Were-Stud

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

Not In The Exhibit Brochure

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he tried to move.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I am Uncontrolled Power.

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

I was created by Greg Duchaime Arreman.

Was there someone standing behind him?

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

Wait a second, what this voice inside his head?

I am the physical manifestation of toxic masculinity and bravado.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ostello della Moda: Diego

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

Luke slid the last cigarette out of the pack and lit it up within a few seconds of stepping outside the brightly lit airport into the dark, hot Milanese night. Local time was 2:30 A.M., but he needed a cigarette so badly! The airline industry makes smoking so difficult and he needed his fix. He inhaled deeply and thought about his girlfriend back home. Well ... his ex-girlfriend. Part of the reason for their breakup was his smoking. That, combined with her desire to get married and started on a perfect American life, made Luke somewhat glad that he was free. This was going to be the trip of a lifetime!

He inhaled deeply and wondered if he could get a taxi to take him to the "Ostello della moda." They said they had 24-hour check-in. His friends were probably catching up, maybe headed out for a night on the town without him. But, he would catch up. He was the real party-animal of the group and always had been. He remembered those days in college when he would come back to the apartment completely hammered and they still took him in and helped him get to bed. He missed that -- he missed his friends.

He tossed the cigarette onto the concrete and walked towards a waiting taxi. He would need another pack in the morning, even though he was going to try and cut back on this trip. He wanted to quit, but habits don't die easily. "Last one until tomorrow night," he vowed.

The taxi wasn't air-conditioned and he tried to get comfortable. The cab smelled like smoke -- which made Luke even more anxious as the taxi bounced it's way towards the city because he could few the craving grow again -- especially when the driver lit up while driving. He didn't know enough Italian to ask him to stop, so he just inhaled it in and tried to relax. It took the cab about half an hour to make it to the hostel, and he tipped the man generously because he helped with the luggage.dn't

A sleepy young Italian man greeted him and asked him a few questions. "Uh...passport?" he said. "Right," Luke said as he reached into his bag. The zipper was halfway open and he pulled out a few things while digging for his passport. An opened pack of cigarettes fell onto the floor. Luke picked them up in astonishment. He was positive that the pack was empty. Plus, this was clearly an Italian brand that he was unfamiliar about.

"Sir...passport?" said the man. "Oh ... yeah. Here it is," he replied, wondering if maybe the taxi driver had left them there.

"You can smoke in the courtyard," said the man looking at the pack of cigarettes in Luke's hand.

"Oh, I wasn't ... I mean ... thanks."

"I need to make copy. Please, relax. I will return."

The young man walked into a back office and left Luke alone in the room. The courtyard looked empty and he didn't see any of his friends around. The cigarettes seemed to radiate energy and he knew it wouldn't go away until he smoked. He nervously walked to the courtyard, pulled out his lighter, and puffed away. The smell was different than the cab driver's brand. It felt comfortable. It felt like he had smoked these for years. On one of the drags, he brushed his hand against his chin and felt stubble. He could have sworn that he shaved before he left on this trip and he shouldn't have stubble yet. He also felt a burning on his left shoulder, like tingling needles. He put out the spent cigarette and spat into the bushes. On his way back inside he saw a bathroom and raced inside. He felt sweaty and sick, like his whole body was writhing. He pulled his shirt away and saw a dark black and red patch on his shoulder. His face looked different too. He pulled off his t-shirt and looked in the mirror. On his left shoulder and chest there was a large tattoo. His body looked slim and athletic, much more muscular than he remembered. He managed to put his shirt back on, but it was tight against his body and uncomfortable. His head was flooded with the high from the cigarette, but he managed to find the front desk again.

"Ah," said the man handing him his backpack. "Room 234, Bunk D, Diego." When he said the name "Diego," something clicked inside him. He felt a wawdve of recognition, including a mastery of the language, flooding into his brain. It was as if the chemicals in the cigarette had opened up an entirely new person inside him. As he climbed the stairs, he felt less and less like Luke and more like Diego. When he opened his back pack in the room, he pulled out a tight leather jacket, slim black pants, a pair of sunglasses, and dog-tags that had "Diego" printed on them. As he looked out the window at the dim morning light, he wondered if Bruno, Christo, and Antonio would be coming back soon. He walked over to the window and lit up another cigarette. He shivered slightly, and noticed a vein running along his bicep and the moon carve shadows on his tight abs. He stared out at the street letting the smoke fill his lungs, and with a deep breath, he exhaled the rest of his former life into the dark of night.

TheBurdenBorne Archive

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

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

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

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

As for the remaining entries on the list:

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

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

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

Unknown:

Story 3

Story 4

Uncategorized:

Dog Tags

Hypnotizing Young Bro

Jock boy is hypnotized

Man's Best Friend

Missing Dick

Sculpted

Tailgating

Trash

Series: Black Power

Black Power Ch. 1

Black Power Ch. 2

Series: College Camp

College Camp Part I

College Camp Part II

College Camp Part III

College Camp Part IV

Series: Dancing Bears

Dancing Bears No 1

Dancing Bears No 2

Dancing Bears No 3

Series: Daydream Age

Daydream Age 13

Daydream Age 23

Daydream Age 33

Daydream Age 43

Daydream Age 43

Series: Enrollment Week

Enrollment Week 1 (Garrett-POV)

Enrollment Week 2 (Garrett-POV

Enrollment Week 3 (Garrett-POV)

Enrollment Week 4 (Louis-POV)

Enrollment Week 5 (Carl POV)

Enrollment Week 6 (Wesley POV)

Series: Extra Curricular

Extra Curricular: Filmmaking

Extra Curricular: Metals

Extra Curricular: Woods

Series: For Him

For Him Part One

For Him Part Two

For Him Part Three

For Him Part Four

For Him Part Five

Series: Manual Labor

Manual Labor Client One

Manual Labor Client Two

Manual Labor Client Three

Manual Labor Client Four

Series: One Fad Fits All

One Fad Fits All: Biker Chic

One Fad Fits All: Bodyguard

One Fad Fits All: Cowboy Up

One Fad Fits All: Lumbersexual

One Fad Fits All: Surfer Boys

Series: Ostello della moda

Ostello della moda: Antonio

Ostello della moda: Bruno

Ostello della moda: Christofano

Ostello della moda: Diego

Ostello della moda: Eduardo

Series: Pokémon Go Team Green

Pokémon Go Team Green: Battle

Pokémon Go Team Green: Captured

Pokémon Go Team Green: Hatched

Pokémon Go Team Green: Traded

Series: Primal Instincts

Primal Instincts: A Bit Overbearing

Primal Instincts: Men are Dogs

Primal Instincts: Monkey Around

Series: Product Placement

Product Placement: Free Exercise Healthcare Offer

Product Placement: Free trial Attraktion Kondom

Product Placement: Free wax and hair removal

Product Placement: Subway sleeper

Product Placement: Wet Dreams

Series: Roommate Needed

Roommate Needed One

Roommate Needed Two

Roommate Needed Three

Roommate Needed Four

Roommate Needed Five

Roommate Needed Six

Roommate Needed Seven

Series: Selfie Seduction

Selfie Seduction Interlude

Selfie Seduction Part 1

Selfie Seduction Part 2

Selfie Seduction Part 3

Selfie Seduction Finale

Series: The Collector

The Collector Part 1: Auction

The Collector Part 2: Acquisition

The Collector Part 3: Audition

The Collector Part 4: Abduction

Series: The Modern Man

The Modern Man-Step 1

The Modern Man-Step 2

The Modern Man-Step 3

The Modern Man-Step 4

The Modern Man-Step 5

The Modern Man-Step 6

Series: Uber Men

Uber Men 1

Uber Men 2

Uber Men 3

Uber Men 4

Uber Men 5

(Total amount not verified)

New original creation from side-blog!

Do you have what it takes?

"Young man, do you think you what have what it takes?" one of the cops said to Jack as he walked by their booth.

"Uhm, I-" he muttered. He was nervous being near them and was trying to hurry past.

"Are you sure you don't want a career in law enforcement?" asked another cop. "You look like the kind of guy who could really benefit from our services."

Jack stopped and looked at the cops, then back down at his clothes. He was wearing a loose t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. It felt weird that they were encouraging him to be like them, but he didn't think he had the body for it. "I don't know... I'm not sure I could do that kind of work."

The cops looked at each other, then back at Jack. The one who first mentioned his outfit stepped forward and said, "You can't be serious! Look at you!" He reached out and grabbed Jack's shirt, pulling it up to expose his stomach.

Jack was shocked, but didn't resist. "What? What are you doing?"

"See that gut?" the cop asked as he poked Jack's soft belly. "We can fix that." He turned to his partners and said, "He's got a great frame. With just a little work he could be a real man."

Jack looked down at his stomach. It wasn't fat, but it wasn't toned either. Could they really make him more muscular? "Uh... I don't know..."

The other cop patted him on the back. "Don't worry, kid. We'll take great care of you." He smiled.

Jack smiled nervously. "Thanks, but I'm not sure I want to be in law enforcement."

The university student had been failing his classes and was on the path of being forced to drop out of his bachelor. Only by mere chance had he managed to pass his first year. Now, in his second year, his lack of studying was starting to catch up rather quickly.

In anticipation of not being able to continue with university, he had decided to go to his local career fair to look for possible new jobs that would fit him.

He didn't expect however to be approached by and felt up by multiple policemen seemingly promising him muscles and masculinity.

As he was preoccupied with his internal monologue, the third cop had grabbed his arm and started feeling his bicep. Jack flexed a little bit out of reflex. "You see that? He's got some muscle already. We can make you real strong."

Jack looked at his arms. He was clearly not impressed. "I want to be stronger, but I don't know about being a cop..."

