Trouble At The Bachelor Party

osito_blanco on Cam

Any Given Sunday

James's stomach cramps. He clenches his soft gut in pained pleasure as it gurgles, and he can feel ... abs start to indent themselves on his stomach. When he lifts up his shirt to examine his stomach, a deep, sunkissed tan starts forming around his belly button, which is swirling with dark, black hair. He feels an all too familiar heat blanket his body as he starts to sweat.

He sits bolt upright in bed.

He forgot!

It's SUNDAY!

Jaden's voice comes through loud and clear. James's stomach sinks inwards, the fat redistributing to his flat chest and bloating his non-existent pecs and small nipples simultaneously. He bites his lip to stifle a moan as he feels the beginnings of Jaden's pillowy pecs start mounting on his chest.

Jaden please - ugh - just this one - FUCK!

His abs stretch larger against the skin and he moans and groans as his pecs inflate larger, jiggling as his back arches. An Adonis belt carves a path straight to his hardening cock.

Sorry lil bro but you know I gotta watch the game.

Jaden's abs pop and settle into place. His nipples stop growing as his pecs do one final push, all the muscle and fat flexing and bloating and stretching the skin, and put an immense amount of strain on his sleep shirt. He's still in his pajama pants, his cock pulsing and twitching against the rough fabric. His balls fill to the brim, their massive print visible through the fabric. His armpits tickle as a burst of Jaden's dark pit hair grows out. His body odor, tame and mild at first, is starting to get stronger. Jaden always smells like he's just gotten done with a workout.

"Fu - Fuck!"

His voice deepens into Jaden's, cracking and dropping a full octave lower, becoming deeply seductive. James struggles to catch his breath as he begins to feel the first telltale signs of himself slipping away and being replaced by Jaden. The dull buzzing haze of horniness and perfect, jock himbo stupidity begin carpeting his brain as Jaden makes his presence more and more known.

Can I - mmph - can I take my clothes off - huff - first?

Thought you'd never ask broski.

James closes his eyes as he feels his hands strip off his sweaty shirt. The tan sweeps upwards and covers his pecs, makes them grow a little bit bigger. Ja..den's pec tickles as the first of his tattoos forms and inks itself across his chest. James's hands squeeze and play with his tits, making his cock pulse harder and teasing out the first inch of growth in his below average cock. He's moaning extremely loud. He knows Jaden doesn't care if his neighbors hear him basically screaming.

You just - you just like hearing me moan, don't you?

Jaden laughs. He could just let James go right now because the pleasure is so intense. His shoulders broaden as his tan takes over James's pasty white skin. His arms bloat with muscle and fat as more tattoos inch their way across his biceps, thicker neck and shoulders, those traps which seem to try to split the skin as they grow along with his massive back which stretches James taller to Jaden's even 6 feet. Jaden takes this opportunity with James's bloating, expanding hands to tweak and pull his nipples, causing James, who still has control over his vocal cords, to cry out and writhe on the edge of his bed.

Nothing turns me on more bro.

He throws his arms behind his head and flexes his strong abs. His powerful musk fills James's room. His forearms crack and expand as James groans in pleasure. His face pops and shifts, nose expanding and lips filling with delectable fat. Dick-sucking lips, as Jaden would call them. And Jaden sucks a lot of dick. The widening tongue shows that Jaden will also dabble in some pussy if he gets the chance. James may be strictly gay but Jaden will fuck anything that'll let him. One cannot be this horny without looking for any avenue of release.

His hair shaves itself into Jaden's buzz cut, the hair receding back into his scalp. Jaden is one fine motherfucker. Sometimes he forgets this fact but one look at his reflection in the TV screen reminds him, and he winks. His upper body piles on more mass and muscle and James's moans become more feverish and desperate.

Jaden, I don't think - I don't think I can take anymore.

We're almost done little bro.

His hands finish growing and his forearms become blanketed with his thick hair. His fingers lengthen across the back of his shaved head as the last of his tattoos ink themselves on James's fingers. He slides off James's ugly striped pajama pants as his pubes start growing thick and dense, a scraggly forest. Sweaty and the nexus of all that musk that Jaden's producing. His cock springs up, hard and dripping, leaking pre all down the shaft and lubricating the swollen head. His balls have finished growing and are huge, apparent in everything Jaden will wear.

