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Hey are you still taking transformation applications? Just found this blog and it's great. I was wonder if you could turn my into a dumb himbo surfer? I'm white, 5'9 and a little on the fat nerdy side, but I'd love to be a tall tanned lean surfer dude!

“Alright dude, welcome to the Amalia Aquatics Center. We have been looking for more surf instructors and you are the man for the job. The name’s Kellan and I’ll be your boss.”

You look at the tall surfer guessing he had to be about 6′7″, almost a foot taller than you. His muscles are lean and his skin is tan. He looks like a stereotypical, but tall and slightly more built, surfer. He even spoke like one. Hardly the professional you were expecting from what you saw at the front desk.

“I’m just here to help you get used to your job. I’m sure it won’t take long for you to fit in, brah.” He chuckled, “Now why are you wearing a shirt?”

You look down, a little embarrassed for even trying this. You look back up at Kellan and he his simply looking back at you with a smirk on his face. Your eyes look down at the beginnings of moobs and gut pushing at your shirt. 

“You want to be a surfer or what?”

You grip the hem of your shirt in frustration. Struggling to pull it  off, you finally do, red in the face. Kellan is just chuckling, “See that wasn’t so hard.”

A blush fills your cheeks again. You look down at your lean, tanned torso wondering why you wouldn’t want your shirt off. You love going shirtless. 

“And we like our surfers to be blonde. Longer hair is preferred.”

You run a hand through your hair, remembering you got it died a few weeks ago.

“Oh and the clients usually like a big cock. From your swimsuit I see no problem there.”

You smirk, thinking of the 7-inch soft torpedo in your swimsuit.

“And our surfers always love getting fucked as a tip instead of cash.”

Your ass suddenly feels very hungry and your cock grows to a full 9 inches at the idea at your prospects for sex. Not that your brain even knows what a word like “prospects” means anymore.

“So dude I think your ready to start.”

You smile dumbly, not even realizing you had changed, “Awesome dude.”

--- Originally posted on 2022-11-27 by breedertfs ---

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

thrift shift: camo hat

“Yeah, thanks but no, guys who wear hats like this are the bane of my existence.” The blonde twink grimaced at the cap shoved into his hands, but the shopkeeper kept on insisting. Presley was a pacifist vegetarian with a successful fashion blog, and the last thing he needed was to blend into nature. What on earth was he going to hunt except for a sugar daddy? But the longer he held the hat in his hands, the more he felt a pulling in the pit of his stomach. Anxious energy rose in him, strangely inclined to listen to the owner of the new thrift store that had opened in town. He could always write a bad review on his blog later, what was the harm in playing nice now? Without bothering to search for a changing room for something so simple, he huffed. “Fine, whatever. But babes, we need to talk about your eye for style.”

He secured the cap on his head, but as he reached to adjust the strap to tighten it, he felt a wave of energy roll through his body as he poofed! out of the shop, leaving the clerk smiling happily and going on to help the next customer seeking their perfect Thrift Shift experience. Elsewhere, phasing into existence in a field outside a rural farmhouse, the new and improved Preston found himself feeling bloated, dirty, and exposed. He looked down for a brief moment of panic, trying to process the filthy slab of meat and thick hair and trashy tattoos attached to his new head.

The once new camo cap felt stretched to its limits around his broad face, lantern jaw falling slack at the sheer smell of sweat wafting off him. The hat felt hot on his scalp, damp to the touch, and the last remnants of Presley assimilated to his new environment quickly. Preston belched out in the open, pressing a calloused hand to his painfully full beer gut. He could smell the alcohol on his rank breath, suddenly and completely a full grown corn fed man acting like a drunken fool out in the backwoods. But damn, this was his fuckin’ property! All he wanted to do now was chug another can of beer and take his four wheeler for a spin down the backwoods. Maybe bring his rifle along and look for a nice buck.

The only real passions in his life were beer, hunting, and tight pussy. He’d have his fill of all that, but first… he could feel the pressure building in his gut, and he had no shame letting his rank odor fill the air, thick hairy ass cheeks jiggling from the sheer force of one longgg fuckin’ fart.

He lowered his underwear so that he could listen to the sound with pride.

“Awww yeah, that’s real nice. I tell ya what man, this is the life.”

