Beach Bod
Beach Bod
Rusty’s favourite thing about being home was the beach. Well, maybe not the beach itself - but certainly what was on the beach. And that was, as it usually is for horndog college students, the copious amount of shirtless boys.
Rusty’s parents had invited him to spend the weekend down at the family beach house - a proposal he’d eagerly agreed to. His first semester of college hadn’t gone exactly as planned. In fact, Rusty had already accumulated a list of crimes committed against his freshman year: his roommate was a homophobe, he’d somehow lost weight, and his grades were plummeting faster than his metabolism. He needed a break - and a weekend spent in the unadulterated, midyear sunshine might be just what he needed to get back up on his feet.
So there he was, waddling up the driveway in his flip flops with fluorescent zinc already smeared on his slightly crooked nose, and a spritely grin plastered on his equally as crooked jaw. With a beach towel flung over his slim shoulders, Rusty was looking forward to a one-man, 48 hour paradise; a weekend spent on the sugar-sand beach just a short distance from his bedroom, soaking up the mid-summer coastal sunshine and sizing up the bountiful amounts of hunky blond beef that would no doubt be lining the shoreline, glittering like seashells. As the old saying goes: if you hold a conch shell to your ear, you can almost hear the sound of a surfer dude moaning, “Fuck me harder, bro!”
Rusty nudged open the door to the house and called out for his parents. His soft voice echoed through the open floor plan, bouncing between pockets of coastal furniture.
No response. Huh.
He checked the living room, the kitchen, called up the stairs. Still no response. He figured they’d already beat him to the beach - which meant he was all alone, horny and heat-fuelled. Perfect. Rusty whipped off his shirt, shimmied into his board shorts and reached for a beer.
He dropped his bags by the door and made his way over to the veranda, which seemed to be beckoning his name with every warm breeze that blew in through the open sliding doors. The hardwood deck was stark with heat, and the sun beat down on him as he shaded his face to get a good look at the view. It was a prime vista of the beach, and the water was as glittery as the sand it lapped at. He couldn’t see his parents… But he did see a whole lot of something else. Men. Lots and lots of shirtless men.
Rusty’s itinerary was pretty standard: stare at the crevice between the big bouncing pec’s of some adonis in a speedo; admire the way sweat and saltwater, a concoction he’d dubbed beach-boy-brew, dripped down a surfer boy’s cum gutters; and ogle at the sand dollar sized nipples of a bronze boy-toy too big for his own good. Oh, and if he could be crushed between the thick, rolling thighs of a strawberry-blond titan with the strength of the ocean, that would be pretty rad, too. Just the simple pleasures of any good summer getaway, really. And on a hot weekend like this one, Rusty was certain he’d have no problem ticking them off his lascivious list.
He could see a few groups of collegiate hotties already partying on the sand, tanning and drinking and looking generally sexy. A football flew threw the air, the smell of testosterone wafted up the sand. He felt his grip on the veranda railing weaken as one of them began drunkenly gyrating his bubble butt against the air as an unimpressed group of girls walked by.
Rusty could see it now: the entire coastline would soon become a sprawling panorama of empty heads and beefy muscle, just aching to bend over and get eye-fucked. For a jock, the heat tended to act as an aphrodisiac: a stupefying, steamy somnolent that washed away any desire to put clothes on and instead amplified an innate, irresistible desire to show off. No well-bred stud could resist the urge to strut bulge-first down the runway of a busy beach. Every buff blondie within a ten mile radius would stuff his bubble butt into a speedo, lumber into his dad’s open-roofed jeep, and cruise down to the ocean - one paw on the steering wheel, the other on his crotch. Revving his engine. The heat would feel too good on his golden skin not to, flaunting his premium goods and soaking up the rays. Photosynthesising, preening, growing. Of course, he’d make a pitstop along the way to pick up his platoon of linebacker buddies, packing the backseat with brawn, their off-season quads fighting for room on the hot leather seats. Deltoid to deltoid, like canned sardines. Huge, hulking, steroidal sardines. They’d turn up the radio, tunes pumping, pecs bouncing to the trap style beat. Cockily flexing their biceps for a group of girls in a passing convertible, waggling their overly long, thick tongues at the flustered beach bunnies, miming vulgarities. Eager to impress. Rusty didn’t blame them. Having an uncontrollable libido and shoulders twice as broad as your waist when you’re young and dumb and impossibly full of cum would turn anyone into an exhibitionist — and anyone close enough into a hopeless and drooling voyeur.
Rusty had spent many summers sat by the water, ogling and drooling until the sun was low in the sky and the sea of blond hunks had receded with the tide, sand sticking to their tanned bubble butts as they staggered back up the coastline to hit the bars and get even drunker. Turns out, 19 inch biceps and a cleft chin work just as well as a fake ID. All it took was an absent-minded flex, a slow lick of the lips, or a strategic, innocent bend-over, and the doors to every bar and club on the boulevard flew wide open. If only one of them had extended a hand and asked Rusty to join them - or pulled down his speedo, popped his pecs and ordered Rusty to fuck him. Either would’ve sufficed.
But hey, maybe this time one of them would. With Rusty’s lanky physique and unimpressive features, it was pretty unlikely - still, a dork could dream. Surrounded by steroidal blondies, Rusty had always felt like a washed-up stalk of seaweed. When all his hometown peers were prodigal bodybuilders with movie star jawlines, it was difficult not to feel inadequate. You couldn’t walk down the boardwalk without some bronzed-out bro giving you a boner. They swaggered to and fro, their bulging shoulders too big for their pretty little heads, no care in the world. His dad always seemed to have a permanent twinge of disappointment etched into the corners of his face, his dreams of having a football hero for a son dismantled by the tech major Rusty had become. He’d often dreamed of what seeing the world from over six feet tall felt like. He’d often dreamed of his father throwing him a football, and catching it with an arm bigger than most peoples heads.
A large sea swell broke over the sand, and Rusty watched as the golden frat bros lumbered down to the water (their bodies too big, too clumsy and too inebriated for it to qualify as running, though he guessed that was what they were trying to do) and dived in after it, covering their muscles in sparkling sea foam and rubbing it into their abs like soap on a washboard. Rusty glided a hand over his own pasty torso, lightly dusted with hair and sunken inwards. He took a long swig of beer.
Rusty turned back to the living room, the sound of the waves dimming. He saw something flapping in the breeze on the coffee table. He hadn’t noticed it on the way in, but somebody had left a note.
“Dear Rusty… Sunscreen’s in the garage. We’re trying out a new brand. Give it a go. You’ll like it. - Dad”
Huh. Alright then. Rusty couldn’t conceive of a sunscreen special enough to elicit its own foreboding note, but his dads writing always came off a little ominous. Truncated sentences. No personality. Scary.
Rusty followed the big mans orders, flicked on the light in the garage, and was greeted by a familiar sight. It was filled with his father’s workout machines, rows of dumbbells and weights lining the walls. Before he’d moved away for college, his dad was always trying to coax him into the home gym with fancy new equipment. He must’ve kept buying them - the place looked like a certified fitness centre. Rusty figured he’d put the sunscreen by the weights in a final attempt to get his pip-squeak son interested in working out. How very subtle. It was sat on one of the weightlifting benches, and he weaved his way through the machines towards it.
The bottle had almost no labelling - it didn’t even have a brand name. Rusty pressed down on the nozzle, and a big glob of the stuff shot into his hands, creamy and white. It was surprisingly warm, and the texture vaguely gelatinous. It smelt good, too. Like musk and sweat. His horndog brain waltzed into the room with an intrusive, albeit sexy thought: it was a lot like holding a handful of cum.
Rusty applied a liberal amount of the sunscreen to his whole body, diligently smearing the zinc infused jizz into every pore - noting with lip-biting surprise how good, and oddly erotic, it felt on his pale body. It was kind of turning him on. In fact, there was a strange and pleasurable buzz emanating from his skin everywhere he applied it to.
Rusty reached for his cock, lubing it up with sunscreen, only half aware of what he was doing. Aw, fuck. He barely stifled a moan. Not because of his achingly horny brain, or even his needy, stiffening cock. The buzz had evolved. There was a strange, static warmth in his hands that was quickly blooming into a crackle of fireworks, shooting up his scrawny digits with hot pleasure. Fuck, what was in that stuff? It felt like his fingers were on fire. Had his dad mixed up the sunscreen with some sort of weird sex lube? Did he want his son to blow a load all over his workout equipment? Rusty’s cock was rapidly engorging with heat - and, weirdly, it kind of felt like his fingers were too.
He felt a sudden pop in his knuckles, and Rusty opened his eyes just in time to see his index finger shoot out in length and explode with size, a quicksilver rush of pleasure accompanying the birth of the dildo-sized digit. He stared at it, slack-jawed. An involuntarily groan escaped his lips as his middle finger followed suit and lurched longer, shooting out in length and then thickening up with meat like a pier-side hotdog. Holy shit. Rusty stumbled back in shock as the next finger joined in, and then the next, the bones cracking longer and the muscle thickening. He shook his hands, trying to shake off the extra beef, but each of his fingers gleefully continued to fire off, exploding with size like red hot sticks of dynamite, bursting outwards and swelling thicker. Both his hands began to bulge bigger in unison, pulsating outwards, palms stretching wider as his knuckles cracked to make room for more growth. Rusty watched as the pale skin on his hands shimmered like the sparkle of a breaking wave before deepening to a golden tan and suctioning down onto two thickly veined, hulking fists.
Rusty quivered, slowly bringing the gargantuan mitts up to his face. They were still twitching with growth, buzzing and inching slightly longer. Holy shit. Somebody had attached a bodybuilder’s hands to his lanky wrists.
Rusty tentatively wriggled his fingers, testing their new size, watching the meaty soldiers bend to his will. He almost started drooling. Fuck. These babies belonged around a football, or a dumbbell, or a throat, or a cock. He’d absolutely dwarf all of them. The thought of making any of those things look small in a single grip was almost enough to make his hips start bucking, but the transformation of his hands from wimpy to stud-sized had completely robbed Rusty of all motor control, and all he could do was marvel at their utter maleness and try not to freak out. He imagined he looked like a total weirdo, waving around these huge, cartoonishly out-of-proportion hands on an otherwise puny body. Shit - what was he supposed to do about the rest of his scrawny self?
Wait a minute. Rusty whipped his head around to where the bottle of sunscreen sat on the benchpress. Its innocent packaging stared back. Shit. It was the sunscreen. For just a moment, Rusty wondered how his dad had gotten his hands on some kind of growth-inducing miracle cream. But then, a much more pressing thought entered his head. The hole at the tip of the nozzle seemed to wink at Rusty as he realised he’d just smeared the creamy substance all over his entire body. Oh, fuck.
