Mental Tf - Blog Posts
Chet
--- Originally posted on 2023-05-24 by shapedbydesire ---
--- Images have been removed since they are too explicit ---
--- Want to read more? View all stories by breedertfs ---
When openly gay, neat freak charles wished he could “know what goes on in that brain” of his older brother, chet, he had never thought that someone would be listening to him — let alone that they’d be willing to grant his ill-fated wish.
he awoke from his midday nap in a rush of heat, pale cheeks flushed, bleached hair wet with sweat against his forehead, curls of armpit hair poking out from beneath his sore, swelling arms and starting to reek. wait… but he shaves daily? doesn’t he?
he blinks, a little disoriented, eyes trying to focus on the dim light in the room. the last thing he remembers is saying those words, and feeing tired out of nowhere, but now he just feels a little nauseous. it only becomes more worse as he looks around his private space to see everything has changed around him.
his gaming setup has become a workout bench littered with dirty socks and compression shorts, his bookshelf replaced with a cheap xbox and a stack of fifa & madden games. he sneers at this, wondering for a moment if he somehow crashed inside chet’s room by accident, but no. as familiar as it all feels, this is his first time ever being inside this particular room. he sits up, eyes glancing to the wall and noticing a woman in a tight bikini squeezing her large breasts on a poster. he wants to think that it’s degrading and awfully toxic, but he’s alarmed when the only voice that speaks inside his head is chet’s. or at least it sounds just like him, low and bovine and with a hint of stupidity. “shittt, i wanna motorboat those puppies.”
never in his life had charles ever thought something so disrespectful about a woman, and yet hard as he tried, he couldn’t conjure any other comment inside his head. he saw boobs and his brain wanted him to stick his face into right them, and that was it. no “i wonder what her personality is like,” not even a “she has kind eyes.” he looks again at the poster and tries to ignore the throbbing in his dick, the pulse like a heartbeat. “fuck,” he gasps, not sure what has caused him to become so aroused. no girl had ever made his sick erect before. his wet dream was to end up with a beefy bear.
“shit, bro. imagine that tight cunt on your rod, milking the seed out of you. fuckkk, imagine that slim belly swollen with your future son inside. breed that fuckin’ pussy!”
charles places his hands over his ears, trying and failing to block out the new narrator inside his mind. He thinks about getting up, running to the shower and taking a long, cold one, but he can only gaze down at his engorged cock bobbing up and down beneath his cheap boxers, an athletic pair not at all close to the designer jockstrap he had fallen asleep in. He can smell the stale scent of sweat in the room, and then it’s only intensified the longer he holds up his arms, looking to see more curls of damp, sweaty hair peeking out. Just like his brother, never bothering to groom or practice good hygiene, he opens his lips to whimper and make a frightened sound, but all that comes out is a deep and gruff moan.
The hand that grips his thick cock through the boxer fabric is rough and calloused, as if he had spent his childhood tossing around footballs just like his jock older brother. “I love football. Football and tits and cunt are the only three things a man needs in life,” his inner monologue continues, his head arching back and his Adam’s apple thickening, protruding from his widening neck. “And a nice cold beer. A bimbo with lip fillers choking on your cock.” His eyes are alight with panic and confusion, his biceps swelling up with every stroke of his hand against his shaft, his hair darkening from its dyed shade to a more natural, casual, lazy style.
He falls back against the bed, hips buckling against the air, watching as tendrils of wiry, dark, sweaty hair erupts across his chest and down to his toning stomach, abdominal muscles popping into existence. “Holy shit,” he grunts, working himself to climax, all the while all the traces of the old Charles have collected inside a swollen pair of bull nuts. Churning with his inferior, wimpy genes, being consumed and replaced by that of an alpha just like his best bro. All Charles wants to do is scream, ask for help, beg for a take back on his wish, but his jaw cracks into a sharp, defined chin, his smirk cocky and handsome and stupid.
“Fuck yeah, I’m the alpha.” The last thing Charles sees before the new man inside him takes over is a barrage of vaginas squirting, boobs bouncing, bubble butts twerking in tight little stripper uniforms. There’s drool trickling down his chin, an ape-like dumbness in his eyes. “I’m fuckin’ bustin’ a nut, bro!!”
Chad expels his former self all over his hairy, firm muscle tits. He thinks about how he and his bro need to get ready for the gym, and how he needs to find a bimbo to face fuck before he has to jack himself off again. He’s still so damn horny!