The first cop grabbed the hem of Jack's shirt and pulled it up further to expose more of his gut. "You worry too much, kid. We can make you into anything. Do you want to be strong? We can give you all the muscle you need. Do you want a bigger dick? No problem. Want to get smarter or dumber? We can do that too."

Jack looked at the other cops, then back down at his flat stomach.

"I... I guess if you think I could do it," Jack said. "It can't be that hard."

"Oh, we'll make sure you meet our standards," the first cop replied as he turned Jack around. He reached down and grabbed the skinny guy's ass through his jeans.

Jack gasped and blushed. He was straight, but it still felt good. The cop squeezed his butt so hard that the skinny young man yelped. "Ahh... stop!"

The other cops laughed as the first cop continued to playing with Jack's ass. As the cop's calloused hands explored Jack's globes, the cop could feel the surface start to expand. While he was busy, the other cops reached out and started poking at Jack's chest. The last cop had other ideas. He hands found his way down to Jack's waist, swiftly pulling down his jeans, exposing more of his pale body. Jack looked around nervously as they felt him up in public.

"I don't know about this..." he said.

"As I said before, you worry too much," the first cop reiterated, slapping his ass hard enough to make the skinny man jump. "Just relax." he said with a laugh.

The more the cops touched him, the more the strain on his clothes could be felt. As he looked down he could see two slim slabs of meat on what used to be his flat chest. He was still not at the level of the cops, but it felt like there was just a little more muscle there than before. Had they really made him more muscular already? "I don't know..."

"Relax, kid." The cop in front of him turned Jack around to face him. "We'll take good care of you." He leaned down and kissed the nervous young man on the lips.

Jack was shocked at first, but he had been getting more turned on as the cops played with his body. He opened his mouth and let the cop kiss him. The man's tongue slid into his mouth and played around with his own tongue. Jack could feel his erection growing in his pants as they kissed in front of the other cops.

"See?" the cop breaking the kiss said to the others. "I told you he has potential."

Jack blushed, but didn't say anything as the cop behind him slapped his ass again. The nervous young man felt like there was even more muscle there now.

The first cop now looked at Jack with hungry eyes. In one a single movement he grabbed the overly tightened guy's collar and split his shirt in two halves. Jack was now left wearing just his sneakers and a pair of briefs in front of the cops. "Let's see what we're working with..."

He reached down and continued like before, feeling up Jack's ass through his jeans. The other cops crowded around him, feeling up his arms, legs, back, and chest. Jack looked around nervously as they felt him up in public. He could feel their fingers sliding along his skin. It felt so good, but it was also scary being at their mercy.

"He's still a little too scrawny," one of the cops said as he squeezed Jack's bicep. "We need to bulk him up."

Jack looked down at his chest. There was still not much there, but it did look fuller than before.

The first cop had again circled around now standing behind Jack.

"Let's first see how that dick measures up" the first cop whispered in Jack's ear. He could feel the cop's bulge push up against his ass. At the same time, the other cops reached out and started feeling up his crotch through the fabric.

Jack blushed and tried to cover himself, but the cops were too strong. "Stop... please..." he said softly.

The cop in front of him reached down and pulled off the skinny guy's boxers, leaving him completely naked in front of the other cops. They laughed as they got their first look at his small cock.

"Hmm, not bad but we like to have a bit of fun at the station" one of the cops said with a laugh. "This wont do."

Jack felt like he was going to die from embarrassment, but the cop holding him laughed and said, "Don't worry, we can fix that too." He reached out and started stroking Jack's dick, making it grow harder.

The other cops crowded around him, continuing to feel up his arms, legs, back, chest, and balls. The cop still holding him said, "Let's get you a proper uniform." He reached into his bag and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

Jack's eyes widened in shock. "W-what are those for?"

The cop smiled at him. "You're going to be our new recruit. And as a recruit, you need to follow our orders. So do what I say and put your hands behind your back."

Jack felt like he was in a dream. He did as the cop ordered and turned around, putting his hands behind his back. The cop quickly cuffed him, making it impossible for him to move his arms. Then he reached down and untied Jack's shoes. "Now, let's get started..."

The cop laughed and turned to the others. "Watch this," he said with a grin. He reached into his bag again and pulled out something that looked like a weird tube of toothpaste. "This here is called Growth Factor," he explained as he squeezed some onto his hand. "It's what we use to help new recruits get up to our standards."

Jack watched with wide eyes as the cop rubbed the gel between his fingers, then reached out and started stroking his cock again. Jack gasped at how good it felt, but also at what he saw happening to his penis. It was starting to grow! The other cops laughed and cheered as they watched him get a proper dick.

"Holy shit!" one of them exclaimed. "He's growing like a weed!"

Jack looked down at his crotch in amazement. His pecker was quickly becoming a big, thick cock! He had never felt so turned on in his life. The cop continued to stroke him as he watched his own cock grow longer and harder. It felt like someone was giving him the best handjob ever.

The other cops cheered as Jack's new cock reached full length. It was now 8 inches long and rock hard, with a huge ballsack hanging beneath it. Jack looked down at his crotch in amazement. He was now sporting a massive dick!

The cop stopped stroking him and said, "There you go. That's a proper cock if I've ever seen one." The other cops laughed as they stared at Jack's new equipment. He felt like he was the biggest stud in the world with his huge tool between his legs.

"Now," the cop continued, "let's get started on the rest of you..."

The first cop passed the gel to his colleagues who squeezed out a glob of the paste in their hands, ready to mold their new recruit.

The first cop turned Jack around so he was facing away from them again. He reached down and started feeling up the skinny guy's legs. "These need a little work," he said as he squeezed Jack's skinny thighs. "But they're a good foundation to build on."

Jack looked at his legs in amazement. As the cop's hands made their up his legs, he could see his legs start to expand with pure muscle. Jack looked down at his feet in shock. His legs had grown so much that the shoes he was wearing were now too small for him.

The other cops reached out and started feeling up Jack's arms, back, chest, and abdomen. They laughed as they felt his body growing more muscular under their fingers. "He's like Mr. Incredible," one of them joked.

Jack looked down at his stomach in amazement. He now had a clearly outlined six pack. The cops continued to feel up his body, making it grow more even muscular and attractive everywhere they touched. Jack felt like he was turning into a total hunk!

The first cop stepped back and looked at Jack's new body. "Not bad," he said with a grin. "You're almost ready for your new uniform."

Jack felt like he was going to die from embarrassment from being fully naked in public, but also from the feeling of the cops touching him all over. They were turning him into a total stud! The cop in front of him untied his shoes and reached down to pull off Jack's sneakers and socks.

The first cop continued to rub the growth factor into Jack's stomach, making it grow even more toned and muscular. His abs bulged out so much that they looked like they were about to pop out of his skin. Jack couldn't believe how good it felt to have his body changing right before their eyes. The cop finished with his stomach and said, "Watch this."

He reached down and started rubbing the growth factor directly into Jack's cock, making it grow even harder and longer. Jack gasped at how good it felt to have his dick getting even larger and more sensitive. The other cops cheered as they watched him get a proper cock!

The first cop finished with Jack's cock and said, "There you go. That's a recruit who's ready for his new uniform." He reached into his bag again and pulled out some clothes.

Jack looked down at himself in amazement. He had gone from being a scrawny, nerdy university student to looking like a total hunk! The cops were staring at him with their jaws open in shock. They couldn't believe how good he looked now that he was all muscular and toned.

The first cop handed Jack his new uniform: a pair of tight, blue slacks that showed off his huge ass; a dark blue blouse that was one size too small to show off his toned stomach even if it was closed; and a leather belt to carry around his utility needed for his duties.

Jack put on his new clothes, feeling like a total badass as he did. The other cops couldn't take their eyes off him.

The first cop unlocked the cuffs from around his wrists and said, "Alright, you're almost part of our team now."

Still enthralled by his physical changes Jack had no idea what the cops still had left in store for him.

Then he realized there was one place the men had not been to yet: his face. As if on cue, two cops held Jack by the shoulder from behind as the remaining cop procured another item from his bag.

The cop held in front of Jack a small round brown tin filled with a thick white paste.

"We need you to also look authoritative, criminals will not take you serious otherwise," he remarked.

Jack could feel the cream being spread on his eye brows and cheeks. As the paste was absorbed into the skin, he understood why the other cops had restrained him. His face became incredibly itchy and it felt like a thousand small needles were pinned onto his face.

Whilst Jack couldn't see it he could feel all the small hairs that had now formed a full beard, and busy eyebrows.

"Now you look like like a real man" the cop exclaimed.

"You don't know the first thing about being cop yet, but don't worry, we'll show you the ropes" he said with suggestive wink, motioning for Jack and his other colleague to head to the patrol car.

--- Author notes ---

This is my first time trying to use AI assistance in writing stories. I was inspired by fellow users like @fafnir19 and @artificial-transmutations using it in their hot stories! I must say the freedom it offers in finding a fitting picture is really useful! For text generation it's also good but you really can't expect to write everything for you! Still a lot of intervention required. To be really honest, there are still some parts which are iffy but for an experiment I think it's fine!

I did want to include some mental changes/reprogramming but aside from Jack gaining confidence I don't think I could have included it since it would make this story extremely long.

If anyone is curious about more of the technical workings on how I managed to create the artworks or text just let me know.

Hope you enjoyed it. If anyone wants I can post a couple more images that I generated but did not make the final selection!