The Witch's Transformation: (part 2)

Mark, a muscular college wrestler, pulls a prank on Alex by sending him to an abandoned house, only to stumble upon a beautiful woman who turns out to be an evil witch. Angered by his intrusion, the witch curses Mark, stripping him of his strength and transforming his body into that of a smaller, weaker version of himself. As his muscles vanish and his appearance changes, he finds himself in a tight-fitting speedo, with his body altered in unexpected ways. Ultimately, Mark is left bewildered and vulnerable, facing the consequences of his prank.

Mark, the college jock, had just played a prank on Alex, the introvert. He tricked Alex into going to an old, abandoned house.

To Mark's surprise, a beautiful woman emerged from the house instead of Alex. Perplexed, Mark decided to enter the house in search of Alex.

Inside the house, Mark found the beautiful woman again. He tried to flirt with her, not knowing what was about to happen next.

The beautiful woman revealed herself to be an evil witch. She was furious at Mark for trespassing into her domain and decided to punish him.

The witch decided to cast a spell on Mark. He felt weak as his muscles began to shrink, and his face became boyish and clean-shaven.

His clothes fell to the ground, no longer fitting his now slim frame. The witch handed him a small speedo which he wore, confused and fearful.

The witch snapped her fingers once more, putting the finishing touches on her spell. Mark's body started to change again.

Mark's butt began to grow, becoming huge and tight in the speedo. He had become small and weak, a stark contrast to the jock he once was.

The witch laughed at Mark's new appearance, satisfied with her revenge. Mark, on the other hand, was horrified and confused by his new reality.

Mark was left to grapple with his new identity, a punishment for his arrogance. He learned a cruel lesson that day about respecting others' spaces.

Absolute favorite. A brutal story written masterfully

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.”

Taboo

--- Originally posted on 2023-05-13 by shapedbydesire ---

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

The gay to straight stuff is so taboo, but I'm loving that as well. That fantasy concept of being 'corrected'. Or more so, becoming the absolute opposite of yourself. That new version of you never allowing you out to 'ruin' your life again with your 'bad choices'.

You put it perfectly! And I’m glad you’re enjoying those stories — my favorite thing to do within my TF fiction is to have the main character struggle with their changes; I love when the person is disgusted and frightened by who they become, even if all the things they receive are technically what they were wishing for.

Here’s another treat:

Trent was trying on the compression shorts he received in the mail when he felt the influence invading his mind.

The twink was happy to see how they hugged his curves, at first annoyed by his father’s boring birthday gift but starting to see the appeal, slim waist sucked in as his perky bubble butt is pushed out. Right before he can snap a picture for his dating profile, however, he feels himself turning in place, directing his ass away from the mirror and now facing it front-on. His gaze lowers to his bulge, looking larger in the shorts. Normally the gold star bottom could care less about his dick, but something about watching it chub up was making him excited. Proud.

He lowered his hand, running his fingers over the fabric encasing his cock. Closing his eyes, releasing a sigh of pleasure, he waits to see a massive burly man appearing in his lustful daydream — but he’s shocked to see that his mind has dreamed up a vision of two large, silicone filled breasts bouncing up and down, blonde hair falling over them, no face in the video. “Fuckkk, Brah. I need to motorboat those titties.”

The dim, bovine voice speaking inside his mind does not belong to him. He opens his eyes in shock, taken aback by the comment he would have never thought of if he had control, glancing down to see his dick has begun to snake down his shorts leg, throbbing at full mast. His chest felt tight in his white shirt, his mouth open as he breathes deep and long, he tries to close his eyes again to cemetery himself, heat washing through his body — but anytime he goes to the darkness, all he can see are boobs bouncing, fingers slipping in and out of wet slits, blonde women kissing. All of his fantasies suddenly belong to a straight man! He rips off his shirt, sweat beading on his forehead, a waft of musk coming from his damp, dark armpits.

Trent was now unable to control himself, his cock engorging to the extreme inside his tight compression shorts, his swelling bicep flexing as he lifts an arm against his will to snap a selfie of his changing reflection.