“Haha, good for you, little bro!” Chet calls from the next room over. His voice no longer lives inside Chad’s head — but it’s not like they don’t think the same shit, anyway.
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?
--- Originally posted on 2023-08-16 by shapedbydesire (breedertfs)
--- Want to read more? View all stories by breedertfs ---
Shady Unit
ϟ gay to straight tf, muscle growth, cop tf, forced tf, changed by surroundings, mental tf, reality tf, breeder/conservative tf
Peyton accepted his friends' dare against his better judgment; the gaggle of gays had been walking home from their early morning brunch, mimosas fizzling inside their dizzy heads, when they noticed the parked cop car with a wide open door. No pigs in sight, only an abandoned police unit just begging them to come over and snoop around. "Ohhh my god, you have got to let us take a picture with you sitting in the driver's seat, Peyton! That would be so funny!" This made the boy in question frown, blonde curls hanging in his face and obscuring his narrowed, baby blue eyes. Looking at the group, the least straight OR cop passing of the whole bunch would be Peyton, the twink runt, so that just made his friends laugh louder at the thought and push him closer to the unguarded vehicle. "Come on, Peyton, do it! You've got this!"
Making sure once more that the coast was clear, he decided that there was no harm in it. All he had to do was run over, strike a cute pose, and then get the fuck out and go home! He marched his way over, struggling a bit as he pulled the heavy, solid door a little further away so that he could squeeze inside, and then he turned to smile at his friends with flushed cheeks, hands lifted up in a double thumbs up pose. It was just a shame that the car door slammed shut before his buddies could snap their pictures, a faint murmur of gasps and sounds of confusion behind the thick shell of steel as Peyton found himself trapped and silenced within the car, panic rising in his system as he tried and failed to get the door to budge as he pressed and yanked trying to open it. All to no avail.
That was when he heard the rustling on the dashboard, the bulky pair of black sunglasses rattling in place, as if charged with energy and about to combust. He was staring at them in shock and fear when they suddenly leaped forward, opening their hinges and sliding right onto his frightened face, covering his shocked vision in a shield of dim, repressed light. Honestly, the jumping object would have been the most frightening part, if not for the pain that suddenly flared in the space between his temples. He gasped out in pain, muscles tensing, spine locking in place as shocks began to pulse through his body.
Little thoughts began to dance with his begs for mercy, his brain was a battlefield of trying to rationalize what was happening to him, and trying to ignore the presence that was steadily making itself known inside of himself. Another man's casual thoughts were overlapping his own, overpowering them. "Fuck, I can't wait for this shift to be over so I get home to my girl." Peyton grimaced, another shock rolling through him, his jaw stinging as it cracked outward into a chiseled, strong, pitch black stubbled line. The twink was confused and alarmed to hear this gruff voice speaking, especially one that gave a shit about getting home to a girl.
He reached up to pull the glasses off, trying to exert control over his spasming limbs, but then he could feel the muscles in his arms tearing apart and stitching themselves back together in an instant, his spindly arms vibrating in the air as suddenly they ballooned out into firm, solid, vascular biceps that were swollen with raw strength. Except now they were forced into a double bicep pose and no longer reaching for the glasses still trapped on his head.
"Fuccck, I just want to get home and flood her cunt. The good book says to be fruitful and multiply, my only purpose in life is to be a traditional man, to fulfill my duty as a male," the low, bovine voice kept talking despite Peyton's inner protests, his newly large and calloused hand reaching down to cup his bulge, lithe fingers fattening into sausages. His rough fingertips could feel a different and more durable fabric where his mesh shorts had once been. But that all paled in comparison to the heat radiating from his crotch, the trembling of his little nub cock as it began to engorge, fattening into a thick, girthy, vein covered shaft.
His cock head flared out into a large purple mushroom that was already leaking pre into his tight and sweaty boxers, a sun kissed hue washing across his pasty skin with every twitch of his bulking up body. He was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. His firm jaw itched as black, wiry beard hairs burst through the coarse skin, making look him manly and intimidating. His blonde curls retracted into a dark black, traditional cut.
With what little control he could muster, he reached up to the driver's side mirror, pulling down the flap and gasping in absolute shock. Or at least he meant to, but now his permanently fixed cocky smirk could only speak with the same voice that was inside his head. "Fuck, I look clean as shit! My bitch is gonna be dripping all over my cock all night long." He watched clear as day as his now douchey, older, masculine face moved on its own accord, speaking without his say in the same dumb, harsh, jock voice he had heard earlier. Now looking at himself in the reflection, unable to control the posing body of the conceited bodybuilder cop he was trapped within, he could see what had become of his clothes. His little rainbow buttons and badges were now deadly gear strapped to his vest and belt, and his cute outfit was now a traditional and crisp police uniform.