--- Author notes ---

Product Placement: Free Exercise Healthcare Offer

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

The girls in the locker room snickered behind her back as Janet pulled off her gym shirt. They didn't have to shower before class (thank God!) but everyone needed to change out of their sweaty gym clothes. Janet always felt like an outsider and didn't have many friends in her class. It was partially to do with her tomboyish features: tall, lanky, flat-chested, a little bit muscular; but also because she preferred "guy" things to "girl" things. She was the youngest in her family and her twin older brothers let her tag along with their friends growing up. They were always skateboarding, riding dirt bikes, wrestling, or getting into trouble. It was a great childhood, but that all changed in late middle school. Her brothers where in high school now and their friends thought it was weird to hang out with a middle-school girl. And so she was left on her own. Now a junior in high school, Janet was isolated and lonely. She heard someone laughing nearby and tried not to look up. They were around the corner of a row of lockers, but she overheard anyway (that was probably the point anyway...)

"...such a freak. I mean, did you see her in the weight room..." "...what girl bench presses that much..." "...a girl with a dick, that's who!"

Janet tried to fight back tears as the laughter continued. She didn't have a dick, of course. She was a woman, but sometimes wondered if maybe she was transgender. She liked guys, not only because she could relate to them better, but because she was attracted to their bodies. Was that why she liked lifting? Was it because she wanted to be a man?

The laughing continued.

"Bitches..." Janet whispered under her breath. That was a mistake, because the laughter stopped. She would pay for that later, she was sure of it. These girls were your typical high school "mean girls" and she was an easy target for them.

"Hey Janet," one them called out. "The boy's locker room is on the other side!"

"Yeah, you must have wandered in here by mistake," said another girl.

They walked formed a circle around her and laughed. Janet grabbed her gym bag and ran out of the locker room before they saw her crying. She was so worried they were following her, that she sped up. As she turned the corner, she ran headfirst into a group of guys coming in from the gym and tripped. One of the guys caught her as she fell. His name was Cody, the captain of the basketball team and one of the tallest, fittest, guys at her high school.

"Sorry..." Janet mumbled.

"Dude, it's fine," Cody answered.

His basketball jersey was damp with sweat and the smell of his body odor mixed with deodorant and body spray was musty and raw.

"Hey, I know you," he added. "You're Davey's little sis, right?"

Her older brother David had played basketball, so they probably were on the same team at some point in high school.

"Yeah, that's me" she added as she grabbed her bag and tried to leave the conversation.

"Woah, dude, why don't you play. You'd be great," he said. His kindness made his face look even more attractive. But Janet saw that the girls were leaving the locker room, so she didn't answer and snuck out of the gym to the parking lot.

At home, she kept thinking about what she had overheard that day. It left her feeling empty and confused. Her parent's were gone that night, so she spent the night playing video games online. She was a big fan of games that were by no means "girly." It started with games like "Halo," "Borderlands" "Call of Duty", but she was a huge fan of "Gears of War." She always seemed to identity with the hyper-masculine heroes of the games, with their strong muscles, heavy guns, and no bullshit attitudes. Even when there was an option to build a female character in a video game, she almost always made herself the biggest, tankiest, brute, and played melee style.

That night, she was playing with random guys all over the world. It was commonplace for them to either not care about her gender, or just assume she was a guy. Though some might say that was sexist, she didn't care. She just wanted to be one of the guys anyway.

That night, she had a strange dream. It started as a scene from the video game earlier that day. Her squad was clearing out a bunker, but it transformed into her high school locker room. There she was, standing in the middle of the guys locker room. She saw a group of guys showering, there wet asses covered in soap and their hair matted down on their faces. She saw Cody, his calves round, his thighs thick, and his muscled bubble butt. She felt uncomfortable, but no one seemed to notice her. She started to back away when she heard someone shout out, "Look guys, Janet's got a cock!"

She stared down at her crotch and saw that she had a massive boner sticking out from her naked body. She heard echoes of laughter from all sides, but couldn't escape the dream. All around her were shadowy figures taunting her.

"Be strong. Be yourself. Fight. You have to fight. You have the strength. Fight through. Be strong."

Her hands curled into fists and she felt a primal, almost orgasmic rage, rise within her. When she lifted up her arms, she saw that they were ripped with muscle and covered in tattoos. Her chest and abs were chiseled and she felt taller. She took the stance of a fighter and landed a punch on one of the shadowy beings. She let out a grunt of satisfaction and turned to swing her hand across the jaw of another shadow.

"Good. You are a fighter. You are stronger than them. You must fight."

The fighting continued until all the shadows were gone. She let out a shout and pumped her fists together. Suddenly, the dream ended and she jumped up in her bed.

She turned on the lamp next to her bed and saw that she was back in her normal body. Her heartbeat was racing, but she knew it was just a dream. Probably caused by playing video games too late at night. She turned the light off and tried to go back to bed.

The next day at school, Janet figured there would be bullying. But she wasn't prepared for what she found on her locker. Someone had cut out a picture of her head and taped it onto a bodybuilder. Written across the top was "Roid Janet" and "Tranny Janny" (both new ones to her). She tore down the picture and walked away from her locker. She knew everyone was watching her, so instead of just hiding in the bathroom, she actually went and sat in her car. She pounded her fists on the steering wheel and thought to herself, "Why do I have to be a girl..."

Just then, she heard a voice in her head start to talk. "You are not a girl. You are a man. You are a fighter. You can become what you want. You choose to become strong. You choose to become a man. You choose to stop being Janet. When you become a man, Janet no longer exists. No one will know who Janet is. You will become a new person. A new man."

The voice grew louder in her head and she just laid back in her seat and let the voice put her into a deep trance. In this trance she felt strong, she felt powerful. At one point, it felt like she was having an orgasm, but it was different than anything she had felt before. But before she climaxed, it went away and the trance faded. She didn't want the teachers looking for her, so she back inside. But everyone was shuffling the halls as usual. What was strange was that no one made eye contact with her. This wasn't completely out of place, but it felt different somehow. She went back to her locker, but the combination she tried didn't open.

She banged her hand on the door, but no one stopped and looked. She stood in the middle of the hall and felt invisible. A nerdy kid that she had never seen before walked over to "her" locker and opened it. He took off his hoodie and hung it up on one of the hooks. It looked like all of her books and pictures were gone. On the intercom, she heard an announcement:

"A reminder to all students that the assembly with celebrity fighter and trainer Andy Hunt will start in the gym at 9:00 AM." She walked down the hall and passed the group of girls that bullied her staring at a poster. They were giggling about a shirtless man that was flexing. It was a poster for the special assembly. "OMG, he is SO sexy," they said casually. These girls paid no attention to Janet, even she was standing right next to him. Something about this man's body seemed familiar, like something she had seen in a dream.

Suddenly, her phone vibrated. She pulled it out of her pocket and answered.

"Who is this?" said the voice on the other side.

"Janet, who are you?"

"Don't worry Janet. You are going to be fine. Just listen carefully."

"What! Who is this?"

"That doesn't matter. All that matters is who you are. Who you are becoming. Go to the locker room by 9:00. Andy needs his phone."

"Andy? Who is Andy? What's going on."

The caller hung up and she saw that the screen of her phone looked different. The time was 8:55. She had no idea what was happening, but saw that the halls were emptying out as everyone gathered in the gym.

She followed carefully, but the phone in her hand kept pinging with messages and text.

"Where r u, Andy?"

"Andy, you have less than 5"

When she entered the room, she saw a crew of cameramen and people waiting for the assembly to start.

"Andy, thank God you're here!" said a short thin man with a bald spot.

"I'm not Andy," Janet wanted to say, but the man was dragging her by the wrist.

"Just wait in the locker room until your cue, alright!"

As Janet walked down the hallway, she started to feel dizzy. She turned right, but the man laughed.

"Wrong way, Andy -- the men's room is that way" he said, pointing down the hallway on the left.

"Men's room, but, I ... uh ... what is going ..."

Janet turned down the hallway and walked through the door into the boy's locker room. It felt like dream. The room seemed steamy and Janet started taking off her clothes. As she stripped, she heard the voice again.

"Andy, you are so close. You are ready. Look at yourself Andy. You are strong. You are popular. You are an inspiration. You can be the man you want. You can inspire others to greatness. Look at yourself Andy."

Janet turned toward a mirror and saw the face of Andy Hunt staring back. This was the face of the man she always dreamed of being. His eyes were dark. He had a beard and styled hair. His bulging arms were tattooed. His chest strong, with only a little hair between his pecs. His abs were perfect and below was a forest of dark hair and a massive towering cock.

"Let go Andy. Allow yourself to let go."

Janet took the massive cock and stroked it back and forth. With every invigorating stroke, her mind emptied and she allowed herself to drift away. The sensation of being this man in the mirror took control. Andy wanted this, so Andy kept going. With a few thrust, Andy sprayed come into the sink and felt a wave of relaxation wash over him. Usually, he wouldn't do this before a show, but today felt different. He cleared his throat and spat into the sink. Outside, he heard people chanting his name.

Andy walked over to a bench and pulled out his underwear and the track suit and fitness wear with the words "Andy Hunt: Trainer" printed on them. He saw his luggage for the rest of the tour.

As the crowd chanted his name, Andy took the stage as high energy music played. He dropped down and did twenty push ups in rhythm as they cheered. He walked over to the microphone and greeted the group.

"Hello! Hello!"

Over the course of his show, he encouraged everyone in the room to commit to being themselves, to become strong, to stand up for what they believed, to transform their lives. Afterward, he took selfies with adoring fans, gave them advice, and signed their notebooks. He posted some of the pictures on his massively popular Instagram and Twitter pages. Tomorrow, he would train a local gym to stay fit, but then continue the tour. His message was empowering and he wanted everyone to feel like they had the power to make their dreams a reality.

Thanks a lot for the crazy amount of support for my first story!

I hope you all had as much fun reading as I had writing it.

For those interested a new batch of archived stories will be posted the coming week!

The rings: Jake

--- First time writing my own story ---

--- Please let me know what you think ---

Just before the second year of college rolled around I was met with the unfortunate news that my best bro, my roommate, would not be making it to the second year.