Ever since putting on the shorts, a belated birthday gift from his estranged father, the former twink had felt increasingly strange. The muscles beneath his skin swelled up like water balloons, firm to the touch. He was supposed to be working from home that day, but he found himself unable to focus, hooking his fingers beneath the waistband and placing his fingertips against the sweaty, hard sausage in his shorts. His voice sounds low as he grunted, running his fingers up and down his fattening bulge, unable to process the changes happening to his body, the itch along his jaw as it widens and becomes firmer.

He hears a ping on his phone, looking down to see a text from his father sending him a GIF. He opens it and is shocked to see a video image of a woman with large breasts fondling herself, sticking her tongue out as if hungering for a cock down her throat. Even if he closes his eyes to look away, all he can see is this bimbo burned into his mind, turning the invader inside of his body on more and more. “Son, what do you think of this hot piece of ass?”

He was unable to control himself, feeling the fabric tighten around his cock, a rush of testosterone through his system. He grunted and moaned and whimpered, staring down in shock as the fabric began to work his cock alongside his trembling fingers, milking out his seed, all the while fat tits and wet pussies jiggle & drip in his mind.

By the time he splooged in his new shorts, Trey had traded places with the twink, now in the driver’s seat and happy to let the little queer scream and whine inside a straight man’s brain, forever bombarded by horny women — he sent his father back a simple “fuckkk dad! I hope there’s some sluts like that at the club tonight. The goal is for us to bring home twins lol”

He then snapped a selfie of his final form, smugly satisfied with hot straight self. His dad is certainly proud of him! Now, at least. Trent bangs at the walls of his mental prison, not at all wanting this life that has been thrust upon him. Hanging out with his father?! Disrespecting women?! God, his new self isn’t even cleaning up his mess, leaving the cum to dry inside his shorts and add to his man musk. “Bro, stop being a little bitch,” Trey’s eyes are gazing at his reflection now, his smirk cocky, looking deep as if at the twink trapped inside him. “Stop crying and try sucking on some of those fat tits I’m dreaming up for you. Dad and I are gonna go hunting for the real thing.”

Happy birthday to him, huh?

Product Placement: Free Exercise Healthcare Offer

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

The girls in the locker room snickered behind her back as Janet pulled off her gym shirt. They didn't have to shower before class (thank God!) but everyone needed to change out of their sweaty gym clothes. Janet always felt like an outsider and didn't have many friends in her class. It was partially to do with her tomboyish features: tall, lanky, flat-chested, a little bit muscular; but also because she preferred "guy" things to "girl" things. She was the youngest in her family and her twin older brothers let her tag along with their friends growing up. They were always skateboarding, riding dirt bikes, wrestling, or getting into trouble. It was a great childhood, but that all changed in late middle school. Her brothers where in high school now and their friends thought it was weird to hang out with a middle-school girl. And so she was left on her own. Now a junior in high school, Janet was isolated and lonely. She heard someone laughing nearby and tried not to look up. They were around the corner of a row of lockers, but she overheard anyway (that was probably the point anyway...)

"...such a freak. I mean, did you see her in the weight room..." "...what girl bench presses that much..." "...a girl with a dick, that's who!"

Janet tried to fight back tears as the laughter continued. She didn't have a dick, of course. She was a woman, but sometimes wondered if maybe she was transgender. She liked guys, not only because she could relate to them better, but because she was attracted to their bodies. Was that why she liked lifting? Was it because she wanted to be a man?

The laughing continued.

"Bitches..." Janet whispered under her breath. That was a mistake, because the laughter stopped. She would pay for that later, she was sure of it. These girls were your typical high school "mean girls" and she was an easy target for them.

"Hey Janet," one them called out. "The boy's locker room is on the other side!"

"Yeah, you must have wandered in here by mistake," said another girl.

They walked formed a circle around her and laughed. Janet grabbed her gym bag and ran out of the locker room before they saw her crying. She was so worried they were following her, that she sped up. As she turned the corner, she ran headfirst into a group of guys coming in from the gym and tripped. One of the guys caught her as she fell. His name was Cody, the captain of the basketball team and one of the tallest, fittest, guys at her high school.

"Sorry..." Janet mumbled.

"Dude, it's fine," Cody answered.

His basketball jersey was damp with sweat and the smell of his body odor mixed with deodorant and body spray was musty and raw.

"Hey, I know you," he added. "You're Davey's little sis, right?"

Her older brother David had played basketball, so they probably were on the same team at some point in high school.

