Dillon Fumbled With The Business Card In His Fingers And Remembered How He Got It Earlier With Fond Thoughts.

Super hot story! Great for a first attempt at inanimate TF.

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!

Aronik

--- Originally posted by unknown on 2017-12-03 ---

I was a bit of nerd growing up. Actually, I was a complete nerd. Round red pimples dotted my face. Chalk white skin covered my body. Bulging stubborn fat covered my torso and thighs. Taped wireframe glasses hung on my large bird nose. I was quite the looker.

That all changed one day at the beach. I dreaded going to the beach. Where I'm from, the beach was the only place the good looking people ever went. Their tanned skin, taut muscles, sun kissed hair, glowing confidence all annoyed me. It was totally because I was envious of them. My parents urged me to come with them, and I obliged because what else would I do. I hadn't any friends and although going anywhere with parents at my age was social suicide, I was buried long ago, along with my social reputation.

Anyway, this time was different. I brought a hat and kept my shirt on to avoid the ridicule of the jocks I KNEW were going to be there, like Austin Keller, the hottest guy at school and the object of my affections since fourth grade when we shared my Crayola 64 pack. He didn't know who I was anymore but under my hat and with my book covering my face I would stare all day long at his glistening smile and big muscles bouncing in action. My parents urged me to go to the water and I finally obliged when I foot hit a hard object on my way to the waves. It hurt like a train on a track so I bent down and picked up what looked to be a small golden bee.

Suddenly a man appeared and smiled, saying "Hiya! Aw thanks man you found my statue!" I was perplexed and before handing it over asked why he had this weird idol with him. He responded "I use it for a little shoot I'm running. Thanks for returning it though. Here's a little something in return." He handed me a Speedo and continued, "If you want you can help me by modeling these. Just go into the changing room and swap out your shorts for these. I'm sure they'll look great on you!" I had a humble three inches down there, and my love handles were already spilling over my current shorts, so wearing these would be even more of a reason for the jocks to humiliate me. I gave the guy a deadpan look and he reassured me: "I swear it'll compliment your look. I'm looking for people with... unique looks... so I know you'd be the right fit."

There was nothing to lose so I waddled over to the changing rooms and swapped my shorts for the speedo. The second I put them on a wave of exhaustion came over me. I collapsed and passed out in the room. I opened my eyes and couldn't help but notice how I felt. Lighter, to say the least. I looked down and noticed my shirt was tight against my stomach anymore. In fact, I didn't even have a stomach anymore. The second I put my hand, my skinnier and tanner hand, on my stomach I felt nothing but abs and tight skin. I took off my shirt and was struck by the sight. Caramel tan skin adorned my body, covering round strong pecs and a tight six pack. I looked down at my legs and noticed their impeccable definition. The speedo fit me perfectly and showed off my butt, originally large because of my fat, but now tight and muscular. My arms were no longer chicken wings but huge with trained biceps and triceps that flexed with ease. I finally glanced at the mirror and took in my new face. My new sharp eyes pierced right into my soul. My nose looked brand new, as if I had gotten the best rhinoplasty in the world. My defined jawline was so defined. My plump lips pouted and made me look so. fucking. sexy.

I wanted to check out my new package, but there was a knock at the door. "Hey pal, enjoying the speedo?" I heard a familiar voice say.

"I've never felt better." I replied, hearing my new sultry deep voice for the first time. I opened the door and met the guy, who proceeded to take me down to the water for the photo shoot. As I posed, I noticed Austin not so subtly gawking at me. I offered him a wink and instantly saw his hard on. Let's just say the changing rooms were in need of a clean up after our little session.

Sports Night - Into the Ring

Joseph was panicking. He had just emerged from a long shower, checked the front door and saw that his package still wasn’t there. His colleague Ian’s party was due to start in an hour and he was still waiting for his costume to arrive. Joseph was genuinely looking forward to the party; he was new to the company and thought this would be a good chance to make some new friends.

He wasn’t just new to the company, he was new to the UK. He had bounced around chemical companies after leaving college in the States about eight years ago, but had never really managed to feel settled. He thought working alongside other engineers would be easy, but whether it was his nerdy demeanour or his pudgy appearance he never ever felt like he fit in. For a while Joseph told myself it was because he operated on a different intellectual level to his old co-workers and while that may have been true, he also never really made an effort.

So he moved. All the way across the Atlantic to the UK and he was determined to make a difference, starting with Ian’s party. He wasn’t sure how seriously to take the costume element and really didn’t feel like spending lots of money on new clothes, so he had come up with a compromise - he had ordered some boxing gloves off the internet and figured he could pair it with his dressing gown and pretend it was his boxing robe. He could even wear his usual ratty t-shirt and extra comfy jeans. The only problem was the delivery was late and he was worried he was going to resemble an overweight Arthur Dent more than a boxer.

As if to answer his concerns, the doorbell rang. He ran (well, shambled) to the front door. He didn’t catch a sign of the delivery guy or gal, but shrugged and picked up the box. Oddly there were no labels - not even a delivery sticker with his address - but he shrugged and brought it into his hallway.

His excitement turned to dismay when he opened the box. He could specifically recall ordering boxing gloves, but the box contained some sort of strip of cloth all rolled up. Not only that, but the fabric quite clearly stunk, but he wondered if that was just the natural smell of the material. A quick Google search told him that these were hand wraps used for sparring. He grumbled; this was going to be a bit more work than just pulling on some gloves. He grabbed his glasses, loaded up a YouTube instruction video and got to work.  

He watched the video once and seemed to get the idea. He unravelled one of the rolls, throwing more of that stench into the air. He stretched out one of his thick, fat-leaden arms and got ready to go, hooking the end of the strap around his thumb and slowly starting to wrap the material around his hand.

The feeling after the first wrap around was almost instantaneous. An almost electrical surge travelling up his arm and travelled all across his body. He shivered with anticipation.