Turned out he'd been spending too much time partying, and too little studying. Not even the coach could save him anymore.

Sure, being on a sports scholarship meant studying isn't your main priority but you still had to maintain your grades somewhat if you want to make it to the next year.

To make things worse, my new roommate turned out be some nerd.

Jacob was your average nerd that would be holed up in his room most of the time.

He didn't really bother me. It's just... I had hoped to have a new bro to go to the gym with instead of some wimpy kid.

Color me surprised when the guy came out of his room out of nowhere to ask me to help him some project he was doing for some course.

Something about trying some "telepathy" gear he was working on he was working on for a biomed class.

To be honest it all sounded really like some science mumbo jumbo to me. I must admit I wasn't too excited so I thought I'd struck a deal instead: he'd tutor me for my calc class and I'd try his stupid gear thing.

He seemed happy with the proposal and told me it'd be ready for testing in a couple days.

--

As I stepped out of the bathroom after just taking a shower I was met by Jacob holding two comically large rings which almost looked like miniature hula hoops.

It had been a week since he'd asked me for the favor. To be honest, I'd already forgotten about our agreement.

Though I was a man of my word and did need some help with calc, not wanting to end up like my old buddy.

He signaled for me to sit on the couch as he started to explain all about his new gadget.

Supposedly, the pair of rings were some new technology he was working on. He explained that it allowed the wearers to communicate with each other as if the other person was simply a voice in their head.

I accepted one of the nearly metal rings, the only discernable difference being a smaller engraved letter T on the side indicating that I would be on the receiving end according to Jacob.

Not thinking much of it, I held it over my head as he instructed.

As I pressed the button on the side of the device it quickly shrank, tightly sealing itself on my head.

Jacob, doing the same, had grabbed a small little tablet whilst the ring sealed itself on his head.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yeah, let's get this over with" I replied back.

A large shit-eating grin appeared on his face as he pressed a button on the ring.

"You jocks are real dumbasses, you know. Should've been more skep--" the nerd started saying before he suddenly stopped.

The twig had frozen right in his tracks. He looked as if his soul had left his body.

Testing if he was actually there, I waved my hand in front of his face.

Nothing.

Huh? What the fuck?

Okay, this is kinda weird.

I need to get rid of this ring.

It didn't budge. Not only that, this shitty thing just zapped me as well.

Hmm, think. The nerd mentioned something about telepathy, right?

Hey nerd, you hear me?

No response. Fuck.

I'm gonna look like some freak with this stupid headband there has to be something...

Maybe I should just try the telepathy again.

Hey Jacob, say something!

In an almost comical fashion what seemed like a corpse just uttered one word.

"something"

You've gotta be kidding me.

Uh, let's try something else.

Jacob, jump!

Without skipping a beat he jumped.

This is kinda awesome...

Jacob, explain what your plans were with these rings

"My intention was to use these rings to transform you into a nerd as well as do something other things..."

Explain what you mean with transform

"These rings are a technology I devloped that allows you to transform your target however you like by giving suggestions"

Heh. So, if I told him to grow a pair that would work?

As expected the nerd briefly twitched before a visible bulge started forming.

The Jacob's bulge wasn't the only thing growning larger in the room.

I noticed that my dick started to chub up as well, fueled by this new power I had just obtained.

I realized that with these rings I could do anything.

I could still get the roommate I wanted. And I could make him however I wanted.

--

Time to get to work.

Strip

The pudgy nerd took care of undressing, now showcasing his unimpressive body.

I could not help but feel pity for the guy.

He lacked any muscle definition. The only thing he had going for him was his now bull-sized nuts that looked mismatched compared to the rest of his body.

I should at least give him an appropriate cock to match.

Jacob, add a couple more inches to your cock

His average 5 incher started growing rapidly, reaching a monsterous size of what looked to be 8 inches.

I circled around him, proud of my work while I looked for the next area of improvement.

To be honest, there was a lot of work to be done. Maybe a rough approach would be better.

Adjust your body fat percentage to 7%

His already slim frame now became quite boney.

Add 40 lbs of muscle mass

The same arms that once lacked any muscle mass now had biceps that would rival an amateur body builder.

Veins also started bulging out, running from his large mitts upto his biceps.

The changes didn't stop there, however.

A pair of meat slabs started to form on his chest as well.

Unable to resist, I snuck up behind Jacob to fondle his newly formed pecs whilst also admiring his growing traps.

My hand went slipped down further, sliding into the deep crevasse formed by his 6-pack abs.

It seemed that Jacob hadn't missed leg day either. His legs now looked more like tree trunks that would be easily able to squash a watermelon.

To make the picture complete Jacob's feet had to match as well.

You've always worn a size 13

His feet grew large and veins appeared, much like what had happened to his previously tiny hands.

You've always prefered to keep your hair in a quiff

Jacob's unruly mop had started to style itself in a trendy quiff.

Now, flex for me

Jacob now struck a double bicep pose, his already large biceps forming sizeable peaks.

----

"You mentioned something about jocks and being a real dumbasses didn't you, Jacob?"

Ah, wait.

You will wake up

"Huh, what... Why do I feel heavy..." Jacob murmured before realizing it was caused by his new physique.

"Wait! No. You were supposed to get the receiver not the transmitter! How did I- argh" Jacob said fully grasping the situation now.

"I don't want to be some dumb brute!" Jacob told me, now reaching for the ring.

Don't move

Without missing a beat Jacob froze right in his tracks.

"What are you planning to do to me, you stupid jock?" he asked.

"Stupid jock, huh" I mocked.

"It's funny you say that because right now you look more like a jock than me." I told him.

"Perhaps you just don't think like one... yet" I snarked.

"I remember you said something before. Something about jocks being real dumbasses?"

"Wait no! Please-"

You've always been a dumb

"I- uh.. Hng.. What did I say again...?"

"A real jock wouldn't go by a nerdy name like Jacob, now would he?"

You have always been called Jake

"Bro, I don't know who the fuck you're talking about."

"Ah, nothing to worry about bro" I reassured him.

You only care about is lifting weights and partying. You never bothered with studying.

Oh, and you may move again

"So bro, what's up what are we doing here? We should go to the gym." He asked me, completely oblivious as what happened not even minutes earlier.

"You dumbass, we just got back from the gym." I told him.

"Oh, huhuh, sorry bro, I guess I forgot haha" he replied.

When I call you by the nickname brute, you will obey my instructions, no matter what I tell you

"Hey Brute, won't you help me with getting these rings off?" I ask.

"Of course, anything for you bro" he replied.

A bro is never afraid of a little bromance

A little fire in his eyes lit up.

"So bro, what do I need to do?" he asked.

"On the count on three, we both press the button on the side of the ring. I think that's the only way to get them off" I explained.

"Ready?" I asked.

3.. 2... 1..

I immediately felt relief as the tight ring was now removed from my head.

"Brute, give that ring to me. You never want to touch that ring again. You know big bro will handle it for you" I instruct Jake.

"Here you go, bro" he said handing the ring.

I put the rings on the nearby coffee table.

I was happy. I now got myself the perfect roommate. And, if I needed it I could give additional to my brute.

"Hey Jake, there's a party tonight. You wanna go?" I asked him.

"Of course bro, always down"

"Before that, I've got to ask something" I said, sitting back down on the couch.

"I need a little help with something" I smirked, turned on by all the effort put in transforming my roommate

My dick had become rock hard and was begging for attention.

"You think you can help a bro out?"

Bro-Job

--- Originally posted on 2023-12-04 by dumb-and-jocked ---

BRRRRRRING!

Rodney paced awkwardly in front of the door, two voices in his head battling viscously for control. The first, which begged the question “Why am I here?!” over and over was the more persistent. A 5’5 skinny gay psych major on Greek Row? Yeah, that voice was definitely winning. The other however, the one prompting the single response of “Money.”, was enough to make Rodney stay.

“Hello?” Rodney called out, his bright tenor a little too nasally. He had come in response to a job offer put up on campus. He didn’t actually know what the job was, but it promised “All dudes welcome, free food and drinks.” The free amenities would certainly help pay for his student housing.

After still hearing nothing, Rodney decided to investigate. Someone had to be home, it wasn’t like all the frat boys would already be out and about town. Actually, that possibility didn’t seem too far-fetched. With a huff, Rodney marched his way around the massive frat house, following the driveway to the backyard. Three frat boys were parked by the detached garage, their muscly forms on full display.

“Uh,” Rodney started out. “Excuse me?”

The three men, in a heated argument over big tits or big butts, turned to face the boy half their size. Two of them wore a face of disgust, but the third popped a smile of delight.

“What can we do for you, little man?” the third greeted with two Natty Lights in one massive mitt.

Rodney gulped, noting the major size difference between him and them. “I’m uh…here for the job opening?”

The other two frat boys smirked at that response.

“Hey Chet, looks like someone finally replied,” the first chuckled.

“Cheers to that, broski!” the second, who would make any excuse for a celebratory swig, cheered.

The third, Chet, couldn’t help but chuckle. “Alright little man, let’s head in the frat house and get this interview started.”

Rodney nodded, surprised at how simple this whole ordeal was. The much larger jock tossed a bulky arm around the gay nerd and led him to the mansion. Rodney tried to hide his blush at the physical touch, praying that the frat boys wouldn’t see his small, but very present boner.

“First things first bro,” Chet started, tossing Rodney a beer. “We gotta get you a little more comfortable.”

“'Comfortable'?”

“Well sure dude,” Chet laughed, falling back into a crusty couch behind him. “I’m already four deep, so we gotta catch you up.”

Confused, but desperate enough for a job, Rodney cracked open the cold one. He took a timid sip, much to the disapproval of the frat boy.

