Wolfstx777 - Men 2 Men

Yo, during puberty, you gotta learn this: rock a fresh beard and keep that chest hair in check, bro. Otherwise, you’ll never be the king of gains at the gym, ya feel me?

Another best transformation of male to male.

The Woolly Socks: Part 2 - Dan

As Dan crept out of the bedroom he wondered if moving in with Chris had been a mistake. For the third night in a row he had woken up cold in the middle of the night with the covers pushed off the bed. He knew Chris didn't do it deliberately and it was just his boyfriend instinctively trying to keep his furry muscular body cool, but it had happened enough times now that it was no longer amusing to Dan whose slim toned physique struggled to stay warm. Dan had tried going back to sleep but wasn't able to get comfortable so decided to do some reading in the living room. Chris would be getting up soon for his gym session so he would try and get a bit more sleep after Chris had gone.

The couple's differing routines were another issue with the relationship. Chris had a group of gym buddies that would work out in the early in the morning, whereas Dan never went to the gym as he instead did training with his running club after work. Before moving in together they had often gone out of their way to spend time with each other, but now they seemed to have got into a domestic rut where they actually spent less time together.

As Dan moved into the living room he shivered a bit and couldn't help thinking about how their different preferences for the heating in the apartment was another issue. Even in the middle of winter Chris would often walk around with barely anything on, whereas Dan would always be wearing at least one thick jumper. Dan didn't mind getting to see so much of his boyfriend, and he liked having easy access to rub his hands through the hair on Chris's chest, but he had started to worry about how different their lives seemed to be. Dan worried that they just didn't have enough in common and moving in together had made that painfully clear.

Dan had picked up some clothes from the bedroom before leaving, but in the dark he hadn't been able to find his socks. As he walked barefoot on the cold floor he wondered if he could cope without socks, but he quickly decided that he'd have to go back for them, which was when he noticed the white socks on the floor by the laundry. Chris had mentioned the previous night that he had bought a pair of socks but had found them too hot. As Dan walked over to them they did seem a bit thicker than the thin socks that Chris normally bought. Dan wasn't complaining though as they seemed like they would be perfect for keeping his feet warm until Chris got up.

After putting the socks on Dan was surprised by how warm they were. He felt a warmth creeping up from his feet but was unaware that warmth was due to thick hairs growing in all over his legs. Dan also didn't notice as his legs, that had been toned from countless miles of running, started getting more defined as they thickened up with muscle. Instead Dan started to think about the effort he had been putting into leg day at the gym, in particular growing his calf muscles despite all his buddies saying that muscle was mostly defined by genetics.

The warmth Dan was feeling quickly travelled up into his chest. He didn't notice as hairs burst out all over his stomach and then across his chest, he also didn't notice as his flat chest quickly swelled up with muscle whilst his shoulders widened out and his arms expanded to match. Instead the burning he had felt in those areas made sense to Dan as he was in the middle of his winter bulk, and was really pushing himself each session. Chris had recently made some gains in the gym, but Dan had always had the slightly bigger body and he wanted to keep it that way.

Finally the warmth reached his face and caused his beard to grow out, but for Dan that made sense as he had been growing it out during his bulk. He had intended to trim it back down in the spring, but he had decided he liked the look and was considering keeping it. Dan had also noticed Chris had been rubbing his cheeks more than normal too so he didn't think Chris would have a problem if the beard stayed all year round.

Dan looked at the jumper that he was about to put on and then wondered why he had taken it from the bedroom. He had woken up due to the bedroom being too hot and had come out to the living room to cool down, so a jumper was the last thing he wanted to put on. Dan decided that even the socks he'd put on were too much, so he quickly slipped them off.

Instead Dan walked across to the fridge and enjoyed the cool breeze on his chest that came after he opened it. He decided to start getting breakfast ready as Chris would be getting up soon and they didn't want to be late for their buddies at the gym. It was chest day today which they both enjoyed, although Dan's favorite part of the day actually came in the evening when they would spend time massaging each others sore furry pecs and then snuggling up together on the couch.

Dan couldn't believe how lucky he had been when he met Chris. It seemed like he had met his soul mate and now they had moved in together everything was perfect.

Punished For Pride

“Hey stud, time to come back to Earth! Weren’t you going to flex those muscle tits of yours for me?”