Nothing that made up Peyton was left once that door slammed shut, leaving behind a smug and newly minted Officer Dickson sitting inside his very own unit. Flipping on the siren lights, he popped open the car door with a casual lean of his bulky body, Peyton wailing inside his mental prison at the sight of his former friends. This was their idea, and they needed to help him! He just wanted to be set free, safe to go home and far away from this awful, backwards minded brain his essence had now been shoved into.
But the massive man only sneered and glared at the group of fairies behind his dark black, emotionless lenses. "Clear the fuck out, or I'll take you all in for processing." He was okay watching them sprint to run away, vowing to deal with their presence another day. As much as he loved bringing alpha men into this world by changing gay men to serve the police unit, repurposed to better suit traditional society, he would always have a fondness of doing it the old fashioned way. And his wife was certainly gonna end up inflated with a few alpha sons in her belly once he was finished with her tonight. Peyton would just have to get used to the countless flashes of bouncing tits and squirting pussies inside his new cage. Officer Dickson wasn't going to change his mindset for anyone, let alone the skinny little queer he didn't even remember being.
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.
Drawn
--- Originally posted on 2024-06-29 by breedertfs ---
I find myself getting drawn to your stories more and more often, it's scary! It's like I go into a trance anytime I'm horny and find my way to your blog
It’s almost like that’s my goal, bro.
All guys need a strong, masculine presence in their life. Someone who will guide them and mold them, and I can tell this is attracting you. Do you want someone to talk about what a big, powerful, bad mannered straight man you are? Did your parents fail to set you down the path that now excites you to no end? It’s not your fault, it’s not even theirs.
Sometimes, life isn’t able to give us the tools to become the men we want so badly to be. Maybe you’re a little heavier than the average, maybe you’re too delicate, but something in your upbringing has set you apart from the men that are making you shove your hand down your shorts, stroking your shaft to mental image of musk and muscle and douchebag behavior.
If it sounds so appealing, that’s because your deeper being is begging you to realize this is what you want. It makes you so hard, huh? When I describe a thin guy’s shoulders spreading outwards, broad and strong with bouncing pecs. Beefy arms, tree trunk legs, thick beards reeking of dried pussy juice. The men I specialize in are a special breed, the elite. Of course you’re attracted to them, of course your little brain goes fuzzy and dizzy when you start to jerk it to the idea of a fag becoming a conservative, straight man.
Your cock throbs in your hand, each jerk like a flash in your mind, urging you to look through the illusion you’ve created and see the truth. You get so turned on by these stories because you wish it would happen to you, as if these changes need any magic. Imagine a beautiful woman cupping her fat tits, her slender fingers squeezing her nipples, her body jiggling and shivering with pleasure.
If the idea of sliding your fat cock between her boobs excites you, thrusting until your seed coats her bimbo face, then I’m sorry to tell you, my friend: you’re a straight man. And your body, your former values, are clouding your former rationality and urging you to recognize the kind of man you should allow yourself to become. Just stop taking everything so seriously, allow your thoughts to slow, stop worrying about manners and woke views.
Just think about those huge tits, bro. Think about a squirting pussy, imagine your thick tongue sliding up and down her folds, plunging into her. Imagine your strong hands on her tiny waist, your own stubble on your chiseled jaw growing slick with sweat and juices. Lick your lip, listen to yourself growl, your voice is low and powerful and so demanding. This isn’t a story, this isn’t a wish gone wrong, this is a human male realizing how badly he wants to be a traditional man. No more holding in your farts or belches, no more caring about people’a opinions, no more seeing this woman as anything more than a sex toy to blow your load into. She’s not wife material, brah, but that doesn’t mean she’s not ready to be a mother. Women should know your place like you know yours.
Your bones crack and shift, your expression turns to a sneer, your smile is always so cocky. You are thick with muscle, a cloud of body odor lingering around your glorious muscles, and your fat nine incher is already oozing pre. This is the life you want, the version of you that you want so desperately to take the steering wheel. So let him, bro, let that lustful trance take you where you need to go. Hit the gym, change your political opinions, accept that your cock wants to be deep inside a warm, wet cunt.
