Bro Switch

Not In The Exhibit Brochure

It was a hot summer day and the city was filled with people coming to be a part of one of the biggest fantasy conventions in the country. Video games, board games, tabletop RPGs, LARP, movies, TV shows, theater shows, even musicals. If one fancied themselves a fan of a franchise that existed in any of these forms, they could be found spending a sunny August weekend in the convention center.

Mark meandered between countless people in the Second Pavilion, getting tired having spent the last five hours walking around the convention area, being asked for pictures and catching up with his friends. This year he came wearing a full cosplay of one of the characters from his favorite first person shooter. He put on a tactical vest, helmet with a full headset, a tactical belt with a bunch of accessories and camo pants. In his hands he was bearing a perfect replica of the most famous gun from the game.

He spent a long time perfecting the costume, both by searching for just the right gear and by spending hours in the gym. Now his broad and thick shoulders, football-sized biceps and veiny forearms were visible for all attendees, which garnered Mark a lot of attention, which he enjoyed.

It was exhausting, however. The temperature inside the convention center got uncomfortably high at times, so he decided to take a break. He fold the few friends who joined him during the day that he was leaving for a while to take in some relatively fresh air, then pushed his way through the crowds until he got to the exit.

Thanks to the fact that the center was basically in the middle of the city he didn't have to go far to get to a park and relax, then find a place to eat and just take a walk through the city.

Mark was aware that many businesses and institutions had various perks for the convention ticket holders, to keep the attendees in the city for longer and spread the economic effects of the convention. He was reminded of this fact just as he was walking by the giant building of the art museum. His curiosity was piqued and he checked if he would get a discount of a ticket. It turned out he could walk in for free, the only requirement was to show his pass at the entrance.

What Mark saw after getting through a quick but awkward security check truly amazed him. He slowly walked from one part of the building to the next, taking his time to watch every piece, all displayed in a well air-conditioned space, which was a nice bonus. The museum had a bunch of different special exhibits currently open to the public and they were all pretty stunning, each in its own way.

Finally, Mark made his way to a part of the museum furthest away from the entrance where he saw a recent collection of sculptures from a local artist. Each statue was an extremely realistic depiction of a person, and they were supposed to collectively represent modern society. There were athletes mid-run, businessmen in the middle of walking in between offices, chefs tasting their newest creations, it was all incredible to watch, every sculpture most likely taking weeks or months to complete. Mark stood in the middle of the room as he looked around and every time he managed to find a new detail in one of the statues. While his eyes were jumping from one piece to another, inspecting every curve and small detail, he was unaware of just how much time has passed since he entered this space.

And then he tried to move.

Mark heard his phone buzz loudly in his pocket. It was probably one of his friends wanting to check up on him. He tried to move his hand to take the phone and answer the call, but it wouldn't move. Neither would his head. Or any part of his body. He was immediately alarmed. Mark tried as hard as he could to get any element within his human form to move even an inch, but it didn't work. His whole body was suddenly completely stationary and he could not control its movements, because he couldn't cause any movements. He started to panic and hoped someone would notice that he wasn't well. There were a lot of people at the museum so it would be just a matter of time before one of them came to this room and noticed a guy in a military cosplay was standing weirdly still.

Except this did not happen. Visitors just passed by him with no interest in the person standing frozen in the middle of the room. As Mark looked with his unmovable eyes at the tourists wandering around the space right in front of him he felt like he was losing the track of time. Was it a minute ago that he realized he couldn't move? No it mus have been almost an hour by then. Nah, it couldn't be.

Then Mark realized something horrifying. Not only was no one coming up to help him, they began to stop in front of him and just look at him, as if he was just another...

Did he turn into a fucking statue?! That terrifying thought seeped deep into his mind wreaking havoc along the way. How could this have happened? Magic? But magic wasn't real! That was impossible, this was a dream, for sure! He tried to move his body even a little bit, but again he failed every time. He desperately tried to force his hand to move so that he could pinch himself and wake up from this terrifying nightmare. But no part of his arm changed position, not even an inch.

A larger group of tourists, mostly retirees, led by a young woman slowly moved through the exhibition space and passed by Mark, who continued to struggle and try to move.

"Huh, the guide didn't say anything about this one. Did that lovely lady talk about this soldier, Harold?" An elderly couple stopped in front of Mark and they stood there and admired him for a moment.

"No, Mary, I'm pretty sure I'd remember" The man, Harold, took a step closer towards the statue.

"Harold!" The woman shouted at him. "You can't walk up too close to the sculptures dear."

"Oh, calm down" Harold responded, slightly annoyed at his wife's comment. "I'm in an art museum so don't tell me to not look at the art." The older man stood just a few steps away from Mark. "There's no plaque or rope or anything, this is a free country, Mary!" He was a few inches shorter than Mark, so he couldn't clearly see everything but it seemed he was just looking at Mark's gear.

"Look. The artist — that Gary what's-his-name — knew what he was doing with this one. I recognize all that gear this man is wearing. Nice work." Harold's tone of voice suggested he was weirdly pleased with the statue that used to be Mark. "This is what a real man's supposed to look like. Not some sissy sitting behind the desk all day."

"Of course Harold, of course" The woman walked up to her husband and put her arm around him, then started gently pushing him towards the other statues.

Mark's brain struggled to comprehend what he had just witnessed. He had really turned into a statue! People thought he was a part of the exhibit! How could this have happened? He couldn't come up with any even remotely plausible explanation for what he was experiencing. He then thought that his only hope would be his friends - they knew he was downtown, maybe some would guess that he used the opportunity to get into the art museum for free, which would lead them to the place where Mark was currently stranded.

The group of retirees came back, walked next to Mark and was about to leave the room when the tour guide looked at him and murmured to herself.

"This statue was not a part of the exhibit. How did it get here?" She grabbed her phone and quickly led her group towards the rest of the museum.

Mark again realized he couldn't tell how much time had passed since any of the recent events. It was as if his internal clock had stopped working, ran out of batteries. This whole experience was so confusing that he had issues fully registering everything. He tried counting in his head, but got lost after 20, maybe? The only thing he was sure of, for now, was that the day had not yet ended, but he could not tell what part of the day it was, as the whole museum was constantly lit with this slightly weird diffused lighting.

Three people suddenly came into view and stood some distance away from Mark, clearly looking at him. He couldn't hear the conversation they were having because of the noise from surrounding visitors, but he could clearly see that they were all agitated, talking over each other and aggressively pointing at themselves and Mark. As he looked closer he realized they were all museum employees, meaning they were probably debating what to do with a statue which has suddenly appeared within the premises of the musem they worked for, a rather uncommon occurrence.