As Joseph shook his head, the man gave a dopey chuckle before taking a puff from the cigarette that loosely hung from his lips. Despite thinking such a command was weird, he pulled open his shirt and began to sensually pop his pecs for the enthusiastic twink standing in front of him. Upon doing it a few times and watching the twink stare in absolute lust though, the sudden throbbing of his boner made him shake away such a bizarre thought. Why would this be weird? He loved nothing more than flaunting his godly body to pretty twinks like this guy!

Across from him Oliver, the twink, couldn’t help but have a full-body shiver while standing outside in his glittery mesh crop top and vibrant purple booty shorts. Although this was partially due to the cold breeze that whipped against his frail frame, he was truly shivering in both delight and amusement at the man who was continuing to flex his muscles and remark about how pretty Oliver was. The reason behind this was just a few minutes ago, the bulky redneck had been a homophobic asshole who had admonished Oliver for his “faggy” attire and threatened to beat his ass if he didn’t change.

Growing up in a small town, Oliver was used to his fair share of close-minded people who didn’t accept his lifestyle, especially in high school as he found himself bullied by countless jocks. It was through his own desperation for relief from these situations that allowed him to stumble upon the art of hypnosis, which he quickly began to study and become an expert in. In addition to wanting to make his life easier, he was desperate for a little bit of revenge and thus began to one-by-one send his tormentors into a deep slumber as he retooled their minds and personalities to his liking. 

Given how extreme their hatred was of a self-identifying queer man, Oliver was left with no other choice but to cheekily assume they were closet cases and thus it was his task of freeing them from the deep closet they had buried themselves into. From there, his school was going through a coming out epidemic as every single jock who tormented Oliver suddenly broke up with their gorgeous cheerleader girlfriends, declared their homosexuality to the world, and began to spend time in the locker rooms after their practices exploring each others’ bodies.

Ever since he made his way to college where he was surrounded by more open-minded and accepting individuals, Oliver’s penchant for hypnosis had become less and less frequently utilized. But after encountering Joseph leaning against the brick wall of a next door biker bar, old habits die hard so he approached the man and sent him into a deep slumber. In addition to turning him into a proud gay man, the twink altered his personality to become somehow who loved to flaunt their body and flex their muscles – so much so that the man implanted a suggestion for Joseph to quit his job instantly and search for work at the gay club as a go-go dancer.

Upon hearing the man ask if he could join him, Oliver extended out an arm and watched as the formerly stern redneck giggled like a schoolgirl and wrapped his burly forearm around the twink’s. As Joseph quickly pulled his cigarette from his lips and flicked it away, the duo looked at each other and smiled before they made their way into the club for a hot and sweaty night…

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Zac Smith.

You walked in the elevator, a guy standing there with the most insane cut abs taking a picture of himself. He didn’t care, he just stood there as you checked out that body. You noticed a thick, long imprint on his grey joggers. He knew you were looking, he grabbed it and started shaking it. It was for sure his dick growing bigger and harder.

He motioned me to come closer and then he pulled his semi hard hung cock from his pants. I got on my knees, as he pushed me down and forced it immediately in my mouth. He pulled down his joggers to his knees, and kept his short lifted for me to see his perfect abs and powerful thick chest. He wore a helmet so I couldn’t see his face, I didn’t know whose cock I had in my mouth.

I felt his cock getting fully erect, hard as steel and thicker than it was before he shoved it in my. He didn’t speak, but he just forced me to take it all the way. His big heavy low hanging balls hitting my chin as he face fucked me. His whole shaft down my throat I could hardly catch a breath. The taste of his dick leaking pre tasted salty yet also sweet as honey. The musky scent coming from his hairy bush covering his pubic area intoxicated me. He really skull fucked me hard, feeling his shaft moving in my throat, nearly choking I felt it throbbing. He groaned as I felt it throb again wildly as it blasted powerful jets of cum down my throat. He kept my head in place. It felt thick and the taste so sweet. He pulled his still hard shaft from my throat as the ding from the elevator sounded. He walked out without saying a word, leaving me on my knees and his seed in my stomach and mouth.

Four days later I came back from work, I stepped in the elevator. A big guy stepped in as well, when the door closed he said - “whattup slut” - confused I looked at him. “Maybe this you remember” he lifted his shirt up and I saw again those perfect abs. “A little cute fag like you is just what I need again. That pretty throat is probably nothing compared to that boy hole”, he continued: “come here” he flexed his big muscled arms as he pulled me closer. He groped my ass, slapped on it. He took my chin, ordered me to open my mouth. He spit straight away in my mouth and slapped it playfully.

