Newyoutf - Blog Posts

Were-Stud

It had all started a few months ago. Isaac had been walking home late at night taking a shortcut through the poorly illuminated local park. Suddenly a series of deep screams and shouts rang out through the night air, stopping him in his tracks. Isaac moved forward, believing it to be the antics of some drunk men nearby. But another set of yells boomed out, closer this time. He walked faster, through the dark park only to see the figure of a man hunched on the ground in the distance.

Concerned for himself and the man, Isaac nervously approached, “E-excuse me? Are you okay?”

Isaac got close enough that the light of the full moon revealed the man to be naked, panting on all fours. “What the hell?” he whispered to himself.

The man slowly stumbled to his feet, unveiling his imposing height and muscular frame. Isaac looked on stunned at the sight of this naked specimen of virility standing mere feet away from him. Tattered clothing hung from the man’s thick, hairy limbs. The man’s chiseled, bearded face oozed masculinity, his eyes tinged with fear and lust. Most eye-catching of all was the enormous, hard cock jutting out from a pair of ruined shorts, surrounded by a nest of dark pubes.

Isaac braced himself as the man seemed to come to his senses and dashed forward. “P-please, get away!” the man yelled as he pushed Isaac out of the way and ran. Isaac tumbled to the ground and the man span back around, realizing how hard he’d pushed the scrawny twenty-eight-year-old. Terrified, the man looked on at Isaac pushing himself off the ground, and continued his sprint away, disappearing into the dark.

“Fuck…” Isaac grumbled, brushing the dirt from his arms only to feel a damp, sticky something as well. He looked at the ground, seeing streaks of the watery, white substance sprayed across the dirt and pavement. “It looks like… Oh fuck, gross!” Isaac bemoaned. He rushed the rest of the way home, noticing how the damp spots on his arms and hands seemed to tingle and burn. He immediately showered to wash the man’s spunk from his limbs and crawled into bed, hoping to forget the experience quickly. Indeed, the events of that night left his thoughts over a few days and life went on. Until the next full moon, anyway…

It was about a month later when Isaac was relaxing on the couch, holding his phone over his face while the light of the full moon glowed through the window when a strange shiver rushed through him. The phone slapped him in the nose and fell to the floor. The lanky man followed suit, rolling to the ground as the twitching and tension spread quickly through his body.

All he could muster were primal moans, growls, and shouts as his body stretched taller. His limbs lengthened like his torso while his feet erupted from his shoes. Muscles swelled across his figure, destroying his slim-cut clothing. His head crunched and groaned as his face shifted and morphed, taking on more masculine properties and becoming incredibly attractive. He screamed in bliss as his cock pulsed larger and larger, shooting cum across his stunning body. Isaac spent that entire first night exploring his new body. Then, as the moon faded from the sky, his body retracted and reverted to how it had always been. This would be the first of many transformations to come.

At first, Isaac wasn’t sure what had happened, or if it would happen again. It was only after the first two transformations that he connected them to the full moon, leading him to prepare so his growing body wouldn’t obliterate his clothing as it did before. It was then that he realized he’d inherited some curse or contagion from the man in the park that night. Logically, he concluded he was contagious too, and so he tried his hardest to resist the overwhelming desire to seek out other men during his transformations. But in that superior form his inhibitions were lower and his personality carefree.

By the third full moon, the changes were becoming stronger. That night he couldn’t resist and found himself in bed with a handsome twink. Part of Isaac was horrified knowing that he was spreading the curse to someone else. But a growing part of him saw the affliction not as a curse, but a blessing. He couldn’t help but be turned on knowing that the cute bottom would morph into a jock stud like himself at the next full moon.

It was only two weeks after the last transformation that Isaac was walking home when he felt the changes strike out of nowhere. It was only early evening, and most definitely not a full moon. He barely made it to his home before he collapsed, incapacitated by the searing pleasure of becoming a masculine stud. From there the transformations grew more haphazard in duration and frequency, striking every full moon, but increasingly in between them as well and lasting longer every time.

After one week where Isaac had transformed four times, the last time during the middle of the day for almost 18 hours, he knew he was likely to change permanently at some stage soon. He wondered how he would manage the contagious nature of his condition if it became permanent, or if the new him would care at all.

It was right at the end of a workday while Isaac was on the phone with his supervisor when the telltale pins and needles moved up his arms, “Oh no…” His boss could hear him groaning down the line.

“Is everything alright?” his manager asked with some concern.

“I… argh… I think I’m coming d-down with something… I should g-go…” Isaac stuttered, slamming the phone down and fleeing the office. He got into his car, trembling as he tried to insert the key.