Rusty threw his head back and moaned up at the ceiling as he was hit by a wave of oceanic bliss. Currents of tingly pleasure coursed through his arms as they suddenly shot out and extended several feet to the ground, hanging off his shoulders like pool noodles. Rusty whined in pleasure - he could feel his knuckles grazing the floor. He wriggled his thick new fingers, moaning as they continued to bulge even larger on the cool concrete, now big enough to jerk off a giant. His left leg trembled with energy, then rapidly elongated, sending him straight towards the ceiling as he grunted and moaned in combined shock, confusion and pleasure. He wobbled this way and that, his disproportionate body caught in a riptide of ecstasy, before his right leg detonated and lengthened down to match its neighbour, allowing him to surf the wave of euphoria with just a bit more balance. Rusty arched his back and moaned, and with several pops his torso began stretching longer, as well as his neck. His tongue lolled out in glee as he felt himself rising upwards, being stretched taller than puberty ever allowed, inching closer and closer towards the garage ceiling. It was as if he was being pulled at both ends by some invisible, horny force, eager to turn him into a freaky wet dream.
Rusty grinned down at himself, his neck spasming and inching up even longer. It lurched upwards like one of those inflatable palm trees - he wondered for a moment if it wouldn’t stop, and he’d end up shooting through the roof like a cartoon character - but his body only remained disproportionate for a moment, as his other limbs stretched down accordingly and evened him out.
A ripping sound alerted Rusty to the state of his ginormous feet, which were in futile competition with his flip flops, barely holding back against a pair of widening soles that had sneakily accelerated with growth and doubled in size while he wasn’t looking. A little left behind, he wriggled his toes as they popped out longer, bulging in a race to keep up with the rest of him. Rusty couldn’t help but laugh as the asynchronous growth suddenly coalesced and crescendoed with power, both feet swelling to the conferred stud-status of his hands, and finally destroying his shoes like the mythic Hercules outgrowing his willow-leaf sandals.
Fuck, this was getting good. His body had clocked in at a cool six-foot-four, tall and tanned, and the high felt far from over. A heady rush had slowly filled his brain, a steady stream of gaseous, dumbing pleasure — and the sunscreen had only just decided to turn it up a notch and rev its tingly magic.
Rusty felt a cascade of tingles rush through his left arm, and he groaned as his bicep pumped itself full of muscle, swelling instantly to the size of a beach ball. He flexed his arm and watched the muscle ball up, thick and hot — and then watched as it grew even thicker and hotter. A puff of blond armpit hair exploded out from under it, which tickled a little but mostly sent a shock of sex down his spine, while the brawny peak above it continued to rise like the swell of a tidal wave. Rusty threw it up behind his head like an amateur model, almost hitting himself in the eye with his bicep as it suddenly inflated so big it connected with his ear, which only spurred the growing boy on as he began flexing like a stripper on a birthday card, revelling in the feeling of his arm growing so thick and huge it pushed into the side of his head. The sheer weight of it caused Rusty to wobble to the left, and, wishing his body would even itself out, with a sharp pop and a grunt, his right arm dutifully exploded with brawn, quickly growing to match the size of its beefed-out brother. Rusty whimpered as the growth rushed down from his shoulder and into his hand, another poof of golden armpit hair bursting out from under it. The size of his right arm seemed to overshoot its target, and his fingers popped out bigger at the end so as to remain perfectly in-proportion. Fuck, he had a pair of king crab arms!
Rusty grunted, a sudden tectonic shift sounding in his shoulders. Oh, shit. He was pulled in two directions at once as his shoulders rapidly broadened, deltoids rushing away from his neck with anatomical abandon and widening his silhouette into an imposing mountain range of male breadth. His deltoids rounded out into armoured caps of muscle, and beneath them Rusty felt his arms lift up and fan out as his traps unfurled like wings, whimpers of pleasure echoing off the walls as the muscle stacked itself up in undulating rhythms. The pressure of the growth forced his hands onto his hips, and he thrust his lats out into a wide flex as muscle bloomed across his back, cracking and shifting into an impossibly broad V shape. He lout out a huff, feeling twenty pounds heavier and horny as a bitch as the tingles sparked on his skin like he was a walking beam of light. He flexed his guns as his shoulders stretched further outwards, boom, boom, unable to process the sensation of hitting a double bicep and feeling cannons of muscle jump to attention.
A gurgling groan caught in Rusty’s throat as it swelled from base to tip into a thick trunk, the tingles cascading down from his collar and into his chest. He felt his nipples harden, like a warning sign, and then a surge of energy enter into his tits. He looked down at them with a scared whimper as they lurched out a whole inch, and then another, and then another, pulling his whole body forwards with them. Another heave of muscle and his feet were covered by their burgeoning mass, the force of their growth momentarily closing the deepening crevice between them as they pushed against each other, striations trembling like surf over a reef. His nipples tingled like lit fuses, and he hoisted his meaty hands up in a desperate attempt to rub and squeeze the growth out, his eyes widening as they shot out bigger in-between his fingertips and bloomed into dark, fat caps, sensitive and raw, nipples you could suck on. The muscle shelf beneath continued to inflate like two water balloons connected to a tap, pumping bigger with each bounce as he wobbled clumsily. He had a despicably big rack. The kind of chest a dick would disappear in-between. He groped and groped the twin slabs of meat, feeling the pressure build, like someone had suddenly turned the tap onto high. It was too late to brace for impact as they suddenly exploded in a final oomph of size with such force that it knocked his head back like a sucker punch and sent him careening backwards onto the weight lifting bench, falling onto it with a thud. He laid there, face up, his chest heaving up and down, a pair of huge, enviable muscle tits.
Rusty stared up at the empty weight rack, his back cracking wider on the warm leather, beefy pecs obscuring the lower half of his vision. God, he was so top-heavy, his gorilla arms hanging off the bench and onto the floor, thick and heavy. He lifted his head up as best he could, feeling a steady stream of tingles rush down his torso, and wriggled as each of his abs popped into existence, a perfect 6 pack blooming across his midsection. He fingered them with his meaty digits while cum gutters swooped through his waist and tributaries of veins reached up from his groin to meet them.
Rusty writhed with pleasure, and out of his slim, cinched waist burst a pair of big, titanic thighs that ripped out the bottom of his board shorts and swelled huge with muscle, first in rippling grooves that carved a roadmap of teenage surfing into his bodies history, before quickly ballooning outwards into legs composed purely of thickness and size. He felt them inflate and spill out over the bench - man-spreading would now be compulsory - and used the extra strength to hoist his upper body up and into a sitting position, straddling the bench with his now behemoth thighs. It wouldn’t be possible to walk without these tanned, off-season, columns rubbing together - they were the kind of legs that spread out and dominated any surface they blessed their hairless, heat-filled mass with. He chuckled dumbly at the thought of swallowing any space he tried to fit himself into, so thick he’d been rendered human cargo.
A shockwave thrust his ass out behind him as he felt his cheeks inflate to the size of beachballs, sending a loud rip straight down the back of his board shorts. A long slither of his juicy, growing butt crack pressed into the tear, his glutes swelling huge and round, threatening to bust his shorts open completely. Rusty panted, riding the weight lifting bench like a dick, gripping the leather with his hands, arm muscles bulging in full relief. The boy’s butt was obscene, expanding out behind him into two tanned spheres of category 5, tropical muscle as he gyrated against the warm leather. He whipped his head around his beefy shoulders to watch the bouncing cheeks expand into a high shelf, a permanent jockstrap installing itself into his musculature. With a surge of tingles, Rusty leaned forward, gritted his teeth, stuck his ass out behind him and groaned in relief as it shot out through the back of his pants, exploding the fabric into strips of polyester confetti and swelling in naked celebration. Warm air instantly hit his hole, and he trembled as a bolt of tingles ran straight down his taint and lightened the flesh to a boyish, peachy pink. He gripped his muscled cheeks and pulled them apart to reveal a tight jock hole, tingling with desire. Fuck.
Rusty thrust his hips forwards with the oceanic power of his muscled ass as he felt his balls churn and swell beneath him, tightening the remains of his board shorts around them with their expanding size. They pumped up into tennis balls, which in turn fed the sea cucumber he could feel his dick becoming. The fabric instantly gave up the fight as his sweaty, monster cock burst free from its confines and landed with a hefty smack on the warm leather, continuing to grow thicker and longer, unabated by swimwear meant for wimps. A waft of his manhood travelled up to his nostrils, and Rusty saw sparks. Shit, his cock even smelt big.
Rusty wriggled his nose as the delicious musk seemed to fill it up to the brim with tingles. It felt like he’d shoved a firework sparkler up his nose. He took a deep breath in, and then —
Achoo!
The bones in rusty’s nose instantly reshaped. The bridge cracked broader and the tip snapped perfectly straight. Rusty felt it twitch, and went cross-eyed watching it suddenly bulge bigger, growing huge and almost phallic on his otherwise unchanged face. He reached his sausage fingers up to touch it, and then, like a shockwave, the changes rippled out from his big nose and into the rest of his features.
His whole head grew to match, lips popping bigger and forehead widening. He grimaced as his jaw broadened into a chiseled square, two angles jutting out from beneath his ears which simultaneously popped bigger. He grabbed his chin as it pushed forwards and expanded, moving his fingers apart as it turned into an ocean cliff of male geometry. Rusty licked his lips as they plumped up, feeling all the extra realestate of a big, beautiful mouth, while his cheeks became cut but ruddy and plump, a cherubic innocence that betrayed his otherwise lewd proportions. When he flashed a smile, his teeth shone brilliantly white and perfectly straight. His features had quickly masculinised into a mosaic of surfer boy good looks. Fuck, he was hot.
A single blond hair dropped into Rusty’s vision, followed by a wave of golden fringe that cascaded down onto his forehead. He ran his hands through what he could tell was a beautiful mane of beach-bleached hair, and as he did, any darkness that remained turned to streaks of blond lightning with the brush of his huge fingers. He couldn’t tell, but his eyes had washed over into a sparkling blue. He was a total blondie. A maritime warrior, built for the ocean.
Rusty panted. Having grown a new face and body in a matter of minutes, he should have been exhausted. But he wasn’t. His pants were sexual, not sleepy. They dripped with erotic and kinetic energy he’d never felt before. He wanted to rip a can of beer open with his bare fingers and then shove them up some frat boys hole. And then shove them up his own.
Rusty clambered up from the bench, feeling stacks of muscle follow him. His hair bounced in perfectly placed streaks. He looked down at his new body, at the heaving pecs that glimmered with pearlescent shine. He looked like he’d come straight from the ocean. Oh, god. He was gorgeous. The sunscreen had oiled him like a machine. Rusty, more like busty, he thought with a grin, bouncing his heavy pecs. He’d been turned into a certified hunk. He spun his behemoth body around, craning his neck back to get a good look at the twin bowling balls that jutted out from behind him. He couldn’t stop touching himself. His hands were grabbing and groping at every new bulge, pawing at his edges, gripping…
… the bottle of sunscreen. Without even realising it, he’d picked up the creamy formula and was holding it in his paws. It looked much smaller than before. As he stared at it, something flashed in his cerulean eyes.
It smelt good. It felt good. He almost wondered what it tasted like.