“Come” he walked out and I followed him. Entering his place I noticed how disorganized and messy it looked. I saw clothes on the floor everywhere, he filled up a glass of water. I looked around as he gave it to me, ordering me to drink it. I gulped it down. We sat on the couch as he took his shirt off, I really liked his muscled body. I wanted to kiss him, but he directed me to his pecs. I kissed, licked and sucked on his nipples. He rubbed my head as he moaned softly. I started to feel really weak, lightheaded. I saw him however getting pumped up, his body looking like it got a decent pump. His short sprouting a massive tent.

“I gave you a pill to have those muscles relaxed, you gonna need it, I took something else. Keep me going, these balls are filled up. Last time I emptied them was in your mouth.”

He carried me to the bedroom, I moved my arms around his wide neck. When he threw me on the bed he straight away pulled me towards the edge. My legs being hold on the air, I felt him rubbing his big cock against my hole. He slowly penetrated me, it didn’t hurt at all. My hole just giving in and opening up for him. “Fuck, the drug works perfectly. You are taking my oversized alpha cock with ease. Taking my baseball bat sized meat. It’s so tight.”

I didn’t remember his cock this big, was he just having a semi last time. This is twice the size I had in my throat. When I looked down I could see shape of his cock moving as he thrusted in me. Too weak to do anything else I lay there taking his hard pounding. His muscled body looking so hot, I lay there moaning as he whored me out. He was loving how good my hole felt, until he suddenly stopped. “Fuck, you are just perfect for me. I bet you enjoy having a real alpha pounding you” I nodded. “I am taking another boost, fuck that safety crap” I looked as he walked away and picked up a pill and swallowed it down with some water. Right after he came back and went straight back to fucking me. “Yeah I got these amazing pills last week, alphazz. They turn you into the truest potential alpha male. I guess my potential is off the charts, this was my last one”. Still on my back I rode the waves of pleasure, his big cock throbbing inside me. It goes deeper than any cock has gotten before. My prostate assaulted with immense force. Staring at his perfect body I saw it changing before my eyes. His pecs enlarging, his whole body frame widening. My legs spread out as his shoulders broaden. He started roaring, that’s it. “You are mine now boy, watch me take my final and perfect form. When it’s done you will beg to be mine. Watch me change”.

I did just that, while he flexed and praised himself I saw him becoming bigger and hotter. Hair sprouting at all the right places, thick nice amount of fur covering his godlike physique. His jawline improving, now it could work as a snowplow so sharp. It as well got covered by a big fur, improving on his masculine features even more. His voice got noticeable deeper, when I definitely could feel my insides stretching even more. I watched as the shape of his cock inside my body enlarged.

He just then crawled on top of me, his musky manly scent of his furry chest invading my nose. He got himself on top of me, he began pumping again and with that my whole mind just shot off. It felt so good, I drooled and moaned. His face said it all. He loved what he had done to me, telling me I am now his little boy. His property, from now on I belong in his bed and take care of him. He said he is going to mark me as his own pretty soon, I knew he meant unloading those heavy balls. Heavy with thick fertile alpha cum, he pushed in all the way as the food gates opened. He pumped all he had in my guts. I felt it filling me, the warm seed of his. He left me gaping with his load leaking from me. Telling me that once I’m ready we will move my belongings to his place, and I’m gonna move in.

Dude, pimples and a wonky beard are just some of the lame stuff about growing up. But no worries, bro, there are sweet hacks to get through this mess!

Oh come on that’s too easy! 😂 Ripping for sure.

Clothes ripping is an essential part of the TF! That’s like keeping an action figure in its box.

Plus the whole purpose of getting out of the clothes is to enjoy what’s underneath! I’m getting out of them by any means possible, and yes that includes ripping!

Plus I love a lot of sensory description in my writing—especially sounds. Clothes ripping is a super hot, super necessary part of the sensory experience of tf imo!

Some may have different opinions, but if it’s me? The clothes are ripping.

Pecs. I love them.

People who can transform into other people tend to have one part of a body they love. For me, dicks are cliché and ass is boring. I could see why people would like feet but I'm not that type of guy. But pecs. Sweet, sweet pectoralis major - the largest and superior muscle on the chest wall, that's where the gold is at.