“What the hell was that…”, Joseph muttered, his quiet American accent echoing around his small apartment. He looked back at his stretched out hand with eager anticipation and wrapped around again.

The surge happened again, but this time it was not alone. A deep rumble echoed across his sizeable belly and he felt a strange… tightening.

He wrapped around again.

His belly caved in on itself, the fat seemingly disappearing into the ether. Joseph choked and was so focussed on the fact he could see his toes for the first time in years that he didn’t even notice that he was automatically wrapping around another time.

This time there was a creaking sound as Joseph noticed the floor and furnishing travel away from him. He now minimal stomach stretched out even further to the point where Joseph thought he was almost too skinny! Joseph knew he needed to stop; he rational mind kept telling him that no item - even mystery items from the internet - could make his fat disappear and make him grow by four or five inches. He needed to stop and think of a way to analyse this material.

He wrapped around again.

The sensation was wildly different this time, a burning and vigorous massage across his body and particular his chest, arms and stomach. Joseph moaned, closing his eyes as the burning intensified and got more pleasurable. It petered off and Joseph gazed down. He was disappointed for a split second when his toes were obscured again and then reality hit. It was his chest. His thick, beefy chest, with two plates jutting out. Peering down even more he could see rows of tight abs across a stocky but fit mid-section. And his arms - one still outstretched and the other still gripping the wrap for dear life - were loaded down with thick, veiny muscle. Joseph was speechless; he had the kind of body he had always envied, had always dreamed about. He was at a complete loss as to what to do.

So he wrapped around again.

A wild itch spread across his body and particular his chest as thick brown hairs leapt out of his skin.

He wrapped around again. 

There was a tight pulling sensation on his scalp as his lank blond hair fell out of his eyesight.

He wrapped around again, addicted to the pleasure it was bringing.

His glasses feel to the floor as he felt his facial feature reshuffle.

Breathing heavily, feeling his hefty chest inflate and deflate rapidly, he went to wrap around one last time, but he was done. His left hand - far beefier than he remembered and now connected to a veiny, thick forearm - had a tightly wound hand wrap in place. He ran (and actually ran this time) to the bathroom and admired himself in the mirror. He could finally admire his wide, heavy-set shoulders and thick torso; his rug of sexy chest hair which gave off a musky scent not dissimilar to that from the hand wraps; his short, brown hair, buzzed at the back and sides; and his beautiful, rugged beard adorned with effortless stubble.

“Fuck me”, Joseph uttered and was shocked by the smooth but deep baritone that oozed out. “What now”?

He looked down again. His right hand was bare. He was only half way done. 

Joseph paused. He couldn’t imagine what other changes were going to happen and he genuinely didn’t really want his body to change any more. But a deep longing forced him to pick up the second wrap. He claimed it was due to scientific interest - the second half of this little experiment - but deep down he knew it was something more. For the first time in a long time we felt a raw desire and the for time ever, he planned to act on it.

He hooked the hand wrap onto his thick, hairy thumb and got to work.

His arms pulsated as they beefed up even further, while the pulling sensation across his scalp returned. He was pretty happy with his hair the way it had turned out before, but figured maybe a buzzcut would look pretty neat.

He wrapped around again.

He expected more burning, more massaging, more stretching but nothing came. Instead a new sensation - a slow, soothing draining sensation in his head. Joseph stumbled a bit in the bathroom, suddenly feeling almost blinded by the sharp light above the mirror. He felt dazed and confused, almost drunk, as his thoughts slowed and he tried to steady his unfamiliar, bulky body. One thought however did manage to creep itself through the clutter - he needed to stop; something wasn’t right.

He wrapped around again.

The dazed confusion was still there but it felt less sharp, less invasive, more… permanent. Joseph gazed down at the hand wrap in a wonder and tried to think about sort of material it could be made out of. But all his scientific knowledge escaped him, as he wrapped around again.

A part of Joseph panicked - why didn’t his years of scientific studying and working help him here? But those years got flushed away - he couldn’t even remembered what the hell he did now. An emptiness waved over Joseph as every element of his life began to drift away. His looked up and stared at himself in the mirror. His hair had been buzzed short and was receding at the temples. His body was thicker and meaner. And while he was still rugged, his face was now… meaner. But he couldn’t stop staring into his eyes. He had a brief memory of his old eyes - they were bright, lively and he had told betrayed his vast intelligence. The eyes looking back at him in the mirror now were dark and  vacant.

He wrapped around again.

His head was awash with new memories. A new history. Of course he didn’t fucking go to college or know any science stuff - he could remember dropping out of school at 15. He was too busy getting into scraps to learn and the teachers wanted noting to do with him.

He wrapped around again.

He had always been pretty dim, but his fists were his outlet. And after leaving school, he had more time to train. Started taking it seriously, putting the work and the hours in. Starting fighting in underground and backroom bouts all across the East End of London.

He paused, London?

He wrapped around again.

Born and raised in the East End he was. Was pretty well known about these parts and people generally knew to steer clear of him if they could help it. His was far from the sharpest tool in the shed and everybody knew that he should be taking home more money from the matches, but he didn’t fight for the money. He fought as an outlet for his aggression. He fought because it gave him the chance to prove his worth. He fought because he was fuckin’ good at it.

The wraps were done. 

“Freddie, get your arse out here” a rough voice called from outside. With that, the last remnant of Joseph fluttered away, and Freddie - the aggressive English bruiser - took over. Freddie didn’t even notice that his hands were now adorned with professional gloves and he was wearing tight shorts, showing off his intimidating package. 

“Out in a sec” Freddie grumbled, no hint of his American twang remaining. Instead a guttural, deep and vaguely Cockney accent emerged.