Don’t wait for magic, my bro.
There’s nothing more magical than a man who knows his place: and you’re never going to forget where you stand. At the top of the ladder, biceps flexed and your grin smug. Lesser men will wish to be like you, fags are gonna jerk it to your pictures. You just focus on the finer things in life. Sports, cigars, letting your nasty habits be heard and smelled.
Like pulling that blonde bimbo closer, your huge cock thrusting inside her slick folds, her silicone filled tits jiggling from the force. She moans, and you echo the sound with a low growl. You’ll never need to stroke your cock again to my stories — knowing you’ll never run out of fresh, tight pussy to ruin.
Let the trance win, brother. Let the better version of you free.
Drawn
--- Originally posted on 2024-06-29 by breedertfs ---
--- Want to read more? View all stories by breedertfs ---
I find myself getting drawn to your stories more and more often, it's scary! It's like I go into a trance anytime I'm horny and find my way to your blog
It’s almost like that’s my goal, bro.
All guys need a strong, masculine presence in their life. Someone who will guide them and mold them, and I can tell this is attracting you. Do you want someone to talk about what a big, powerful, bad mannered straight man you are? Did your parents fail to set you down the path that now excites you to no end? It’s not your fault, it’s not even theirs.
Sometimes, life isn’t able to give us the tools to become the men we want so badly to be. Maybe you’re a little heavier than the average, maybe you’re too delicate, but something in your upbringing has set you apart from the men that are making you shove your hand down your shorts, stroking your shaft to mental image of musk and muscle and douchebag behavior.
If it sounds so appealing, that’s because your deeper being is begging you to realize this is what you want. It makes you so hard, huh? When I describe a thin guy’s shoulders spreading outwards, broad and strong with bouncing pecs. Beefy arms, tree trunk legs, thick beards reeking of dried pussy juice. The men I specialize in are a special breed, the elite. Of course you’re attracted to them, of course your little brain goes fuzzy and dizzy when you start to jerk it to the idea of a fag becoming a conservative, straight man.
Your cock throbs in your hand, each jerk like a flash in your mind, urging you to look through the illusion you’ve created and see the truth. You get so turned on by these stories because you wish it would happen to you, as if these changes need any magic. Imagine a beautiful woman cupping her fat tits, her slender fingers squeezing her nipples, her body jiggling and shivering with pleasure.
If the idea of sliding your fat cock between her boobs excites you, thrusting until your seed coats her bimbo face, then I’m sorry to tell you, my friend: you’re a straight man. And your body, your former values, are clouding your former rationality and urging you to recognize the kind of man you should allow yourself to become. Just stop taking everything so seriously, allow your thoughts to slow, stop worrying about manners and woke views.
Just think about those huge tits, bro. Think about a squirting pussy, imagine your thick tongue sliding up and down her folds, plunging into her. Imagine your strong hands on her tiny waist, your own stubble on your chiseled jaw growing slick with sweat and juices. Lick your lip, listen to yourself growl, your voice is low and powerful and so demanding. This isn’t a story, this isn’t a wish gone wrong, this is a human male realizing how badly he wants to be a traditional man. No more holding in your farts or belches, no more caring about people’a opinions, no more seeing this woman as anything more than a sex toy to blow your load into. She’s not wife material, brah, but that doesn’t mean she’s not ready to be a mother. Women should know your place like you know yours.
Your bones crack and shift, your expression turns to a sneer, your smile is always so cocky. You are thick with muscle, a cloud of body odor lingering around your glorious muscles, and your fat nine incher is already oozing pre. This is the life you want, the version of you that you want so desperately to take the steering wheel. So let him, bro, let that lustful trance take you where you need to go. Hit the gym, change your political opinions, accept that your cock wants to be deep inside a warm, wet cunt.
Don’t wait for magic, my bro.
There’s nothing more magical than a man who knows his place: and you’re never going to forget where you stand. At the top of the ladder, biceps flexed and your grin smug. Lesser men will wish to be like you, fags are gonna jerk it to your pictures. You just focus on the finer things in life. Sports, cigars, letting your nasty habits be heard and smelled.
Like pulling that blonde bimbo closer, your huge cock thrusting inside her slick folds, her silicone filled tits jiggling from the force. She moans, and you echo the sound with a low growl. You’ll never need to stroke your cock again to my stories — knowing you’ll never run out of fresh, tight pussy to ruin.
Let the trance win, brother. Let the better version of you free.