindless sacks of muscles roaming around doing whatever menial task is available.

“Himbot?” I ask him. “Yes, you are a himbot,” the cop answered. “Put on the shirt.”

I immediately grabbed the orange bundle from the ground I assumed to be the shirt. To my delight I was right and with just a few tries I managed to get it on me. It isn’t a real shirt, but one of those without arms, whatever they are called. Quite a lot of skin showed. The shoulders were bare, as were the sides and the nipples unless you positioned the strings just right. Stringers! It’s called a stringers, or something close to it. I feel so tired thinking of words.

“And the boots”

I grab one of the boots. There is something missing, but I’m not sure what it is. I has something to do with the small holes, I think. Well, the large hole is missing a foot, so I put one in it. Then I put the other foot in the other boot, and looked at the cop to see if he approved. He looks about the same. Good enough I hope.

“Face me and raise your hands” I comply immediately. He is pointing the large gun at me again. I don’t like it, but I must do what he says. He presses a few buttons and then there is a sharp headache.

“Who are you?” “Himbot 220553.” “What is your assignment?” “Walk along path 228-red responding to requests.” “What types of requests?” “Any type of requests.”

Primal Instincts: Men are Dogs

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

Gwen could smell the cigarette smoke wafting from one of the apartment windows as she jogged along the street. She always hated this part of the walk because there was usually someone sitting outside on their apartment balcony and she felt "watched." Gwen was in her mid-twenties, just out of college, but single. She worked downtown at a bank and wore fashionable work clothes, but today on her run she wore simple athletic gear. She had an attractive body, lean and fit, and she hoped to keep it that way. It was on this street in particular that she could feel people "watch" her as she ran and it was unsettling. Today, her cell-phone rang, which threw off her running music, so she stopped to check her phone and get the music going again.

When she stopped, she could smell the cigarette smoke even stronger and felt eyes watching her from above. She glanced up and saw a thirty-something guy leaning over the railing and looking at her. She broke eye contact and paced a few steps, but still felt watched. He heard the man clear his throat and spit.

"Lookin' fine, girl! Don' stop now! Keep on'a runnin' " said the guy with a laugh.

She ignored him and tried to get her phone to start her running mix again. While she fussed with her phone, her water bottle slipped and fell onto the sidewalk. She could feel the man's pervert eyes watching her as she reached down to pick it up.

The man let out a loud whistle, "Nice ass! Come by later and I'll help you keep it in shape!"

She had been cat-called before, but this guy was starting to cross a line. Earlier that week, a friend had told her to download an app called "Men Are Dogs." It was supposedly some way to report incidents of guys acting like jerks or "dogs" so other girls could look them up and feel safer. Her friend had thought it was funny to see what kind of guys made it into the database, but Gwen never thought she would actually have to use it.

In a second, she grabbed her phone, opened up the app, and turned to the guy in the balcony.

"You want a picture! I'll give you more than a picture," he shouted as he grabbed his crotch and gestured vulgarly.

This was the first time she actually had a chance to look at this creep of a guy. He was wearing torn jeans and a white sleeveless t-shirt. He was a broad shouldered guy with a big build, but had a beer gut and flabby arms. He looked pretty strong, but not really in shape. His light blonde hair was cropped tight, almost shaved and he had a tattoo on his shoulder. He threw his cigarette in the bushes and licked his lips and thrust towards her again, laughing.

Her phone snapped a picture and within a few seconds the message read "Strike Three," which must have meant this guy had been reported by two other users. The next screen said "Teach this dog a lesson? Yes or No." She wasn't sure what this actually meant, but the guy was being a real dickhead, so she chose "yes."