He stared at himself one last time in the bathroom. He hadn’t even noticed that the walls were damp and dingy, with a single flickering blub over the cracked mirror flickering. His eyes betrayed no depth, no intelligence but that’s not what his opponents noticed. They noticed the determination and the anger. They noticed… but only if they got the fucking chance.

Second story - hope everyone enjoys. Appreciate it is pretty lengthy; next time am going to work on being a bit more concise!

Any feedback would be welcomed! Have got a few more ideas in the Sports Night pipeline, but if you have any suggestions, ideas or requests do let me know!

A Gamer's Dream

--- Originally posted on 2018-01-14 by paradisetf ---

You ever played the Sims? Maybe Fallout 4? Any game with character customization really.

Ever wanted to BE the character you made? Most likely, right? Well, then you’ll love The Gaming Paradise.

But, do you know how this mystical shop came to be? Well, let’s start with our favorite Admin.

Alex was your normal hardcore gamer. His life was basically eat, sleep, and play games. It was always fun for him. He could make the characters do whatever he wanted.

Unfortunately, life wasn’t too kind on that front. He was picked on constantly. Whether it was his lanky body or how he obsessed over games, one way or another, some jock found a way to humiliate him.

But that all changed one day when a package arrived on his porch.

“Huh? I didn’t order any game. Why is this here?” He said, puzzled.

Last he checked there were no new games releasing, and certainly not from… wait, who even was this from?

Alex looked down and saw a note on the ground, underneath the box. He picked it up and opened it, being careful to not rip the paper.

“You are now the admin. Play this to begin. -L” It said.

Confused yet intrigued, Alex grabbed the box and stepped inside.

He ran into his room, opening the box and seeing a disc for the PlayStation. Kicking off his shorts he placed the disc inside and sat down on his couch.

“Welcome, Admin. Please enter your name.” The game said.

Alex wasn’t sure what the game meant by “admin”, but he shrugged it off.

Entering his name, an avatar popped up. When it did, he jumped. It looked… exactly like him!

Alex was tempted to turn the game off and throw it out… but something pulled him in. It was like he was destined to play it. Alex sighed as the game spoke again.

“Please confirm the changes you’d wish to make to your avatar.” It said.

“Well, it’s just a game… and my TV does have a built-in camera… so that’s probably how it made it.” He thought, trying to rationalize what was happening.

He thought about what he wanted to look like… big, beefy, like those damn jocks that always pushed him around.

He wanted to be hot, much more attractive then them. He wanted to be smarter than them. Better than them. He started to grin.

He edited the appearance of his avatar as he felt a searing pain pass through his body. He felt his facial features rearranging, his jawline getting more rugged and defined. He could feel his adam’s apple grow in his throat. His eyes changing from a murky brown to a deep blue. His skin becoming nice and golden. He tried to scream, but he couldn’t.

He felt his body expand, muscles filling out in places that he didn’t even think possible. His legs, arms, chest, everything. He felt his shaft lengthen, filling out his pants as his ass and balls steadily grew.

He was changing, and as much as it hurt… it felt good too. As the pain subsided, Alex looked down, seeing the new shredded body he had, matching the avatar on the screen.

“Modification complete. Building Gaming Paradise.” The game spoke, as Alex, still admiring his body, felt the ground underneath him shake.

He braced himself as the room changed around him, going from standard to luxurious. He looked out the window when the shaking stopped.

He was no longer in his house, but rather on the second floor of another building.

“Admin assignment complete. Good luck.” The game said, shutting down.

Speechless, Alex ran downstairs, seeing a shop full of games.

“What… is this mine?” He said. He heard the same voice of the game, not from his mouth, but in his ears. It replied to him.

“Yes, Admin. You are my master now. Your goal is to bring enrichment to peoples lives under thr guise of a game store clerk. I will be your guide on this mission. Please run Gaming Paradise with care.” It said.

Alex smirked, gears turning in his head. “Oh boy, this is gonna be fun.” He said, as he flipped the sign in the door from closed to open.

Enjoy, everyone! So glad people are liking Alex. He’s quite the charmer, isn’t he? Stop by your local Gaming Paradise, and he’ll be sure to get you the game that’ll make your wildest dreams come true.

Purgatory

--- Original author: realhankmccoy ---

Q: Bro, you were so smart, bro. Why’d you have to go throw it away like that?

A: Because I had to, man. I guess I just felt like it was something I had to do. Haven’t you ever gotten the feeling that you just had to do something? I’m really glad that I did choose this, too. Love working out.

Q: You had a great future ahead of you, though. Graduate studies at King’s College, a future in the National Health Service, all sorts of prospective opportunities with biotechnology companies, in research, or in higher education. Look at you now, and look at your priorities now. I don’t even recognise you, bro. The studious, bright young scholar you were has been replaced by some sort of aspiring muscle jock. How far are you going to take it with this? You’re not going to seriously keep working out, are you? Are you really planning on getting even bigger?

A: It’s true, man, haha, I am not the same wimp anymore. Not at all. I’m maybe at the halfway mark, the way I see it, in becoming the sort of bro I want to be. A lot has changed for me. Yeah, that guy I was, he was smart and all, but I wasn’t happy. I feel like he’s starting to cease to exist. He’s maybe halfway out the door at this point. I’ve been watching a lot of rugby lately. Been watching Manchester United. Kinda want to try Australian footy someday.

Q: No way, bro. But kinda beside the point, now you’ve got me curious about any potential fetishes of yours. How do you feel about ‘man chest hair’, since we’re on the subject? You want to get united with that?

A: Haha, clever, man. Wordplay or whatever. Yeah, chest hair is fucking hot to me. I swear it’s even hotter lately. Always grabs my attention, but that’s what it’s biologically supposed to do, strictly speaking. Not that I really care about the science of it all as much right now, haha. Just love the way it looks.