“Nah bro, don’t be a fairy about it.” Chet shook his head as he patted for the nerd to sit behind him. Trying his best to ignore the previous comment, Rodney placed himself beside the jock. Immediately, Chet grabbed the can and lined it up to Rodney’s mouth, forcing the smaller boy to chug the rest of the beer.

“What the…!” Rodney sputtered, catching his breath. “What was that for?!”

Chet handed the kid another beer. “That’s how you smash, bro! Alright, next one.”

Rodney hated this situation, but he knew he would more despise a situation with no money. After some slight hesitation, Rodney pounded the second beer. Chet made him move through one more, joining the nerd with his own can, tacking their totals to three and five.

“Ahhh…” Chet moaned, patting the stacked eight abs underneath his sweaty tank. He then belched proudly, letting the alcohol take its course. Rodney could only watch on in amazement and an embarrassing amount of arousal.

“Now,” Chet tossed his meaty arm back around the nerd. It took Rodney a second to realize the warm, wet liquid coating his shoulder was sweat from the frat boy’s jungly armpit. “So the job-”

“Oh yeahhh...” Rodney followed with a short giggle. He guessed the alcohol was beginning to assimilate into his system.

“That’s what you’re here for!” Chet exclaimed. “It’s so easy, there’s really only so much you have to know and do.”

Rodney took a swig of his fourth beer, copying the movement Chet had displayed with his sixth can. “Well, what’s to know?”

“There’s that confidence, bro!” Chet took the arm wrapped around the nerd and gave him a playful noogie, the tangled mess cropping up into a neater bro cut. “I was wondering how long it would take for that beer pressure to start hitting you!”

Rodney wanted to correct the jock’s expression, but instead he let out a solitary hiccup. That was followed by a second swig as he watched Chet open into a grand explanation of the job’s responsibilities. 

There was a lot to take in, more than Rodney had thought there would be. The exercise standards, the room-and-board requirements, the daily bonding with bros. And while Rodney listened to everything Chet said, he didn’t realize he was also paying attention to the frat boy’s mannerisms. Rodney was so entranced at every movement of the broadcast. Every scratch, every subtle flex, the way the Adam’s apple bounced with every chug. Even Chet’s dazed-out dumbness and increasing amount of slurring was absorbed by the nerd.

What Rodney didn’t realize however was that each time he picked up on one of these moments, he mimicked it as well. The behavior was being digested into his psyche, the frat boy’s macho ideology sinking down into his core with each new swig of beer. 

While Chet discussed the height requirement, Rodney’s frame shifted underneath the jock’s grasp to notch him up to a proper 6’3. When Chet mentioned the necessary sizes of the biceps, triceps, and quadriceps, Rodney failed to notice his own arms and legs bloating out to gigantic muscular portions. And with each and every swig of beer Chet took, Rodney copied and pasted.

BUUUUUUURRRRRP!

“Ah yeahhhhh!” Chet proclaimed, dropping his seventh empty can. “Let’s see what you’ve got in there, bro.”

With a hearty swat, the frat boy smacked Rodney’s small gut. His torso immediately deflated under Chet’s touch, sharpening out into eight stacked abs that fit perfectly underneath his cushy pectorals.

Buh-UUURRRP!

“Huhuhuh,” Rodney chuckled, not noticing his voice was morphing into Chet’s silky-smooth baritone with every syllable. “Like…that felt sooo gooood.”

“Of course it did, bro!” Chet obnoxiously replied. “That’s how frat life always is!”

Rodney watched as Chet groped himself with his free hand. Although it was more than that really: tugging at his massive cock and balls. Rodney then noticed the swath of pubes spilling out over the waistband of Chet’s tiny shorts, realizing the frat boy was going commando.

This typically would’ve excited him, almost to the point of bursting right there, but Rodney's meager dick had surprisingly gone dormant. Rodney rationed it was the alcohol, noting that he’d already started his sixth can. And he was thankful for the lack of attention anyway. If Chet would’ve seen him get hard over another dude, that would’ve been awkward. Yet Rodney couldn't exactly figure out why...

With one hand still handling his boys, Chet suddenly grew quiet and leaned in close to Rodney. His breath was warm and laced with alcohol, each tickling Rodney’s neck before climbing down his shirt, the shirt that had removed its buttons, expensive material, and sleeves.

Rodney watched as Chet got his hand out of his shorts and began feeling up Rodney, piece by piece.

“These arms, brochacho…” Chet murmured, wiping his ball sweat across Rodney’s thick, tanned canvas. Small hairs poked up in Chet’s wake. Chet then lifted one of Rodney’s arms and took a sniff, as if inspecting for quality. Sure enough, a rotten smell emerged from the chestnut groves that had erupted within Rodney’s pits, yet that was the fresh quality Chet had been looking for.

After a quick swig, which was repeated on Rodney’s part, Chet’s massive hand swooped down towards Rodney’s legs, evaluating the meat. Rodney only watched on with a lazy smile, propping his legs out into a typical, bro-ish manspread to accommodate. Without warning, Chet’s hand then launched underneath Rodney’s buttocks, giving one of his cheeks a sharp pinch.

“Hey! Watch it, homo!” Rodney shouted, not catching the slur or the fact that his exclamation had come out with complete clarity.”

“Woah woah, broooo…” Chet slowly pulled his hands back. “I’m just checkin’ if we’re sealed shut dude, wouldn’t want the fairies intruding.”

Sinking immediately back into his drunken haze, Rodney nodded along pleasantly. He thanked his bro for watching out for him, his hole silently shutting tight in response.

Chet let another belch loose before continuing, “Minddd if I tell you a secret, brooo?”

Chet got closer to Rodney, even going as far as to place his sweaty, socked, Size 14 feet on top of Rodney’s.

“Yyyyyeeah dude…” Rodney slurred back.

“Huhuhuh,” Chet started. “See the sorority…rity next door brah?”

Rodney shifted a bit in his seat, slightly turning his own sweaty, socked, Size 14 feet.

“I just banged like…” Chet had to take a second to count. “Ten…eleven…eleven…twelve of those chicks last week. I set…like…a completely new record brochacho!”

The pair burst out into a massive drunken laugh fest, tossing their heads back in an exaggerated manner. Rodney chugged the rest of his beer messily, some droplets splashing onto the bushy mustache crawling over his upper lip like a caterpillar. They both tossed their sixth and eighth behind them.

“Nowwwww…” Chet slowly started again. “We’ve discussed the bro-knows, but now we oughta get to the bro-dos of the Bro-Job.”

“Brahhhh…” Rodney echoed. “The way you’re sayin…sounds kinda gay man…”

Rodney didn’t even consider why this could be a problem.

Chet moved on, “Brah, how I handle my initiations…it's gotta be personal.”

“Init…inuiti…initiations?” Rodney tried to ask, struggling on the word.

“These Bro-Jobs dude…” Chet tried again, screwing off his backwards cap before fixing it onto Rodney’s head. “They're serious busy-nesss….”

Rodney snickered at the odd pronunciation, his jaw and browline growing more pronounced after each chuckle. He then tossed back the rest of his beer, crushing it in one of his massive paws.

“Brah…I need more beeeeerrrr, stat.” 

“Heh, don’t we all bro,” Chet crushed his own empty can before adding it to the disarray of the messy house. “But you gotta pass the initiation man! Your next beer can is your own!”

The frat boy said it in a way where even though the statement made no sense, in their drunken comradery it held like a secret code. 

“Wha…bro…arrrrre you sayin’-?”

“No homo man” Chet immediately quelled the alarm that had been arising in Rodney’s system. “It’s just a part of the Bro-Job…gotta…gotta add more of that frat sauce to the brew or somethin’...”

Both of them stuck their hands down into each other’s packages through their tiny shorts, which Rodney didn’t remember his own had been long slacks before. Or that he had been wearing underwear before. But what did strike Rodney as odd was the manner of this exchange. It still felt off.

“But…” Rodney tried to find the clarity he needed through his drunken incoherent mass of thoughts. “Kinda...gay brah?”

The not-so homosexual man flinched, his lingering sexuality slowly succumbing with the strangely tough pulls that enlarged his precious tap forcefully. It wasn’t long until Rodney’s pride and joy were surging with the same potent and propagating brew of the frat boy who was pumping him. His manhood was now a giant spout, with his swollen balls filled with the pure, raw hormones that ensured his kegs were always juicing.

“Dude…” Chet chuckled. “It’s not gay if you’re thinkin’ of all the chicks that will be beggin’ to ride this thing.”

After a hefty amount of thought, Rodney realized Chet was right. He wasn’t thinking about dudes or bros or nothing. None of the homo crap was even in his mind. In fact, the very idea of being a faggot disgusted him. All Rodney could think about was chicks. Tits and pussies and breeding them one by one with his vaccination shots. Except these shots weren't protecting these babies from anything. Rather, he was contaminating them. And that made Rodney feel good. Absolutely frat-tastically good.

“Ahhhh….brooooo…!” Rodney moaned. “I think I’m gonna blow!”

“Then do it, dude!” Chet replied.

“NO HOMO BROOOO!!!” The frat boys shouted in unison, their gigantic splooges pouring out into their bro’s hand. After the ecstasy had released, they both removed themselves from the other’s shorts and returned the babymatter to their owners, wiping each other’s work on the other’s tank top.

“God dude,” Chet replied. “Nothin’ beats THAT part of the Bro-Job.”

The newly-minted frat boy could only guffaw. His dreams, aspirations, and uniquities were completely gone, let alone his intelligence deteriorated down to the bare minimum. He was now only gifted with the simple desires of a sexually-overdrived culturally-accepted delinquent.

“I never got your name by the way,” Chet laughed. “I’m gonna need it for the prez so he can register you for the frat.”