Sweat dripped from his forehead and stung his eyes as he sped down the roads. “No, no, no not now… Not n-n-nooooooow, augh!” Isaac cried out as his entire body stretched taller in the driver’s seat. He could feel warm cum unload against his leg. There was no holding the changes back any longer.

Isaac’s mouth hung open as he struggled to keep his eyes fixed on the road, resisting the urge to watch his shirt stretching and tearing under the pressure of huge pecs and broad shoulders bulging out from his body. His arms were bloating, expanding the sleeves of the slim-fit business shirt to breaking point. He gripped the wheel tight - the closest thing to flexing he could safely do in the moment - and moaned loudly at the power he felt in his strengthening limbs.

“Augh, god!” Isaac groaned, his hands cramping around the steering wheel as they too swelled in size. His hands broadened while his fingers curled longer and thicker around the pliable wheel.

A red traffic light offered some respite, allowing Isaac to survey the damage so far. His thick, furry pecs were painfully tight against the shirt and visible between the gaps of stretched fabric between buttons. He took the chance to relieve himself of his shirt and feel up the washboard abs that were gradually building above his stomach. “Oh god yes…” Isaac whispered before noticing the green light ahead, “Shit… shit… n-need to get home.”

As he pressed the accelerator he could feel the changes sweep across his legs. His slacks braced against his thighs as they ballooned outward. The swelling legs pushed and squeezed Isaac’s hard six inches which ejected another load. The cheap fabric stood no chance against the expanding muscle, tearing and splitting at the seams as the growth traveled downward. His lower legs followed suit and made short work of the pants, revealing limbs far more muscular than they had been minutes ago while his flat rear plumped up thicker and rounder against the seat cushion.

Isaac wasn’t far from home now. “Oh god,” he moaned as his feet began to enlarge within his shoes. He turned sharply into his driveway and stopped the car hard. He wasted no time dashing flounderingly into his home, hoping no-one saw his shirtless, half-transformed body from the street. He quickly removed the unbearably tight footwear from his feet with a sigh of relief and stripped off what remained of his shirt. He tugged the split and torn slacks and underwear down his long, thick legs and kicked them onto the floor. Long, meaty feet burst through the strained material, causing Isaac to fall onto all fours with a loud bellow. Cum unloaded onto the floor as his socks exploded, the size nine-and-a-halves pushing past size twelve into thirteen, then fourteen.

The next part was always Isaac’s favorite. His six-inch erection trembled as it pushed further out of his body. “Ah! Fuck!” he screamed as it bobbed in the air, pulsing longer and thicker with every passing moment. His cries of joy deepened over the coming seconds while his head reshaped into a more masculine appearance. His plain, average features became angular and broad. His smile was straighter, whiter, and devilishly handsome. Brown eyes shifted to blue and his dark brown hair lightened in tone while a blond stubble dotted his sharpening jawline.

Isaac growled, pumping the air with his now large cock as it continued its growth. With the end nearing, the throbbing member surged to ten inches, veins rippling down the shaft which thickened and stretched. The young man roared in rapture as the head of his pole swelled to match, shooting load after load as his final transformation came to a close.

Still hazy in the afterglow, the studly Isaac rose to his feet, dizzy and stumbling. “I… no, no,” he stammered to himself, feeling the urge to find a sexual partner rising already, “N… Y-yeah… Yeah, fuck yeah… Guys should be thanking me for passing this on!”

Isaac smirked as he thought about how to spread his gift…

Heyy, i have a resquest, hope you like it:

What if a very bad, punk guy from an average college has a really Bad demeanor and is always causing trouble, so he gets transferred to a re-education that supposedly turns you into the perfect preppy boy, where forced by his preppy colleagues he gets his attitude adjusted?

It was Lucas's first time on the Davidson College campus and his first night of an after-hours "attitude adjustment" class. His ratty backpack bounced on his lithe shoulders as he approached the classroom while the other students sneered under their breaths, all heading to their dorms and homes for the evening. Lucas's ratty leather jacket, jeans, and weathered boots couldn't have stood out more harshly against the sea of button-down shirts, sweaters, shorts, chinos, and boat shoes.

Liberal arts was his major, and he was good at it - well, he would have been if he'd put in any academic effort. But to Lucas, papers, essays, and exams were all a power structure to rally against. Four years into a three-year degree, and sick of the disobedience and attitude, his college gave him an ultimatum: leave for good, or take the adjustment course at Davidson, which was a college known in academic circles for its snobby preppiness, but also its eerily successful adjustment program.

Lucas's parents certainly didn't want an unemployed, moody twenty-three-year-old back in their house, and the college was all he had. So the choice was all but made for him. He was to take the class at Davidson and lose the attitude.