Not long after they left Mark's view and he was once again stuck in this feeling ot timelessness. Tourists stopped in front of him every now and then, looked at him for a moment and moved on, while he stood still, holding the gun in his hands as if ready to fight, and yet incapable of it because of some indescribable force.

The employees from before came back, one of them holding in their hands a metal stand of come kind. It had something written on it at the top, but Mark couldn't see what it was. What he could see was the employee putting the stand in front of him and them all looking at it.

"That will have to do for now" One of them said. This time they were standing closer and Mark was able to hear what they were saying.

"Yeah, I won't be able to make a proper one until tomorrow."

"Okay, but it has to be there by Monday afternoon, otherwise we're fucked. Jesus Christ, still'can't believe this happened."

"No time for moaning, Jacob. We have work to do." Another one replied. They all nodded their heads, took one last look at the stand and quickly left the scene.

Mark thought about what he had just witnessed, and it took him a moment to understand - this was a stand with information about the statue, which meant him. It was the same kind as dozens more throughout the museum that visitors could look at for further information that was meant to enrich their experiences. This was meant to hide the fact that he was not here just mere hours, or minutes, or days, or-- he was certainly not here when the exhibition was opened. That fact was probably what had made them so angry and confused before - from their perspective a random statue of a soldier randomly appeared in the museum.

His mind immediately asked one question - I wonder what did they write on there? What was his title, his author, his artistic description or statement? Wait, his author? That was a strange line of thought, Mark realized.

I am Uncontrolled Power.

Wait, what was that? Who said that? Where was that deep voice coming from?

I was created by Greg Duchaime Arreman.

Was there someone standing behind him?

I am meant to represent unchecked aggression and power of the Military Industrial Complex.

Wait a second, what this voice inside his head?

I am the physical manifestation of toxic masculinity and bravado.

Holy fuck, this was a voice inside his head. Was this... what they had written about him on this stand?

Fuck yeah, I'm an alpha who follows orders and crushes any sign of disloyalty.

The voice was talking to Mark. Shit, the voice was talking to him! What the fuck?

You scum, get ready to experience the primal, animalistic force of a toxic man! I'm gonna crush you!

Mark wanted to sigh loudly, but of course he couldn't. Great, the museum employees with their great art wisdom made him a stereotypical aggressive soldier. Obedient muscle. The armored tool of American imperialism. And this soldier character seemed to have appeared inside his head.

I am here to blindly follow orders, enforce them and show everyone what masculinity really means!

If Mark could have rolled his eyes, he would. He was stuck, like an NPC frozen mid-frame, standing in the middle of an art museum, possibly forever. And from now on he would represent toxic masculinity, aggression and military prowess.

Whoever stands in my way will be violently crushed with the power of the American Military and my primal force! Toxic and proud, that's who I am!

Modulated

--- Original author: realhankmccoy ---

“I ain’t no motherfuckin’ redneck, you assholes! Don’t you fucking get it? I’ll never be ok with you being here and disrespecting our gay spaces!” I had shrieked and screamed, and I was being sassy as fuck. But they had darted me, so it was too late for me already. I had been one of the hottest little twinks in Colombia back then. I had such a tight little body, I was non-binary, and I was supportive of my local drag scene. I was absolutely into resisting these fucking fascists and their goddamn bullshit lifestyles, which I couldn’t stand.

That’s how I thought of it all back then, anyhow.

Man, that dart though, it had done its dirty work. I was writhing on the floor of the club, so I didn’t even get to witness the way it transformed me as I went into spasms. It was almost like having a seizure, but I could feel the muscle growing on me, and I could hear my shrieks and wails shift in pitch as I grew on into this whole new, far more masculine body.

I was getting to be built like a brick shithouse really fucking fast, and was taking on more of a mature look. Everywhere I was getting more muscle. I was splitting the seams of my jeans, and my underwear, and felt my back pressing up and splitting my tight pink t-shirt.

When I finally was able to sit up, I was in a daze. I had rendered my clothes asunder. I had bristles of hair all over my face, and the har on my head had grown longer, too, sort of flopping in my eyes. I was a mess.

And then the headache came. I was clutching the sides of my head and moaning, almost screaming in pain out loud, as my twinkish mind collapsed and got replaced by a growing part of me I didn’t even know existed. That part, my friends, is the motherfucking, take-charge redneck stud I am today.

My friends helped me get out of there, and I was still in transition. It takes a good seventy-two hours at least until you can fully collapse one of those weak-ass brains like the one I had before and until a more dominant, superior personality takes over like the one I was starting to get.

So yeah, like I said, I was a mess, and when my friends got me back to one of their apartments, I was still sporadically ranting about how dare those fascists do this to me, they’d never win, this was fucking awful. But as I heard myself talk, there was a growing part of me that was observing myself and thinking “so what? You sound like a raving lunatic. Look at this body! Damn, boy, just look at that muscle!”

Sleeping on it, man, that twink brain of mine must have collapsed even further. I woke up and I just wanted coffee with a splash of alcohol in it, so that’s what I got. Then I added two splashed. I had already stripped out of my shredded pink t-shirt, and my friends had some loose boxers that fit me, but I was just this naked, muscular stud in awe of his own body and trying to come to terms with who I was now.

I was seeing my friends with new eyes, too. They seemed anxious to me, weak, full of nervous, overly feminine motions, jittery, immature, skittish and mostly just kind of fucking annoying. “Those are your friends,” I’d remind myself. “This isn’t you who’s thinking this.”

But that growing part of me was thinking “This is you. This is all you, stud. You’re so much better than them. They don’t even know you’re thinking this, and if they only knew, they’d probably be terrified.” That thought made me want to laugh out loud, so I did.

“What are you laughing at?” one of them asked.

“Oh, nothing man, nothing,” I said, looking away and scratching my head. “These are your friends,” I told myself again, but I didn’t really seem to believe what I was trying to tell myself that morning. “So what if they’re your fucking friends,” my new mind was saying. “They’re fucking losers, man. Don’t let them drag you down. You ought to just get out of here.”

That morning, I was feeling just hornier and altogether more fucked up than I’d ever been. I was thinking, nah, this can’t be the new me. I’m no motherfucking redneck. I don’t think like them. But already I was feeling excited, having this body, having these different feelings, realising that I didn’t feel like such an evil guy like this, not like I thought I would, anyhow. All I wanted to do at that point in time, I felt like, was get the hell away from these people. I didn’t know to where. I borrowed some shoes and a t-shirt that was so tight it hurt, pleading that I had to get back to my apartment. It felt like the shoes would split, and the shirt was riding up on my belly, as I trotted back to my place.