"Yeah, that's me" she added as she grabbed her bag and tried to leave the conversation.

"Woah, dude, why don't you play. You'd be great," he said. His kindness made his face look even more attractive. But Janet saw that the girls were leaving the locker room, so she didn't answer and snuck out of the gym to the parking lot.

At home, she kept thinking about what she had overheard that day. It left her feeling empty and confused. Her parent's were gone that night, so she spent the night playing video games online. She was a big fan of games that were by no means "girly." It started with games like "Halo," "Borderlands" "Call of Duty", but she was a huge fan of "Gears of War." She always seemed to identity with the hyper-masculine heroes of the games, with their strong muscles, heavy guns, and no bullshit attitudes. Even when there was an option to build a female character in a video game, she almost always made herself the biggest, tankiest, brute, and played melee style.

That night, she was playing with random guys all over the world. It was commonplace for them to either not care about her gender, or just assume she was a guy. Though some might say that was sexist, she didn't care. She just wanted to be one of the guys anyway.

That night, she had a strange dream. It started as a scene from the video game earlier that day. Her squad was clearing out a bunker, but it transformed into her high school locker room. There she was, standing in the middle of the guys locker room. She saw a group of guys showering, there wet asses covered in soap and their hair matted down on their faces. She saw Cody, his calves round, his thighs thick, and his muscled bubble butt. She felt uncomfortable, but no one seemed to notice her. She started to back away when she heard someone shout out, "Look guys, Janet's got a cock!"

She stared down at her crotch and saw that she had a massive boner sticking out from her naked body. She heard echoes of laughter from all sides, but couldn't escape the dream. All around her were shadowy figures taunting her.

"Be strong. Be yourself. Fight. You have to fight. You have the strength. Fight through. Be strong."

Her hands curled into fists and she felt a primal, almost orgasmic rage, rise within her. When she lifted up her arms, she saw that they were ripped with muscle and covered in tattoos. Her chest and abs were chiseled and she felt taller. She took the stance of a fighter and landed a punch on one of the shadowy beings. She let out a grunt of satisfaction and turned to swing her hand across the jaw of another shadow.

"Good. You are a fighter. You are stronger than them. You must fight."

The fighting continued until all the shadows were gone. She let out a shout and pumped her fists together. Suddenly, the dream ended and she jumped up in her bed.

She turned on the lamp next to her bed and saw that she was back in her normal body. Her heartbeat was racing, but she knew it was just a dream. Probably caused by playing video games too late at night. She turned the light off and tried to go back to bed.

The next day at school, Janet figured there would be bullying. But she wasn't prepared for what she found on her locker. Someone had cut out a picture of her head and taped it onto a bodybuilder. Written across the top was "Roid Janet" and "Tranny Janny" (both new ones to her). She tore down the picture and walked away from her locker. She knew everyone was watching her, so instead of just hiding in the bathroom, she actually went and sat in her car. She pounded her fists on the steering wheel and thought to herself, "Why do I have to be a girl..."

Just then, she heard a voice in her head start to talk. "You are not a girl. You are a man. You are a fighter. You can become what you want. You choose to become strong. You choose to become a man. You choose to stop being Janet. When you become a man, Janet no longer exists. No one will know who Janet is. You will become a new person. A new man."

The voice grew louder in her head and she just laid back in her seat and let the voice put her into a deep trance. In this trance she felt strong, she felt powerful. At one point, it felt like she was having an orgasm, but it was different than anything she had felt before. But before she climaxed, it went away and the trance faded. She didn't want the teachers looking for her, so she back inside. But everyone was shuffling the halls as usual. What was strange was that no one made eye contact with her. This wasn't completely out of place, but it felt different somehow. She went back to her locker, but the combination she tried didn't open.

She banged her hand on the door, but no one stopped and looked. She stood in the middle of the hall and felt invisible. A nerdy kid that she had never seen before walked over to "her" locker and opened it. He took off his hoodie and hung it up on one of the hooks. It looked like all of her books and pictures were gone. On the intercom, she heard an announcement:

"A reminder to all students that the assembly with celebrity fighter and trainer Andy Hunt will start in the gym at 9:00 AM." She walked down the hall and passed the group of girls that bullied her staring at a poster. They were giggling about a shirtless man that was flexing. It was a poster for the special assembly. "OMG, he is SO sexy," they said casually. These girls paid no attention to Janet, even she was standing right next to him. Something about this man's body seemed familiar, like something she had seen in a dream.