Before he could even consider the consequences - as if his new body had decided for him - Rusty lifted the bottle to his plump lips and chugged it down like a drunk frat boy fellating a keg. With his big wet mouth wrapped around the bottle, its transformative contents sliding down his throat, a smidgen of panic knocked at the door of Rusty’s brain and asked him, in a feeble voice, if he had any idea just what the fuck he was doing. Rusty slammed the door in its face and tore the knob off, crushing it in his gargantuan grip. This was going to fucking rock.
He sucked the bottle dry - no, sucked the bottle off - groaning deeply, and the moment the white, creamy fluid hit his stomach, a neon-pink wildfire of rapture raged through Rusty’s nervous system like a lustful armageddon. Every neurotic emotion he’d ever felt in his entire life was filed away, replaced by a pyrotechnic explosion of rewired neurones, their microscopic dendrons flexing and growing like biceps, pumping dopamine like a set of weights. It was filling his bloodstream, his balls, his brain. Rusty was ablaze.
He tore the bottle from his fat lips with a pop and ripped out a belch, his eyes rolling back into his head as he began to uncontrollably moan. Rusty’s entire body convulsed with pleasure, excess sunscreen dripping out of his mouth and down his chin like a satisfied slut after a good blowjob. He fell to his hands and knees, his body jerking in every direction. Rusty felt his back spontaneously arch and his gargantuan bubble butt stick straight up into the air behind him, being forced to gyrate in a please-fuck-me twerk. It was like he’d been possessed and made to act like the worlds biggest golden retriever, begging for a treat. He was drooling saliva, sunscreen and pre-cum onto the floor, his brain flooded with backed-up pleasure and pressure, a leaky faucet that was about to explode.
It went straight to his groin. Rusty involuntarily started bucking his hips as he felt his already sizeable balls tingle like mad, then swell and drop, quickly growing into a pair of huge, pendulous bull nuts. He looked down to find he was now sporting a pair of big fucking man balls, atlantean pearls, and actually felt them begin to churn with new and improved jock seed. The sensation was incredible. It began to drip from the tip of his purebred cock, creamy and concentrated. It was almost too much. Rusty quivered in hot delirium as an overwhelming sensation hit him at both ends, and too much became not enough, as the overgrown beefcake felt his throat widening and his asshole tightening. His balls swung beneath him as his throat stretched bigger and his hole constricted tighter, both ergonomically redesigning themselves to deliver maximum pleasure to beach-boy sized cock. One meaty hand stuck itself around his bulging neck as it thickened and grew, his gag reflex disappearing, while the other desperately groped at his fat, eminently pound-able ass cheeks, the gilded entrance to a tight hole that was getting tighter.
His bellowing moans grew deeper with each vocalisation of his blossoming hunkhood, roaring in undulating ecstasy, a testosterone-drenched baritone booming out of his once-shrimpy throat. His adams apple swelled with unabashed ambition as the sunscreen coated his throat until his voice was as deep and powerful as the ocean, shaking the garage walls.
Almost involuntarily, like a new jock-slut instinct hitting his thick skull, Rusty plunged a sex toy sized finger into his ass, gasping as the walls of his hole constricted around it and pulsed with pleasure. A long, deep, drawling groan oozed out of his lips as he realised he’d just coated his insides with the growth-inducing sunscreen, and he felt his finger begin to bulge bigger inside of himself, filling his virgin hole with its increasing size.
Aw, fuck. The impossibly sweet sensation caused Rusty’s tongue, which was coated in sunscreen and tingling like a motherfucker, to shoot out of his mouth like an unfurling party horn - surprise! - and the newborn hunk almost went cross-eyed watching it slap down past his superhero chin, thick and meaty and much longer than he remembered. Shit. He was huge.
Rusty suddenly felt a deep and strong tug at the end of himself, and immediately became aware of the porn star cock throbbing with hot need between his horse-heavy legs. With all his mental processes, Rusty seized it between his oversized hands, roared with lust, and began jerking himself off. He shoved his finger deep inside himself at the same time, quickly sinking into an expert rhythm of jackhammer speed - in and out, up and down - totally unaware through the heavenly stupor that he was now ambidextrous.
Oceanic pressure flooded his system - his cock felt harder than obsidian as globs of warm magma pre-cum began to bubble and overflow from the tip. His finger was the size of a dick, fucking his prostate better than most dicks ever could. Rusty bellowed deeply as the pressure peaked and his cock couldn’t take it any more, vibrating with pleasure as the damn exploded and an eruption of jizz rocketed out of him.
Load after load jettisoned out of his demigod, blond cock, covering his dad’s gym with his hot cream. It fired off like the nozzle on a bottle of sunscreen, arching in thick spurts of sex. He painted the room white, the smell of cum and man strong enough to put a beard on a boys face just by inhaling it.
Rusty lay there, panting. His hands absentmindedly fondled his balls, his voice a low, unfamiliar growl. There was the sound of metal, and then the feeling of sunlight moving over his gargantuan form. He shaded his face with a thick forearm, and looked to see the garage door sliding slowly upwards. The silhouette of a man was being unveiled as it rose, and before it reached the man’s neck, Rusty could tell it was the shape of his father. He was holding a football.
Behind him, the beach sparkled with sun. A warm breeze blew in, and Rusty blew his load all over again.
More Posts from User211201 and Others
Check out my new story on my side-blog!
Power Couple
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Thank you all for waiting! Its a tad longer than I've ever written before.
I hope you all like it! Thanks again to @mrrharper for proof-reading!
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"Hey, Babe?"
"Yes, Chris?"
"Can you help me put this on?" Chris said, motioning over to the little white tube on the counter top.
As Alex walked over into the kitchen, his boyfriend was already taking off his shirt.
"So, what's this for?" Alex asked, inspecting the label on the tube he just picked.
"You know my co-worker Jack right?"
"The gym bunny, right?"
"Yeah that one."
"So what about him?"
"Well. I was chatting with him during my break and he told him I recently started going to the gym, so he offered me this cream."
"Hmm. What's so special about it though? Looks like any ordinary cream to me" Alex remarked after scrutinizing the ingredient list.
"Uh. He said it helped him a lot when starting out. Helps prevent sore muscles and promotes muscle growth or something."
"Anyway, it's getting a bit chilly. Can you lather me up already?"
"Uh yeah sure, sorry"
Squeezing the tube revealed a solid white cream which felt cool to touch. Alex put a sizeable blob on his hand and spread it out on Chris' back much like you would do with sun screen on a hot summer day. It felt like it too. The thin liquid quickly disappeared into his, what looked to be broader, shoulders as he rubbed it in.
"I think I can see your effort pay off a little already babe, your shoulders look a bit broader" Alex noted.
"Really?" Chris asked, glowing from the compliment.
"Of course!" Alex replied smiling back at his boyfriend.
"Well, this is the only start babe" he said with a confident smirk while quickly putting back on his workout shirt.
"That said, time for my workout. Thanks for helping babe" Chris said giving a peck on his boyfriend's cheek before leaving the apartment.
Chris could definitely feel the work of the cream. Like a machine he was pumping through his sets. Usually, he'd feel his limit kick in quickly. However, today he felt like he could pump another extra 2 sets.
Chris wasn't the only that had noticed the change. One of the biggest guys, Scott had made his way over as Chris was still busy pushing out reps.
"Want me to spot for ya, bro?" a familiar baritone called out.
As Chris looked up he was met with Scott's face.
"Uh yeah. Thanks, that'd be great" Chris replied, not expecting Scott to come over.
Scott was the gentle giant you'd always hear of: mind fully set on lifting but always there to help newbies in the gym.
"No problem bro. I noticed you've been in the gym longer than you'd usually be, you getting a feel for it bro? huhuhuh" Scott said, his hands now hovering under Chris' bar.
"Yeah huhuhuh, today's been great. Been lifting so much more than I usually can, I'm really feeling the burn" Chris replied, surprised at the sudden guffaw he'd apparently taken over.
"Bro you should watch your form, your arms are a bit crooked. It'll make your shoulders will really start hurt, bro. Here lemme show you" he said as he helped Chris rack his bar.
"You've gotta make sure sure you spread your arms wider, it shifts the strain back to your chest muscles" Scott said, as he pushed Chris' arms futher apart.
Taking his advice, Chris once again lowered the bar to start benching another set.
"You feel the strain now, bro?" Scott asked while gently pushing down on your pec muscles
"Yeah bro, that definitely makes a difference" Chris grunted as beads sweat started to form on his face.
"I think you can do better than this bro, let's add a plate"
Normally Chris wouldn't have considered it, but today he was on fire.
"Yeah bro, let's do it!"
As Scott loaded up another plate on each side, Chris felt his motivation rise further.
"Come on lil' bro, you almost have it!" Scott hyped up Chris as his last rep.
With Scott spotting him, he managed to break multiple PRs that day. Not only had he done more sets in one session than he usually would but he also managed lift extra weight.
"Good shit bro, huhuhuh" Scott said as he helped rack the bar again.
"Man, I can't believe it went this well today. I hope I'm not too sore tomorrow" Chris said to himself.
"You'll be alright bro. Let's hit the showers" Scott reassured him while putting away the weights.
After putting back all the weights the two of them walked towards the locker room.
"Hey bro, you've got a good pump now. Gotta show it off, you know what I mean?" he said with a slight smirk.
"Come on bro don't be shy, huhuhuh" he said put his hand around Chris' shoulder and leading him to the mirror.
Like an older brother teaching his younger brother Scott took off his sweaty tank and struck a side chest pose.
"You see bro? Like this" he said to the side as he kept looked straight forward to the mirror.
In the reflection he could see Chris acting shy and hesitant.
Taking matters into his own hands he grabbed onto Chris shirt and lifted it over his head in one swoop.
Chris' sweaty body was now fully on display.
"Hey, uh, what"
Chris was stunned. One second he was lost in thought and now he found his shirt was missing laying on the ground.
"See bro, your body looks good" Scott said, as he placed his large paw of a hand on Chris' shoulder.
Having Scott support him felt really good.
He felt like a big bro to Chris, which reassured him.
Quickly, Chris' hesitation started to fade and he started notice the, albeit small, amount of muscle definition that had started develop.
"I look good bro" Chris said, as he now admired his muscles, his mouth almost agape.
"You do bro. Now come on, show off those arms. Ya know, strike a pose, go crazy huhuh"
Without much hesitation this time Chris flexed his left arm. He looked in the reflection as he saw a bump form as he curled his arm.
"Your arm is looking pretty big now bro, right? huhuh"
"Huhuh, yeah bro. This is great"
"You coming again tomorrow bro?"
"You bet."
"Hey babe, how was your workout?" Alex called over from the living room upon hearing the sound of the door opening.
"It was amazing. This jock cream does wonders. I was able to do like two more sets than usual." he explained as he dropped off his gym bag.
"Wow babe, thats great" Alex said, giving Chris a quick kiss.
"Yeah. The biggest guy even came to spot and me gave me some tips about my form. Bro's amazing" Chris explained enthusiastically.
"Look, he even taught me how to a pose" he said, stricking a double bicep pose.
"You like what you see? huhuh" Chris said with a cocky smirk on his face.
"Yes babe, I do" Alex replied, totally turned on by the sexy muscle and newfound confidence.