I didn’t know what I was doing or what I was gonna do. When I got home, I felt thirsty, just wanting to drink a little, feeling like that would make this feel better, even though I told myself no, you have to compose yourself, you have to call people, you have to report this. Just one drink, I thought. It turned into shot after shot, and before I knew it, I was drunk, hard in my boxers, having kicked off the shoes and thrown that tight-ass shirt on the ground as soon.

Then I was beating off, and cumming, and the build-up to that orgasm, man, it flooded my brain with some real redneck juice. I wasn’t thinking of the type of guys I usually did. I was thinking about redneck studs, studs like myself, feeling the drool run down my chin as I beat off. As I came, shooting way up on my pecs, rubbing it in with my hand, I was whispering to myself, almost like a confession that I had yet to voice to anyone, “You hot fucking redneck. Holy fuck, you love this, don’t you. You’re a redneck now. Holy fuck. Holy fuck.”

The desire to live for working out and fucking was already growing in me.

Thoughts were just racing through my head then. I knew I didn’t want to be some lame-ass yuppie or some weak-ass queer, man. I felt this powerful attraction to the redneck scene, the working class scene, the country scene, the military scene, the jock scene, you name it, any scene were men were men instead of the glitter fairy I had been before. I couldn’t quite pin it all down at that point yet, but my thoughts were sure racing.

Can you picture me, getting drunk in my apartment, turned on at my own body and swirling thoughts? And then I started to really know, man. I started to know. There was no going back now. The guy I used to be was a loser. I didn’t want to be him anymore. I was pissed off that I ever even was him.

I walked barefoot into the bedroom, checking out his stuff in the drawers and on the walls. Almost none of it would even fit me anymore. His feminine attire and the way his shithole apartment was decorated disgusted me. It made me want to punch the wall, even, so I did that and it felt good. I saw the paint crack and the drywall cave in. This new body had power.

I screamed then, a roar of pure rage and exhilaration. I punched the wall again, and it felt so fucking good that soon I was ripping all his shit off the walls and throwing it in a corner, ripping that flouncy shit off the mattress and I didn’t stop, screaming the whole while, until the bedroom at least look bare bones enough to resemble something a man would want to sleep in. I’d be damned if I ever let that loser back into this mind.

There were a few flashes, sure, and man was he a crybaby as he went out, as well as one hell of an angry little prick. Lots of hatred in his heart. I’d just laugh and say, “Fuck you!” sometimes out loud as I felt that twink brain collapse forever.

And now, as far as I’m concerned, he’s gone man. No longer a part of me, thank God.

I was nervous at first, when I started trying to hang out with guys I thought I’d have a lot more in common with that my old friends. Would they accept me? I was pretty desperate for acceptance at that point. I starting hanging out at a diner that I knew a lot of them liked to frequent, classic diner that pre-dated even the 1950s, a real antique. But these sexy ass guys would show up there, and soon we got to talking over waffles and hash browns.

Soon I was telling them I was darted, and they were saying that was hot as fuck, wanting to hear the story. Soon I was telling it to them, my legs in the air, sweat dripping down my bearded chin, as I was getting fucked.

Months after that, I was almost fully integrated into the lifestyle, man, and soon I was the one doing more of the fucking, especially after I got these sweet-ass tattoos all over my right arm. Getting fully into it, the desire to be that all I could be as man, hell, it ran in my veins now. I was going to let those commies know that I was better than them in every single way imaginable, and I wanted to show it off. I still get hard just at the thought of that, demonstrating my own superiority in the most tangible – well, to them, intangible, because I don’t want them even fucking touching me – methods available to me.

Yeah boys, it meant war for me, just like it had when I was a stupid twink, only this time I was playing for the other side, and it was chess instead of checkers.

Of course, there’s a lot more to life than just that for me, namely having hot-ass sex with all sorts of country studs and military men, hell, being part of that whole network of strong and powerful men who worship and respect other guys who’ve worked for it. I feel like I’m serving my country and being a paragon of virtue for it even when my legs are slung over some guy’s bull neck and thick, rounded deltoids as he plows the fuck out of me with his long-ass rod.

I had never gotten fucked this good when I was a twink.

I do real work with myself now, a man’s work. I dress like a man, I eat like a man, and I live my life like a man. I’m fucking proud of it, too. I love who I am now, and relocated to the other side of town, too, where the action’s hotter and I have way more in common with most folks.

I am sure glad I’m a buff stud with a thick-ass chest these days, and I don’t ever go clean-shaven. Been really into guy’s pits lately, and getting them to flex for me so I can lick those. Yeah, shit, I’ve gotta stop, because here I’ve got a raging boner just telling you all about that right now. I swear I’m way more horny than I used to be. At least seventy-five percent of the time now, I’d bet, I’m a top these days.

I don’t really like bottom boys, either. Their mere existence tends to piss me off, to be honest, so when I do fuck them I tend to be an aggressive power top. A lot of the time I don’t even think of it that way, though. I just think of them as so weak that the same rules don’t even apply to them. Different rules, in a way, because they’re a different kind of guy than me. Much more like women, unable to control themselves, you know how they are. I used to be one of them, and I’m so glad I’m not anymore, that’s for fucking sure.

A lot of the time I prefer to just fool around with guys such as myself. I love topping another top, having to wrestle somebody for hours in a strength and dominance competition. Gets the blood flowing. I like somebody who puts up a fight. C’mon, son, do you have any idea how fucking fun that is for me now? To meet up and hook up with another guy who’s just as manly as I am? That’s the stuff I live for now. I’m ready to just fuck my life away with hot ass guys at this point.

So, yeah, I’m a top who loves to wrestle with other tops and see who can dominate. I must be pretty good at it if I swear I’m scoring a seventy-five percent these days, but that’s just because occasionally I throw in some twink losers. Yeah bud, even some of these leftists get thrown a bone by me every now and again. They need us, and I like them to know they need us. They wouldn’t know what to do without us.

One of these days, I might even check with one of my army friends and see if I can come along on a mission so that I can dart one of them myself. I think I’d laugh my ass off when my dart goes in his neck or his shoulder, wherever it his him. Just to see the look on his face, shit boy. That could turn a guy on just by imagining it, so one of these days I’ll have to make it legit.

Fuck if I care about the loser I once used to be or what I’m supposed to be doing with my life. My life is better now and that’s all that matters to me.