Eyes toward his feet, Lucas slinked into the classroom only to run head-first into a cashmere sweater. Lucas looked up at the man who stood a head taller than him and found himself flanked by two other similar-looking students. All three men stood two to three inches taller than the five-ten Lucas, all wore their hair in similar parts, and all wore typical, semi-formal prep clothing. Another three cogs in the machine at the Davidson, Lucas thought to himself.

"You know, I don't exactly want to be here. Get outta my way and the quicker I get out off your snotty campus," Lucas stated plainly.

"Oh we know, Lucas," the middle frat boy snickered.

Lucas raised an eyebrow, how did these nimrods know his name? He also knew that despite his disregard for these types of preppy bros that he wouldn't stand a chance against one of them in a fight, let alone three. "Look, guys, I just gotta do this course, then I'm gone."

"And why do you think we're here?" said the man to Lucas's left.

"We're your instructors," chimed the third of the trio.

"Let's get started," the leader said, grabbing Lucas by the collar and pushing him to the wall. "Alright boys, you know what to do."

Lucas struggled against the large hands pinning him down while one of the others held a clear bottle in front of his face and sprayed it three times.

"Get the fuck off me, asshole!" he screamed, attempting and failing to land a lunch as the preppy jock loosened his grip.

"Not so fucking smart now are you?" the preppy student sneered at the defenseless punk who was coughing from inhaling whatever it was the group had sprayed in his face. Not only did the admittedly pleasant scent hang around in his nose, but it was like it permeated him as a whole.

Lucas fell to his knees, his head spinning. The smell in the air was so... masculine, enough to turn on even the straightest man or puritan prude.

"Smells good, doesn't it?" the main jock chuckled.

"Ah... ach... what did you do to me?" Lucas spluttered, rolling his neck.

The trio of preppy frat boys wasted no time hoisting the incapacitated Lucas into a chair, tying his limp hands at the back and switching on the projector screen at the front of the room.

Lucas coughed, unable to get the scent out of his airway. He struggled against the rope holding him to the chair, watching helplessly as the image of a black and white spiral flashed onto the backdrop ahead.

"You assholes just wait, when I get out of here I'm... gonna... gonna... I..."

All it took was a glimpse for Lucas to become slackjawed and glued to the screen, unable to continue with his useless verbal threat. The preppy men began to take turns making hypnotic commands.

"You want to be a preppy college stud."

"No, please... I don't want to be..." Lucas mumbled, almost drooling as he gazed at the spiral, feeling the mixture of the jocks' words and the substance they'd sprayed him with mingling in his head.

"You want to be like us. You don't wanna do any of that useless liberal arts shit anymore. Finance, law, engineering... real work, take your pick, that's what you wanna do."

"Finance... yeah... just like dad..." Lucas could feel his philosophical smarts draining away, replaced with business savvy and a desire to impress.

"A real prep has to know how to have fun. You wanna party with us, don't you?"

"Yeah... no! No!" Lucas tried to resist, but it was no use. The chemicals and instructions forced open new neural pathways, replacing the old Lucas with a far more extroverted one. "Uh... hell... yeah..."

"Most of all, if you wanna be like us you've gotta look the part, man. You want to look like us. You will look like a preppy frat stud."

It felt like hands were gripping Lucas's body from all directions, pushing, kneading, and tugging. Only seconds later his back cracked loudly. With a long, loud, uninterrupted moan, he arched backward as he began to grow taller. His legs pushed out along the rough carpet and his arms dangled longer at his sides.

To his horror, his jacket and shirt ruffled like they were in a gust of wind, shifting and warping. Lucas shrieked in bliss feeling his rail-thin chest puff outward to fill what was now a button-down shirt while lean abs bubbled to the surface just below.

"No, god... No... what am I... I... I... oooooohhhhhh!"

Another guttural cry echoed off the walls along with a large helping of pre-cum ejecting into Lucas's shifting underwear. His lanky arms pulsated, lean muscles bulging underneath tanning skin towards hands that were popping and jutting out larger across the floor. Sweat ran down his tied arms, dripping off the ends of his twitching, lengthening fingers.

Lucas had almost forgotten that the three preppy studs were still in the room with him, softly pawing at their thick cocks as they watched him become more and more like them.

"Feel good, bro?" one of them whispered, "Doesn't it feel fucking great to become a proper man?"

Lucas could only muster a moan and a nod, too enamored with the bulging muscles growing down his legs and his swelling, perky butt that threatened to ruin his jeans any moment. Those began to change too though, the denim becoming softer, looser, and better fitting shorts that hugged his new bubble butt.