"Well then. Let's go somewhere you can see some more" Chris winked, eying at their bedroom door.
"Ah... I really overdid it yesterday" Chris groaned in pain.
"Yeah.... You did...." Alex laughed, rubbing his ass cheeks.
Chris put his arm around Alex as they snuggled up together and cuddled for a couple minutes.
"Alex, could you help me put on the jock cream again? I promised bro I'd be there today as well."
"Of course babe, let me grab it."
Upon returning Alex found Chris laying on his back already. Alex never really paid that much attention but his boyfriend really had some nice definition going.
He was also wondering why Chris was saying bro so often now, but in all honesty, he actually found it kinda hot.
Again he put the cream on his hands and started the massage it into his boyfriends skin.
"You like that bro?" Alex said, thinking his boyfriend is just roleplaying.
"Yeah bro, that hits the spot" Chris replied, letting out a soft moan as the soreness of his muscles soothed.
"So, you're gonna lift with your bros today right?" Alex asked.
"Yeah, huhuhuh. You should join bro"
Alex started to think about it.
"Turn around babe, I'll get the front for you as well"
"Thanks babe"
He started fantasizing about becoming a fitness power couple.
"Hmm, perhaps I could try it out some time."
"Bro, no better time than now! Come join me today" Chris said enthuastically.
"I'm not sure yet babe" Alex said, avoiding Chris' gaze.
Noticing that Alex was avoiding looking at Chris he grabbed his arms and flipped him around.
Chris was now on top, pinning down Alex's arms to the matress.
"Come on babe, do it for me" Chris pleaded.
"Okay... Fine" Alex said with a slight giggle.
With a triumphant sigh Chris let go of Alex' arms.
"If I'm going I want to try that cream as well" Alex pouted.
Chris obliged and made sure oil up his boyfriend just as well as he has done for him.
The two oiled up lovers grinned at each other for a moment before starting resuming their cuddle from 15 minutes ago. Whilst cuddling they could feel the slick layer of jock cream rub against each other's skins as it slowly absoorbed into their skins.
"Hey bro, ready for the workout today?" Scott called out at the sight of Chris
"Of course bro, wouldn't want to miss it." Chris replied enthusiastically.
"Lil' bro, who's this?" Scott asked, looking at the newcomer that stood next to Chris.
"This is my boyfriend Alex, Scott. Managed to convince him to go with me to the gym, huhuhuh"
"Nice bro, the more the merrier. The more muscle the better right, bro?" Scott asked Alex who stood awkwardly next to his boyfriend.
"Yeah, bro. Of course" Alex replied.
While it was fun roleplaying with his boyfriend, Alex had to admit it felt kinda embarrased calling Scott a bro. He did however see why Chris said he liked the guy.
"Let's go, broskis" Scott said, heading towards weight room
They started their workouts, going even harder than the day before. The three of them pumped out rep after rep on various machines, aiming to .
"Come on, you can do it. One more rep, just one more" Alex said to hype up Scott as he had already pumped five reps of what seemed to be Alex and Chris' weights combined.
"Nice bro you got this" Chris said, giving Scott a pat on the back.
What Alex thought was just some casual banter between dudes started to worry him now. In his recollection, Chris never said bro before yesterday. If anything his boyfriend not only sounded like a bro but also had started to act like one.
"Hey babe, can I talk to you for a sec?" Alex asked, pulling Chris to the side.
"Ever since you came back yesterday, you've been acting like some frat bro. What's up with that?"
"huhuhuh I guess you're right bro, I have been acting like one"
"There you go again. Chris, what's happening to you?" Alex asked, sounding legitimately concerned now.
Intrigued by the heated conversation Scott had made his way over and put his arms around both men's shoulders. "What's the fuss about bros?"
"I'll tell you what the problem is! 'Bro' this 'bro' that' Alex said angrily as he removed Scott's arm from his shoulder.
"Bro, calm down" Scott said
"I am- uh not a bro!" Alex defended with a slight hesitation in voice.
"Bro, babe, why are you getting so heated? Why not put that energy towards lifting? huhuhuh" Chris said
"Br-babe, I- bro"
Alex could feel his control slipping away.
He felt his brain turn to mush as his worries started to fade.
Bro...
Bro...
Bro...
The more it was repeated, the more Alex lost his way.
Each time he got a step closer.
Step by step.
Until something just snapped.
"Hey bros, why are you just standing there?" Alex asked with a perplexed look on his face.
The fog in his mind had cleared. He was no longer confused.
Alex was a bro. Chris was a bro. Scott was his big bro.
They were always best bros.
"Ah it's nothing bro, you were just being a little dummy" Scott said
"Huhuhuh sorry bro" Alex replied, absently scratching his head
"Let's continue working out, broskis" Chris chimed in.
This time, the trio really managed to finish their workouts. Despite only being a newcomer Alex had been able to lift a huge amount of weight. Normally, one would only be lifting as much if after half a year of consistently working out.
Thanks to the magic of the jock cream however both Chris and Alex could easily push pasts their limits again and again.
Before finishing their workout Chris quickly snapped a pic.
"You two are really becoming a power couple aren't you, broskis? huhuhuh" Scott remarked.
"Huhuhuh yeah bro" Alex said as he continued lifting his barbells.
"Of course bro" Chris chimed in, quickly striking a double bicep pose to show off his gains.
Admirable Confidence
--- Originally posted on 2020-05-01 by makingrealalphas ---
You just entered the subway and this handsome boy already staring at you with that smirk. You are literally the only one in this cart so his intense staring give you all sorts of feeling. And fuck, look at that damn bulge in his jeans, he is packing! As a bi with a girlfriend, this boy definitely can make you look the other way. But you are faithful to your current girl and you’re going for a quick lunch with her before the office hours start again.
Even when the train already start its move to the next station, he keeps looking at you intently. You feel itchy and uneasy with his stare as you scratch your legs. The dress pants feel a little bit tighter than usual but you let it go.
He bites his lip, he smirks and he literally checking you out. When you are uneasy, you do things with your hair so you tried to look away and fix your hair. Your facial feature hardened as you look away, cheekbone pronounced and your eyebrow becomes thicker. Your caffeine-stained, imperfect teeth turned into pearly straight white as your jawline become defined. As your finger moved through your strand of brunette hair, it turned darker and gelled and eventually become jet black, your eyebrow and pit hair followed suit. You then spread your leg a little wider, your jeans so tight hugging your toned legs and ass it makes you uncomfortable, fuck this whole cart is empty so why the fuck you’re so modest and shut your leg? You’re a man, a man with a fucking big dick so why bother shut your leg when you can spread it out wide to give your little guy a breather? As your legs spread, you also extend your arm which become tanner and also veiny, now visible as your long-sleeved sweater replaced with a collared short sleeved shirt. You then look at the handsome boy in front of you
“What you lookin’ at?” You said aggresively
He just smiled and replied casually
“Nothing bro, just admiring your confidence. I’ll definitely pop those button too like you if I get abs that ripped,”
And without your realization, your soft belly turned into ripped abs with Adonis bet so goddamn clear. Huh, this kid is fucking bold complimenting you like that on public, what if you are homophobic? An empty cart like that can trigger a homophobe if he got hit on but of course you’re feeling good by the compliment, you’re bi and compliment from such a handsome guy who have a raging hard on definitely aroused you
Too bad this is your station before you can make out with that handsome dude. So you slip your number to his jacket pocket and leave him with a wink as you walked out high-spirited to meet your girlfriend
Stop babe
--- Originally posted on 2024-07-13 by breedertfs ---
--- Want to read more? View all stories by breedertfs ---
“Stop, babe!! You have to stop or we’re going to keep changing!” When the jock said he’d help us enjoy the straight bar after my boyfriend & I spent the whole night complaining about the lack of fun drinks and cute decor, I never thought he’d curse my boyfriend to have a straight man’s impulses, and worse: a transformative kiss.
As soon as he pecked me on the cheek to calm me down, my beard pulled back into my skin, and when he kissed my neck my Adam’s apple sank away into a smooth line; at first he was trying to help me relax, shrugging off the jock’s warning, but the more feminine I started to appear the more I noticed it looked like his cock was fattening up and drooling pre in his shorts; looking at him I could see that his jaw was more square, his body more defined and still bulking up, his stare hungry.
When he grabbed me harshly and pulled me in, wrapping his arms around me like a trap and planting a big, wet kiss on my flat chest after ripping off my shirt, all I could do was gasp and moan and struggle to push him off as I felt my tits starting to swell, at first two soft mounds and then eventually fat bouncy mountains, his tongue swirling expertly around my sensitive flesh, I just kept moaning and trembling, the entirety of my body changing the longer he held contact; longer hair, narrower waist, wider hips, my cock receding as it began to be slurped by two wet, dripping folds. He has one hand squeezing my fat tit like it’s about to burst and I can feel as he reaches down his other one to stick his greedy fingers up my cunt, slick with juices.
“Please, baby,” I try to plead again as I feel the dizziness in my brain starting to take over my urge to fight back, missing my sweet and intelligent boyfriend and not at all recognizing this muscular, musky straight man treating my body like his sex toy, “remember we’re gay! You’re my boyfriend! Please don’t do this to me!”
The man that has taken the place of the love of my life pulls away from my jiggling breasts just long enough to smirk down at me, gripping me by the waist with strong hands and jerking me forward, sliding his cock into my pussy like it was made to fit his length. “This feel gay to you, baby?” he says gruffly, beginning to buck his hips as he pleasures my slit, a whiny moan leaving my lips, fucking away all my resistance and memories. “And I’m not your fucking boyfriend, slut.”
One of my all-time favorites!
Career Day
“Hey bro, do you think you have what it takes to be a firefighter?”
You stop dead in your tracks. Next to the rows and rows of folding tables set up for career day is a big red fire truck. But instead of free pens and buttons to entice you in, three half-naked firefighters stand laughing, rubbing their thick muscles through their loose handing fireproof jackets.
This has to be some sort of joke, you think to yourself with a scoff. One of the meat heads approaches you with a hunky swagger. “So,” he asks again, “you think you have what it takes?”
It’s been a pretty boring day overall, so you decide to have some fun. “Alright,” you say with a sarcastic smile, “tell me: what does it ‘take’ to be a firefighter?”
“Well,” the guy says, “first, you’ve got to be jacked. Like… really jacked.” As he says this, you begin to feel your clothes grow itchy, like they don’t seem to fit quite right.
“Yeah,” you say trying to keep an air of confidence, “and what else?”
“Well,” he continues, “you’ve gotta have tough skin. Tough enough to withstand serious heat.” The itching is insatiable now, and you look down to see a rough callous develop over your hands, which are now bulging with muscle. You frantically look around the room, but no one else seems to be noticing the muscles now begging to escape from your tight clothes.
“You’ve got to have a lot of upper body strength,” he says before you can stop him, and suddenly your arms grow sore, biceps the size of baby heads bursting at the seams of your shirt. “And good legs…” he says, sending your thighs tearing through your jeans. “Not to mention a good core.” And with that, your chest expands into two square pecs and a rack of abs directly below.