Whenever I transform into other people, my pecs are the first thing I change. The feeling of having your man-boobs stretch and get filled with dense muscles is one of the most euphoric feelings a man could feel. Oh, the joy of waking up knowing that you can grab and squeeze both jigglers.

Most of the time, I like to keep them hairy. For me, hair in your chest exudes brimming manly strength. I like to cop a feel for my pecs and feel the light bristles of my hair run between my fingers. It's kind of therapeutic when I do that. Whenever I show them to other people, they either get intimidated or infatuated. I like both, but the latter gets you several invitations to the bedroom. When I do get invited, I always make sure to have my pecs satisfied.

Although, there are times when I like the absence of hair. I assume it's a placebo, but I'm more sensitive when I lack hair. I moan immediately when someone's finger explores my pecs and nipples. How I'd squirm when they circled my areolas. Or how I'd get to my knees when their tongue prods my nipples.

To make the best of both worlds, I like to keep a tiny patch of hair just between the two breasts. Such big and magnificent pectoralis pairs pretty well with a manly bearded face.

It's always fun saying, "Hey, my eyes are up here," whenever someone stares at my rack. I love it more when I grab their hands and tell them that it's okay to squeeze them. The fluster on their faces is always a priceless thing to see.

So, yeah. I'm the pecs guy. I love it. I'm practically obsessed with it. I don't think I'll ever change, and that's a good thing.

Spanish Shortcuts

Heyo, Here’s a Latino cultural/racial change, also my first foray into a possession transformation! Lessons to be learned about clicking dodgy links and letting spirits walk all over you!

¡Espero que lo disfrutes Atajos en Espanol! -Occam

The foreign language requirements of any American high school are guaranteed to be lackluster. It is no wonder that a nation so fixed on instilling American and English supremacy was so wont to neglect the study of foreign languages and culture. For his part Claude had just about forgotten all the Spanish that he learned not too many years ago. At the present moment he is browsing the web looking for some way to reclaim and improve on his meager knowledge. Despite his desire however, he is shockingly unwilling to do much at all to pursue this end.

Rather than the tried and true method of studying each day Claude is instead looking for not only the easy way, but an instantaneous way to regain his lost knowledge. This is obviously a beyond foolish endeavor, though having long heard tales of people waking up speaking in languages they hadn’t learned he was deep in rabbit holes online scouring for a ticket to bilingualism. Unwilling to admit that they were just old wives’ tales or shitposts he clicks link after link sure the next one will lead to some fruition.

Deep in websites he certainly should not be visiting without a firewall he actually stumbles on a thread in Spanish. Hastily translating the page through Google it promises the fluency of a native speaker through a single click. Claude scratches his cheek wondering whether or not to go through with it, could be malware, probably just a link to a meme or the like. He looks at the link in blue text, it’s just a name: Carlos Herrero. With little further ado Claude decides fuck it what’s the worst that could happen and clicks the name in blue.

The lights in his room flicker as his hand holding his mouse is promptly shocked. He pushes away from his desk shaking his hand in pain as suddenly there is a chill in the air. He shivers as he hears a voice, deep and unknown, whispering in his ear. “Hola hola hola mi perrito.” Claude shakes his head feeling the tickle of a beard on his cheek and swats at the air. “Ay! Lo siento, ah- ¿cuál es su nombre? Claude ¿Verdad? ¿Me entiendes?” (Ah! Sorry, uh- What is your name? Claude, is it? Can you understand me?) 

Claude looks around his room in shock at this mysterious voice, immediately assuming he’s lost his mind. He shakes his head trying to wake up or come to his senses, after a few shakes he feels a cold powerful hand grasp his jaw. He hears the voice continue to speak in words he couldn’t understand and did his best not to process lest it worsen the state of his mind. His eyes widen in shock as he stares into the space, feeling the skin on his face contort in response to a hand that is not there. He feels the grip tighten and his breathing  accelerates as he starts to hyperventilate.

As if in response to his fear the hand disappears from his face and he feels a heavy arm around his shoulder. “¿No querías saber español?” (Do you not want to know Spanish?) Claude’s ears pick up as he hears Spanish he can just about recall. In doing so his brain immediately reprocessed the preceding events in order to maintain any semblance of sanity. The link must have worked! This is just a dream or something that will end with him knowing Spanish, just like a video game. He just needs to play along until he wakes up. Neglecting how real everything clearly is he addresses the voice, willing himself to believe whatever it is that it’s not malevolent. “Okay, uh I’m down for whatever, thanks for your help, uh, ghost?”