“Hot Rod,” Rodney replied, the nickname coming out as if it was a programmed response.

Chet gave Hot Rod a brotherly swat before lifting him up off the couch. “'Hot Rod', huh? I think that will suit the other bros well once you finish the last part of the job.”

“There’s more, dude?” Hot Rod asked, following the other frat boy out to the front yard. “We both know I’m perfect for the frat life!”

“Well of course!” Chet then grabbed a computer and handed it over to Hot Rod. After looking for a little too long, Hot Rod eventually realized it was an online job board.

“I gotta get a job, bro?” Hot Rod asked, somehow making the dull timbre of his tone sound even dumber.

“No, dude!” Chet rolled his eyes. “The last part of the Bro-Job is recruiting the next member.”

Hot Rod’s empty expression signaled his lack of understanding.

“I just completed the Bro-Job,” Chet explained. “Now it’s your turn.”

Again, after a little too long of a pause, the pieces finally managed to place themselves together in Hot Rod’s head. With a thick guffaw, he made the job opening available once more before closing the laptop. He then placed the device behind him and took a seat at the end of the driveway, twisting his cap and assuming a cocky pose.

“What are you doing, bro?” Chet laughed.

“Sittin’ pretty, brah,” Hot Rod shot back. “Wanna make it easier for the next fag that rolls around.”

Drawn

--- Originally posted on 2024-06-29 by breedertfs ---

I find myself getting drawn to your stories more and more often, it's scary! It's like I go into a trance anytime I'm horny and find my way to your blog

It’s almost like that’s my goal, bro.

All guys need a strong, masculine presence in their life. Someone who will guide them and mold them, and I can tell this is attracting you. Do you want someone to talk about what a big, powerful, bad mannered straight man you are? Did your parents fail to set you down the path that now excites you to no end? It’s not your fault, it’s not even theirs.

Sometimes, life isn’t able to give us the tools to become the men we want so badly to be. Maybe you’re a little heavier than the average, maybe you’re too delicate, but something in your upbringing has set you apart from the men that are making you shove your hand down your shorts, stroking your shaft to mental image of musk and muscle and douchebag behavior.

If it sounds so appealing, that’s because your deeper being is begging you to realize this is what you want. It makes you so hard, huh? When I describe a thin guy’s shoulders spreading outwards, broad and strong with bouncing pecs. Beefy arms, tree trunk legs, thick beards reeking of dried pussy juice. The men I specialize in are a special breed, the elite. Of course you’re attracted to them, of course your little brain goes fuzzy and dizzy when you start to jerk it to the idea of a fag becoming a conservative, straight man.

Your cock throbs in your hand, each jerk like a flash in your mind, urging you to look through the illusion you’ve created and see the truth. You get so turned on by these stories because you wish it would happen to you, as if these changes need any magic. Imagine a beautiful woman cupping her fat tits, her slender fingers squeezing her nipples, her body jiggling and shivering with pleasure.

If the idea of sliding your fat cock between her boobs excites you, thrusting until your seed coats her bimbo face, then I’m sorry to tell you, my friend: you’re a straight man. And your body, your former values, are clouding your former rationality and urging you to recognize the kind of man you should allow yourself to become. Just stop taking everything so seriously, allow your thoughts to slow, stop worrying about manners and woke views.

Just think about those huge tits, bro. Think about a squirting pussy, imagine your thick tongue sliding up and down her folds, plunging into her. Imagine your strong hands on her tiny waist, your own stubble on your chiseled jaw growing slick with sweat and juices. Lick your lip, listen to yourself growl, your voice is low and powerful and so demanding. This isn’t a story, this isn’t a wish gone wrong, this is a human male realizing how badly he wants to be a traditional man. No more holding in your farts or belches, no more caring about people’a opinions, no more seeing this woman as anything more than a sex toy to blow your load into. She’s not wife material, brah, but that doesn’t mean she’s not ready to be a mother. Women should know your place like you know yours.

Your bones crack and shift, your expression turns to a sneer, your smile is always so cocky. You are thick with muscle, a cloud of body odor lingering around your glorious muscles, and your fat nine incher is already oozing pre. This is the life you want, the version of you that you want so desperately to take the steering wheel. So let him, bro, let that lustful trance take you where you need to go. Hit the gym, change your political opinions, accept that your cock wants to be deep inside a warm, wet cunt.

Don’t wait for magic, my bro.

There’s nothing more magical than a man who knows his place: and you’re never going to forget where you stand. At the top of the ladder, biceps flexed and your grin smug. Lesser men will wish to be like you, fags are gonna jerk it to your pictures. You just focus on the finer things in life. Sports, cigars, letting your nasty habits be heard and smelled.

Like pulling that blonde bimbo closer, your huge cock thrusting inside her slick folds, her silicone filled tits jiggling from the force. She moans, and you echo the sound with a low growl. You’ll never need to stroke your cock again to my stories — knowing you’ll never run out of fresh, tight pussy to ruin.

Let the trance win, brother. Let the better version of you free.

Growing into it

Andy was a skinny gay kid. New in the college scene he asked your help giving him a makeover. Looking into his closet, you were dismayed to only find cargo shorts and graphic tees. No way you guys were going to the club wearing that. You took him to the local goodwill and told him to bring you stuff he liked. 5 minutes later he comes back with a red flannel shirt four or five sizes too large. This kid was hopeless. But you weren't going to give up that easy. Hoping he'd see how ridiculous he'd look in that oversized shirt, you took him to a trying booth and asked him to try it on. For some reason he took off the basic tee he was wearing to try the flannel on. Just as expected it looked silly. Like a boy wearing his big brother's clothes. The sleeves flowed way past his hands. Half of his thighs were covered by the shirt.

"Maybe something a bit smaller, buddy. Guys wanna see some skin." You said.

But before you could say something else you notice something happening. Were you getting shorter? No. It was Andy. You'd figured you were both the same height but now you saw he was taller. Suddenly way taller. In the seconds you stood in awe, Andy's body had apparently extended itself to over 6 feet.

Despite still fitting largely, the shirt's sleeves were now the correct length.

"I don't know, man. I kinda like it." He said. His voice sounded deeper. More masculine. "You think I should show some skin, though?" He asked as he undid the first two buttons. You couldn't help but feel a twitch in your crotch from hearing his new voice.

As he finished undoing the buttons and studied his reflection again, you noticed the changes weren't over.

His face became more angular, more handsome than his usual cute.

With every breath Andy took, the shirt's fabric pushed further out, as big meaty pecs formed underneath. Round thick shoulders pushed the shirt into shape and now the sleeves were taught with bulging biceps and forearms.

"Uhh. Maybe tie it around the waist to see how it looks." You suggest. "The club can get really warm."

He nodded and began disrobing, giving you a smirk. You just wanted to see the results of his transformation, of which he seemed mostly unaware. As he slid the shirt off you witness 8 solid abs popping out as the process continued.

"Dude these shorts you got me are way too small." Andy said as he fumbled to unbutton his cargo shorts with his now bigger hands, the waist of which seemed really close to bursting from accommodating the swelling of his thighs and the appearance of a voluminous and bouncy bubble butt.

Huh... Somehow he thought his shorts came from the store instead...

As he ties the shirt at his waist you see the rest of his body bulking up as well. Feet extending and widening, calves tensing and swelling. The final growth happens as the vague silhouette of his dick through the fabric of his boxers became longer and thicker and then started bulging indecently out as the pouch became fully packed.

You just then realized the throbbing hard on you had after seeing your friend hulk out into this muscle god.

"I think I look great! Don't you?" He asks you, flexing and posing.

"Ye-yeah man. You look great actually." You stutter.

"I knew this one was just perfect for me! I can't wait to show it at the party." You just don't know if he means the shirt or his new hot body.

"You sure you don't want to pick something for yourself?" He vacantly asks, still absorbed by his own reflection.

Looking at Andy and then at yourself you quickly reply.

"Actually, can you show me where you found that shirt?"

New Policeman

this is my first story, I hope you like it, if you see any mistake or something to improve don't hesitate to comment it, thanks.

-----

Niko didn't know how he had ended up in this situation.

 Everything was rather confusing.

He was at the Edgewood police station in Florida, in a room with several soundproof panels scattered around, though not so many as to resemble a recording booth, but enough to isolate the noise. The room contained only a two-legged white table and black acrylic conference chairs on either side.

It resembled a movie interrogation scene, with the only difference being the lights. Instead of a table lamp used to shine directly in his face when the officer demanded answers, there was, fortunately for him, a ceiling fan circulating the air in the room.

Niko began to recall everything that had led him to this situation. He had initially been at Fuego Night Club, having a good time. Niko couldn't help but think of Rosalina, although her real name was Anya. The nickname came from her appearance: a woman in her early twenties with blonde hair tied in a high ponytail, a white T-shirt, and black (or dark blue, he couldn't tell due to the nightclub lighting) shorts, fair skin, and star stickers on her cheeks.

He had been sitting on one of the club's sofas, enjoying himself and not thinking about anything in particular (thanks to the incredibly loud music). He took his plastic cup and took a big sip of his Blue Hawaii, sighing with pleasure. He placed the cup on the table and headed to the dance floor.

He walked with confidence but with enthusiasm, feeling the heat rise due to the rum in her drink. He started moving in tune as a remastered version of Onyra's "The Monster" began, moving his shoulders up and down, raising an arm when the music hit the speakers.

Niko closed his eyes when he decided to let the music take control, like a puppet whose master guided its movements but with some self-control to avoid hitting anyone. He felt the other people on the dance floor bump into him and move around him, several people brushed against his back or arms, but only for a few seconds before they pulled away.

When he opened his eyes, he snapped back to reality, feeling the ecstasy of the music recede, along with his fatigue. He weaved and zigzagged his way through the crowd to exit, and after a while, he was out of the crowd.