“Is that it??” you plead with him, struggling to contain your new body as it continues to grow per his suggestions.
“Not yet,” the guy continues, “you’ve also got to know a thing or two about firefighting. Not much else though, you don’t want your brain getting too crammed if you know what I mean.” You try and resist the overwhelming feeling of numbness that envelops your mind. You feel memories of training and lifting with your fighter fighter bros begin to replace those of your friends, family, and education.
You, moan, trying to resist as a new feeling overtakes your body. “No… please…”
“Oh yeah! And one last thing. You’ve gotta be pretty hung. It can get pretty boring at the station with nothing to do. Some of us like to fool around a little bit. Wouldn’t hurt to have a 9 inch dick.”
You know it’s coming this time. The testosterone, the heat flooding your pelvic region. You look down just in time to see a full, 9 inch penis burst forth from your briefs and unleash a wave of cum all over the floor. With it escapes all your knowledge of your past life; you’re nothing more than one of those meathead firefighters now, nothing else on your mind by saving lives and sucking dick.
“Here,” says the guy as he leads you over back to the truck and away from the crowds, “lets get you into something more comfortable shall we?”
You nod stupidly, eagerly awaiting the minute you can get him into bed with your thick new cock, both your muscle bodies rubbing sweaty together for hours. As he slips you into your firefighter’s coat, you know you’ve chosen the right career. Even if it wasn’t exactly your choice…
Originally posted on 2019-09-12 by dumb-and-jocked.
Comradirization
Jacob woke up with a start. His eyes were groggy, adjusting to what he assumed was the morning light. He shifted his arm, trying to scratch his head, but found he couldn’t move it. He flopped over, a little annoyed, and was surprised to find his arm handcuffed to one post of the bed. He tried to swing his other arm over, but found that it too was cuffed. He raised his head to look at his legs to discover that they were also chained to the beds. His whole body was locked to the four corners. Before he could panic anymore, Jacob realized he wasn’t alone in the room.
“Chacoob Kooglerr?”
In a chair next to the bed sat a young, rather handsome man. His defined body and proud beard made him look to be approaching his 30’s. He sat there confidently, his large thighs spread out as he sat there in just a small pair of white briefs. A small tattoo adorned his right arm, while the rest of his body looked as pure as an angel. Although he looked stunning, he didn’t smell it; Jacob noticed the lack of hygiene rather quickly. The man was trying to smile, but it looked more like an awkward smirk. What Jacob didn’t see coming was his thick Russian accent ruining his name. Jacob hadn’t done anything illegal or wrong, at least nothing that he thought would attract a Russian man to kidnap him.
“Vow do yoo zay eet?” the man asked, scaring Jacob. Jacob slowly pushed himself up to a comfortable sitting position, not knowing how to respond. He was too frightened to think of anything else. He had heard of people getting kidnapped before, but usually not by men who wore just their briefs.
“Ya get vaht I mean, yeh?” the Russian added. Jacob slowly shook his head, not knowing what else to do. The Russian grunted angrily, obviously irritated, before speaking again.
“Yoorrr name?” He tried to say it as clear as he could, but the exaggerated “oo” and rolling r’s brought him right back to square one.
“Oh,” Jacob replied, “Jacob Kugler.”
“Chacoob Kooglerr.” The Russian brought a hand to his face, smiling almost proudly, not realizing he had butchered the name the same as before.
“You Amereeican zand zyoorr dumb names.”
The Russian got up and walked throughout the apartment, grabbing items along the way. As he searched, Jacob took his time to figure out where he was. The room was fairly small, housing everything from a kitchen to a bedroom in it. It looked to be some sort of hotel suite, but Jacob couldn’t find any windows to tell. Jacob also realized that as he looked around the room, he found he probably wouldn’t be staying here long. The room looked clean and devoid of any decorations, in fact it barely seemed like a home at all. No photos, no scattered laundry, and Jacob quickly realized that his bed looked to be right after the staff maid had stepped in. He also discovered that he too was in a pair of small white briefs, not at all like the boxers he had last remembered wearing. He was embarrassed that he hadn’t recognized his barren body had been exposed to the world.
Speaking of memories, he couldn’t remember what he had been doing before waking up. He remembered walking out of his office early that morning to catch a meeting on the other side of town. That lead him to a train station, where he bought his tickets and went to the bathroom. Once he was in the room, the memory went black. Jacob was rather ordinary; he worked as an accountant, lived alone at 24, had a moderate build. His blond hair and blue eyes weren’t as appealing as they could have been. He wasn’t fat or skinny, tall or short, but he didn’t have enough muscularity to attract anyone of the opposite gender. In fact, the last time he had a girlfriend was in highschool. Jacob hadn’t really done much with his life yet, so he couldn’t figure out why he - out of anybody - would be kidnapped.
“I am Pasha Vajda,” he said, bringing over everything he had gathered, “Eet ees time to zbegin procezz.”
“What process?” Jacob said, shivering out of fear and being cold from his lack of clothes. Pasha slowly gathered his things and dumped it on a table behind the chair he originally sat in. First, Pasha brought over what looked to be a virtual reality headset, but it looked different than what Jacob was used to. First off, it was a dark red color, with yellow stripes across the back side. The straps that were meant to go around the head also looked different, being shaped more to look like a helmet. Jacob tried to fight back, but Pasha easily placed the device over his head. As soon as the goggles went over his eyes, Jacob felt the harness tightening, so hard it felt as if it was digging into his skull.
As Jacob sat there in quiet fear, Pasha placed the other items in their proper places. He brought over a small tube and linked one end over Jacob’s nose and mouth before hooking the other to a small tank with multiple compartments. He quickly placed two earbuds in Jacob’s ears while connecting the cord to an old iPhone, one that still even had the headphone jack. The last thing Pasha did was jump on the bed between Jacob’s legs, switching on the phone before opening a Russian music app.
“Zee,” Pasha began, “Eez my chob to zhelp creehte new comrrades.”
“New what?” Jacob said, still confused and struggling to escape.
“Eez zimple,” Pasha said, “ve need morre comrrades, yoo’ll be ze comrrades.”
Before Jacob could ask any more questions, Pasha tapped the first playlist that had appeared on his phone, titled “товарищество.” The playlist’s title was rather obvious, for Pasha knew the two would be sharing comradery very soon. Once it began to play the first track, Pasha tapped a button and switched on the VR headset. He leaned back and sat there with the phone in hand, his cocky smirk returning as the process began.
Jacob tried to protest again, but before he could his eyes were blasted with a bright light. As soon as they refocused, all he could see was a red and yellow spiral. Jacob tried to look away, but he was sucked in mere seconds. He didn’t even hear the playlist beginning, starting with the National Anthem of the USSR playing quietly. He also didn’t register when words slowly began flashing on the screen, flying in and out before his conscious mind could register anything, or when he had started to breathe the air being fed to him. A deep melodic voice also entered, saying the words that were disappearing fast, but only in Russian. Jacob tried to ignore everything that was happening, but it was all too easy for him to succumb. The process began smoothly, easing Jacob’s mind open for comradirization. The first set of messages flashed quickly on the screen.
“Real Men have facial hair.”
“Real Men do not clean themselves.”
“Real Men put brothers before others.”
“Real Men listen to other men.”
“Real Men only trust Russian Men.”
The messages were repeated for almost an hour before the first track ended. As soon as it was finished, Pasha pushed the headset up on top of Jacob's head and removed the tube from his face, allowing him to see and breathe fresh air again. Pasha pulled up a different app on his phone, showing the procedures of what to do after each segment of the playlist.
Jacob sat there dazed. He knew his mind had been flooded with certain commands, but he had no idea of what. He was still in the weird apartment, still kidnapped and in white briefs. He was still tied up, both of his hands still cuffed to the bed; the only difference from before was that Pasha now sat right in front of his crotch. Strangely, he was fairly comfortable with the situation. It must have been the essence of the Russian Man sitting in front of him, Jacob could only trust Russian Men after all.
“So,” Pasha began, “khow long ya khad ze faczial khairr?”
His accent was still as thick as ever, but Jacob understood what Pasha was asking fairly well. Jacob brought a hand to his face and itched his subtle beard. It wasn’t large, but definitely worthy of praise.
“Ever since I could grow it.”
Pasha smirked and looked at his notes before continuing, “Ven Vas ze last zime ya zhowyerred?”
Jacob thought back to the last time he’d been in a bathroom, or water for that matter. The rising stench around him suggested it had been a while, but Pasha had a noticeable funk too. Jacob didn’t care that he smelled however - real men were supposed to reek.
“I don’t remember.”
Pasha smirked again before he leaned over and placed the equipment back on Jacob. The Russian Man told him to stay still, and Jacob, knowing to listen and only trust Russian Men, did just that. Everything was loaded back on and set to its proper settings before the second track begun. New words flashed along the screen with a new scent. The last one was plain, filtered air, but the one being fed to Jacob was now raunchy, sweaty, and extremely pungent. Jacob would have vomited at how odorous the new scent was, but he was too busy absorbing the new Russian commands to care.
“Real Men work out every day.”
“Real Men are proud of their bodies.”
“Real Men only respect Russian Men.”
“Real Men are only comrades with Russian Men.”
“Real Men wish to be Russian Men.”
The second track played for a little longer than the first, causing Pasha to get a little impatient, so he began to pleasure himself. Once it had ended, Pasha awkwardly found himself halfway through trying to bust a load. Not having time to finish, he quickly removed Jacob’s gear and began the next set of questions. As he asked away, he non-subtly stroked his massive steel rod, knowing Jacob was far enough along that he wouldn’t mind.
“Ya verrk out?” Pasha asked. Jacob looked down proudly at his built body. Of course he had worked out, you couldn’t be born with a body like this. He had large pecs, beautiful abs, strong biceps, and don’t even start him on his sculpted legs. Jacob made sure to always get every part of his body, ranging from the sculpted shoulders to sculpted buttocks.
“Of course I work out, bro! I always know when to get in a sesh,” Jacob replied, not noticing the jockish gym lingo influencing his deeper voice.
“Goud,” Pasha replied, “Vat do ya zink of Ruzjians?”
“I think they’re incredible. In fact, I’d say there the best!” Jacob had greatly adored the Russian race as long as he could remember. It was a deep passion of his.
“I’d be a Russian and only be friends with them if I could!” Jacob exclaimed excitedly, allowing Pasha move onto the next part of the process.
Pasha swiftly tilted himself up and once more placed the gear upon Jacob’s head. As he did, his exposed, leaking cock rubbed up against Jacob’s torso. Jacob shivered, the touch of a real, Russian man thrilling him. Once Pasha was finished, he leaned back and activated the next stage. Russian commands were fired through the earbuds again, but this time the words in front of Jacob’s eyes were now in Russian too. The gas from the tube was also replaced, now filled with a dark, yellowly liquid that flowed down Jacob’s gullet. The burning pain of the constant piss wasn’t even enough to take him out if his comradirization.
“Real Men have Russian as their first language.”
“Real Men do anything for Russian Men.”
“Real Men only love Russian Men.”
“Real Men are gay for Russian Men.”
“Real Men are Russian Men.”