“De Nada, Claudio.” With this Claude’s visions flicker as the chill in the air fills him. He gasps and sees his breath condensate as every inch of his body is ice cold. Claude falls out of his chair and scratches at himself, instinctively trying to claw something out of his body. He rolls onto his hands and convulses, retching as if trying to throw something up. As the seconds pass he feels his body rapidly warm from the bitter freeze, unsure if this is a mirage of heat like the comfort one feels in the throes of hypothermia he paws at his chest.

Before finding confirmation in any way Claude hears the alluring whispers once more, though this time not tickling his ear. Rather it is now a voice within his own head. “Testing testing, ah would you look at that. Now I’m speaking a language you can understand huh? Hahah!” Claude’s brow furrows as he wipes spit from his mouth. This was not the easy nap and wake up anew process that he was promised. As if it had access to his thoughts the voice responds to this. “Ah sorry if I misled you little guy, this is going to be a bit of work. Trust though! It will certainly be easier and quicker than wasting your time studying!” Claude rolls his eyes before remembering since this is probably a dream that at the very least in reality this will be over briefly. 

Claude then tilts his head and asks out loud to the voice in his head, “Why are you speaking in English now?” It sounds just like the one he heard earlier, if not a little more playful as it responds, “Ahh language processors, something or other- Don’t worry your little head about it, in time we both will be thinking in Espanol ya? In the meantime why not jumpstart it!” Claude purses his lips trying to find the inscrutable voice’s intentions as he does so the heat in his body begins to convert to energy.

He suddenly feels as if he’s had enough caffeine to power a body three times his size. He feels every muscle in his body demand attention and exercise as his hands start to shake. “Oh would you look at that! If it’s any help any time I used to get excited or stressed I’d always hit the gym, ya dig?” Already motioning to get changed for the gym to blow off some of this energy Claude pauses to once more try and understand the implications of the voice’s statement. “Sorry, what do you mean you used to?” 

There is then a jarring silence in his mind. Claude stands, gym clothes in hand, without a thought in his mind before the voice replies trying its best to disarm him despite its deep gruff tone, “Ah well, you know how these things go, it’s just dream logic right? This is all lucid dream, the quicker you stop questioning the sooner you’ll be a pro.” He feels a vein of chill air dash through his mind once more and he nods in agreement. His eyes lose their sharpness as he decides to just listen, throwing on some clothes and heading out.

Heeding the voice he endeavors not to question his circumstances. He gets in his car and does not wonder why, if he is truly dreaming, that he did not just poof over. Feeling his heart start to beat quickly in his chest, in response to anxiety in his chest or to the energy only continuing to course through his veins he is not sure. He looks in his rearview mirror to calm himself and sees the same reflection he always has. Claude smiles at himself seeing at least his appearance is static in this dreadful dream and heads in to get this over with, the voice in his cheering him on as he makes his way in. Increasing in fervor and volume with each step towards the door.

Once inside he Claude is shocked as the voice suddenly drops out of his head leaving him once more with the harsh silence of but his own thoughts. After having such a loud visitor in his mind he is almost uncomfortable with the feeling. Stepping up to the counter to check in he greets the receptionist, “Heyo! It’s Claudio hermano!” The receptionist tilts his head as for a second it’s almost like two voices came from the man in front of him. Claude looks down at himself and clears his throat before trying again, “Lo, Urgh, Sorry about that, Um It’s Claude Smith.”

The receptionist checks him in and Claude goes off to stretch. He doesn’t usually spend much time at the gym, just enough to stay thin. But something inside him tells him that today will be different. Something inside him. His head twitches to the side as the idea washes across his mind. Looking around the room to ensure he’s alone he tries talking to the voice, doing so he does not notice that his pitch has lowered, “Hey uh, I know you told me not to ask questions. But did you make me call myself Claudio earlier?” Having paused his stretches he feels a burning in his arms and legs demanding they keep moving. Obeying the pain, his lips quiver as if he’s about to speak and the voice responds, “Ay ¿Crees? (You think so?)Es just a slip of the tongue ya?”