When he returned to his area, he sat down and let himself sink into the seat. He looked toward the table where he had left his drink and realized it was no longer there. He scanned the area in case someone had accidentally knocked it over, but it wasn't on the floor.

"Perhaps someone took it," he reasoned. Niko turned his head in both directions, looking at the people in the other seats and checking the drinks they held. But there was no trace of his Blue Hawaii.

He let out an annoyed sigh.

He spun on his heels and headed towards the crowd gathered around the drinks bar. After some maneuvering, as there were other people trying to get drinks or staking out their spots for conversations, which he despised, though he couldn't deny he had done the same before.

He observed one of the bartenders behind the bar. He was young, perhaps in his mid-thirties, Latino (he didn't know from exactly where), short hair and a neatly groomed beard, and brown eyes. He wore the standard uniform, consisting of a black T-shirt and pants. He was serving two beers to a group of patrons and briefly glanced up, probably to check for new customers approaching.

Niko raised his hand to get his attention, and the bartender nodded, approaching him. He announced his order, raising his voice a bit to be heard over the music, but it was audible as the bartender nodded and began preparing the drink.

Niko reached into his pocket, searching for his wallet, and paid with a five-dollar bill. When he took the drink, he took a sip. It was refreshing, followed by the warmth of the rum. He moved back to his spot, but now there was no place to sit because a girl, whom he would later learn was named Estela, was sitting but occupying two seats, leaving enough space on either side but not quite enough for someone (unless they were quite skinny) to sit comfortably.

He approached, leaning toward her, taking her by surprise as she instinctively moved her body back in an attempt to create distance. Although it didn't help much as her body hit the backrest of the seat. Seeing her reaction, Niko stepped back to give her space, trying to convey that he had no ill intentions.

Although it seemed the girl didn't see it that way as she appeared nervous. Niko spoke, hoping the music wasn't too loud to convey his message, informing her that he just wanted to sit.

But it seemed the girl was unwilling to respond, just looking at him, trembling. Niko gave up, turning on his heels and heading toward another section of the nightclub.

After another zigzag through the crowd, he found a spot on the other side of the dance floors, at the opposite end of where his seat was, near the speakers. The loud music drowned out any thoughts, and even laughter and conversations were muffled.

He stood there, enjoying the moment, when someone tapped his shoulder. As he turned, he noticed it was an older man in his late forties, pale skin, worn and plump build, wrinkles on his face, pronounced dark circles, and a fairly prominent receding hairline. He was wearing a light brown shirt and beige pants.

There was another person behind him, a man with black hair, in his thirties, maybe a bit older, with a sturdy build, dressed in a black T-shirt. The attire of a security personnel.

The older man said something, but it couldn't be heard. Niko pointed to his ears, annoyed. In response, he took out his phone, pressed a few keys, and turned the phone to show Niko directly in his face. On the screen, against a black background, probably one of those note-taking apps, was written in white letters,

<Come with us.>

Niko was perplexed by the request. Why would they be calling him? He looked at the man, who then turned and started walking. After a few steps, Niko noticed the security guy standing where he was, staring at him with an expression that made it clear he wouldn't hesitate to restrain him if he didn't follow.

Niko didn't want any trouble, so he followed them.

As they exited the club, they were greeted by a gust of cool air, but Niko noticed two police officers present on the premises. One officer was talking to two girls a few meters away, though it was hard to make out exactly what they were saying. Only one of them was visible, gesticulating quite a bit, while the other was mostly obscured by the officer's figure, with only one of her limbs visible on the side.

The other officer remained by the vehicle, leaning against the passenger door, looking toward the entrance, waiting. When the older man exited, he stepped aside and stood upright. He approached when Niko and the security guard continued. The older man stepped aside, leaving the officer face to face with Niko, who was still confused."

The officer grabbed his arm, the grip firm, and shoved him into the patrol car despite Niko's protests. He raised his head to continue protesting, but the officer was already moving to the other side of the car, making way for passersby who wasted no time in pulling out their phones and began recording, blinding him with the flashlights they had presumably activated for better visibility.

The older man turned and entered the building, closing the door behind him, leaving the security guard at the door, staring at him and with the doors closed.

He heard the driver's side door open, and Niko turned to see the officer.

— This is a mistake. — Niko began, but it seemed the officer had heard those words before, as he said nothing.

— You have to listen to me. — Niko persisted.

But the officer snapped, "Be silent."

The tone he used made it clear he wasn't joking, so Niko obeyed. He could hear the voices of people talking on the street and sensed the seconds passing as camera flashes went off. After a while, almost thirty minutes later, they arrived at the station.

They pulled him out of the vehicle when it stopped. Some officers were coming out of the door. They had taken away all his personal items – house keys, cap, wallet, and consequently his ID card, and his cell phone – and placed them in a tray, which was taken by another officer who headed toward the door they had entered through initially.

The officer took him by the shoulder and led him into a waiting room where he could be observed at all times. It appeared he had company, as there were three people sitting in rows of tables scattered throughout the area, serving as a waiting room, with desks arranged in columns, three by six. Several officers sat at their respective desks, typing or answering calls, while others conversed before looking at some papers. It looked more like a scene from a movie set in an office.

The officer sat him in one of the chairs in the makeshift waiting area. Niko watched him walk away, disappearing around the corner. He remained seated, staring in that direction, waiting to see him return.

— Stand up.

"Heard someone calling, which startled him as he was caught off guard. He centered his attention on the person who had called him, and in front of him stood a woman, dressed like the others. Brown hair, tanned skin, perhaps in her thirties, with a serious expression on her face.

Niko simply obeyed. He didn't know how much time had passed, even though he started counting (he had reached five hundred and fifty-six) and only stopped when he began to feel drowsy out of sheer boredom.

Perhaps an hour passed, although it felt like five to Niko. He felt the door open, and a officer in his late forties, white, with a neatly groomed three-day beard and a pronounced mustache, and brown eyes, appeared. He wore the standard uniform and looked at Niko without showing any expression, approaching the table.

— Stand up.

<<Is this some kind of joke? How many more times are you going to make me stand up?>> Niko complained, but he did as ordered and stood up from the chair.

That's when they led him into this new cinematic room. He waited there for about ten minutes before the door opened again. This time, it wasn't a police officer, and the person wasn't even dressed as an officer. He was wearing a light gray tuxedo.

As if he had done this many times before, he approached the table, took the remaining chair and moved it aside, causing it to screech, and then sat down. He remained silent, staring at Niko as if he were a zoo animal.

He sat like this for what seemed to be ten minutes, although Niko was no longer sure.

— ¿Can I know why I’m here? — Niko finally asked.

The man seemed to smile, although the smile was small.

— Of course you can. — the man said, though his voice was higher-pitched than his appearance suggested. "You overstepped with a girl."

The news took Niko by surprise. Overstepped with a girl? But he didn't even try to talk to anyone... Then, as if it were presenting itself in his mind, the image of the girl he had asked for a seat came to his mind.

— I wasn't overstepping with her; I just asked for the seat— Niko stated.

— We know. Estela already confessed it to us.

Happiness welled up in Niko, and it was evident in the smile on his face.

— ¿So, can I go back home then? — Niko didn't hide his happiness.

The man in the suit let out a disappointed sigh.

— It's not as simple as that.

The smile vanished from Niko's face.

— But you said...

— I know what I said. — the man in the suit interrupted. — But did you think about what people saw?

Niko shook his head. Now that he thought about it, he was right. Not only had people seen him in the patrol car, but the officer had also turned to face the onlookers.

— Exactly. — the man in the suit continued, raising his index finger. — The evidence might disappear, but people have probably already shared your face on social media.

Niko hadn't thought about that either.

— Which means. — the man in the suit went on. — anyone who recognizes you, whether they were inside the nightclub or in the waiting room, will spell serious trouble for you.

Niko brought his hands to his head, looking down at the table. It felt like his world was falling apart.

— But don't worry; it's not the end of the world. — the man said reassuringly.

Niko looked up but didn't remove his hands from his head.

— We can give you a new life.

That didn't sound entirely certain, as if he could wave a magic wand and make the incident disappear from people's memories.

— What about the videos? — Niko asked.

— We'll make them disappear. — the stranger replied.

The stranger turned the page on the table without taking his eyes off Niko and then slid it in front of him.

Niko glanced at the paper, not paying much attention as the man took a pen from his pocket and placed it on the table. Written on the sheet was a declaration that Mr. Niko Lingray allowed the Florida Supreme Court to take responsibility for providing him with accommodation and enough money to subsist, in exchange for working a thirty-six-hour weekly schedule for an annual salary of seventy-five thousand dollars.

And below are several clauses, with the first one stating that you cannot engage in a second job. You must fulfill your duties and possess the necessary skills to perform them," the man explained.

— Is any of this legal? — Niko asked.

The man leaned his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together, still smiling.

— Of course, it is. You're applying for a job.

Niko felt that the situation was far from just a job application. But thinking about the situation, he didn't have many options. He could refuse, but just walking down the street and having people stare at him as if he were dangerous, and knowing that he might be hounded by people without any decency asking why he did what he did, wasn't a life worth living.

Niko gave in. He knew he didn't have a better way out of the situation. He picked up the pen from the table and began signing the paper. His signature consisted of his name written in cursive, with the 'N' in uppercase, curving into a serpentine pattern that connected with the 'I'.

The man in the suit took the paper, rose from his chair with a grating noise, and left the room. The door closed behind him. Now alone, Niko began to contemplate the situation he was in. So much had happened in just one day, and fatigue was catching up to him. He just wanted this to be over soon.