The screen buffered with the message "Dog in Training," which had a picture of a muscular man wearing a dog collar and panting stupidly. She looked up and saw the man on the balcony look like he was choking and fall to his knees. She ran closer, hoping it wasn't all some stupid act. He was pawing at something at his neck, which Gwen realized was a leather collar. He made a few choking sounds and then looked at her and stuck his tongue out stupidly. Suddenly, his body started to shape shift into a compact, muscular dog. She saw a leash attached to the collar and the dog pleaded softly and looked up at her.

Her phone vibrated and she read the message, "Say hello to Kurt." She grabbed the leash, not sure what do with this man that she had watched transform into a dog. She was happy that he had stopped harassing her, but thought this was maybe an extreme reaction. The phone continued by asking "Bring Home or Bring to Pound?" She chose "bring home," but just wanted to get out of there before anyone one noticed. Kurt trotted in front on his leash while she finished her run.

As soon as she got home, she texted Amanda, the friend that had shown her the phone app. "No way!" was Amanda's reaction, "send a pic." Gwen snapped a picture of Kurt and sent it. "I'm coming over," Amanda replied.

--

"Oh my god!" Amanda squealed when Gwen explained what had happened. "He's so cute," she said as she pet Kurt on the back while he panted and barked.

"Well, he was saying all this stupid shit, and I just thought I'd take a picture and leave ... but it turned him into this dog ... and now I don't know how to turn him back!" Gwen stammered. "I don't want a dog!"

"But Gwen, look at him," Amanda said as she continued to pet Kurt's head.

"I don't want a dog! Especially one that was some sicko guy from the street!"

Gwen's phone suddenly vibrated again and she pulled up the app. She saw a picture of Kurt before he was a dog and the words "Teach your dog a new trick? Yes or No."

"What should I do," Gwen said in frustration. Amanda grabbed the phone and chose "yes." Kurt whimpered a little and then rolled over on his back. In a few minutes, his dog body had transformed back into the original Kurt, but he stayed motionless on the floor. Thankfully, his clothes had reappeared so they didn't have to see a nude guy "appear" on the living room floor.

"Woah," said Amanda. "So you're not kidding!"

"Of course not!" shouted Gwen. "This is him!"

"Give a command," prompted the phone and Amanda selected "Roll over." Kurt obediently rolled onto his belly. "Stand up," and Kurt stood up. "Try your own," read the phone. "Take off your shirt and flex," shouted Amanda. "Amanda! Stop it!" Gwen tried to say, but Kurt obeyed by taking off his white t-shirt and flexed his muscles. While Amanda gawked about controlling Kurt, Gwen saw her pile of unfolded laundry and had an idea for a command. "Kurt, fold my laundry." Dutifully, he walked over and started folding clothes. "Nice one," Amanda replied. "You've got a live-in butler!"

While Kurt folded clothes, the phone popped up another message. "See grooming options." Amanda and Gwen fiddled with the sliding bars, one for muscle, hair, height, etc., but they couldn't decide so they selected "Suggested grooming." They watched Kurt transform again, this time into a muscular young man with ripped abs, a tight ass with a thin waist. Long legs and arms with lean muscle, broad shoulders and sucked in stomach. His hairy belly and back were smooth, like he was properly groomed. Even his smile and eyes looked more attractive.

"Good lord!" said Amanda. "Take off your pants, Kurt!" and he obeyed. "No, like in a strip show!" Kurt walked over to her and started grinding while slowly unbuttoning his jeans. He had on a pair of tight underwear which showed his massive cock. But Gwen choose, "Kennel" on the app and Kurt stopped, curled up on the living room floor and within a minute was back to dog form.

"Oh come on!" said Amanda. "It was just getting fun."

"It's late, Amanda," said Gwen. "And I have to work. Plus, I just want to go to bed and figure out what to do about this in the morning."

"Fine," said Amanda as she headed towards the door. "But invite me over so I can play with your 'dog' once and awhile."

"Haha," replied Gwen drolly.

--

At 6:00 AM, Gwen heard scratching at her door. "What the?" she said as she staggered. She opened the door and saw Kurt scratching his paws to get her attention.