Claude continues stretching carefully, taking deep breaths to assuage the anxiety building in his chest. He is facing away from the wall of mirrors, unintentionally or through some subtle manipulation. Otherwise he may notice as his hair slowly begins to darken to a deep shade of brown. The blonde locks he has always been proud of maintain their length as they darken unnaturally. The thought pops into his head that he would look good with brown hair si? He shakes it away as soon as it appears though, biting his lip to avoid voicing his concern at how much power this “voice” has over him.

Trying to center himself he closes his eyes as he continues to stretch. The companion in his mind is thankfully quiet as he pushes away the discomfort at the silence and instead appreciates the freedom. Little does he know the presence is simply acting on him in other avenues as he stretches. Claude smiles as he feels the burning relief of his stretches, grunting quietly enough that he notices not how his voice has continued to deepen, inching closer to the voice that is not his own. 

The pleasant burn of his legs as he stretches them becomes almost intoxicating as he leans against the mirrored wall. Were his eyes open he would see his calves begin to grow beyond those that he wakes up to every morning. They begin to bulge larger and longer as he extends them. Muscle the size of a baseball forces its way onto them as he stands smiling dumbly. His thighs then stain larger to match pace as they expand to hold the weight of someone a foot taller than he. The soothing burn of stretching hides the soreness that should be apparent and Claude begins to sweat as if he has been heartily working out for some time now.

Not to be outdone there is a whisper in his head that he should stretch his arms as well. Without a further thought, almost without his mind even sending the order to do so, his arms are out in front of him. Each second his arms lie extended they stretch further out from his torso. Claude motions to stretch his shoulders, wrapping one arm around the other, his biceps rub against each other as he squeezes his arm tight to his chest. His arms begin to show a bulge of muscle as he stands there biting his lip at the pleasure being wrought upon him through simple stretching.

Finally he raises his arms above his head to stretch his meager chest, struggling to do so as his larger muscles have begun to impede his dexterity. With his arms in the air and his pits exposed he notices that something has begun to stink up the locker room he’s been stretching in. Claude opens his eyes looking for the assailant, to no avail. He turns his head to the side thoughtlessly putting his nose in his pit, finding the scent closer he takes a deep breath before finding himself starting to chub at the scent. The voice in his head laughs, “¡Jajaja! ¡Nice brazos (arms) perrito! ¿A ti también te gusta mi olor, eh?” (You like my smell as well huh?)

Despite his best efforts at centering himself during his stretches, he is once more consumed with anxiety. He looks down at his body that he knows should be petite but instead finds one that does not go two days without hitting el gimnasio. He flinches as his mind automatically went for the word in Spanish. Wait, did the voice in his head just say his smell!? He sniffs the air and a thought forces itself to the front of his mind, Well this is what I wanted wasn’t it? His ears ring as he is not sure if those are his thoughts or ones implanted by whatever monster is doing this to him.

Claude feels an itch on his hand and he looks down to see the hand that clicked that link some time ago as it begins to darken. He sees a rich tan begin to spread up his suddenly muscular arm as veins throb down it aiming to increase the mass. “Q- What es, happening!?” Claude turns to look in the mirror and finds the tan racing across his body. He sees the patches of his unmistakably white skin tone become naturally sunkissed as his eyes widen in shock. He freezes up and the voice in his head takes advantage and tries to seize control outright, flexing his arm and revealing the thin patch of blonde hair in his pit as it grows dark as the hair on his head and thickens beyond the pale. The voice speaks in his mind deeper and stronger than ever as he begins to outright vie for control, “Tranquilo Claudio. (Chill out Claudio.) Let us see what I can do jaja!”

It takes a bit of concerted effort but the voice, who outs himself unsurprisingly as Carlos himself, step by step forces Claude’s body across the room in his catatonia. Claude feels a smirk on his face as Carlos positions him at the bench press. He clumsily lays back on the bench before checking the weights. Looks like some cabrón left his weights on the bar, though actually it's fortunate as Carlos doubts he has the ability to do such complex motor functions as he feels Claude start to wake from his stupor.

Carlos feels an itch on Claude’s face and he begins to smirk as he feels facial hair begin to grow, “Ay he might have cojones yet jaja!” Claude feels his mouth move of its own accord and finally notices that his voice has lowered considerably and he feels his body struggle as he tries to gasp as hears it develop a deep accent.