A: Maybe you should just stop where you are right now, bro. Ok, yeah, I agree that maybe the guy you were before was kind of overly bookish, but you have to admit that right where you are right now, sort of right in between two worlds, probably strikes the perfect balance. You’ve got a tight jock bod and yet are still capable of being conscientious and having an intelligent conversation. Why ruin that?

A: Am I at a nicely balanced level, ha? I don’t know man. I sure feel kind of stupid. In a way it’s like my mind doesn’t run away all the time like it used to. I feel more of a greater sense of calm. I suppose you’re right, though. So, to answer your question, yes, I am going to take it further.

Q: What’s it like to not even be away from the classroom so much?

A: It’s strange, to have not not studied very hard at all in so long, already. I’m not sure I could ever pick up where I left off. I mean, I used to be able to do the Schrödinger equation and the wave equation. I don’t think I could right now. Even the word ‘equation’ seems kinda funny to me right now, to be honest. Haha. I doubt Stephen Hawking would be very proud of me for that.

Q: Bro, but what about the major good your science and math background could do for humanity? It’s not too late. Lots of people take a gap year. You could just make this your gap year and start focusing on again.

A: I guess, but when you’re in these highly competitive fields, it’s not so simple as writing it all off as a gap year, really. Also, why would I want to give this up? Everyone’s treating me way better, mostly. Even the ones who are jealous to see that I’m becoming something they wouldn’t ever have the work ethic to ever become make me feel good about myself, in a way. Haha. A lot of them just want to play the victim.

Q: What do you mean by that? Bro, do you want to end up stupid or something?

A: Might not be so bad. Dude, my back’s sweaty, because it’s hot in here, haha. My pits are kinda sweaty, too. I need a bottled water. I swear I can already feel all the muscle swelling up from that last pump. I know it takes a few days, but it’s still a good feeling, that post-working endorphin high.

Q: See bro, you never would have talked like that before. You’d have been going on about how fascinating fenestrated capillaries are and how they contrast with much-wider sinusoidal capillaries, going on about basal laminae, getting technical… what are you doing to yourself, really? You wouldn’t have even drank bottled water before. You’d have been saying a refillable glass is healthier for the planet, or something that’s all socially conscientious, bro.

A: Yeah, haha, that’s pretty funny. Use it or lose it, they say, which is why I intend to keep working out and upping my workouts. I love these gains, bro. So maybe I do want to end up stupid, haha. I gotta say, it’s true that I used to hate on gym bunny types, but now that I’ve sort of become one myself, I totally get it. You don’t really know it until you try it. Feels so good, bro. I really could care less if folks want to call me stupid. It’s not like I really have time to read anymore, and most people don’t at all. So it’s no big deal if you don’t, really.

Q: What do you mean you don’t really have time?

A: Who has time to read? It’s a serious question. There’s work to be done, man. Plus I’m at the gym a lot. Ok, haha, I’m not that stupid, at least not yet, so I’m just kinda fucking with you, bro. I know reading’s a good thing.

Q: Most people think it’s a good thing, bro.

A: Yeah, but to be totally honest, I really haven’t in a while now. I picked up the Canturbury Tales on a bus ride. Thought I’d revisit it, and really didn’t want to bother with my technical textbooks, you know. Just some weekend ready. The Wife of Bath’s tale has always been my favorite. Raunchy stuff. But really, I stopped about a quarter through as I was getting sick of it. A lot of that’s just that I’ve read it before, anyway. Plus it’s hard to see how relevant Middle English is right now, especially with Brexit going on and all.

Q: With Brexit and all? How do you feel about Brexit?

A: Yeah, I don’t know, I see myself as more outside of politics now. It’s just not my thing, man. I honestly am getting kind of sick of seeing anything political in art, in the schools, in the workforce, in movies, even in porn, in everything. Jordan Peterson is right that it definitely doesn’t belong in universities. Those are supposed to be about learning facts, not about indoctrination. And you have to admit, we’ve got a lot to focus on right now other than just college.

Q: Seriously?

A: Yes, seriously! Look at what the Americans are doing. We could learn a lot from them. In a lot of ways I think it was, in retrospect, actually kind of a mistake to isolate ourselves from the USA. Even places like India would probably be better off if they still had colonial rule, and I know that’s not politically correct. But markets are important, even to scientists, who need to get their supplies from like, China. It’s a global economy now. I’m just not as much of a bleeding heart as I used to be, I guess. I think it’s important to stay prepared and to make sure businesses want to have their headquarters in the UK, right? We can all agree that that’s a good thing. And the facts are that it’s harder to do that with a high corporate tax rate.

Q: Bro, you used to say discussing politics was for those who didn’t want to focus on work. And now you’re one of those guys you probably would have caalled stupid. It’s really something to witness. You really seem to think you know it all now, or that you maybe even talk like you think you’re better than others or something. I can hear it in your voice, basically.

A: Well, hey bro, like the left doesn’t think they’re better than others? They’re the masters of that. They’re the ones trying to manipulate and cancel everything. I don’t believe in either party really. Labour controls the media, so you never hear the negative sides about them. It’s important to have two balanced political poles, I think. And mostly I’m just annoyed that politics has just gotten into a lot of things it shouldn’t even be in.

Q: You already said that, bro. You really do seem stupider than before to me. You definitely seem cockier and less interested in listening. You used to say all stupid people suffer from Dunning-Kruger.

A: Dunning-Kruger, lol. More like Dumbing-Kruger.

Q: You think that’s funny? What’s so funny, bro?

A: Hey, don’t piss me off, man. Look, like I said, I don’t really care if people want to at like I’m stupid. I knew some guys would say I’m stupid just because I wanted to work out and do something better with my body than I had been. You can’t win with a lot of people.

Q: It’s not too late, bro. Have you at all considered that maybe you should purge this muscle hunk fixation from right out of your mind before it’s too late? You’re becoming somebody totally different. Or at least don’t push this muscle stud game further.