After another hour of pounding commands into Jacob’s skull, Pasha removed the gear. This time, Jacob’s head really hurt, like he had just studied hours for a hard test. He brought up his hands to rub his temples, also itching at the short, brown-colored sports cut. When he opened his eyes again, Pasha sniggered as he noticed their new, dullish brown tone. Once the headache had passed, Jacob made eye contact with Pasha, feeling flushed as he observed the beautiful man in front of him. His cock began to inflate in his tight briefs, a full three inches longer due to his improved, Russian heredity. He was so infatuated with the male in front of him that he didn’t even realize he was no longer imprisoned, or the lukewarm cum drying on his pecs.
“Who do you love most in your life?” Pasha asked, speaking in full Russian.
“Um…” Jacob answered back in Russian, his thought process noticeably slower, “I dunno…”
Pasha wasn’t satisfied with his answer. As if a lightbulb flashed in his head, Pasha popped up with an idea. He leaned over to Jacob, giving his cock a quick tug. Jacob moaned in response, before muttering out, “I love other Russian Men.”
“Good,” Pasha said before continuing, “Where are you originally from?”
“Russia,” Jacob announced proudly, and as soon as the words were said, the equipment was replaced for the final part.
Pasha clicked a few apps on his phone before sinking up the last section of the playlist. The end of the comradirization was always the most difficult, as so many important parts were involved. First off, two new machines were added: a milking mechanism and an infusion pump. Pasha carefully placed each of the objects in their respective locations; one would inject the Russian sperm and the other would make room for it. The other component that made the ending the hardest was that if it didn’t go absolutely perfect, the whole process could fall apart. Pasha had to make sure everything was ready as he began the final section of the process. The final words flashed on the screen and paired track began to play. This time, lots of messages flooded the screen, while the rest of the equipment pumped Jacob’s body into the prime, Russian Man he was soon to become.
“Russian Men obey the stereotype.”
“Russian Men love football.”
“Russian Men drink vodka.”
“Russian Men love to smoke.”
“Russian Men have deep voices and are dumb jocks.”
As the new reality set in, Jacob’s mind became flooded with new memories. Memories of growing up in Russia, going to school with Pasha, learning how to be an incredible forward in soccer football, and making out with other hot, Russian Men in the locker room. The smell of vodka and nicotine always on their breaths as they passionately kissed.
“Russian Men never smile.”
“Russian Men reminisce the USSR.”
“Russian Men are Orthodox Christian.”
“Russian Men are abrasive, arrogant, and rude.”
“Russian Men are alphas.”
The milking machine chugged away, pulling out every bit of Jacob’s cum as the better, more powerful Russian semun was pumped into his veins. Pasha loved seeing the man become a comrade right in front of him. Jacob’s growing body pulsated out towards Pasha. Jacob’s once-scrawny legs not stretched over the edge of the bed, his feet bloating to a massive Size 16 - just like Pasha’s.
“Russian Men are superior above all other men.”
“Russian Men want all men to be Russian Men”
“Russian Men want to comradirize all other men.”
“Russian Men want to make all other men their Russian brothers.”
“Russian Men are Vadja Men.”
Once the final track had ended, Pasha removed all of the gear and towed it away. He placed the white briefs back over the now goliath dick and tucked the large, Russian Man into the bed. The new comrade had passed out, the final part overloading his smaller brain. Pasha cleaned up before leaving, his job done. He was ready to find the next person to comradiraze.
— —
Yakov woke up in his small apartment, the smell of a smoky, alcoholic locker room pleasantly filling his nose. He flipped over and slapped his large feet on the floor, the meaty sound echoing throughout the small room. He walked over to the dirty kitchen, grabbed a bottle of vodka off the counter, and turned on the small television to reveal a Russian football game.
As he took a swig, he picked up his old phone and looked through his notifications. He had forgotten to close out of the comradirization tracks; he could be such a dumb jock sometimes. As he scrolled through a Russian, gay dating app, a text popped up at the top of the screen. He clicked it, seeing that it was his brother: Pasha Vadja. He clicked the tab as the first set of Russian letters filled his screen.
Pasha: hey brother
Yakov: hey comrade
Pasha: how’s my little Vajda doing
Yakov: its Yakov Vadja, not little, I’m as big as you
Pasha: yeah whatever. hope you’re ready to go make some comrades
Yakov: yeah, I’ll get to it real quick
Pasha: send me a pic of you first, for fun
Yakov: alright, just a sec
Yakov heaved off the couch, mad that he had to tear himself away from the intense football game. He crouched down in front of the mirror by the bed and posed, making sure to get the best angle. Yakov knew that his brother would nut over this, and he knew he probably would too later. First things first, he had to go make some more comrades first. He was excited just thinking about it. He looked in the mirror and then at his phone before taking the pic. He was so glad that he couldn’t smile, it made him look much sexier. He quickly sent the pic to his brother, ready to go comradirize.
TS - #008 Cordypecs
A virus is not just DNA; a virus is also packaged up, covered over with a series of proteins in a nice, elegant, well-compacted form.
- Francis Collins
An archaeologist begins to explore the ruins of an ancient Scottish castle that dates one of the many battles in the ‘War of the Craft’. His hand faltering and flitting over the stonework, he flinches somewhat as he feels something cold and damp, scared that somehow it may be blood or rot. Instead when he shines a light on the sticky white concoction, his eyes widen as a white dampness turns into what feels like white heat searing through his palm and travelling up his body.
Before he knows it, he’s bent down, hand wrapped around his cock as he can already feel the change happening. His bones shift as his back grows sending him to be over 6’ tall. His feet burst out of his boots. His own ass becomes thick as it grows. His once skinny and pale frame now broad and fair as he can feel muscle growing and growing in an endless wave of pleasure. By the time he cums on himself and feels his intelligence draining, he knows it’s too late, as for now he’s nothing more than a temporary victim of Cordypecs.
Morbus incrementum musculus otherwise more commonly known as Cordypecs is a virus that originated in the late 1400’s due to the actions of Sir Thomas. Having been transformed into an orc, Sir Thomas believed the affliction to be permanent and sought out [REDACTED] believing it to be a cure. During a heated discussion with The Craftsman, he was warned that his case was not permanent and that [REDACTED] wouldn’t cure him but only make his permanently become an orc and have disastrous consequences on both him and those around him. However Sir Thomas did not heed The Craftsman’s words and once he [REDACTED] he found himself shifting into an orc for the very last time as he became the first human-orc hybrid, containing the humanity and intelligence of his old self but the body and power of an orc.
He could barely control his body through the lust as he learned that he had a similar effect to the transformation that ensued for his squire, Gared. Only this time instead of making men more masculine (or at least their idea of masculinity). He also robbed them off their intelligence for the however long they lasted in their new forms. Eventually all men who were even transformed once by this method were soon able to find themselves transforming others and thus what was once a blessing was now viral, spreading from men to men across generations to come (no pun intended).
The virus has since been spreading around however it has weakened in the modern day era, now only leading people to last as long as a few hours in their new forms. Not much else is known about the virus other than it is only spread through semen and that it transforms men into their idea of an ideal man. This has changed throughout the ages, whereas men in the medieval period became knights, soon in the 50’s they became sexy businessmen that worked wonders on Wall Street and then greasers that enjoyed diners, leather, and all things motor in the 1960’s America and so on and so forth.
Nowadays the ideal man to many varies and one can become anything from a male model, to celebrities, to a jocked out gym bro. Only time will tell what many men will soon become, and perhaps even you will soon become your ideal man.
Ball Practice
--- Originally posted on 2018-08-13 by time-to-transform ---
I saw you checking us out at our practices. Can’t blame you, I mean watching a bunch of muscular jocks getting sweaty and tackling one another is pretty fucking hot.
I decided to do you a favor and transform you into the football that we’ll use from now on. Now, instead of watching from a distance, you can be up close to all of the sexiness going on here. I bet you’ll love being gripped tightly by my strong, meaty hands. And just wait until we start sweating even more, the manly odor we produce from all this exercise absolutely reeks.
If you got turned off simply by looking at us practice, you’re going to be in a horny paradise from now on. Hope you enjoy spending the rest of your life being roughly handled and tightly held by a bunch of sweaty football jocks. You’re welcome.
Hotel Korea: Chapter One
--- Originally posted on 2019-08-15 by dumb-and-jocked ---
The Lonely Husband
Lee Hae-jin stood at the top of his newest enterprise, filled with pride. Nobody could see him from below, as the immense building was over 50 stories tall, but he could see everyone below. The giant crowd had just begun the flood into the building. His latest accomplishment, one that would soon spread worldwide. His building, Hotel Korea, had just opened mere minutes ago. It was to become the biggest hotspot of the blooming American metropolis. It was filled with lavish resort accessories, including minibars, pools, spas, and a massive casino, all of which were authentically Korean.
Lee smirked to himself quietly, adjusting his crotch in his miniature running shorts. Most people wouldn’t recognize him in the running outfit, mistaking him as a guest rather than the owner of the soon-to-be expansive company, and that was the plan. He believed he could get the most honest, critical results if no one knew that he was Lee Hae-jin, but instead just his surname, Lee; so many people had the name that he’d simply hid in plain sight.
He looked one last time at the crowd, his muscles tensing before he began to walk away. He was excited to see the results after his guests’ stay. He believed they all had shockingly similar opinions after their time at the resort. He chuckled to himself as he remembered the simplicity of the hotel’s logo: “A Seoul-changing Experience.”
— —
James Parker was completely wiped out. In one day, he had married the woman of his dreams, taken a five hour flight to their honeymoon destination, and only halfway there realized that his new wife had accidentally boarded the wrong plane. He was a little embarrassed that he hadn’t noticed, but to be fair he was exhausted. He had called his wife once he had landed, the two too exhausted to have meltdowns but still fairly ravaged. The plan was for James to stay in the honeymoon suite for the night at the new hotel that had just opened days before, then the two would meet the next morning. James felt terrible that his wife would have to take a red-eye flight, but he knew she was strong.
The two were psychology majors back in college. They had both met in class and, almost instantly, became an inseparable couple. They both looked fairly average, but their wits and intelligence were quite impressive, especially when put together. The only thing physically special about James was his large feet, which did say wonders about his large penis. It was surprising how such a normal looking person could have eight inches of hard meat in his pouch. Once the two had graduated with honors, they got engaged and married a year later. They planned to have an extravagant honeymoon night after they married, but so far that looked quite questionable.
James walked slowly out of the cab and grabbed his things before walking into the Hotel Korea. The new hotel had received incredible reviews, each stating their own “life-changing” experience. The couple had chosen it for its location, but James was excited about what else the hotel had to offer. He walked up to the front desk, which was surprisingly empty, contrasting the rest of the lobby which seemed rather full.
“Hi, um…” James fumbled over his words, “James Parker.” The young Korean attendant, who James could tell was rather handsome, seemed confused for a moment, as if he didn’t understand what to do. Then, moments later, something flashed in his eyes and he began to type away slowly.
“Ahight…” the Korean said, his accent extremely heavy, “You ah on top flouh in da Seoulmates Suite.” The young attendant, looked around, trying to find James partner, but found no one.