"Do you have to go outside," she asked and she knew the answer was yes. She grabbed the leash and walked him outside to take a piss on the lawn. She changed into her running gear and thought maybe she could take Kurt running with her.

After the run she started getting ready for work and took a quick shower. She stepped out wearing only her towel and screamed when she saw a man standing in the kitchen. But she realized it was only Kurt, who was busy cooking breakfast. He was wearing only his underwear and was the muscular version of himself from last night.

"What are you doing?" asked Gwen, as if talking to a pet. She was startled when he answered, "Making breakfast for you."

"Wait, you can talk?"

"Of course I can talk!"

The whole time since taking Kurt home, she hadn't heard him speak a word. Also, she noticed that even though she was only wrapped in a towel, Kurt was making perfect eye contact with her, not looking at her body or barely covered breasts, just right into her eyes. She felt a little sad for him, but also a sort of "puppy love" at how cute he was making breakfast for her. She finished changing, ate breakfast, and headed towards the door.

"Kurt, I'll be back around 5. Just don't mess anything them and keep clean, okay. Make yourself lunch."

"Have a good day, Gwen," Kurt answered with excitement as she closed and locked the door.

--

When Gwen opened the door to her house she didn't know what to expect. Would Kurt still be there? Would he be a dog-dog or a man-dog? Would he have run away? Would she keep him? What about Kurt's friends and family?

"Kurt, I'm home," Gwen called out. She heard the shower turn off and Kurt ran towards her, this time completely naked.

"Hi Gwen!" he said enthusiastically. She saw that Kurt's massive cock was swaying, half-erect. "Wanna get some exercise?" said Gwen.

"Yes, of course!" answered Kurt, who loved running. He ran to get the leash and held it out to her.

"Not that type of exercise," said Gwen as she led him towards the bedroom. "You're going to fuck me until I tell you to stop, okay!"

"Okay," he said, hopping up on the bed.

"And you're not going to talk until I tell you," she said. Kurt nodded.

"And go slow. You need to be more man and less dog right now," she added as she dropped her work skirt to the ground and pulled off her blouse.

After there love-making -- the best Gwen had ever had! -- Gwen had a notification on her phone. "Training Complete. All Men Are Dogs!"

She looked over at the muscular man-dog lying in bed next to her, looked at his smooth chest, thin waist, and tight ass, and put down the phone, fully determined to adopt this stray and keep him well-trained.

Identity Death

--- Originally posted on 2024-04-12 by dumb-and-jocked. ---

As directed by @mrrharper

“Endless war will end our world!” Alan shouted.

“Stop funding our military!”

Alan was amongst the hundreds of protestors at the courthouse fighting against the proposed budgetary reforms. Schools, roads, transportation, parks, environmental protections agencies–they were all on the line. Through the presented bill, thousands of institutions would be shut down as billions of dollars would be rerouted towards a single entity: the military.

“The military corrupts! Stop the brainwashing!” Alan spat. He had organized this event under his alias, a popular political blogger on multiple social media outlets. Although his voice was loud and aggravated, Alan's physical appearance was anything but. He wore a baby blue tee and white-washed skinny jeans. 5’7 with bleached hair. All he needed was a rainbow somewhere to perfect his twink look. But he was not here to make that kind of statement. He was at the protest to make another form, something that could gain traction. Peering across the crowd, Alan saw his chance. 

A few of Alan’s fellow protestors were bombarding one of the towering guards with jeers. They scrutinized him, although it appeared none of their words got through the soldier’s heavy artillery padding. In fact, the solider stood proud in his position, dominantly poised with his chest puffed up in pride. Alan approached the guard slowly, noticing he remained perfectly still as the protestors continued to insult him. Without thinking twice, Alan approached and made his move. 

“How about you show us what they’re really funding, dickhead?”