Before Claude can wrestle control back Carlos grabs for the bar and starts to do a rep. He grunts as he realizes this body is simply not strong enough at the moment to manage the weight that was left on the rack. As the pole is just about to pin him however Claude senses the peril and both minds in the body force the bar up. “¡Bien Claudio! Let’s see what we can do juntamente si?” (together yes?) Claude tries to grunt out a protestation but is suddenly racked with pain as his body must grow larger to force the bar up.

Both men feel as weight begins to pile onto the twink’s only recently muscled body. Claude feels as pecs develop on his chest, totally ripping the tank top that had grown tight while stretching. Carlos feels as his biceps surge larger than the thighs this weak body had not two hours ago. The expression on his face flickers between ecstasy and concern as he lies on the bench doing repetitions as his core strengthens and puts on mass.

After his chest and arms grow large enough to send existential fear into Claude’s mind and a hungry lust for more into Carlos’ balls, Claude stumbles off the bench and falls to the floor, letting the weights crash next to him. He feels pin pricks as tattoos begin to stain his tanned skin and he cries out in his changed voice, “No! Este es- This isn’t right!” with each word his voice cracks deeper and the English words become a tad more difficult to maneuver his mouth around. Without a beat, Carlos immediately takes control of his mouth and responds as his voice finishes changing to match the one in his head. “Ah, ahí estás equivocado amigo. Esto es perfección.” (Ah, there you are wrong friend. This is perfection)

Claude stands to stare in the mirror watching sweat trail down his body and ink rise in his skin. He looks at his chin as a beard begins to shadow his face. He sees his eyes as they flicker and begin to darken to a deep cacao brown. His lip quivers as if he is about to cry before without any input from him it turns to a sneer as he feels Carlos chastise him without words. Claude feels a pit in his chest as not only does he not need to hear them, he begins to feel the disdain himself. As if the will of Carlos was starting to become his own.

This causes a surge in his crotch as he feels in that regard Carlos has already wrestled full control. He feels his balls that are not his begin to grow and demand attention. They feel full and needy as pre begins to leak out of his growing erection. That happens anytime he goes to the gym si? As his eyes shift down to see his bulge make itself known his facial hair expands and his pubes begin to crest above his waistline. The small bush of pit hair begins to grow into a jungle as his balls work overtime to produce testosterone to power his poderoso body.

Feeling the hormones from Carlos’ balls pump through his veins Claude realizes what a losing battle he faces. He feels his thoughts begin to mingle with the man he foolishly allowed into his body as he begins to feel himself overwhelmed with the pressure and lust issuing forth from his crotch. He feels his fluency in English begin to wane as Carlos begins to overpower every aspect of his personality. Claude continues to stare at his reflection in the mirror and the anxiety and fear rapidly dissipate as he enjoys the power that he wields. “¡Dios estoy tan chacondo!” (God I’m so Horny) The two men voice as one, his voice reverberating through his chest as he feels power continue to surge through him.

Claude watches as his body flexes itself in the mirror without a single thought or any input from him. Not that he minds, it’s doing exactly what he would be doing anyway si? He smirks seeing his cock bob up and down as he struts across the gym floor. Every thought in his head is in fluent Spanish as he feels his identity fully mingle with Carlos’ as they truly become one. Despite this originally being Claude’s body he feels himself shrink and mold as he becomes an aspect of Carlos’ personality. Every action, every word, every movement will be crafted by the two of them. Though altogether Claude will just about always find himself thinking just as Carlos does, and both minds will more often than not be ruled by the powerful hormones coming from below.

“Debería haber preguntado sobre los términos y condiciones, Hermano.” (Should’ve asked for the terms and conditions bro.) He thinks to himself as he makes his way to the gym’s showers to pump one out. Over time even Carlos would forget that this has not always been his body. Each day he would continue to make it his own, increasing his mass and power. Outgrowing a wardrobe of clothes he would never be caught dead wearing. It did not take long at all to establish his supremacy as Carlos Herrero. Though there was some inherent difficulty navigating this land only knowing Spanish, Carlos managed well enough, confident that if needed he could perhaps let his passenger breathe enough to regain some English. At this point however it’s hard to say if any remnants of Claude remain, and moreover if he would even desire to emerge back into his own mind, it is of course much easier to simply indulge in the ceaseless pleasure he has found for himself within Carlos’ mind.

Sean Maygers Maximum Torque (2020) dir. Tony DiMarco Raging Stallion