Much like his cock.

But first.

How am I smelling bro?

So ... fucking .. good.

He flexes his strong biceps, the muscles rolling around like boulders beneath the taut skin, and buries his nose in his pit, letting James be overcome by the smell, as he starts fucking James's cock into his fist and teasing out the growth he needs. He needs to make that cock 9.5 inches. He jerks off as he makes out with his huge bicep, his cock stretching along his palm. Those 5 inches straining and bloating into 6 inches within seconds. James's flat ass bloating and fattening up into Jaden's bubble butt, that sways and jiggles, and bounces with every step. He can twerk too. A party trick that sends whatever is left of James after every transformation into overdrive. James doesn't like it when Jaden goes to football parties, worried about Jaden spreading this ... whatever you want to call it to other people. Jaden promises to always pull out, never shoot down someone's throat or in their ass (or pussy). But sometimes Jaden is extremely forgetful. James too, especially when Football Sunday -

"James? You okay in there? You left your door unlocked!"

It's Eli.

Exhibit B of his forgetfulness, that pre-Sunday fog: he forgot Eli was coming over too.

You .. fucking .. asshole!

Jaden dumbly chuckles as James's ass continues bloating and stretching. His cock crests at 7.5 inches. Jaden brings his hands down and squeezes his ass, squishing it and feeling the fat, soft cheeks. It finishes growing as he thrusts upwards, the ass jiggling and clapping together, his hole gaining in sensitivity and sprouting more of those musky hairs.

James's thighs inflate next, the tan spreading downwards as more dark hair swirls and grows. His thighs clench together as they touch his balls, the calves becoming strong and dense with muscle.

"What is that smell?"

Jaden wrests control from James as he takes his hands off his still growing cock - 8.5 now! James could scream at him if he could. They're so close! - and leans back. James's room smells strongly of Jaden as the tan finally hits the last part of James's body. His feet crack and expand, stretching across the hardwood floor and gaining sensitivity, making Jaden shudder and groan as they drag across the cold floor.

"It's me bro!"

Eli opens the door.

You didn't tell me your friend was so cute.

The twunk looks absolutely captivated by the big man on the bed where his friend should be. He sees the man's cock gain the last inch and a half needed, his feet growing to size 13s, big enough to rip through any of James's shoes. Eli watches the big man move and grab a baseball cap and a football, and in doing so, a direct blast of musk comes out of his hairy armpits. He's so hot. He sees James's clothes on the floor. Then he swings his eyes back to the naked jock, cock swinging and spitting webs of pre everywhere, and turns on the TV to the football game. His fat ass sways and jiggles as he walks. His body is powerful and bulky. When the football game begins playing, something clicks in Eli's head.

"You're Jaden?"

"That's me bro. Jamesy told you about me huh?"

Eli only nods as Jaden flexes his massive biceps. Rubs his perfect, pillowy pecs. This self worship session sends lightning bolts of pleasure to his dull brain. James is long gone. Relegated to a back seat viewing. But he feels everything. Not as intense as Jaden is feeling, his cock twitching and bouncing, his hormones kicking into high gear, but he still moans inside of Jaden's head as he worships himself. Eli tries to think of something to say, anything, but his brain is fogging up with horniness and not the alarm bells that should be ringing as his cock hardens in his sweatpants. The print is obvious. Eli has felt horny but this feels different. It's like he's thinking more head on his cock than the head on his shoulders. Jaden sees it and flexes harder. Worships himself with more intent and lets loose a few deep groans.

"I don't know what y'all were planning on doing, but we can watch the game together since you're here."

"Can I please suck your cock?"

Eli blushes. He didn't mean to say that out loud.

Jaden smirks. His cock like steel and at the ready.

"Well, since you asked so nicely."

Eli stumbles to the massive man. Before he can go down to the prize, that massive, throbbing cock, Jaden pulls him up for a kiss. It's rough, and deep, and intense, and Eli turns into warm pudding, literally melting against the big man and squeezing his soft pecs, which only makes the big man moan and kiss him harder. And then those large masculine hands are on his head and pushing him down, his mouth wide open and accepting the musky cock in his mouth.