Suddenly, her phone vibrated. She pulled it out of her pocket and answered.

"Who is this?" said the voice on the other side.

"Janet, who are you?"

"Don't worry Janet. You are going to be fine. Just listen carefully."

"What! Who is this?"

"That doesn't matter. All that matters is who you are. Who you are becoming. Go to the locker room by 9:00. Andy needs his phone."

"Andy? Who is Andy? What's going on."

The caller hung up and she saw that the screen of her phone looked different. The time was 8:55. She had no idea what was happening, but saw that the halls were emptying out as everyone gathered in the gym.

She followed carefully, but the phone in her hand kept pinging with messages and text.

"Where r u, Andy?"

"Andy, you have less than 5"

When she entered the room, she saw a crew of cameramen and people waiting for the assembly to start.

"Andy, thank God you're here!" said a short thin man with a bald spot.

"I'm not Andy," Janet wanted to say, but the man was dragging her by the wrist.

"Just wait in the locker room until your cue, alright!"

As Janet walked down the hallway, she started to feel dizzy. She turned right, but the man laughed.

"Wrong way, Andy -- the men's room is that way" he said, pointing down the hallway on the left.

"Men's room, but, I ... uh ... what is going ..."

Janet turned down the hallway and walked through the door into the boy's locker room. It felt like dream. The room seemed steamy and Janet started taking off her clothes. As she stripped, she heard the voice again.

"Andy, you are so close. You are ready. Look at yourself Andy. You are strong. You are popular. You are an inspiration. You can be the man you want. You can inspire others to greatness. Look at yourself Andy."

Janet turned toward a mirror and saw the face of Andy Hunt staring back. This was the face of the man she always dreamed of being. His eyes were dark. He had a beard and styled hair. His bulging arms were tattooed. His chest strong, with only a little hair between his pecs. His abs were perfect and below was a forest of dark hair and a massive towering cock.

"Let go Andy. Allow yourself to let go."

Janet took the massive cock and stroked it back and forth. With every invigorating stroke, her mind emptied and she allowed herself to drift away. The sensation of being this man in the mirror took control. Andy wanted this, so Andy kept going. With a few thrust, Andy sprayed come into the sink and felt a wave of relaxation wash over him. Usually, he wouldn't do this before a show, but today felt different. He cleared his throat and spat into the sink. Outside, he heard people chanting his name.

Andy walked over to a bench and pulled out his underwear and the track suit and fitness wear with the words "Andy Hunt: Trainer" printed on them. He saw his luggage for the rest of the tour.

As the crowd chanted his name, Andy took the stage as high energy music played. He dropped down and did twenty push ups in rhythm as they cheered. He walked over to the microphone and greeted the group.

"Hello! Hello!"

Over the course of his show, he encouraged everyone in the room to commit to being themselves, to become strong, to stand up for what they believed, to transform their lives. Afterward, he took selfies with adoring fans, gave them advice, and signed their notebooks. He posted some of the pictures on his massively popular Instagram and Twitter pages. Tomorrow, he would train a local gym to stay fit, but then continue the tour. His message was empowering and he wanted everyone to feel like they had the power to make their dreams a reality.

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.

Protocol 69

---

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.

This is just the start, I suppose.  I resisted for a long time.  Fuck if I wanted to play football, and I definitely didn’t want to be parading around without a shirt like the older teenage guys were doing.

Then puberty hit me like a truck.  Almost overnight, I’m getting this hair in places I never wanted it, even having to shave my face, embarrassed, just like a lot of the guys are, prolly… not sure if I should shave the rest on my body, too… and my dick goes from this normal sized thing, to this protruding snake in my pants.  I mean, seriously, gets long and fat as hell.  So I’ve got this bulge in my shorts, now.  And it gets hard now, just like an adult guy, but I’m only a teenager and bam… I’m creaming loads of sperm into my underwear, I’m jacking off to porn late at night when nobody’s looking.  I tried not to at first, but once I started, pretty soon I was jacking two or even three times a night, staying up real late.  It was cray for sure, even though I knew it was just normal.