"No, n-, n-, n-..." Lucas murmured in the death throes of his resistance as the changes progressed and took hold of his cock.

With his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open and looking up at the handsome figures towering above, Lucas felt his hard cock stir dramatically in what was now an expensive pair of underwear

"AUUUGH! Fuck yeah!"

His face and head throbbed, his jaw tightening while his cock pulsed heavier and thicker, pre-cum flowing like a fountain against his muscular thigh. Like his cock, the toes in his boots stretched longer, striking the ends of the footwear. The pressure suddenly dropped, however, when the boots themselves shifted in shape and size, becoming a fresh pair of large, size twelve boat shoes. Large soles and long, bony toes tore through the remains of his socks, inching forward to fill the jockish footwear.

At the same time, his cock was running out of room in his pants while at the same time his skull felt like it was being squeezed as it took on a squarer shape. Lucas groaned for mercy through gritted teeth that were becoming straighter and whiter. His nose shrunk cuter, while brown eyes become a striking blue. The messy black hair he'd long worn lightened in tone, combing over neat and handsome.

Before that fateful night, Lucas would have had much to say on how he shrugged off the "shackles" of beauty standards and masculinity. But now... now he knew he was beautiful, he could feel it. The lean, slim muscles and his large, swelling cock oozed masculinity, and he loved it.

The transformed Lucas sat there smiling dumbly, moaning, almost drooling as he thrust his bulging crotch upward.

The three other preppy jocks examined the now lean, handsome man head to toe and gave each other smirks of approval, and switched off the projector.

Lucas' eyes fluttered as he left the spiral's trance and the last of the catalytic chemicals in his body were used up. His balls swelled and tensed up, ready to launch their load.

"Man, I'm gonna... gonna..." Lucas growled, breaking free of his restraints and desperately fishing his cock out of his chino shorts before it launched rope upon rope of thick cum halfway across the room.

"Lucas, welcome to Davidson," the main jock chuckled, slapping the newly inducted preppy stud on the back.

"Heh, thanks, man," Lucas panted, "Call me Luke, by the way."

"Alright Luke, if you wanna put that trouser snake of yours away, Daniel here will show you where your dorm is."

Luke barely realized his long, soft cock was still out in the open. He hurriedly stuffed it back into his shorts before following his fellow prep bros to his new campus dorm.

Hey there! - I was accidentally daydreaming when I was searching for dude ranches, and ever since, this city boy's inbox just keeps piling up with invitations to them. No,no I didn't follow through with any of them, but I've been eying the flyer to visit a rodeo though. I'd love to be a badass cowboy, but I know I would stick out a mile standing next the real deals. Plus, I've been hearing strange rumors about what happens to rodeo protestors who get lassoed in the arena. Fuck it! I'm going!

While it was true that New You Industries was supplying the small, rural farming town of Hayside with special equipment, it wasn’t well known outside of the handful of people running the town’s rodeos. The organization that protested those same rodeos had so far lost two of their members to the town. The group believed them dead or in hiding, perhaps having been threatened. You believed you knew better though. The more bizarre circles you moved in online spoke about rumors of men turned into studs by the full moon, a police force with a seemingly endless supply of handsome, buff cops; and a shady corporation with advanced or even magical technology; but what interested you most was a series of posts claiming that the missing protestors were merely “assimilated” into the town.

There was only one way to find out if this meant what you thought. And so you arrived in the town in time for the next rodeo. Only a dozen locals sat in the arena. Along with a protester, sitting silently in the stands with a placard over their head, perhaps too afraid to vocalize given the mystery surrounding their missing colleagues.

The rodeo proceeded as one typically would, with the townspeople paying both you and the protestor little mind, until the very end at least.

“So, uh, how’d you enjoy tonight’s show?” asked the cowboy in the center of the arena, gesturing at the protestor.

“M- me?” the thin, young man replied.

“Yeah, you. Why don’t you come down ‘ere and tell us all what you wanna say?”

The man shuffled nervously.

“C'mon there, don’t be shy!”

Anxiously, the man got up and made his way to the arena, clearing his throat as he was passed the microphone. He barely got a word out before another handsome strutted out from the passage underneath the bleachers and threw a lasso round the young man’s chest.

“And how’s that, we got another one ladies and gentlemen!” the announcer chuckled as the dozen or so people in seats hollered and hooted, “Let’s get you outta here, city-slicker.”

You watched closely as the protestor was dragged out of the arena. But something was amiss. He thrashed and wriggled strangely and his mouth seemed to slacken. More of his legs appeared to be visible out the ends of his jeans and his arms looked swollen in his shirt. This was your chance, you had to follow, and so you did.