“She’s… a little late,” James replied, lying through his teeth.
“Ahh,” the Korean replied, “youh consiehge shouh be with yoo shouhly. He at da pooh”
Before James could ask what that meant, the young attendant was whipped away to another guest. A bellboy, also a handsome young Korean man, grabbed James luggage and walked to the elevator, hopefully up to James room. James followed a few signs, struggling to differ between the little English and lots of Korean in each direction sign. After almost ten minutes of searching, he came to the pool.
The pool was filled with people of all ages, most of whom were Korean. All of the bellboys, waiters, and other hotel employees where just as visually stunning as the first two. The hotel’s owner obviously wanted to set some kind of atmosphere. As James’ eyes surveyed the layout, he heard his name being called out in the distance.
“친구!” the voice shouted, “Oveh heuh, James!”
James followed the voice to find a young, confident man lounging in a poolside chair. Just like all the other employees, he was rather handsome and Korean. James was getting a little nervous about what his wife would think with all these attractive men. The young man wore a tight, blue polo and sharp chino shorts. His accessories included fancy dark loafers and a pair of sunglasses that hid his mischievous eyes.
“I am Gong Soo-Hyun, youh consiehge foh you and youh wife while you stay,” he said, extending his hand. James wondered if everyone here had the thick accent. “You can call me Soo-Hyun.”
Soo-Hyun went on to explain the rest of the day while giving a tour for James, describing all the things he would do as a bachelor for the night. James quickly followed and was excited to see all the different things he could do, but decided to go to bed early. He wanted to get a headstart to spend all of the next day with his wife.
Once he got to his room, he realized just how disappointed he was that he was alone. The room was enormous, and the view was incredible. He knew his wife would’ve loved to see this. He jumped on the bed, looking for his suitcase, but realized that none of his belongings were there. Probably got mixed up somehow, he’d have to ask Soo-Hyun about it.
James looked all around the suite for his stuff, not giving up just yet. He looked in the mini kitchen, behind the couch, even on the balcony. When he walked to the bathroom, he yelped, not realizing that Soo-Hyun was there.
“WOAH!” he cried, jumping back and looking away, “What are you doing in here?”
Soo-Hyun was sitting in there contently on the bathtub, his feet in a spa, wearing nothing but a black robe. James was thankful he didn’t get a good look, otherwise he might have seen more than he had ever need to.
“Calm down, James,” Soo-Hyun said, shifting his feet around in the miniature tub, “I’m jus checkeen do see if da watuh is wahm.”
“That’s not why I’m freaking out!” James said, turning back slowly to look in the bathroom. He was desperately searching for eye contact, “What are you doing in my room?”
“Couples Mahssage?” Soo-Hyun said, pouring a few more salts in before picking up the spa and walking past him. James followed the handsome Korean man to find that his bed had been prepared this entire time. Lotions lined his bedside table and soft lighting had filled the room. Somehow, he hadn’t even notice the small machines spewing calming vapor into the air.
“I know yoh wife isn’ heuh, but I tought you migh need goo Korean massage,” Soo-Hyun said, placing the spa by the bed before tossing James a white robe. James didn’t really want to change, but Soo-Hyun told him too anyways. James met him halfway and stripped to his plane clothes, a soft gray tee and gym shorts, before putting the robe on. Soo-Hyun didn’t like it, saying it wouldn’t be an “authentic Korean massage,” but he didn’t fight it. James laid face-down on his bed, still not really getting why he was getting a massage, but as soon as the Korean’s hand pressed into his back, he didn’t have a single worry left.
As Soo-Hyun rubbed away, James began to realize how much stress he had on his shoulders. He couldn’t remember the last time he had actually relaxed, enjoying the fact that now he’d have an entire honeymoon to do it.
“You know,” Soo-Hyun remarked, getting some lotion into his hands, “youh 다리 (legs) are goouh. I don wemembeh de las time I saw Kowean man with haieh down deh.”
James was confused for a slight moment before forgetting as he grunted from Soo-Hyun hit a hard spot. He knew what Soo-Hyun meant, most men were hairless besides the head, pits, and pubes, but he was lucky enough to be graced with a very light coating of leg hairs. James was puzzled to why Soo-Hyun had mentioned Korean, but before he could think about it anymore, Soo-Hyun was caressing his legs with what immense pleasure. He hadn’t even noticed how he had translated the little Korean that was slipped into Soo-Hyun’s sentence.
As Soo-Hyun massaged the lotion in, James’ legs began to slowly change. The masseuse smirked as he watched the brown leg hairs almost disappear, becoming a very light, black coat. The calves and thighs began to bulk up, taking on a yellowy, tanner tone as his quads began to form. Although his legs were thickening, they began to shrink too. James height began to lower, going from six foot to 177 centimeters. James, too involved in his one pleasure, didn’t even notice how his feet were no longer touching the end of the bed.
“Ahso impwessed by dese 무기,” Soo-Hyun continued, grabbing more of the lotion, “You wouhk ouh ofden.” Soo-Hyun said it more as a statement than a question.
“Fouh times a week,” James replied, not remembering how he hadn’t been in a gym since high school. He also didn’t notice the hint of a lisp as he spoke. The feeling of Soo-Hyun kneading his arm was sending him into a new universe, and he loved it. He moaned quietly into the pillow as Soo-Hyun continued onto his arms.
Soo-Hyun rubbed the lotion in, making James’ arms begin to enlarge. The once-weak limb now began to expand, large biceps and triceps inflating underneath the tanning skin. As his forearms began to yellow, all signs of arm hair began to disappear as his limbs began to shed themselves onto the bed. Small black hairs began to fill in their space, but so tiny that no one could see them unless they were using a microscope. Soo-Hyun grabbed James’ hands, rubbing the lotion into them as they grew into soft, masculine paws. With James loving the Korean’s touch so much, he didn’t even realize when he had lifted up the sleeves to massage his armpits. Soo-Hyun grabbed a different lotion and rubbed it inside James’ pits, the brown bushes underneath darkening into a pitch black as they grew. They were definitely more impressive, but due to James’ now muscled arms, they couldn’t be seen unless the limbs were raised. A subtle funk began to permeate near James’ nose, but he just assumed it was a lotion.
“You have amazeen 가슴, Wha do you lift?” Soo-Hyun asked, pushing up the robe and James’ shirt lightly as he began to massage his back. He was inserting more and more of the native language, hopefully subtle enough that James wouldn’t notice.
“Usually 90 kilograms, buh mouh on my better days,” James replied, his voice muffled. He hadn’t noticed how he was slipping more into the weird lisp, or how he had used the metric system instead of his own imperial. James was to busy remembering all the times he had worked out, and enjoying Soo-Hyun’s touch, to think about other things.
With James’ shirt almost pushed completely up, Soo-Hyun had complete access to James back. He began to pound away, rubbing the lotion in every crack. James’ torso began to slowly inflate, the once mere chest filling in with hard muscles. Pecs began to form as abs popped in, each taking on its own unique form. The hairs that once lined James’ belly began to fall away, instead begin replaced with black hairs invisible to the naked eye. James’ shoulders widened as a perfect V-shape began to appear along his hips. While his chest began to tint towards an amber, his nipples began to expand on his large pecs, becoming much more sensitive. James’ moans grew louder as Soo-Hyun moved towards the neck.
“How lon have you had dat 목소리?” Soo-Hyun said while caressing James’ growing Adam’s apple, switching quickly into Korean. “It is smooth and sexy.”
“Issa Park hing,” James said, referencing his surname and cementing the language, “We ah have 자극 voice.” James loved his deep, alluring voice. He had remembered how many times it had been the reason for his sexual conquests. He had pounded so many women with his powerful voice. It ran in his family, the Park family, for a very long time. As he thought to himself about how appealing his voice was, he hadn’t realized that he was slowly beginning to think in Korean. His English was dissipating, and he had yet to realize that he was slowly beginning to forget his own name.
As soon as James’ neck finished yellowing, Soo-Hyun moved up to James’ temples.
“제임스,” Soo-Hyun said, reinforcing the language into his client’s head by saying his name in Korean. Soo-Hyun stay in Korean, hoping to push the guest over. “You are stunning. You know you are hot.”
Jeimseu’s brain immediately absorbed the subtle command as Soo-Hyun massaged away. His naturally shy demeanor was washed away as a more cocky, confident aura surrounded him. He was hot, and he knew it. In fact, he was more than hot, he was a sexy, intoxicating beast, and every person, male and female knew it. They all saw it as he shot his sperm into them.
Soo-Hyun, ecstatic that everything was working perfectly, applied more lotion has he recreated Jeimseu’s head. First, he straightened the jaw, giving it a sharper angle as he began to make his lips slightly larger. Next came the nose, which he enlarged before removing all signs of facial imperfections. Any signs of previous acne or blemishes were completely erased as a yellower tone began to tan Jeimseu’s face. His face reconstructed slowly into one more of Asian descent as his eyebrows were corrected. His once green eyes darkened into a brown as his hair became a deep, intimidating black before shortening into a more trendy, messy cut. What used to be a small stubble disappeared as tiny black hairs began to appear, just dark enough that you could see the hints of a mustache but nothing else. Jeimseu was now so deep into the massage that he had lost all control of himself, softly beginning to grind his mediocre cock into the bed. He also hadn’t noticed his intellect leaking away, slowly draining itself.
Soo-Hyun smiled to himself as he picked up the spa and put it on the bed. It wouldn’t have fit before, but due to Jeimseu’s shrank height it now had a perfect spot right at the end for him to dip his feet into. Soo-Hyun slowly picked up Jeimseu’s large feet and delicately placed them into the tub. Jeimseu was still face down, but the pillows did nothing to block out the noise of his moaning. When Jeimseu had walked it on Soo-Hyun in the bathroom, he hadn’t actually been testing the water: he had been adding to it.
This was all part of Lee Hae-jin’s master plan. The lotions and salts, provided by the Hotel Korea, were specially made back in Seoul. They would act as regular soothers to the common man, but to the touch of a Korean, they would act as transmitters, replicating the Korean genes into the user. Lee had thought of the idea as a way to combat Korea’s diminishing population and popularity; instead of finding new people, why not create them? He had proposed the idea to many investors and all of them agreed that it was a fascinating plan. After almost a year spent building the hotel, finding funds, and creating the products, he had finally put it all into action. All the staff members at the hotel knew their roles, and their real roles. With the masseuse rubbing the lotion all over the client’s body with his hands, he was subtly massaging the Korean genetic code into the guest. When Soo-Hyun was “testing” the waters, he had been actually activating the salts, making sure they would duplicate and recreate Jeimseu’s feet.
“You have beautiful feet,” Soo-Hyun stated, caressing the bottoms softly, “They are big for a Korean man.”
“You know what they say about big feet,” Jeomsou replied back in Korean. As Soo-Hyun massaged his feet, Jeomsou remembered how important his feet were too him. They were quite large, for a Korean, and they had been another reason that he was quite a stunner with the men. So many guys had longed to be down at his feet, to kiss his luscious toes, and all he could do was smirk inside the pillow. He loved his feet, and he made sure to take care of them. Pedicures, long runs, nice shoes. He also loved the smell, so he made sure to never use any deodorants.