Hot-ass guys, man. That’s what I live for.

Regenerating Face

Regenerating circulatory system…

The computer voice told me what is about to happen. I feel a fuzzy tingling surge through my aged veins and arteries, and my heartbeat gets stronger.

Regenerating nervous system…

The computer voice speaks again. I blink, as if waking from a long nap, fresh and alert.

Regenerating skeletal system… 

It’s a good thing the computer adjusts my sensations to manage the pain. My legs and arms shoot out from me, my spine stretches, my shoulders inch further and further from my ears.

Regenerating skin…

Instantly, my old, sallow, wrinkled skin splits and peels, and youthful, fresh, darkly-tanned skin emerges from beneath.

Regenerating musculature…

I wince as pound after pound of muscle is stitched onto my frame, feeling unfathomable strength boil and blister on my body. I am not believing what I am experiencing. I flick my eyes to the mirror, my aged and grizzled visage has a look of surprise in the midst of the young bodybuilder I seem to be becoming.

Regenerating biography…

Suddenly I’m flushed with memories of growing up on ranch south of San Angelo. Breaking horses with the ranch hands. Sleeping in the hayloft with my older cousins. Becoming prom king in high school, and playing college football for the Longhorns. Coming out of the closet.

Releasing constraints.

New profile running.

Regenerating face.

“Watch where you’re going!” snapped the businessman, Sam Milton, the newly made CEO of his father’s business. Hot coffee spilled over his suit as he quickly wiped away, glaring at the speedo wearing shirtless and skimpy man in front of him that had bumped into him. They held a rainbow flag in hand as Sam instantly knew he was from the pride parade that was nearby.

“Sorry mate,” came the relaxed and British sounding voice of the shirtless man, Sam felt he saw him somewhere as a model, but he wasn’t sure why he would ever remember that as he glared at him, as a barista came rushing over.

“I am so sorry, Mr. Milton, sir, could I get you a new order?” questioned the barista quickly, Sam shrugged.

“It’s fine, not like he put anything in the coffee,” Sam joked as he took a sip, not ever noticing the slightly tangy taste that came from the hot substance inside as he finished wiping himself off before leaving.

On the way to work, he found himself finishing the coffee before finally entering his office, sitting down with the skyline behind him, his assistant had already left a stack of files and things to do. Sam started to get to work, reviewing reports, as he started to find himself sweat. It was small at first, droplets on the back of his hand before beads started to run down his forehead. “Why isn’t the AC on?” Sam muttered, coughing as he noticed the odd gruffness off his voice, he started to unbutton himself, taking off his tie.

And then his dick started to become erect. Sam shuffled and stifled in his seat as thoughts of the parade came across his mind, not realising that he had been straight before, he just had a date yesterday! His hand slowly started to find itself on his thigh, wanting to inch closer and closer to his needy cock, he shouldn’t be doing this at work of all places, but his mind could barely respond, and his fingers grew closer and closer, coiled towards the very edge of his length and then-

“Sir,” A knock came at the open door, as his assistant stood firm in the doorway, giving them a warm smile. Sam instantly picked his hand away, focusing on them as best he could, only thinking about his body, those fuckable lips…Why was he thinking about that? Damn it, he needed to focus!

“Yes?” Sam’s voice sounded odd and distorted, he coughed to try and cover it up, wondering what was happening as sweat continued to sheen off skin.

“The investor, Mr. Clarke is on the line, the one to call about our next quarter,” informed the assistant, Sam nodded as they gave him one last smile before walking away back to their desk and closing the door behind them. Sam instantly picked up the phone.

“Hello, this is Mr. Milton,” Sam’s voice only grew rougher and rougher, as he felt his hand clutched around his cock through his suit pants, unable to stop himself as he started to see his hand, slowly growing paler and paler, the fingers felt longer as they started to grow and expertly maneuvered around his head.

“Mr. Milton, is it? I’m Julius Clarke of Clarke Foundations, I just wanted to speak to you briefly…” The voice paused as Milton couldn’t help but emit a low groan as he could feel his other hand starting to grow larger, wrapping around the phone in his hand as his other teased the head of his lengthening cock, starting to slither down towards his thighs as the first tears at the seams of his pants could be heard. “Mr. Milton, is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just getting a-head-” Sam yelped as his fingers stroked over the tip of his cock, the more they played with him, the more he felt himself growing as more rips were spreading in his pants, revealing more of the muscular mass of his legs underneath that started to grow, “of myself. Carry on.” Sam quickly stuffed a fist into his mouth as he started to see his cock poke through the top of his boxers and pants, throbbing as the suit pants were shedding away.

“As some of you know, some of our recent investors have been a pain in the ass-” Sam almost fell from his chair, now his knuckle stone white as it grabbed at the edge of his desk, feeling his chair pushed away slightly from under him as Sam felt his cheeks spread apart, hairs growing on the back as they began to grow and tear away the Calvin Klein boxers and seat of his pants. “And not to mention the fact that they’ve been clearly ripping us off.” The rest of the pants ripped away as Sam felt his thighs thickening, growing in muscularity as they became lean and long, stretching out beyond the desk and causing Sam to fall on his knees, only his office shirt on as he resisted the urge to moan at the feeling of his calves growing.

“Yeah, we- we should come-” Sam felt his cock twitch, still growing in girth and elongating as it flopped down between his legs, looking paler and larger as pre-cum dripped. “I mean, get over there and sort…sort it out.” Sam couldn’t breathe if he kept talking, trying to stop himself from panting and groaning as he felt his feet start to crawl forward, looking over his shoulder as his dress shoes began to split, the black shiny soles as his large pale feet started to poke through.

“Exactly, now I think you could be a strong competitor,” started the investor, the moment he said strong, Sam felt his arms flex themselves, needlessly watching the rest of the buttons from his tight shirt spray into the air as they were flexed off. Sam had always been fit, but this was something else as he started to cup his new pecs that became extremely large, swelling to the point where he could barely believe they were real. The muscular power flowed through his stomach, his once lean abs now became stronger and sturdier, growing and thickening as they were now deep crevices in his stomach. “I’m hosting a gala soon, where we could discuss this with some other members who are interested in a coalition of sorts, would you be interested?”

“Sorry,” Sam couldn’t tell if he was apologising to the investor for the noises or the meeting as he felt himself near writhing on the ground, the phone still barely in hand as he continued sweating, his cock throbbing.