A: Why would I want to do head back in the wrong direction, bro? Look, guys are way more into me now. I got a ton of adds on Instagram. And as a guy, you’re supposed to have muscle. It’s biologically what’s attractive to others, isn’t it? I was too thin before. When I look at those guys who are total studs with their pecs and cobbled 8-pack abs, it gets me hard as fuck. Not gonna lie. I’ve always wanked to those guys. It was probably just a matter of time.

Q: Bro, but why are you so into your own body all of a sudden? Has your philosophy on gay life changed at all?

A: Haha, yeah, not gonna lie, my perspective has changed. I used to consider myself gay and all. Now I’m just a guy who happens to be into guys, I think. I don’t see any real need to advertise my sexuality. I mean, we have our rights, so that’s kind of over now. I’d rather just be the best guy I can be. So yeah, getting into my body, flexing in front of the mirror and all that, is really helping me develop a sort of confidence I never had before.

Q: Dude, that’s totally hilarious. A guy who just happens to be into other guys?

A: Yeah, I mean, isn’t sex supposed to be kinda funny, haha? It’s not hilarious, man, it’s hot. Plus I thought we were supposed to be able to choose from multiple identities these days? I’m more fun now than I ever was in bed, probably. I love getting sweaty and wrestling with a guy, having him feel these abs and flex while I feel up his biceps. I’ve gotten way more comfortable with my body. I love doing a double biceps pose and facing another guy who’s doing the same, that eye contact, that kind of intense… it’s almost like a brotherhood, man. I’ve noticed my sex sessions are getting way longer.

Q: Tell me about that.

A: Well, I don’t know, I’ve been hooking up and having fun for sure. Last guy I had over, he wanted to get all shirtless and sweaty with me on my couch. So we did. So I’m drinking a Thatchers Cider and it’s tasting really good, and I’m leaning over him, kissing him, maybe more aggressively than I usually do. I’m so randy these days, it seems. He’s just focused on my abs, feeling them up, and asking me to flex. So I flexed, first in a double biceps, then, with my arms behind my head so I could flaunt my abs and my triceps. That’s when he said that my pits were so fucking beautiful. So, I kept doing it. Then he wanted to lick them out. Said my hairy armpits looked hot and he felt lucky to be able to see them up close. I’ve never had a guy suggest that before or flatter me in that way. So I let him. He said I smell so good, man. That felt good.

Q: Aww dude. Fuck. I kinda see where you’re coming from with this all. That’s hot for sure, bro.

A: Right? It’s way more pleasurable than trying to do research on the Great Barrier reef. In a lot of ways, it’s probably even more useful than memorising rote facts, like how your nose can remember 50,000 different scents. What’s a statistic like that matter compared to actually stopping and smelling the roses sometimes?

Q: I wonder how many of those 50,000 scents are the scents of a guy’s musk, haha. Do you mean to find that out, bro? How many pits you been in?

A: Haha, yeah bro, I mean, I’ve definitely gotten sluttier and I’m not ashamed of that at all. I love learning how to kind of dominate a guy, lead him on, and I’m getting more energetic as a top. I like my face in their pits, too, it turns out.

Q: You do look a lot better, there’s no getting around that.

A: Yeah man? Fuck. I feel better for sure. You think I should go all the way?

Q: Bro, just that you say that or even suggest it is pretty hot to me. Just being real. I still think you’re in the perfect middle ground right now. But the thought of you pushing it further…. hell… in some ways I feel like you’re turning into a sort of deity. A muscle king among men. Don’t tell anyone I said that.

A: Yeah? Like some sort of muscle God? Haha. I”m fine with that for sure.

Q: Yeah bro, you’re definitely getting to be closer to… well, maybe it’s better left unsaid. I know I really shouldn’t be encouraging you.

A: That I’m becoming better than I was before? Haha. Bro, it’s ok. I already fully intend to pack on at least another ten, fifteen pounds of muscle and might go even further than that. I used to think where I’m at now was more than I’d ever want.

Q: You really have changed. It’s kinda awesome to witness.

A: You admit that this is awesome, right? You like these muscles, man?

Q: Fuck yeah I like those guns, muscle boy. Aww fuck. Flex for me.

A: Awwww, fuck yeah bro. I love this.

Q: Fuck yeah you love this, idiot.

A; Fuck, it’s so hot when you call me an idiot, man.

Q: Fuck yeah it’s hot.

A: I gotta tell you man, I really don’t give a fuck anymore. All I want to do is be the best muscle dude I can be.

Q? Yeah? You’d like that, muscle boy?

A: Yeah. To be as sexy as I want to be, get all the cock, man. I don’t care if I’m turning into a slut even.

Q: Fuck yeah you want it, slut.

A: Aww fuck. Call me that again, man.

Q: You’re a fucking slut, muscle boy. There is no going back for you. I can tell. What a shame, dumbass. You’re gonna be just another stupid muscle boy.

A: Yes. Fuck yes. I can feel it, man. There’s no choice anymore. I can’t go back to the route I was on.

Q: Then run with it, muscle boy. Be the best muscle slut you can be.

A: Exactly, man, yes, I’m going to. The guy I used to be was boring, barely living. Now I feel alive. It feels soooo good when you call me stupid.

Q: That’s because you are stupid.

A: Fuck. Yes. You know I am, man. Suck on my jock cock. I want you to. I want you on your fucking knees worshipping me as I flex and talk about how much muscle I’m gonna put on still.

Q: Suck on my cock, muscle slut. Then maybe I will.