For some reason it's like he's being fucked in the ass by the guy as Eli bobs up and down on his cock, sucking him desperately. Milking him really. His smelly pubes brush up against his nose. He's sucking Jaden off expertly. Jaden moans and groans - the sensation intensified by him playing with his huge, swollen nipples - and he combs his fingers through Eli's hair and pushes him down, big powerful thighs thrusting his cock up and deep into Eli's throat, ass flexing and jiggling and sagging below him.

Jaden watches the game as Eli sucks him off. He's not going to pull out. He's always been curious/wanting another bro to watch a football game with on Sundays. It's a little boring sometimes to just fuck his fist or one of his many toys every five minutes, which is why he leaves to go to parties. He has all of Sunday at his disposal. He expects the small part of James to protest, fight him.

But he doesn't.

Maybe he wants to see what will happen too.

Jaden erupts like a geyser. He holds Eli's head down as he pumps load after load into Eli's throat. Eli blows his own load in his sweatpants, cock untouched and just rock solid in his pants. He cums more than he expects, soaking through his underwear as a few stains appear on his pants. Jaden groans and moans, mouth wide open as his deep voice fills the room. Shit he should edge more often.

When he finally stops and Eli pulls off with a slick pop, Jaden notices a dark patch of something on Eli's face.

It's the beginnings of a beard.

"My face feels itchy."

Eli's voice is already deepening, a dullness seeping into his once intelligent sounding voice. His beard blooms across his face.

He picks Eli up and places him on the bed as he looks down and sees Eli's nipples harden, fattening against his polo shirt. His cock strains harder against his sweatpants, that wet spot growing into a veritable puddle. Jaden tears it off, Eli moaning in shock and pure arousal as his chest begins expanding. The sensation of whatever fat is on his body filling his growing pecs, the muscles expanding in every direction as his muscular cleavage becomes cavernous, is doubly intense by Jaden's massive hands massaging those growing muscle tits. Dark hair swirls around his nipples and blankets the smooth skin.

"What's happening to me bro?"

Jaden kisses the changing man on his fat lips. Eli's strengthening arms clutching onto Jaden's broad back.

Whatever is left of James smiles contently. Now Jaden won't ever complain about Sundays being boring again.

And you know what? James can't help but agree.

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?

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.

Spare Parts

Al untucked his shirt, then tucked it in again, then quickly untucked it before landing on a French tuck—a mix of both that suited him worse than either. He had never been so nervous about going out with his friends. In the past, he was the life of the party, staying out clubbing until the witching hours, getting drunk, and ending up in some stranger's bed the next morning. That was before he made the fatal mistake of jaywalking drunk and got hit by a bus, which flung him into the path of another bus, which sent him off a bridge and into the water, where he was run over by a boat. Honestly, it would have been a pretty comical way to die—only he didn’t die. He should have died; he broke every bone in his body and turned his organs into a smoothie. The wonders of modern medicine intervened. He still didn’t quite understand exactly how, but the doctors had used stem cells, like those regenerating cells babies have, to essentially bring him back from the dead. A miracle, yes, but even miracles had their limits. The recovery process was long and hard, and even now, recently released from medical custody, he was not the same man he’d been before the accident.

Getting hit by two buses and a boat does that to you. His face was mangled—not to the point of being monstrous, but not attractive either. His body had also suffered from the accident, practically wasting away as he recovered. While the old Al partied with abandon, this new Al was self-conscious of his appearance and absolutely terrified to cross the street. Now, he stood at the crosswalk, fidgeting with his short-sleeve button-down shirt, thinking about why he had asked an old lady to help him across. He clutched her tightly as they crossed, ready to throw her in the way if a bus came barreling toward them—luckily for both of them, none did. Despite her age and his current condition, the woman actually made a pass at him, calling him a “handsome lad” and asking if he wanted to go back to her place. It helped his confidence, if only a little, and gave him a strange tingling feeling.

Finally, after detaching himself from the woman, he reached the club. Despite the relatively early hour, the place was bumping; the bass-boosted electronic music and a flashing rainbow could be seen and heard from the outside. A quick check of his phone informed him that his friends were already inside, so he joined the short line and waited to be let in by the bouncer. As he neared the front, he realized he recognized the bouncer. Back when he frequented this place, he was friendly with the muscular man. Now, though, he doubted the man would recognize him, and he honestly hoped to keep it that way. Back then, he was sort of a legend, a position he doubted he could live up to now. As the bouncer—Rod, he thought—waved him forward, Al couldn’t help but admire the man's physique. It seemed that while Al recovered, Rod made some serious gains. His arms were particularly impressive; Al found himself feeling bad for the man’s sleeves as they tried and failed to contain his massive arms. Their sheer size was only enhanced by the web of veins that patterned the muscles. 