“Ah, that’s a shame, I was having some people coming all the way from Britain,” It was then Sam started to find his mind rearranging, new accents and words fading in and out as he couldn’t even remember what it was like to start speaking with an American accent, his own groans and muffled moans started to sound different in his deep voice that lingered on with a new London accent. “Well, I will speak to you soon then, here’s hoping you can still come.” With that, everything went blank, business, statistics, stock prices, and so much more as Sam saw nothing but white as his dick throbbed and delivered the best orgasm of his life, spraying and coating his entire body and desk with his own cum, every single orgasm erasing Sam Milton as the American businessman, now replaced with the London model as he began to moan out loud, writhing in his own pleasure as he came again…and again…and again.

“Oh fucking hell mate, where the fuck am I?” Sam muttered to himself as he started to look around, standing up behind his desk now as a naked muscular hunk dripping with cum and sweat.

Some time had passed after the incident, Sam couldn’t remember what he was doing that day but now found himself too busy to care. The business was taken over by his father until his son was “feeling better”. His dad now started going to the same coffee shop as he did with the same guys who came from the same parade every year. It was only a matter of time before he followed his son’s footsteps.

As for Sam Milton, well he now found himself posing on the billboard across from his old office, modelling for the makeup company; Clarke Foundations. 

Taller and stronger

--- Originally posted by unknown before 2018-08-29 ---

Anonymous asked: Can you help me become a much stronger and taller person? I'm really weak with my muscles and I want to be better

Stronger? Taller? Sure I can.

You see, first, we have to change your mentality a bit. Sure, your muscles might not be too strong right now, but we have to be careful with using words that hold such strong negative connotations. Like: "weak"

If you want a stronger, more built body, your mind has to be just as strong.

So I'm going to boost your confidence a bit, plus add in some extra knowledge about how to properly diet and exercise to maintain your new body. Consider it your lucky day as my first customer on the World Wide Web. I can't always be this generous.

Now, I'm going to need you to close your eyes and imagine with me:

Your height is by far the easiest thing to change. Let's shoot you to, hmm, just under 6 feet. Picture your legs stretching oh so slowly. Feel the tissues and fibers of your muscles pulling up and away from the ground.

See? That wasn't too bad. I doubt you felt a thing.

Now, your strength.

I want you to picture your ideal physique. How strong do you want to be? How big do you want to look? Feel the heat beneath your skin as your imagination begins to grow, and, in turn, so do those muscles.

Your arms and legs begin to swell far greater than your wildest dreams. Your chest and shoulders expand outwards, creating an intimidating and admirable silhouette.

Hmm, some callouses on those hands huh? Nice touch. I mean, it makes sense with how jacked you look. You're looking great.

And I'm going to have to stop you there, before you get a little carried away with yourself.

I've never let someone change themselves, so, I gotta learn how far I can push those limits. But, like I said, it's your lucky day as my first online customer.

I hope you enjoy your new bod - I know I definitely do. Take care of it, cause I don't offer any returns or touch-ups without a tremendous cost, and trust me, no one wants to see what that is.

Everything has a price

--- Originally posted on 2018-07-11 by makingrealalphas ---

"Just look at Ryder over there, isn't he such a hottie? Must be nice to have a boyfriend like him,"

"He's too dumb for you, Cesar. And he's straight,"

"If I'm looking just like them or working out as hard as them, I might get a chance with him,"

"But you're not. He's a mean douchebag, I don't see why you can like someone like those jocks. Their family probably not as stable and loving as yours, I mean, look at your family, they are very supportive and accept you no matter what

"You don't understand, Adrian. Imagine if you're a good looking fella, chicks and dudes will easily flock on you like sugar that attracts bunch of ants. If I'm just half as hot as him, bet I won't be this lonely gay nerd reading Hemingway or Kafka in my dorm every night. Hell, I'll go to one party after the other or spending my night in the club. And my fam? Trust me, you only see the cover,"

Adrian keep arguing and trying to knock some shit out from Cesar's brain yet Cesar didn't care with Adrian sourness as he keeps ogling the football athlete who is in the middle of their practice

or the hot dudes in the college park that they stumbled upon their way to the college dorm

Adrian is so pissed at Cesar. He believes he already give quite a strong signal to Cesar that he likes him but turned out living in the same room for 2 years straight didn't even help Cesar to realize that Adrian actually has a crush on him. Yeah he's not hot like those jocks or some sort but Adrian feels that he deserved at least some kind of recognition from his so-called best friend, because he was there when Cesar really hit the rock bottom, not those jocks that he adored. Hell they even see Cesar with such disgust because for them Cesar is just another weak gay nerd that they hated during their high school day. Two years is quite a long time for Adrian to wait but his patience is running out so he decided that it's now or never to make the move. Adrian is in quite a dilemma but he strengthened his mentality to do what he should have done since the very first meeting with Cesar, even though this means it will be the last time he can perform his magic.

As Cesar falls to his slumber, Adrian read out some old incantation that he learned. It sounds just like some kind of wild and uncoordinated speech. He watches Cesar grows bigger in his sleep as his feet manage to reach the edge of his own bed due to his lengthening leg. Other than gaining some extra length, more power grazed the leg as it grows even bigger than before, veins slowly popping around the new muscular quads. Adrian resisting the pain of the spell as more and more change happened to Cesar. Tiny hair started to grow all over his body as the changes made it way to the upper part, but not before Cesar's appendage becoming bigger and more juicy, even in the middle of the spell Adrian still manage to giggle due to the disproportionality of Cesar's body now. The change rapidly moves up as abs and pecs popping out from Cesar's soft and thin belly. He groans in his sleep because he feels somewhat disturbed but Adrian's spell is too powerful and it locks Cesar in his sleeping condition. Body hair sprouts in his now firm pecs and also a trail to his appendage as the grow now moving to the once thin arm of his. The biceps and triceps expanded quickly (and massively) as veins started pumping more blood to support the change at that area. The groan becoming so much louder and Adrian cannot help but leaked some pre, watching his friend turned into the hottest person in Adrian's mind. Trap and neck becoming thicker as the change now reach his face. It's such a painful process for Adrian to grow Cesar, bruises appeared all across his body

"A little bit more," said Adrian, determined to do it once and for all

As Cesar's face becoming stronger and more masculine, Adrian holds on Cesar's wooden bed side as he almost cannot stand up anymore and then with one last power he grab Cesar's head. Cesar's eye suddenly opened and bright light emitting from there, it's so bright, even brighter than car's headlight. His mouth also opened wide and emitting the same blinding light as Adrian eventually passed out in the middle of the process