A: Aww, fuck yeah. Ok man. Fuck. (mmmmph, mmmph). Fuck yeah! (gasp, mmmph, mmmph) Fucking delicious! All I want to do is jock up, suck dick, get fucked, fuck random guys… Fuck, man. I want it so bad, man. You’re hot, man. I think everything about man sex is so hot. (slurpppp, mmphhhs)

Q: You’re gonna get fucked tonight, muscle slut. And I’m going to tell you about how thick your pecs are gonna be, and how hot your bubble butt is, and how sexy it is that you’d do a stupid thing like jock yourself up. Every kiss I give you will make you dumber. We’re gonna snort so many poppers that we’re both going to be drooling on each other and not have any thoughts left. It’ll just be sex, bro. Sex, sex, sex. Muscle sex, man sex, biceps sex, furry leg sex, hairy crotch sex, licking necks sex, slobbery kisses sex, nipple-flicking sex, and slutty dumbfuck sex.

A: Fuuuuuuuuckk yeah… kiss me.

Q: Fuck yeah, bro. (smack, slurrrpp)

TheBurdenBorne Archive

Hi all! Thanks to efforts by @masterwolftfs I have managed to recover even more of TheBurdenBorne's (DeviantArt) old stories!

Below will be a huge index compiled by @imsrtman of most of the titles of TheBurdenBorne's written works.

What I have already posted on Tumblr will clickable on the list.

Similarly, anything marked with an asterisk means that I have a copy of it and will post it soon. I also have some stories that I'm not sure what the title is of so I'll need help with that as well.

As for the remaining entries on the list:

Please send me a DM if you have any of the stories that are not marked or posted yet! I

It does not matter if you only have say part 4 or part 2. If everyone contributes parts here and there we can recover most of it!

(All the stories are sorted from A-Z ascending)

Uncategorized:

Dog Tags

Hypnotizing Young Bro

Jock boy is hypnotized

Man's Best Friend

Missing Dick

Sculpted

Tailgating

Trash

Series: Black Power

Black Power Ch. 1

Black Power Ch. 2

Series: College Camp

College Camp Part I

College Camp Part II

College Camp Part III

College Camp Part IV

Series: Dancing Bears

Dancing Bears No 1

Dancing Bears No 2

Dancing Bears No 3

Series: Daydream Age

Daydream Age 13

Daydream Age 23

Daydream Age 33

Daydream Age 43

Daydream Age 43

Series: Enrollment Week

Enrollment Week 1 (Garrett-POV)

Enrollment Week 2 (Garrett-POV

Enrollment Week 3 (Garrett-POV)

Enrollment Week 4 (Louis-POV)

Enrollment Week 5 (Carl POV)

Enrollment Week 6 (Wesley POV)

Series: Extra Curricular

Extra Curricular: Filmmaking

Extra Curricular: Metals

Extra Curricular: Woods

Series: For Him

For Him Part One

For Him Part Two

For Him Part Three

For Him Part Four

For Him Part Five

Series: Manual Labor

Manual Labor Client One

Manual Labor Client Two

Manual Labor Client Three*

Manual Labor Client Four

Series: One Fad Fits All

One Fad Fits All: Biker Chic

One Fad Fits All: Bodyguard

One Fad Fits All: Cowboy Up*

One Fad Fits All: Lumbersexual

One Fad Fits All: Surfer Boys

Series: Ostello della moda

Ostello della moda: Antonio

Ostello della moda: Bruno*

Ostello della moda: Christofano

Ostello della moda: Diego*

Ostello della moda: Eduardo*

Series: Pokémon Go Team Green

Pokémon Go Team Green: Battle

Pokémon Go Team Green: Captured

Pokémon Go Team Green: Hatched

Pokémon Go Team Green: Traded

Series: Primal Instincts

Primal Instincts: A Bit Overbearing

Primal Instincts: Men are Dogs*

Primal Instincts: Monkey Around

Series: Product Placement

Product Placement: Free Exercise Healthcare Offer*

Product Placement: Free trial Attraktion Kondom

Product Placement: Free wax and hair removal*

Product Placement: Subway sleeper*

Product Placement: Wet Dreams*

Series: Roommate Needed

Roommate Needed One*

Roommate Needed Two

Roommate Needed Three

Roommate Needed Four

Roommate Needed Five

Roommate Needed Six

Roommate Needed Seven

Series: Selfie Seduction

Selfie Seduction Interlude

Selfie Seduction Part 1

Selfie Seduction Part 2

Selfie Seduction Part 3

Selfie Seduction Finale

Series: The Collector

The Collector Part 1: Auction

The Collector Part 2: Acquisition

The Collector Part 3: Audition

The Collector Part 4: Abduction

Series: The Modern Man:

The Modern Man-Step 1

The Modern Man-Step 2

The Modern Man-Step 3

The Modern Man-Step 4

The Modern Man-Step 5

The Modern Man-Step 6

The Driver: Richard

--- Originally posted on 2018-01-13 by dumbmusclejockboi ---

“And I will need that report on my desk ASAP! Do you hear me?!” Richard said, talking to someone on his cellphone as he entered his Uber car.

“Richard?” The driver asked. “Says here you’re going to 5th Ave and 52nd St. Is that correct?”

“That is correct,” Richard responded. “And I will also need the Rosier files sent by fax to my hotel room..” he continued on his cellphone.

The driver had had many people like this enter his ride share vehicle. Though seldom did they exit the same person. Richard didn’t know it yet but he had hit the jackpot, or was he about to be eternally cursed? I guess it depended on one’s perspective.

“David, David? Can you here me? Hello? Anyone there?” Richard said shaking his cellphone and then slamming it down onto his thigh letting out an irritated sigh. “Fuck!”

“Cell troubles?” The driver asked.

“Yes. And it’s at the exact wrong time too. I’m working on a huge project at work right now. Very important. My boss has been riding my ass about it. It just gets so irritating sometimes! I wish I didn’t have to carry around all this stress. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this? “

“I wouldn’t worry about it. Many passengers say that they sometimes need an objective listener to just listen to their problems. Wouldn’t it be great to have an objective listener to hear what’s bothering you?”

“Yes. Having an objective listener would be great. Thanks you…” Richarf glanced down st his Uber app and for the drivers name. It only said ‘driver’ for his name.