“ID, please,” Rod said, indeed not recognizing Al as he had predicted. Al handed over his card, suddenly realizing the picture on the ID was pre-accident.

“Had a bit of a glow-down,” Al said awkwardly, trying to flash a smile but only managing to lift one side of his mouth—the other’s nerve endings were damaged beyond repair. Rod grunted but returned Al’s ID; even despite the discrepancies in the photo, there was little doubt that Al was of age. As Rod handed back his ID, their hands touched just slightly, and for a second, Al felt a slight tingling in his upper arms. Then it was gone as quickly as it came. 

“Have fun, man,” Rod said, “and nice guns.” Al laughed at that, thinking the man was making fun of his twig arms.

He lifted his arm, expecting the usual sight of his scrawny limb. But when his gaze landed on it, his breath caught. His bicep had swollen under the skin, somehow in the span of a heartbeat his twig arms had become tree trunks. Al’s fingers traced the now firm, rounded muscle, a mix of fear and fascination flooding his mind. The sheer size and hardness of his new bicep felt both alien and irresistibly satisfying, a forbidden thrill coursing through his veins at his arms meaty massive things they now were. They looked like almost exact copies of Rod’s, only instead of the man's olive complexion, the biceps had the pale look of someone who had spent the last two years in a hospital bed.

Al felt light-headed. How was this possible? Was he having some sort of mental breakdown, a delusion? He needed to find his friends. No, he needed to find a drink. The bar was right where he remembered—just to the left of the entrance. Unlike Rod, the bouncer, he didn’t recognize the bartender—a short, slightly pudgy man who looked to be in his mid-40s, with a strong square cleft chin that didn’t particularly match the rest of his average features. Al walked up to him, trying to hide his now-massive arms to little avail. He found he couldn’t stop flexing and feeling them, equal parts concerned and turned on by the mysterious new muscles.

“I'll take a vodka soda,” Al tried to say casually, although the words came out more as a question than a request. Luckily, the night was still young enough that he managed to get the man's attention, although the fact that he wasn’t a pretty girl kept him from making small talk. As he worked, Al saw the bartender occasionally glance up at his biceps, which he had crossed in an attempt to hide them. They looked a little ridiculous with the rest of his scrawny body. Wordlessly, the bartender placed a garnish on the drink before handing it to Al. Just as with Rod, their hands innocently touched, and again Al felt a strange tingle, this time centering on his chin. Lifting the glass to his lips, Al quickly lowered it, uneasy at how strange the sensation felt. Years of drinking had made him familiar with the feel of a glass against his lips, but something felt off now. His bottom lip somehow felt more supported, stiffer. A quick exploration with his finger revealed that his chin was causing the offense. But that couldn’t be—his chin had been round and soft even before the accident. Whatever this new chin that had somehow attached itself to his face was, it felt like a block of stone, the bone protruding in a harsh, strong way completely foreign to his face. The deep cleft was also new, creating a valley in the mountain that was his chin. Pulling out his phone, he saw what his fingers had felt: his face now somehow sported a strong, masculine chin almost identical to that of the bartender.

Al wasn’t the brightest, but even he began to put the pieces together. Somehow, he was absorbing the best qualities of every person he touched. His mind raced, trying to figure out what could be causing this. The stem cells he received might be the explanation, but why now? Al needed to get out; he needed to see a doctor. Panicked, he looked for the exit only to find a crowd had congregated between the bar and the nearest door. There was no way he could make it to the other side without touching anyone. Could he risk it? 