Niko waited and felt the room getting warmer. He sensed the gusts of air from the fan, but they had turned warm, adding to the heat. He waved his hand, trying to fan himself, but it didn't seem to work. He wondered if he was getting sick. He planned to ask the man in the suit if they could check on him or give him something for the discomfort.

Niko felt drops of sweat forming on his forehead and removed his cap, tossing it on the table. He wiped his forehead with his hand, not realizing that the area he touched began to take on a bronzed tone.

As he lowered his hand, he felt an itching sensation, as if it had fallen asleep. He began shaking it to get rid of the feeling, but without success. He opened and closed his hand to regain feeling, but that didn't seem to work either. He looked at his hand to see what was happening.

With horror, Niko watched as the veins on his hand bulged and moved as if they were snakes, slithering and extending down his arm.

He felt a tightness in his arm, as if someone were pulling it, as if it were about to be torn off. He raised both hands, placing them in front of his eyes, trying to convince himself that he wasn't seeing what he was seeing.

With horror, he realized that he wasn't hallucinating. It was clear that his right arm had elongated and was now much longer than his left, with his sleeve revealing the extended half of his arm, unlike the other. It was accompanied by a thick mass of black hair.

He looked at both hands, alternating between palm and back, inadvertently hitting the table due to the newfound length of his arms. His mind struggled to process what he was seeing, trying to convince himself that it was an illusion, but a part of him knew that wasn't the case, and he needed to call one of the officers.

He glanced at the door, screaming for help, waiting impatiently for someone to hear him. He felt a stabbing pain in his shoulder. He grabbed it tightly in an attempt to alleviate the pain, although Niko didn't notice that his shoulder was expanding and becoming quite prominent.

The burning sensation in his other hand began, and he knew what would happen next. He had to get up and show the officers what was happening. He rose from the chair, letting it drop with a horrible noise. He approached the exit, gripped the doorknob, but it wouldn't open.

Niko looked perplexed at the door, wondering why it was locked when he knew it had no lock. He hadn't heard the sound of a door being locked. He began pounding on it, begging to be let out, resisting the pulling sensation in his arm. He struck it once, twice, thrice... eight times with force, but the door wouldn't budge, and his hand hurt from the impact.

Then, the pain intensified. He thought he might have dislocated a joint in his hand from the pounding. He leaned his head against the door for support, examining his hand to assess the damage. He noticed that the top of his index finger was swollen, doubling in thickness compared to the others.

He cried out for help again, but no one seemed to hear him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He exhaled and inhaled again, attempting to manage the pain. It seemed to work, as the pain became more bearable.

Crack.

Crack.

Two more cracks followed. He howled in agony, throwing his head back. He examined his hand, thinking he had broken a finger. But as he looked at it, he saw that there was nothing visibly wrong, oblivious to the fact that the palm of his hand had become wider.

And as if a switch had been flipped, the sound of his fingers breaking became audible. Each finger started to elongate and thicken, resembling sausages, filling and forming a large, fleshy hand. His skin tightened, hardened, and formed calluses. Niko's eyes welled up with tears due to the excruciating pain.

The pain extended up his arm, and his skin began to ripple, resembling boiling water. With each ripple, his arm expanded, filling the muscles and creating strong biceps that burst through his shirt, tearing the fabric apart. Niko felt the weight unbalancing him, and he struggled to hold himself up until he couldn't bear it anymore, collapsing to the floor, his chin and knees hitting the ground with force as he cried out in pain.

Sweat had accumulated on his forehead and began to roll down his face, forming small puddles on the floor. Niko threw his head back in an attempt to suppress the pain, but it only spread to his chest. Unbeknownst to him, his pectoral muscles began to expand, pushing against his shirt. As his back arched and stretched like a candy cane, his shirt and jacket failed to cover his entire body, leaving his stomach exposed.

A tickling sensation in his throat intensified, causing him to cough uncontrollably. With each cough, his voice grew deeper, and the Adam's apple was pushed outward even more than it already was.

Crack.

Another crack echoed through the room, eliciting another scream. Niko brought his hands to his face, attempting to pull at his skin in a futile attempt to relieve the pain, but it was in vain. Unbeknownst to him, his jaw had retracted, making his chin more prominent. A tingling sensation filled his face as the hairs of his beard, especially on his chin, began to pull. As they grew, they tugged at the skin. The same happened with his eyebrows, which, though prominent, grew even thicker. His nose lengthened, and his skin stretched, leaving traces of exhaustion on his face, making him appear more mature.

Niko stumbled, barely managing to hold onto the table as his legs threatened to give way due to the excessive weight of his new body. Amidst the staggering, he observed how his skin was covered in a sheen of sweat, with droplets sliding down his body and falling to the floor. He moved his hand, noticing how the sweat glistened in the light.

Sweat continued to slide, depositing itself in his eyes, causing a stinging sensation. He rubbed his eyes desperately, unaware that the bluish color of his eyes was starting to darken, turning them into a dark brown.

Sweat now covered his entire body, leaving clear stains on the remaining clothes. One of the affected areas was his legs, which began to swell with muscle, tearing the fabric as it stretched with each passing second until it finally ripped open, leaving his jeans looking like extremely tight shorts.

He groaned as he felt his feet being constricted, as they had elongated to the point where they pressed against the shoe's rubber and leather. He clenched his fists in a desperate hope that the transformation would stop, fearing that his fingers would break as they were pushed against the sole of his shoes.

It seemed that his wish was granted as he started to hear the fabric tearing. He sighed in relief as each toe punctured through the material, emerging from the shoe's insole, allowing him to feel the coldness of the floor beneath him.

But something Nick didn't know was that with each breath, his memories were beginning to fade, leaving behind traces of his life, family, and studies. They were all melting away, dripping like an ice cream in the sun, sliding down to his balls. Where, upon feeling the extra load, he felt a blow to his testicles. As his thoughts emptied, he felt a sharp pressure as if someone were driving needles into his head. He pressed his forehead with both hands, but to no avail. Amidst several camera flashes, resembling scenes from an old movie, new memories emerged. Yet, upon reflection, he knew they were scenes from his own life.

He remembered being raised by his parents in a house in Silver Spring, completing his studies, and asking his father to enroll him in a gym, explaining his desire to become an officer, much like in the TV series "Blue Bloods." He recalled the time and dedication he had put into the tests, as well as the celebration that followed when his commanding officer handed him the paper stating he would work at the Edgewood police station for 14 years. He could still feel how his boss had called him just twenty minutes ago, informing him that he needed to return to the police station. When he inquired further about the order, his boss had mentioned that a member of the Department of Justice wanted to speak with him.

Niko took deep breaths to alleviate his fatigue, detecting a bitter, acrid sensation in the air. It was his sweat, which surprised him as he used deodorant every day. He raised his arm, wincing due to sore muscles, but as he brought it up, his armpit seemed as usual, with no excess hair. However, the odor was strong, as if even deodorant couldn't conceal it.

His crotch shoots forward, as if someone is pulling on an invisible rope. With each tug it slides down his thigh. Pulling and pulling, growing in size. Sliding down the side of his briefs, getting tight against his thigh like a fishing net.

Nick looked down as he watched his member grow inch by inch, leaving it at 7 inches. He moaned, because the fabric of the briefs was squeezing tightly. Nick arched his back as he felt a squeeze in his lower back, similar to someone squeezing his butt cheeks, contracting them. With each contraction, the buttocks became firmer and firmer, and consequently more prominent. Pulling at the fabric of the briefs, squeezing his member tighter, which elicited a moan. In an act of release, Nick tried to remove his underpants, which already looked like a thong because of how constricted they were. But he couldn't, he couldn't even get his fingertips in, so he pinched them, though also pricking his skin in the process. Stretching the fabric enough to get his fingers in, and in one motion he had removed them.

The heat seemed to subside, leaving him gasping for breath at the bad moment he was experiencing, though it seemed to focus on his crotch.He grabbed the chair that fell to the floor and sat down, grabbed his member and began to grope it.After a few seconds, his body began to spasm, as his member shot its load and with it, everything that represented Niko.

The door opens, and Nick turns to see the man in the suit returning, holding a uniform in one arm against his chest and a set of papers in his hand, presumably to keep the other arm free. Nick gets up from the chair, ignoring the drops still dripping from the tip of his member.

— Welcome aboard, Officer Mayers. — the man comments as he sees Nick standing. He offers a smile and extends the set of clothing.

Nick nods in response and accepts the outfit, laying it on the table. He searches through it until he finds a pair of boxer shorts. But then he remembers.

He looks over his shoulder at the man in the suit, indicating for him to leave the room so he can change. He's relieved to find that the man is standing with his back to him, which he appreciates.

With that, he begins to dress, starting with the boxer shorts.

— While you get ready, — the man in the suit announces, the sound of papers rustling. — I'll inform you of your new workplace and responsibilities.

Nick wanted to tell him that it wouldn't be necessary, as his only missions were to protect civilians and punish criminals. But he can only hope that he won't have to deal with paperwork.

After ten minutes of explanation, the man in the suit left the papers on the table, informing Nick that all the information he needed was there.

— It's a pleasure to begin, sir... — Nick left the sentence hanging as he didn't know the man's name.

— You can call me Vincent. — the man in the suit replied.

Nick nodded, and Vincent gestured towards the door, proceeding to leave the room. He returned to the office area where everyone seemed to be engrossed in their work. However, there were now two new faces in the waiting section.

Meanwhile, Nick continued walking towards the exit. If only he had looked back, he would have noticed that the man in the suit was still in the room, holding the door and then closing it. The door began to vanish, merging with the wall and disappearing as if it had never existed.

The early morning air was refreshing as Nick left the police station, crossing the parking lot to reach his Toyota Tundra. He took out his keys, started the engine, and left the parking lot to head home and rest. He needed to be as well-rested as possible because he had a lot of work to do with the move.