The following morning, Adrian's wake up right in Cesar's bed side but Cesar is not in the bed anymore. His bed still messy but the bathroom is so quiet he cannot be inside the bathroom. Adrian then realizes that his hand is much more darker, it's not as dark as night but still, darker than his usual pale complexion. As he stares at his body, he gasps because the gut he has now totally gone and already transformed into massive set of abs that feels like a washboard

"Oh my, this is sweet,"

Adrian found a letter from Magic Council, the sovereign body of magician all over the world, right next to his now strong legs that contains the information that his magic license has been revoked and the last series of magic performed will be used on himself too. Oh, now that's explaining this whole condition. Thank God I didn't use my magic to kill someone or I'll be dead, he thought. Still marveling at his newly acquired face, there's a message. It's from Cesar

"Waiting for you in the gym,sleepyhead,"

Then a gif followed instantly

"Love ya," another message followed the gif

Adrian just smirked in the mirror, yeah he lost his magic but at least he lost it to get this one hot motherfucker. No, correction, two, as he is now also a hot jock, he thought to himself, ready for their morning gym session

"Will I be punished because I'm late?" Adrian asked kinkily

"Oh of course, we gonna rock the locker room after our session,"

He never pack his bag quicker than that

Blog update

Hi everyone!

First of all, thanks for the insane amount of likes and reblogs on my first story! As a new writer, it's really motivating to see!

Now, for the actual announcement:

I am going to be doing a slight blog rebrand.

I will keep reposting hot stories that I managed to archive/find,

However, any (new) original stories you will on my side-blog:

-> Derek's TFs

Hope to see you will all follow me there as well.

Thanks again for all the support

Making a Model

Travis made a double-take as he walked down the street on his way back from the liquor store in preparation for the house party he’d been invited to. It was a shopfront that caught his eye, one that he could have sworn wasn’t there the day prior.

“‘New You’, huh?”, the little, shiny shopfront intrigued him, “A clothing store, or something?”

Travis pushed on the door and took in the space, it was large and organized. Aisles ran long and contained everything from clothing, costumes, and accessories, to sporting goods, sex toys, and novelty items. The store seemed devoid of other customers, and staff as well.

“What a weird place,” Travis moved along to a counter of trinkets and small goods stacked neatly into stands. Small bottles of what Travis believed to be novelty drinks were scattered through a stepped stand.

“Liquid Wish?” Travis, being a rational 27-year-old man, was not convinced by the magical claims written on the bottle. But, he was interested in something that might sweeten the cheap, unpalatable vodka he’d bought minutes prior.

“Hi there, can I help you with anything?”, a deep voice startled Travis as he turned to see a tall, well-dressed muscular man standing behind him.

“Oh! Um, I was wondering is this, like, safe? And, uh, do you know what it tastes like?”

“Perfectly safe! This one is raspberry if I remember right… Berry of some sort,” the man chuckled as he gestured to the bottle visible through Travis’ grocery bag, “Looks like a big night coming up?”

“Ha, yeah I think so,” Travis laughed, “I think I’ll take this?”

The men moved to the register and Travis handed over what he thought to be an exorbitant $10 for the small amount of pink mixer.

“I should mention, you need to drink it all before making a wish,” the clerk said with a wink. Travis smiled nervously, he couldn’t quite tell if the man was joking or not.

Not long thereafter, Travis found himself at the party with his friend Ben. The two chatted underneath strings of party lights in the large, decorated yard of a stunning home. Travis was making short work of the sweet cordial, mixing it into his cheap vodka, pouring the last of it into what was his fourth drink.

He felt out of place, knowing next to nobody here. It was Ben’s socialite friend-of-a-friend who had dished out the extravagant invites after all. And that was reflected amongst the attendees: attractive, well-dressed models and influencers.

“Who’s this friend of yours again? How does he know so many good-looking people?” Travis asked, incredulous at the attractiveness of the crowd.

“Friend of a friend, actually. I don’t really know them. All I know is he’s some ‘Instagay’ type,” Ben explained.

“Well I guess that explains this crowd,” Travis gestured, “Wish I looked as good as these guys.”

And with those words uttered, Travis felt a flutter in his stomach, not even thinking about the “Liquid Wish” he’d drank or the store clerk’s remarks.

After entertaining themselves for quite a while longer, Travis found himself airing his chest by pulling at his shirt. He felt unusually warm for this time of night.

“Jesus, Trav, you’re sweating like crazy!”, Ben was taken aback by how feverish his friend had become in such a short space of time. Travis reached for his forehead, sweat coating his hand. He could feel the heat radiating off his face.

“I must be coming down with something,” Travis could feel himself burning up, “I think I should go.”

“That’s a good idea, shame though… But thanks for coming, Trav. Let me know how you’re doing,” Ben replied sympathetically.

Travis patted his friend on the shoulder and meandered out of the party. The walk back to his apartment wasn’t long, but it felt like an eternity with the stifling fever.

“Shit, it was probably something in that fucking drink,” Travis thought to himself as he stumbled home.

With a sigh of relief, he threw his keys to the side and collapsed onto his bed. He laid atop the sheets groaning at the heat stirring inside him. But that was not all that was stirring. Travis could feel himself becoming hornier by the minute. Before long, his cock was erect and begging for release in his shorts.

His breathing was becoming heavy and rapid. His cock had never felt so hard in his life. He wrinkled the sheets in his fists while his whisper-soft moans grew louder and louder. Until, with a gasp, he launched a load of cum into his jeans. It took him a moment to realize what had happened. “What… the fuck… is going on,” confused, he pulled himself upright and stumbled off the bed before collapsing to the floor on his hands and knees.

“What’s… happening,” Travis mumbled feeling his entire body wind up with sexual tension. A guttural groan bellowed out from his throat as his almost six-foot-tall body began to stretch. His lengthening arms pushed him further off the ground, while his legs slid out along the floor. Unable to hold it back, the now six-foot-three Travis orgasmed again.

The same tension filled Travis’s hands and wound its way up his arms. He could feel his biceps swelling against the short sleeves of his shirt while striations of muscle bulged from his forearms. His hands spread further out along the floor, the palms growing outward. His fingers stretched out longer and larger. His arms, meanwhile, throbbed and tore through his sleeves. His shoulders ballooned outward with muscle, destroying the top of the shirt. Travis’s eyes bulged and his cock fired again at the sight of his massive, muscular arms and the large, manicured hands attached to them.