“My name isn’t really important,( Rich. You don’t need to concern yourself with that. Don’t worry about it.

“In fact I think you will find that you are feeling nice and relaxed. The stress of the day is leaving you, and you don’t have any cares in the world. “

Richard, or was it Rich, could feel something was wrong, but he settled down into his seat anyway. Taking a few deep breathes and letting his shoulders droop.

“Rich, I think that jacket and tie are starting to feel a little constructing, don’t you? Doesn’t it feel like it’s choking you? Stifling you? Perhaps it would be better to take them off? Wouldn’t it feel nice and relaxing if you took them off?”

“Stifling. Choking. Feels better to take off,” Rich mumbled to himself as he removed his jacket and tie.

“Yes, that’s much better. Feels so good, doesn’t it?

“Now, I think you will find that you’re feeling warmer and warmer. Maybe you should take off your shirt and pants. If you take off your shorts and pants you wouldn’t feel as warm as you do now. I’m sure you want to feel cool and comfortable, and the only way to do that is to take off your shirt and pants.”

Beads of sweat had started to form on Rich’s forehead. He looked uncomfortable, until he started unbuttoning his shirt. The moment his shirt was off he let out a sigh of relief. But his legs were still very warm. Better to take off his pants too! With a deft motion, Rich let his pants pool at his feet.

“Hmmm…” The Driver thought to himself.

“I think you need to get down to five percent fat.”

“What the fuck?” Rich swore.

“Oomph!”

Rich’s body sort of sucked I’m on himself. His fat melted away, and like a vacuum-sealed package, revealed the contents below. He became instantly ripped. Well, as ripped as an office worker with no real muscle tone could look.

“What the hell?”

“And, you work out five days a week, sometimes twice a day. You’ve been doing this since you were 15.”

Rich suddenly felt all of his muscles fill with energy and begin to ache.

And Rich’s body expanded in a flash. It was like in those old cartoons when the bunny blew his finger, and suddenly inflated. But this inflation was not air. No, it was 15 years worth of solid muscle. Hard-wrought, well-earned traps, lats , pectorals, biceps, triceps, abs, quads, glutes, and calves.

“You bet I’ve been working out for 15 years,” Rich said as he flexed his 21-inch biceps.

“ think you’ve only been doing this for 5 years. You’re only 21.”

“Bro, I don’t know what I was thinking. Duh, I’m only 21.”

“And I think you need to convert IQ points to penis size. Maybe lose ten points to gain every inch, so you’re gonna ditch 50 IQ points to gain 5 inches of dick. You’re gonna have a foot long cock, when it’s hard, that is as thick as a beer bottle.”

“Ugghhh,” Rich groaned as a dumb smile appeared on his face.

“And your name is Buck Hardwood, a Southern stripper and porn star.”

“Yes, Sir, I work at the best club in New York City, Adonis,” Buck drawled.

“So, Buck, where are you from?”

“I’m from the great state of Alabama,” the newly minted Southerner replies.

“ I know I’ve seen you somewhere before,” Driver says.

“Well sir (pronounced sah), I’ve been is a few pornos. My favorite was ‘Two Bros, One Hole’. That one was super fun to do. Probably my most popular one was ‘Frat Bros are Easy’,” Buck replied.

“That’s great, Buck. And look! Here we are! Adonis nightclub, NYC.”

“Woo-hoo!” Buck cheered. “Wanna come in and watch me strip?”

“I’ll take a raincheck,” The Driver replies as Buck leaves the car. “Enjoy your new life, Buck.”

One Fad Fits All: Surfer Boys

--- Originally posted by TheBurdenBorne before 2018-08-22 ---

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

"Excuse me ma'am, have you seen my son in your store?"

I had searched every store in the mall and was beginning to worry. Jake usually was fine on his own, but when we met his friend Riley her at the mall and they wanted to go off shopping by themselves, I should have seen this coming.

"What does he look like?" said the young woman.

"Well, he was with a friend. They're both fourteen. Jake is skinny, has blonde hair -- sort of a skater look to him. Riley has brown hair, a little heavier. Have you seen them?"

"Hmm...was he wearing a black hoodie?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Two guys came in here that sort of sound like your son and his friend. One of them left a hoodie in the dressing room. Do you want to see?"

"I guess so," I said as I nervously followed the girl to the back of the store. When we entered the dressing room, I could hear two guys talking.

"Dude. That suit totally rocks!" "I know right! Can't wait to try it on the waves, dude."

The young man pulled open the door on his stall and checked himself out in the mirror. He looked like he was eighteen -- in the prime of his life. He had shoulder length blonde hair and was clearly a beach-bum surfer type of guy. He was shirtless and wearing only a swimming suit, which showed off his smooth tan chest and lean muscles. His friend was more built, but also shirtless. He had spiky brown hair and was wearing a bone necklace and sunglasses.

"Alright, sir. Here's the hoodie that you were looking for."

"Yeah, that belongs to Jake," I said, still worried that I wouldn't track down my son. But I overheard the two surfer guys again and something pricked up my ears.

"So, Riley. D'ya wanna hit the beach later?" "No prob, man. See ya there, Jake-o"

" Jake-O" I thought to myself. Could these guys coincidentally have the same names as my son and his friend. I had to ask.

"Um...excuse me, but are your names Jake and Riley."

"Yeah, why?" said the blonde.

"Well, I'm looking for my son and his friend. They have the same name."

I saw a look of fear in the blonde surfer's eye, as if he was trying to fight through something and tell me.

"Jake?" I said. "Is that you?"

"Dad?" I heard him whisper. "You have to help us. You have to get out of --" He struggled to say the words, but before he could finish. Riley lunged at me and knocked me into one of the dressing stalls.