Then I get it, you know, the guys I want to jack off to are all the hot jocks, the ones with muscle, the… and I’m getting tall, man.  I keep thinking about how I’m not like that, but then… and they want me to join the team…

So, I go for it.  I can always stop, I tell myself.  But it feels good, doing my first pullup, and when I start to notice the muscle grow, I’m jacking off to my own reflection in the mirror, even.

I buy some new clothes at the mall, just to try ‘em, and it looks good so I decide I’m gonna change my whole wardrobe.  Athletic shorts, started cutting off my sleeves to show off these guns, a gold necklace like a lot of the guys wear, and I’ve gotten comfortable going without a shirt now, even when other people are around.  I mean, why not, I look good, might as well just be myself, you know?

Everything about it turns me on, and I changed so much over the summer that folks even said they really noticed it when I went back this fall, how tall I am, how deep my voice is.  Everybody seems to like me more, too, like I’m more popular and stuff.

So I want to stick with it, really work out hard this year.  Like, i love how I look now, and it makes me want to beat off hard… I can jack in front of the mirror for hours… and sometimes I just imagine how I’ll look once after I really start lifting even more, and I flex, and the pump gets me off.  Plus, someday I can imagine fooling around with another dude for the first time on the DL… and I want to look my best, ya know.  So yeah.

Nerd to Dumb Jock

Chad was extremely smart. He was straight and was prettty small for his age. His father was just the dumb sexy quarterback and his mother was just the sexy lady with the big tits that is why his father loves her. They were disappointed in chad for not following in his fathers footsteps of being the quarterback and being laid on sexy women. They always made fun of chad for being really ugly to this family.

But when Chad was at school it was worse. All the bullying would make depressed and the bullies would make him do their homework with no price. All the teachers would even be mad sometimes when Chad corrected them. The terrible thing that would get him bullied was reminding the teacher of a test or homework.

Till that stupid day changed all of it. Chad was starting to get used to being bullied, but it that one day ticked him off. Chad was completely straight and the quarterback named Abe has started a rumor of how Chad was gay. Even though Chad was upset that it turns out Abe was the one that was gay because Chad was in the bathroom and he opens the door to a stall and saw Abe Jerking off to gay porn, now Chad has to keep it a secret or else he will be bullied this life will be ruined.

Chad was confused by why he had told this rumor, even though he has never told Abe’a secret if being gay. Chad went to Abe after his final class. He asked why he had done that at first, but then he just started laughing about how he just did it for fun and even if he told every he was gay they would believe you. Chad became upset and this where his life changed forever. Chad started to tell Abe ”you big shit, fuck you, you are just a big dumb jock, you think your cool for being the quarterback and your just scared to tell every you gay like the pussy you are.”. The next he saw before getting knocked out was Abe’a big hand coming towards his face.

All you now know now that this was all Chad’a fault for what happens to himself. Of course, the first he saw that Chad was in a chair with rope tied around his arms. He could feel the sweat run down his face. The cool breeze didn’t help the heat. He looked up to the darkness. Chad began to become scared as he saw a dark shadow coming towards the light and with every foot step made his heart beat quicker, so the dark creature went into Chad without a chance.

The next thing that happened was his body grew the rope tighten harder as his arms grew bigger stronger and bigger, his clothes morphed big, but soon abs grew on Chad and he couldn’t help but moan. He couldn’t resist the crature making him bigger and stronger. His cock grew bigger and so did his legs his mind dumbed down faster as he couldn’t remember his past life, then seconds flashed as he started to become the dumb jock Abe it turns out Abe wanted his to suffer like him, a hot sex toy that everyone thinks is dumb

The next thing was that his face was growing a soft beard. It was so hot alover he couldn’t resist. He sumbited each time. Submit and submit. Nothing was left for an option. So Chad now Abe fell tired and fell asleep. Soon he woke in his bed next to a hot Female he looked at her and it turns out Abe was gay and he looked at the girl as it faded awayed to become a hot sweaty masking man. It turns out some of him changed, but not all. But his curse was that he would be dumber then Abe and now he has to face the difficult of wearing a shirt that said dumb jock and so did all his shirts and he wasn’t aloud to gain any knowledge.

But let’s just say he has muscle and all the dudes right?