“Please… f- fuck… what’s happening to m- me,” Travis crashed to the floor and rolled onto his back, bending his back upwards. His nipples ached to be touched as pecs swelled outward from his thin chest. Buttons snapped apart and the shirt fell away as his chest heaved larger. He ran his hands across the mounds feeling a smattering of hair gracing his chest. Moving lower he touched the abs that were throbbing outward from his slimming stomach. His fingers traced newly forming cum gutters down to his hips. He could feel how tight and lean his waist was becoming with his jeans loosening slightly.

Travis attempted to remove himself from the floor. He pushed himself back onto his arms and legs, failing to make further progress when wave after wave of pleasure rocked his cock. Cum unloaded over and over as the six-inch member began to slowly enlarge underneath his pants.

The changes continued their migration, with Travis’s lower half next in line. His ass soared outward, thickening and swelling, tearing the rear of his jeans and underwear. Further down, his legs filled with muscle and railed against the denim. His knees burst from the fabric as his calves bulked up dramatically. Thick, meaty thighs tore at the seams, leaving the jeans almost completely in ruins.

Travis’s growing cock jutted out from the mostly destroyed pants, eliciting a loud moan while it unloaded on the floor. Rolling to the side and pushing his hips toward the ceiling he came again, shooting across his beautifully muscular chest. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing: a thicker cock, at least an inch longer, rising skyward.

Travis kicked at the heels of his size ten sneakers, desperate to remove them as they began to constrict his feet. But his lengthening toes bulged against the canvas, tearing through with a rip, followed by a moan. The soles soared into the open air, his arches and heels elongating and widening. Travis could see the toes on his now size thirteens poking above the meaty pecs in front of his face - long, lean, and immaculately cared for.

“God… augh… I- I don’t… understand… w- what’s… happening,” Travis growled feeling his jaw shift. His face shifted sharper and more angular. He clasped at his head, feeling a new nose and mouth. His short hair rustled out longer on the top, styling itself upward into a handsome quiff. His cock throbbed, continuing to creep longer and thicker while larger balls quivered below.

A large hand gripped the tall chest of drawers as Travis pulled himself to his feet and desperately fumbled for the small mirror sitting atop it. He brought it to his face and shuddered at the sight of his stunning new reflection. Trembling, he ran a finger down his cheek and moaned with the confirmation that this was him.

“I- I’m hot?!” Travis stuttered aloud. The eight long, thick inches of cock sticking out from his crotch trembled in excitement at the view. Reluctantly, he grasped his cock in his hand and stroked. He gasped at the sensitivity of the larger head, knowing he wouldn’t last long.

With a gasping roar, Travis came explosively. He fell backward onto his bed, continuing to shoot onto his washboard abs. After the last of his former self was expelled, he stumbled to the bathroom, still in awe at the body he now possessed.

The moment was interrupted by a distant buzz. It was a text from Ben. Travis’s mind raced. How would he explain this? Who would believe him?

He opened the message: “Hope you feel better soon!” Attached below was a selfie of the two of them that Ben had taken earlier in the night, except in the photo Travis looked exactly like he did now. Reality had seemingly shifted around him. But his memory and the tattered clothes lining the floor and hanging from his body told another story. Stunned, Travis flung upon his closet door to see larger, fancier clothes lining the racks and shelves. Still in disbelief, he switched to the camera roll on his phone. All of the old photos of him seemed to reflect his new appearance.

It was only then that he connected the dots: the “Liquid Wish” he’d thought was a gag, followed by the remark that he wished he looked like the attractive men at the party.

“What the fuck was in that stuff,” Travis pondered, thinking back to the store. “But whatever it was, I think I can get used to this,” Travis thought as he glanced in the mirror once more and groped his large package.

Civilian Casualties

--- Originally posted by unknown on 2020-02-21 ---

It was my first day as a solider if the United States Marine Corps. The corps was drafting preds, for different reasons like, interrogation, war, and secret projects that are Classified. You would be surprised what a guy will give up when he half way down ur cock, ass, or throat. Anyway, I was hand selected by the corps because I was a pred and a damn fine one at that I had the unique ability to vore a guy no matter the size and remain unchanged, by appearance. There would be no sign of anyone either in my balls gut or up my ass. This was a secret project and only top officials and the preds new of the project. I am young though and sometimes I endulge myself. We were only allow to vore certian guys but not me, I thought that they would never know I took a few of our own guys or too some civilians. It's wrong I know, but I can't help it and plus I love it. We were on base and the base did tours cuz there was a museum on base. Me and my group had just finished taking pictures and we all went to the museum to have fun and see all the cool stuff there. We walked in the museum and we had fun looking at everything, we had permission to get up and close to the stuff and even touch some of the stuff. As we got more and more into the museum, we can into the hanger that was built on the side of the museum that held all the big badass stuff like planes and helicopters, anti aircraft guns and tanks. There was their big anti aircraft gun that we saw and one of my bubbies told me to go up there and sit in the seat. I said alright sure and jumped up and sat in it. I put my hands on the lever and felt the power.

The engineering that went into the design of this massive gun that was for taking down planes and piercing armor. My bubbly took my picture and I looked through the sight and played with it, moving it around until I pass over this guy. I turned the lever back toward him and stoped it there. I looked at him and he was watching us, I could tell he was I tered in me cuz he waved and blushed when I waved back. I got off the gun and told my friend I had to go to the bathroom and went up stairs to where he was. I stopped In front of him and stuck out my hand and said "Hi my name is Trevor, what's urs" he shook my hand and said "I'm Corey it's a pleasure to meet you" his voice cracked and I could tell he had a crush on me. He was a in town on business he told me and and I asked what business. He said "you might find this weirdo but I have abilities, I can transform people into inanimate objects." Shocked and intrigued I said," that's awesome man, but that's not weird. I'm a pred, I can swallow people with out leaving a trace of them in me." His face lit up like a red balloon. He said that's awesome, and that he's never met a actual pred before but he's heard about them. He then asked me," you know I have always been curious about ur type, how does it work Trevor? How can u swallow and entire man." I could tell he wanted in me although he was on a "business trip". I told him I'll show you and told him to follow me in the bathroom. We both got in and I looked to see if anyone was in there and didn't see anyone. I closed the door and locked it behind us. I told him" you want to see don't you? You want to see my mouth and the back of my throat, I can see in in ur eyes." Corey look me in the eyes and said " YES, OK I want you to vore me, I've been following u all day. Waiting for you to notice me." I smirked and said "wish granted" I walked up to Corey and pushed him to his knees and fished out my cock, it was already hard from my prey submitting to me. Something about willing prey really gets me going. He grabbed my cock and took over and began sucking on my cock. He was really good at this and he knew he was. He looked up at me with those cute eyes as I forced his head to take all of my cock. He gaged but only once, as he was sucking me off, I thought I heard the door but new it was locked. I freaked when a big hot muscled security guard unlocked it and said " What THE FUCK are you two doing." I freaked as he came towards us Corey simply snapped his fingers and the security guard was gone and all that remained was a pair of blue and grey underwear.

