Wolfstx777 - Men 2 Men

The Pride Pin

"Have you got a little rainbow flag? Or maybe a rainbow handkerchief?" Edward asked the man behind the counter. He was on his way to a gay wedding and had seen a large pride flag in the window of this store which had given him an idea. "Basically something that I could put into my breast pocket for a wedding i'm going to." Before quickly adding: "To show my support to the grooms that is."

"Ah, how nice, although I'm afraid I only have large flags at the moment, but I do have a few pins left over from Pride, would one of those work for you?" replied the shopkeeper as he pointed to a box a little further down the counter.

"Looks perfect" Edward said as he picked up one of the pins.

"Just to check - you did say you wanted it to show you're an ally of the gay community didn't you? It's just that some of the items in this store can be a little, well, unpredictable, so just wanted to be clear about things before you try it on."

"Of course" Edward lied.

In truth Edward hadn't wanted to go to this wedding at all. He worked with one of the guys getting married, John. They had joined a law firm at the same time so had met during their induction and had been good friends for a while - at least until John had come out as gay and started dating guys. Edward was glad that John was happy, but had since mostly avoided hanging out together unless it was a work event. He had gone to one dinner soon after John's engagement to his boyfriend, Miguel, but had spent the whole meal feeling embarrassed. Everyone else at the table had been so obviously gay and they had made no attempt to talk quietly, so he was sure all the surrounding tables had been judging him all evening.

When Edward had received the invite to the wedding he had initially planned to decline it. What had changed his mind was the fact that a lot of John's straight female friends were going to be there, and with most of the other guys at the wedding being gay, it was almost guaranteed that he would hook up with one of the girls. He hoped that the pride pin was going to be the 'icing on the cake' with regards to getting attention from the girls. How could they turn down a guy who was so supportive of his friend? With any luck he would be back at home with a lady before the happy couple had even cut the cake.

"Here, let me put it on for you" the shopkeeper offered.

Edward had intended on keeping the pin out of sight until he had entered the wedding, but he didn't want to offend the shopkeeper so let him reach over and place the pin on his lapel - he'd just take if off as soon as he left the store.

Edward looked at the mirror behind the counter and his first thought was to worry that the pin might make the girls at the wedding think he was gay too. He started to wonder if it was a bad idea, and as if to confirm that he felt the pin prick his chest. Soon after he felt another prick and he wondered if the shopkeeper had failed to cover the back of the pin properly. When he started to feel more and more pricks on his chest, and not just where the pin was, he began to worry that something was wrong.

Edward felt like he was being stabbed with needles all across his chest and he felt like he had no choice but to pull his jacket off. He didn't know what was going on, but he needed to stop whatever was causing the pain.

Edward was confused. He had taken off his jacket and the pricking sensations had stopped, but when he looked down at his chest he didn't understand what he was looking at as it. What he first saw on his chest was a mix of colors that hadn't previously been there. It was as though someone had covered his chest in paint.

"¿Cómo?" Edward said aloud whilst continuing to stare at his chest. He had never had a tattoo so didn't understand what he was looking at. As he reached up to rub off whatever was on his chest it quickly dawned on him that the colors were not going to come off easily.

"What is this? Is this a tattoo? How do I get this off?" Edward asked in increasingly frantic tones, all with a slight Spanish accent. He had been so fixed on the new tattoos that he hadn't noticed that the rest of his body had taken on a subtle tan.

The shopkeeper didn't reply, he knew that if an item from his shop was not used as intended it could cause a little confusion for the customer, so he just waited to see what would happen.

"What is going on? And what's wrong with my voice?" Edward asked as he started to get angry. "I'm a dancer at Infernos nightclub and if you want to see me shake my ass... wait... no I meant to say i'm a dancer, no a dancer..." Edward had wanted to tell the shopkeeper that he was a lawyer at a powerful law firm and would kick his ass if he didn't fix what was going on but he didn't seem able to get the right words out.

Whilst Edward's mind tried to deal with what was going on, he started to wonder what sort of options he had to get rid of the tattoo, or what he could do just to cover it up. It was then that he looked back at the mirror and realised how much else had changed across his body. His heart sank as he knew there was no way he could cover everything up.

Edward sighed as he thought again about what to do with the tattoos, but was then confused. Why was he thinking of covering them up? He loved showing them off. He had spent so much of his life hiding who he was, but now there was no one who was going to stop him from being his true self. He was Eduardo - a proud Latino twink.

Eduardo felt the jacket he was holding and then remembered that he had come in to buy a new shirt. "Hey, do you have any dress shirts?" he smiled as he asked the storekeeper. "My best friend is marrying some fancy lawyer today and I want to look good for the occasion!"