You waited a few minutes as the rest of the crowd filtered out while you slipped down to the arena and through the passageway. Grumbling and moaning echoed down the corridor as you quietly crept closer. Shouts and growls boomed out from behind a half-closed door. You carefully pushed it open before stumbling back at what you saw. The protestor was tied to a pole by the rope he’d been captured with, newly hirsute muscles and lengthy, thick limbs protruding through his slim-cut clothing. Though you never got a very close look at the man earlier, he was easily bigger in every regard than he’d been just minutes ago. Most impressive of all was the huge, hard, slick cock pressed up against his bulging abs, held there by the waist of his increasingly tight jeans.

He tilted his head up at you, breathing heavily with a charming smile on his freshly bearded face. He looked different; sharper, sunkissed, and rugged.

“Holy shit… I was right,” you muttered aloud.

And that’s when you felt a powerful tug around your waist before being smashing into the floor.

“Right about what? You didn’t come here with him, so why are you down here, city boy?”

The voice was deep and serious. You looked upward to see the beautifully rugged rodeo master standing over you.

“I… I want… you to do… that… to me,” you gulped, glancing back at the tied-up protester.

“My oh my, can’t say this has ever happened before,” the studly cowboy chuckled, his sinister tone shifting to one of amusement, “but if you haven’t noticed, it’s already happening.”

Everything had happened so fast that you didn’t even realize that it was rope lasso that sent you hurtling to the ground. It was at that moment you realized you were getting exactly what you wanted.

Sweat pooled onto the concrete floor while you tried to stand up, only to fall to your knees as every bone, tendon, and muscle in your body began to reconfigure. You moaned loud and uninhibited at the feeling of your spine stretching and your legs lengthening wildly. What you hadn’t anticipated is how intensely pleasurable it would feel. It was like every part that grew and shifted brought with it a powerful sexual edging.

“You people normally fight it, but I’m sure you can tell now there’s no point,” the redneck chuckled, tapping his boot against the raging tent in your tightening pants.

You held yourself up by your hands, the rope dangling from your waist against the floor. Arching your back with a groan, your arms grew longer, pushing you further off the floor. You watched in delight at your hands spreading out larger and larger against the dirty ground. The fingers stretched long and thick, the skin on your swelling palms hardening from farm labor.

Upward from your massive hands, your veins began to bulge. Holding yourself up by your trembling arms became easier and easier as your arms inflated with thick, hard muscle, stretching and tearing your shirt. Hair densified across your thickening forearms.

The growth spread through your upper body. Howling in ecstasy you ripped open the front of your shirt with your powerful arms, revealing the rapidly expanding pecs and abs underneath. You rubbed your huge, rough hands along the growing, hairier mounds. Memories flooded your brain, these weren’t the muscles of someone who worked out, these were formed by years of real, hard, manly work.

A sudden and forceful pulling in your feet forced you to flip onto your back as tightness in your shoes intensified. Removing them was no use, they were far too tight now. You could feel your feet mercilessly stretching against their confines until with a shred and a moan of relief, two long, wide, and hairy feet burst forth.

And upward from the huge appendages came more growth, flooding your thighs and calves with hefty, ballooning muscle and thick, manly hair. As your ass pressed outward, hairier and rounder, you felt thoughts of your past life draining away, making way for one of small-town living and honest, hard work. You gave a dumb smile as a short beard spread across your increasingly handsome, rugged face. Your hair became short and maintainable, while also accentuating your manly, country features.

“G- gosh… darn it,” you gasped in a thick, rural accent feeling your cock stretch and swell. You fidgeted with your large, clumsy fingers for the waist buckle on your pants, groaning deeply as you loosened it and allowed the swelling head of your cock to inch further and further out of the pants. You were so close it was almost unbearable. Your hips thrust involuntarily as your member throbbed larger, toward a glorious, thick nine inches; your balls aching as they too inflated. Then, with a gruff cry of pleasure, you came; spewing load after load across the concrete and marking the conclusion of your metamorphosis.

The cowboy, who had stayed to watch the entire process, helped you to your feet. The rope around your waist morphed as you rose, replacing your old belt with one significantly larger. Your pants morphed into tough, worn boot-cut jeans while the huge feet protruding out of the front of your shoes were quickly covered as the tattered remains shifted into a pair of size fifteen boots. Your torn shirt similarly repaired itself, though dirtier and muskier with a plaid pattern.

“Welcome to Hayside, rancher,” the rodeo master said, “You ready to get to work?”

Everything seemed like a distant memory now, you knew this was all brand new, but it also seemed so familiar.

“Yessir,” you uttered, your charming smile shining through your new beard.