So he was telling the truth I thought this sent me over and I shot my load up and into his mouth. He got up off his knees and kissed me forcing all my cum into my mouth and then we kissed for awhile until I forced it back into his and swallowed it. It was turn so I asked him if he was sure about this and he just shook his head yes. I opened my mouth and he was mesmerized by my mouth and the back of my throat. I looked at him and winked as my mouth surrounded his face and my jaw stretched over his face and over his head. His whole head was in my throat and he loved it. I could see his bulge in his underwear explod as he bested more and more of mouth. His underwear was stained with cum as his head beater my throat. I can only imagine the thought of it all, his head must have been soaking wet from my warm saliva. My muscles throat must feel so good as he slides deeper and deeper into me. My mouth stretched over his shoulders and the rest of him was easy. I put his arms to his side and grabbed him and pulled him more and more into my body. At this point t he was up to his belly bottom so I lifters him up and let gravity due it's thing. He slowly slide down my throat I could feel every movement every muscle he had. His bulge and ass went in and I could taste his salty cum as I like it all around. He entered my stomach and started to curl up in a ball when I grabbed his feet and pushed them the rest of the way. One last swallow and he was gone. He slide down and curled into a ball in my stomach and thanked me for it. He said it was the best experience of his life, but then asked me when he was gonna. Be let out. I laughed and said" it's a one way trip Corey, u really didn't think u were going to experience it and be let out did u ahha" he freaked and thrashed about in my stomach yelling," YOU BASTARD I TRUSTED YOU, I DONT WANT DIE IN UR GUT... WHAT ABOUT MY MEETIBG TOMORROW WITHA CLIENT" I laughed at the realization that he was never going to be let out. I looked in the mirror and there was no bulge no sign of Corey anywhere. I was about to walk out when I say the underwear that was once a security guard. I striped and slide him on, they were comfortable and was contented cuz I wasn't wearing underwear. I needed to do laundry lol, I rubbed my junk all in the pouch which I assumed was his face. The underwear responded by tightening around my ass and cock like he liked it. I laughed and met up with my friends, we were all going to the beach so I got changed and we went out. Poor poor Corey, I rubbed as I went out on the beach. I hope I don't have a cramp while I'm in the water. I did just eat I thought I my self. But shrugged it off as I farted toward the water and jumped in. This was the last pic I took of me before Corey completely went away. Can't even seen him haha.

Born to be a father

--- Originally posted on 2024-07-10 by breedertfs ---

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

I'm a gay man in my early 20's. I know I'm young but I keep having these thoughts.....or this desperate need to be a father. I don't understand where it's coming from.

That's your body telling you how things are gonna be now, bro. This is your new normal.

It's in your muscle memory - even if you claim to have never wanted to be a breeder before now. This urge to spread your seed has been lying dormant in your DNA, just waiting for your desires to waken inside your throbbing cock and for the hunger for wet pussy to cloud your rational mind. Don't you love the way I talk about women and their bodies? The way the men in my stories just can't help but to suck on a pair of fat, bouncing tits? How their thick, slobby tongues want nothing more than to slide between some wet, slick pussy lips?

Imagine the squelch, the squirt, the sound of her high pitched moaning. The way her eyelids will flutter when you unleash your hot, thick load inside her.

You're rock hard, bro. Don't deny it. Your hips buck with pleasure, your package feels so fat and hot, your wide cock head rubbing the fabric of your underwear with each needy thrust you make. The young gay man who made his home inside your mind finds himself surrounded by a sudden harem of hot women, blondes and redheads and brunettes, all with their huge breasts exposed and their greedy fingers between their juicy thighs. This makes you moan in the outside world, your boner raging as you continue to gyrate, your work pants growing taut around your much stronger, hairier legs.

"Yeah, you like that, bitch?" an unfamiliar voice speaks from your lips, bristles of dark hair framing your strengthening jaw. Your hands grow larger and callused, reaching out in front of you and gripping around the waist of an imaginary slut. Your eyes turn dark and brooding, your once youthful face growing older and more grizzled. The strange voice continues to deepen and shift as you moan, your arms growing thick with muscle as your larger fingers pretend to reach towards a pair of jiggling tits. You swear you've never touched a set of breasts before, but your new body can conjure the feeling so easily, as if you were just squeezing a pair the very night before. Perky nipples under your fingertips, jiggling flesh in your palms. It's so natural. "Fuck. Tell Daddy what a needy whore you are."

Your once trendy hair pulls back into your scalp and darkens, becoming a close cropped masculine hairstyle. Your work clothes become more professional, colorful pastel shirt becoming a simple short sleeved blue button up, your khakis fading into simple denim. You're a straight man, after all. You don't feel the need to dress up or stand out. You just feel the need to push your cock into a wide open cunt, to feel the pussy juice accepting your shaft and allowing your nine inches to slide right in. Your nuts swell inside your underwear, full of virile seed that desperately wants to be fired into a waiting womb. You moan again, drool sliding down your stubbled chin, your expression taken over by primal lust.

The former you is still trapped inside his mind, staring at the group of women that have him cornered. To his horror, he watches as the moaning bimbos begin to cry out louder, reaching their soft hands up to grab their breasts as each of their tits begin to swell with milk. The old you watches in horror and amazement, all these big boobed beauties suddenly taking it to a new level, but your awe settles into shocked terror as suddenly all of the women begin to reach down to their stomachs, which begin to rapidly inflate as pussy juice squirts and runs down their trembling legs. In a matter of seconds, your fading former self is trapped with a harem of pregnant women. Everywhere you look is a wet cunt, a fat tit dribbling milk, a pair of kissable lips sighing a moan.

The old you doesn't stand a chance inside the mind of a breeder. He begins to shake, his image blurring and beginning to fade, all of his youth and former goals burning away to make room for the superior man who has made your body his home. Inside and out. This is you. The women in your mind are just memories of former and future conquests alike, an endless sea of women that will swell with your seed and raise your children. Nothing turns you on more than this. You have found your purpose in life.

And there's no shame in that. You want to be a father because you were quite literally born to be a father. And now, my dear friend, your new body is going to make sure you have no choice but to be fruitful and multiply.

Better clock in those hours at your new office job. You're gonna have a lot of hungry mouths to feed - and no shortage of women to impregnate.