“Is the room getting smaller, or am I getting bigger??”

Tumblr source : @thb671

Here’s a rainbow for anyone not feeling their best today.

I love the male to male transformation/Shapeshift.

Because it is more interesting, beautiful, attractive, and also sexual because it turns from a beautiful man to another beautiful and handsome man on physical levels and with sex appeal.

The Leather Jackets

"How about this one?" Finn asked as he held up a leather jacket to show to his friend Greg. "Seems a bit smaller than the others."

"Maybe, although perhaps we should try somewhere else?" Greg replied, he was getting a bit nervous now that they were actually in a store looking at jackets. A couple of nights ago they had gone to Infernos, their local club, and seen a flyer for an upcoming leather night. One thing had led to another and Greg had admitted that he had always had a bit of a thing for guys in leather. Greg had definitely not expected Finn to then suggest going to the leather night, but was excited when he did as he would never have had the courage to go on his own.

The only problem was that the flyer had said wearing something leather was mandatory, and neither of them owned anything suitable. They had joked about getting some harnesses, but had decided to play safe and go for leather jackets. Finn had already found a jacket he thought was good, but everything had been a bit too large for Greg. "Let's just try these on, and if they don't fit we'll try somewhere else."

So the friends made their way to the changing room where Finn was the first to try on his jacket. Finn was the more outgoing of the two, and had always enjoyed going out in fancy dress which was why he'd suggested attending the leather night, but even he was now worrying they might not be able to pull these costumes off. Finn had a bit of a baby face, so once he slipped his jacket on and saw himself in the mirror his first thought was that he looked like a child wearing adult clothes trying to look tough.

Finn had expected the leather to feel cool, which it was to start with, but once the jacket was on he was surprised to get a bit flushed. He was worried he might start sweating into the leather, but the warmth quickly faded away at which point he noticed just how comfortable the jacket felt.

Finn smirked a little as he looked at himself in the mirror. He straightened his back and pushed out his chest to show off his chiselled body. He started thinking of the other leather jackets he had but couldn't remember any fitting as well as this one.

"See Greg, nothing like a leather jacket to help make you look like a man. I'm glad you've finally agreed to join me at a leather night, and if you are anything like me you're going to love it." Finn said confidently as he checked himself out in the mirror.

"That's fine for you to say, you've worn stuff like this for years and have the body to suit it. I just don't think I can pull it off, especially not with something that is too large for me. I think we should go somewhere else." Greg said starting to lose whatever confidence he had.

"Well we are here now so you might as well try that jacket on. You'll at least know if you like the feel of it." Finn replied. He knew his friends at the leather night would love Greg regardless of what he looked like in the jacket.

Greg reluctantly started to put on the jacket. What he had not told Finn is that his interest in leather was not about looking cool. Instead it was about domination. He had always been small, weak and mostly submissive, but when he thought of leather he thought of heavily built intimidating men and everything he wasn't.

So Greg knew that even if the jacket had been his size it would never be right to him, something which was confirmed to him as he looked at himself in the mirror. Greg thought he looked ridiculous and knew that the idea of going to a leather night had been a huge mistake. Greg started to feel anxious as he thought about how he should never have said anything to Finn. The jacket started to feel suffocating around Greg's body, but before he could take it off he felt the ball of anxiety in his chest burst out across his whole body.

"Wow, that looks great on you Greg" Finn said as Greg admired himself in the mirror.

"What did you call me Boy?" Greg barked back whilst staying focused on the mirror.

"Sorry, I meant the jacket looks great on you Sir."

"Another slip up like that and i'll be forced to punish you." Greg firmly replied as he turned to face Finn, with both of them getting turned on by the thought of what might come later.

THE TF COMMUNITY IS NOT OPEN TO CHILD PREDATORS.

WRITERS: STOP WRITING STORIES INVOLVING MINORS THAT HAVE SEXUAL CONTENT IN THEM. 

READERS: STOP REBLOGGING THOSE STORIES. STOP GIVING WRITERS A FREE PASS FOR WRITING THAT SHIT. 

IF YOU SEE A STORY INVOLVING AN ADULT SWAPPING INTO OR POSSESSING OR BEING AGE REGRESSED INTO THE BODY OF A TEEN AND PERFORMING SEXUAL ACTS EITHER TO THEMSELVES OR WITH OTHERS, THAT CONTENT IS INAPPROPRIATE AND SHOULD BE REPORTED.

GET CHILD PREDATORS OUT OF OUR GODDAMN COMMUNITY, OFF OF TUMBLR AND INTO JAIL. FUCK OFF.

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.

osito_blanco on Cam

All of Us Strangers (2023) dir. Andrew Haigh