Alan threw a fist at the soldier, putting all his strength behind the movement. Due to the crowds, the soldier did not recognize the motion until it was too late. Alan’s knuckle dove right into the much taller man’s neck, ricocheting into the muscular, masked chin. Instantly, there was a cheer from the crowd at the successful blow, but it was quickly hushed.

“You pathetic cocksucker,” the soldier growled. In a flurry, the once peaceful statue became a merciless brute, swinging down and dragging Alan out of the crowd. Before he knew it, Alan found himself handcuffed with the soldier escorting him off into the enemy’s territory.

“You can’t do this! This is illegal!” Alan cried out. 

“Shut your whiny mouth.” As soon as they were out of public sight, the soldier slapped Alan hard across the face. The warmth of blood soon filled his cheeks where the bruise began to bloom. Alan made sure not to react, but he could not hide the worry in his voice.

“Where are you taking me?”

“The barracks, you fairy prick.”

The soldier brought Alan to a building not too far from the protest lines. He guided them down numerous hallways, Alan losing track before they even made it halfway there. There were checkpoints, various nods, and some curt conversations with other soldiers, but nobody questioned about Alan or the situation. Eventually, Alan was tossed into a small makeshift bedroom, only holding a cot and a pile of unwashed clothes.

“Get undressed,” the soldier demanded.

“Why should I listen to you?”

Alan was met with another forceful assault, this time a punch to his gut.

“Cause I’m First Sergeant, maggot, which means out of the two of us, I’m in charge.”

Alan scoffed. “Is that your name: ‘First Sergeant’?”

“First Sergeant QF24,” the soldier gruffly shot back.

“That’s not a name either,” Alan replied. 

“Been in service so long I don’t need a civilian name.”

Alan wanted to jump on this, make a point about how this was evidence of the dangers of the military, but First Sergeant continued.

“While my identity is real, I assume the one you were about to give me is not. What do you go by, something like that 'AlanActivist' snot?”

Alan blushed, believing that his pseudonym had been cool and unique.

“It’s about time you considered that maybe it is not the military that enforces this ‘identity death’ you all are so worried about, but your own belief system.”

“You can’t be serious,” Alan snarked, surprised at the soldier’s intelligent argument. First Sergeant was however humorless, once again pointing to the pile of discarded clothes.

“Get dressed, degenerate.”

The soldier placed one of his giant, gloved hands behind the twink’s back and pushed him towards the pile. It appeared to Alan as a giant heap of army green and camouflage. Slowly but hesitantly, he began to strip himself of his clothing, hoping to avoid any further hazing. Once down to his underwear, he silently pleaded that he would not have to drop anything else.

“Soldiers go commando, sissy.”

First Sergeant quickly appeared behind Alan before ripping his underwear clean off, exposing the twink’s bare bottom and small package to the world. Alan quickly covered himself up with one hand before leaning down towards the pile. He grimaced, his fear no longer overriding the powerful musk seeping from the military cloth. First Sergeant chuckled at his disgust from behind.

“Aren’t homos supposed to like that kind of thing?” he asked, before grabbing the back of Alan’s head. “Go on, get a better whiff of it!” Amused, First Sergeant plunged Alan’s head into the musky pile of clothes. Alan’s oxygen supply was cut off, forcing him to inhale the overpowering masculine fumes.

“You idiots never consider that being in the military is hard work. It’s not all fun and guns.” First Sergeant smothered Alan’s head further. “‘Bout time you realize what it’s like, standing on the front line all day, hot and sweaty and random strangers berating you for protecting their country, their freedom.”

The military body odor seeped into Alan’s system, numbing his body and clouding his mind. By the time he was pulled away, the naked twink struggled to form a coherent thought.

“Much better,” First Sergeant noted the lopsided smile on the twink’s face. “Now, fit yourself into some tactical gear.”

Without questioning it, Alan followed the soldier’s command. He did not know every single piece of equipment that went into the common soldier’s uniform, nor did he understand the procedure to follow, but somehow Alan managed to get the attire onto his body.