While Jeomsou discovered a new foot fetish, Soo-Hyun worked away at the shrinking feet. Before, James had sported a quite surprising Size 14 US (above average), but Soo-Hyun had successfully brought the monsters to a much more appealing size. In honor of what they used to be, he made sure that Jeomsou had feet that were still quite big at 270 mm (above Korean average). The feet began to tan, blending in with the rest of the body, before pumping itself up. They used to be fat, but now they were plump with definition. The brown hair shed away, only to be replaced with a barely visible coating of black. The last thing that came was the funk. Soo-Hyun hadn’t meant for that to come, but he decided to keep it.
Before Jeomsou could react to the loss of rubbing on his feet, he was soon met by Soo-Hyun ripping off his shorts underneath the robe. Jeomsou, not remembering going commando, felt his buns being reshaped. He began to grind harder into the bed as his butt became two giant globes, bubbly and yellow. Once Soo-Hyun was done, he gave the round meat a slap and turned Jeomsou over, revealing the last part of Jeomsou’s previous life: his pouch.
“What are you…oh!” Joom-suo shouted as Soo-Hyun sprayed the cold lube on his large, white cock and balls. Not allowing Joom-suo to make anymore noise, Soo-Hyun quickly put his mouth over the large cock. Soo-Hyun was not at all ready for the immense size. The average size in his home country was just under 4 inches, so he was barely ready for double that. Joom-suo, after realizing what was happening, began to grind his pouch into the masseuse’s mouth, grabbing and yanking at his black hair in the process. Being a complete homosexual, he knew a good bottom when he felt one.
As Joom-suo moaned away, Soo-Hyun began to cup the balls and tickle them, riling up the almost-Korean sperm. As he did, Joom-suo’s large balls began to shrink, tanning and softening into something more reasonable from his soon-to-be homeland. As Joom-suo began to edge, Soo-Hyun began to ruffle the lube through the pubes, causing them to become a sheen black that shined. The last bits of lube were on Joom-suo’s dick, and as Soo-Hyun sucked away, it became more and more pleasurable for the top. It wasn’t because Soo-Hyun was getting better, but instead because his dick was becoming smaller and more sensitive. Joom-suo could feel his cock shrinking, each inch it lost making him more aroused. He didn’t know his dick was shrinking, but he loved the feeling of his head going from touching the back of Soo-Hyun’s mouth to slowly making its way across the roof. While he was sucked away, the last bits of intelligence were sucked away. Joom-suo had never been smart; he had always been on the dull side of things. He didn’t care though, why be smart when you can be sexy and stupid? It was all he needed.
As Soo-Hyun saw the last of the white skin sink into the ravaging, yellowy tan, he felt a geyser of pure cum pour down his throat. He pulled himself off, happy to see that the saying about big feet was still correct. There was still a rather large dick in front of him, standing proudly at 11 centimeters long. It was less than half of what it used to be, but it was still larger than the Korean average.
“Up here, babe,” a soft, yet demanding voice said to Soo-Hyun in Korean, ushering him to the head of the bed. Soo-Hyun laid his head to next to the former-client, present-lover. Soo-Hyun smiled as a lemony hand pushed off the messy hair of his head. His lover pushed himself up, placing his hand under his head.
“I think I might have to get a job here with you, it’s magnificent.”
“I know.” That was the last part of Lee’s plan, all of the clients would want to become employees in the end. Best way to expand.
“Put on some nicer clothes and go downstairs, there are open interviews right now,” Soo-Hyun said, getting up and fixing himself. That massage had proven to be a workout.
“Alright,” he replied, “but first…” As soon as Soo-Hyun turned around, he felt a gush of hot, steaming piss hit his face. He eagerly lapped it up and let it soak in his robe. He would love to adorn this scent later.
His lover quickly got dressed into the nice clothes conveniently placed under his bed before slapping Soo-Hyun on the butt and heading out. He walked down to the first floor, not needing any elevator. After a little bit of searching, and a lot of struggle trying to read, he finally found the spot for open interviews. He stood outside and waited, excited to pursue his dream career.
“Next!” someone shouted, and after spending a minute trying to translate the English, he walked in and took a seat, excited to begin.
“Name?” The interviewer now knew to stay in Korean.
“Park Joong-suk.”
“What job would you like?”
“Concierge.”
“You’re hired! Welcome to Hotel Korea.”
A day at the beach
--- Originally posted by unknown on 2009-02-09 ---
--- Note: Kyogre (Pokémon) TF ---
The sun was setting in the sky as a lone man sat at the side of the beach. He stared into the water, the surface sparkling as the dying rays of the sun touched its surface. As he sat there, he had no idea of what was going to happen.
While he was deep in his thoughts, a lone creature was swimming underwater. It was heading towards the beach, slowly and silently.
Still looking at the beach, the boy checked the time on his watch, getting close to 6pm. "I think I should make my move..." He said to himself as he got up from the ground.
In that exact moment, the creature swam towards the surface, and jumped out of the water.
As the boy turned away, he felt the cold water splash against his body. "What was that?"
The creature landed on the beach, and raised its head to look at the human in front of it. The creature was a female Kyogre, a water legendary creature from a well known videogame. But unlike the game, she was more anthropomorphic looking, with strong muscled legs and arms, a more humanoid looking head, and, surprisingly, a pair of perfect sized cup-d breasts.
"Holy...." The human looked on at the creature in awe.
She stepped closer to him: Every step she took was a pure expression of elegance, and her skin shining in the sun was more than enough to qualify her as a true beauty.
He looked on at the creature, still in awe. "H..hello there"
She was now right in front of him. She was indeed taller than him. She smiled at the human, and put her hand on his face. The hand felt very cold. "What's your name little one?"
The human gulped. "Peter. And yours?"
"Alice...nice to meet you Pete" she said, as she shook hands with him.
He shook her hand, his human hand easily dwarfed by the size of her hands, large white digits holding it tightly. "That 's a nice name for someone like you"
She went down on her knee, so that she could look at him in the eyes. "You've never seen someone like me before, right?"
"Well, to be honest, no. I've only seen creatures like you in their more natural forms" Peter explained. "So seeing one like this is quite a surprise"
She smiled at him. "Mind if I sit down with you a for a while?"
"I wouldn't mind at all. In fact I'm honoured to be in the presence of someone like yourself" He smiled warmly to her
She sat down next to him. "Such a nice guy" she said, as she wrapped her left arm around him.
He blushed a little bit as he returned the gesture, wrapping his right arm around her. But due to the size of her, his hand was instead near one of her large breasts rather than her shoulder She didn't seem to mind.
She sighed, and started rubbing her hand on his back. Peter felt something weird happening as she did so...it felt like cold water running down his back. He squirmed a little as his back was rubbed, the females thick digits feeling soft and rubbery against his flesh
She kept doing so. He didn't notice that the skin on his back was slowly turning into a rubber-like skin, just like hers. Also, his shirt was vanishing, as if someone was pouring acid on it.
After a few seconds, he suddenly noticed that his shirt had almost disappeared, and he leapt up "What the heck?!"
"Hey, relax...I'm just making you more...comfortable" she said, as she stood up.
"What do you mean?" Peter asked, still half shocked.
She put a hand on his chest, and the shirt completely vanished, while more of his skin turned rubbery...white on his chest, and blue on his back, just like Alice's.
"What 's wrong with my body?" He asked, feeling it
"I'm just giving you a more...interesting body" she said, as she stepped behind him, and wrapped her arms around him. "Think about it: Taller, stronger, cooler...everything you desire"
"Really?" He said as he relaxed into the morphs hug
She giggled. "Yeah...now relax" she said, while rubbing her hands on his legs, making his pants disappear, changing his skin more and more.
He relaxed a little, squirming again as he felt the cold wind blow against his now naked form
She kept massaging him. With his skin now fully transformed, new changes started to occur. His body started to get bigger, muscles swelling and giving him more strength.
He let out a few soft groans as his body enlarged, watching as his chest grew more defined, several rows of muscle bulging under the skin. "Woah..."
"Better, uh?" She asked, backing off a little so that he could examine his new muscled body.
"Oh yeah" He chuckled as he flexed his new muscles playfully
"A tail, hands and feet, and the head...and you'll be a perfect creature, just like me" she said, giggling.
Peter turned and smiled at the morph, noticing that the two were now eye level.
"Shall we continue?" she asked, stepping closer to him.
He just nodded eagerly as a response. She took his hands in hers. His hands quickly got bigger and larger, with massive fingers, probably good for swimming. She did the same with his feet, quickly turning them into massive swimming tools.
He looked on at them with a grin. "Let's be honest here for a moment. You aren't just giving this to me out of the blue, I know there's a hidden incentive"
She stepped behind him, and...she literally pulled a tail out of his tailbone. She admired the new tail for a little before answering him. "Yeah...I was wondering...if you could...you know...stay with me, once I'm done with...this?"
"Stay with you in what way" Peter smirked
"As...well...mates?" she asked, blushing a little.
"Mates?" He chuckled for a moment. "That can be arranged I guess..."
"Really? Really? Oh...thanks!" she said, as she jumped and hugged him.
He smiled and hugged her back, nuzzling her face softly
As they did so, he felt the final changes taking place. His face slowly pushed out, forming a small muzzle. His eyes growth a little bigger, and turned a deep blue. His ears growth longer and pointed, while his hairs fell off. It was almost a 100% morph.
"Grrrgg..." He gritted his teeth together as they elongated into sharp fangs
She gave him a quick kiss. "It's okay...it's almost over now"
He looked at her, blushing for a moment as he was kissed, and then returned the kiss"
As they kissed, his brain got a quick reorganisation...new instincts replacing the old ones, and a n immense knowledge being inserted in his memory. His body truly became his own in that moment.
He smiled a bit wider as he leant into the kiss, looking deep into her eyes. It was done...he was a Kyogre, just like her.
She broke the kiss, and stepped back. "So...wanna go swimming now?" she said, as she walked towards the water, looking more beautiful than ever.
"I don't think I could resist that" He grinned, rubbing a hand softly against her lower back
She giggled, and jumped straight into the water. She quickly dived underwater, and just floated near the bottom.
He dived in too, quickly catching up to the morph. "This is easier than it looks!" He grinned, putting his altered limbs to good use
"I gave you the body, and also the knowledge...you are a natural born swimmer now" she said, as she took him by the hand, and guided into the deep waters.
He just chuckled, looking at her whilst he was guided further into the sea After a while, they reached a small underwater cave close to the reef.
She sighed. "Welcome home"
"This is where you live? Looks cosy" Peter said
She swam inside the cave, and just lay down inside a giant Clam. "It's not the best thing you can find...but it's what I call home"
"Well I think it's kinda cute" He smiled to her
"And you know what's even better?" she said, smiling in a very seducing way.
"What's that?" He smirked
She pulled him inside the clam, and she hugged him very tight. "Take a guess"
--- 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.
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