"Shh...old man. You're gonna be okay." Jake ran into the stall and helped Riley restrain me. He no longer was trying to help and must have given up the old Jake completely. Riley took off his bone necklace and forced it around my neck. When he did, I felt warm and relaxed. They stood up and let me recover.

"How d'ya feel," asked Riley.

"What are you guys trying to do to me?" I asked.

"Just relax, you'll notice in a moment," said Jake.

I stood up and noticed that my aging 40-yr old body was starting to transform. My gut shrank. My muscles grew strong again. I looked in the mirror and saw my hairline return to the way it was when I was in high school. My hair grew too and looked like it was bleached blonde. As I lost weight and gained muscle, I began to feel young again. I took off my glasses because I didn't need them anymore.

"Here, try this on," said Jake as he handed me a dark red swimsuit. I stripped down naked and saw how tan my skin was. All of the old body hair seemed to fall away and I was left with a smooth tan chest, firm pecs and abs, and a lean, muscular torso. The swimsuit cupped my youthful bulge comfortably and smelled like the ocean.

"Dude, you're almost done."

I listened to Jake and Riley start to talk about surfboards, beaches, and how they were spending their summer vacation. I started to forget the years of marriage, my job at the insurance office, my college years. Everything started to become simple. I had just graduated from high school and was spending my time at the beach surfing. I lifted weights a little, partied, used a skateboard instead of taking the bus. I had no job -- just the beach and my friends.

"Alright, let's hit the beach!"

"See ya there, Riley," I said. "Jake and I will ride together." Jake was my new best friend. I never remember having a son.

As we walked out, the woman running the store turned to me and said, "Glad you found them!"

"Thanks!" I said back.

"C'mon, Nick," I heard Jake call from outside the store.

I had my whole life ahead of me!

--- Originally posted on 2023-06-15 by shapedbydesire ---

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

A Better Ride

(inspired by a caption by the Abstract Vanity, this story includes muscle growth, gay to straight, wish gone wrong, reality change, musk & farts; as a notice, I’m aware some people are still having an issue with being able to see a Better Brother on their dash, so I’ll get to work on posting an updated version with cleaner pictures soon! thanks for your patience with me as always)

Neil, a skinny and fair haired twink, is inspecting the car his parents have given him for his twentieth birthday. He frowns slightly at the clunker as his best friend and only other gay guy in their small town, Kody, sits excitedly in the driver’s seat and tries to make light of the situation. “It’s really not all that bad, Neil! A car is a car, try to look a little more grateful.” Kody was always warm and kind, ever the optimist. In any situation, he could find the bright side of it.

But Neil just feels disappointed, envious and greedy. This thing looks like it barely has twenty more miles in it! He grumbles below his breath, “I wish I had a better ride,” thinking about all the popular guys at their college campus driving around in their fancy trust fund cars. As he imagines the straight jocks, he can feel his cock twitch a bit, coming to life in his tiny shorts. He knows the guys are immature and backwards minded and more muscle than intelligence, but he has always been attracted to the stereotypical frat bro douche that would never feel the same way about a lanky, effeminate nerd like him.

Not long after he speaks the wish, however, Neil watches as the driver’s side door slams closed on the clunker. Kody looks surprised in the driver’s seat with the window rolled up, his lips are moving but Neil can’t hear the question being asked. Catching them both off guard, Neil can only watch on in confusion and fear as green mist begins to appear around Kody, first thin tendrils of smoke and then suddenly, the coughing form of his equally skinny, pale haired twink of a friend is consumed in the cloud of green fumes. Before Neil can process this, he hears the crunch of metal, unable to do anything as he stares and watches the cheap old car morph into a larger, more modern truck on massive wheels, with a blaring bass system and lots of fancy gadgets modded onto the vehicle. It reminds him of the same rides his crushes would drive around in, revving up their engines and trying to impress all the chicks they could find.

Once the car finishes changing, granting Neil’s wish and making him smile, he rushes to the car door to make sure that Kody is inside and safe. He’ll be so excited when he sees what he’s sitting inside of now! But as he opens the door, all Neil can do is gag as his eyes begin to water immediately, the fumes of green gas pouring over him and reeking of rotten eggs, protein, and the stale dank scent of a men’s locker room. As the fog disperses, the man left sitting in the driver’s seat is not Kody, but instead a much more brutish and swollen version of him, cute hair cropped short and his now square, stubbles face leering down at Neil. He grips the steering wheel, and it makes his bicep look even more swole.

He flexes to show the little nerd what sets them apart. In this situation, and all others, the new and improved Kolton is in control. “Okay, fag. I know it’s your birthday so I’m gonna raw dog your ass just this once, but we gotta be quick. And don’t be fucking clingy and try to reach out to me after this. This is a one time thing, your boy cunt is an appetizer but pussy is the only meal I’m interested in.” Neil could barely process the vanishing of his bestie, too occupied with the tenting of his tiny cock. The man in front of him looks like he’s stepped out of a wet dream, or more accurately, a wish. Clearly this truck belonged to Kolton, and not himself, and surely some essence of Kody must have still been inside under all that muscle and rank stench.

But it is Neil’s birthday… he runs around to the passenger side, allowing himself inside and getting straight to work by taking Kolton’s cock into his mouth. He enjoys the rough, calloused hand pressing his nose into the wiry bush of hairs, the thick length making him gag like the smell had, he moans and whimpers and he is in heaven. Fuck having a car, this was the best gift he could ask for.

Kolton just sits there and closes his eyes, imagining breasts bouncing and pussies dripping as the twink works his magic on his fat dick. It was nice of him to make the fag’s wish come true today, but he’d be shoving his tongue into some pussy as quickly as he can find it after this. He’ll leave this twink in the dust and never look back.

Poor Kody, though… looks like he’ll be a passenger for the rest of his life. A twink trapped in the body of a hulking, reeking, walking stereotype. The picture perfect image of a straight frat bro.

Kolton’s got the wheel now.

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.