Combat pants, military-grade socks, gore tex boots. Camouflage button-up, hardshell jacket, belt with holster and magazine pouches. Shooting gloves, army print hat, face mask. It took a minute longer for Alan to place every minor piece of tactical protection onto himself, but finally his smaller frame was completely covered, dwarfed by the oversized gear.

“Looking like a real soldier there,” First Sergeant mocked. “Now let’s actually make you one.”

Already covered in the musky clothing, Alan’s intellectual ability had been dulled considerably. But when First Sergeant approached, clutching Alan’s head once more before shoving it into his wet armpit, his brain completely halted. Coming straight from the source, the soldier’s stench wafted past all Alan’s barriers, taking control immediately. Its first instruction was to keep sniffing, its second was to conform.

With a chuckle, First Sergeant watched as Alan’s body began to expand underneath his hold. The shrimpy twink grew inside of the tactical gear, filling it out properly in every direction. Muscular arms filled the sleeves of the jacket, meaty hands stuffing the crevices of the gloves. The vest became as padded on the back as it was in the front, juicy pectorals and rigid abdominals forcefully pushing against the fabric. 

Thicker thighs padded the pants, bloated feet crowded the massive boots. Two muscular buttocks crammed the seat of Alan’s pants. A lantern jaw and cleft chin became prominent underneath the face mask. Buzz cut hidden by the cap, deeper voice waiting to confirm with “Sir, yes sir!” First Sergeant even noticed the prominent padding his new soldier was developing beneath the belt. When he ultimately removed Alan from his hold, the man before him now stood at the same domineering height.

“Good, now just stand still for one moment.”

Even if he wanted to, Alan could not move. The musk was still lingering in his mind, holding him steady as First Sergeant deposited an obnoxious military headset onto Alan’s head. He then plugged the headset into a walkie-talkie before tuning it to an empty channel. A robotic voice began looping into Alan’s ears, along with a few simple tones to open up the receptive pathways in his brain.

“Ready to get back out there?” First Sergeant asked, knowing his fellow soldier could not hear him. With a smirk, he escorted the dumbfounded subordinate out of the room, pacing slowly as Alan absorbed the propaganda. It was simple phrases, nothing too complicated but through repetition effective on the psyche. “Military good,” “pacifism bad”. “Nationalism good,” “multiculturalism bad.” “Masculinity good,” “progressivism bad.” The messages were rudimentary, but deliberate.

Once they stepped back into the open, fresh air, Alan’s consciousness resurfaced. He tried to fight back against the rampant messaging, doing his best to tune out the audios as the First Sergeant led him back to the front line. Alan was being attacked on all fronts: his morals, his identity, his sexuality. Every time he turned away to defend one trait, it was like he lost another. He felt himself dwindling, chipping away.

Before long, the two stood directly in front of the courthouse, mere feet away from their first encounter. First Sergeant loaded the new soldier up, arming the man with a weapon and other items necessary in case of an emergency.

“Let’s see if you’re done cooking yet.” First Sergeant looked directly into his subordinate’s eyes, pleased with their reflective quality. He then removed the headphones.

“Name and rank, soldier?” he saluted. The other man fell into place, mirroring his actions.

“Private Aaron Steel, MH36 sir!”

First Sergeant smiled. The name change was a good sign of transition, but complete removal would have been preffered.

“Ready for the task, soldier? Will you be loyal and obedient to the greatest nation? Follow every instruction in the name of tradition?”

The soldier nodded his head quickly, “Affirmative, sir.”

“Alright then.” First Sergeant replaced the headphones back onto the private’s head, knowing a little more time would do the trick. “Dismissed. Get back to work, private.”

“Sir yes sir!”

First Sergeant strolled back to his command at the front line. The new private monitored the crowd, absorbing his commands as he scanned for any disturbances.