His contemplation was cut short as a woman sauntered up to the bar, her stumbling gait indicating she was already a few drinks deep. That was hardly the most noticeable thing about her; put bluntly, she had massive boobs—the type that could never fit in a top without being the center of attention. As she stumbled her way toward the bar, she tripped on one of her own feet. Al’s eyes widened as he realized too late that her fall would take her directly toward him. He tried to move out of the way, but as she fell, her arms reached forward for support, landing on his own. For a brief second, he hoped he might absorb her winning smile, but judging by the tingling in his chest, he wasn’t so lucky. Horrified, he glanced down, expecting to see breasts pushing out of his shirt. Instead, he found different mounds there—equally large, yes, but the lumps on his chest weren’t boobs; they were too firm and square. No, instead Al had somehow gained massive pectoral muscles from his contact with the woman. Their growth had unceremoniously demolished the first three buttons of his shirt, which was having a bad day trying to contain his massive chest and arms. The muscles looked downright strange on his body, the rest of it still emaciated from the accident. In fact, Al struggled to support the weight of his new mass, his shrimpy legs and shoulders straining under the sudden load.

The woman pulled away from his arms, drunkenly apologizing before reaching out to grope one of his now-massive pecs. Luckily, no tingles followed, confirming Al’s suspicion that he could only absorb from a person once. Now, Al felt torn about what to do. On one hand, he still worried about the changes and their possible repercussions, but did he want them to stop? If he went to the doctor now and they fixed him, would he be stuck in his current disproportionate form forever? This could be a blessing—a way to heal from the damage caused by the accident, to become the ultimate version of himself—or rather, of the people around him. So far, none of the changes had been bad. Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, Al scanned the room for someone with a feature he wanted to absorb. The choice became easier when a cute guy walked right past him, his clothing tight on his lean, muscular body, and he looked well-groomed. Before the accident—in fact, before tonight—Al had never paid much attention to the appearance of other men. Maybe it was the fact that he now saw their features as ones he could have, or perhaps it was something else, but for whatever reason, he found himself checking out the other men in the club, including the one walking by. On instinct, he stuck his foot out, tripping the man, their bare ankles making contact for a second in the process. The man stumbled and then turned to face Al, his face red with anger, which quickly cooled as he took in Al.

“Hey, I like your hair, dude,” he said. Al had hoped that he might absorb the guy's cute, tight ass or maybe his strong Roman nose, but his hair worked too. It was silky, thick, and coiffed attractively—definitely an improvement over his current thinning hair.

“Thanks, man,” Al said, reaching up to find that he indeed had hair identical to the man he had just tripped. 

“Do you go to Clarice?” the guy asked. The question sparked a brief conversation in which Al lied through his teeth, pretending they went to the same barber rather than admitting that he thought his stem cells had magically copied the guy's hairstyle to a tee. Eventually, Al excused himself, claiming he had seen his friends. This was true; as they chatted, Al had located his friends huddled close to the DJ booth on the dance floor. Steeling himself, he made his way over to them, trying to avoid physical contact. His efforts were only somewhat successful. An accidental brush of a college-age girl’s hand lengthened his eyelashes, while a hip bump into a man with rolled-up sleeves thickened his forearms, so his arms were now somewhat proportional. Once he reached the dance floor, however, he lost total control. Falling arms and thrusting hips assaulted him from all sides. An accidental step on a foot caused his lips to buzz as if they had momentarily fallen asleep, puffing up to appear pillowy and soft. A hand brushed across his back, causing a tingle in his shoulders, widening them and only making his progress more difficult. The elbow wedged awkwardly into the crevice of his pecs by a sheepish-looking man earned him a short, coarse beard across his jaw—a jaw that had become wider and sharper thanks to the impatient shoving of a male model behind him. Al quickly lost track of exactly what features he had gained from whom. A sudden numbness in different parts of his body was the only indication that he continued to change. At one point, a gigantic man who had to be some sort of pro basketball player moved next to Al. Al indulged himself, letting his hand “accidentally” rub against the tall man's leg and feeling his whole body lengthen. The constant shifting of the dance floor meant no one noticed Al or the way his features shifted. As he neared his friends, a twink dressed only in a leather harness and thong approached him and started to grind up against him. Even more shocking was the rock-hard abs that formed from their contact and the boner that Al inexplicably developed from the experience. The twink started to unbutton the last few remaining buttons on his shirt, and he let him, not wanting to deprive the world of his body.

At last, Al reached his friends, finally finding a pocket of relative emptiness near the loudspeakers. 

Al reached out to tap one of his friends on the arm before thinking better of it and just stood there awkwardly, waiting for them to notice him. Eventually, the song ended, and his three friends turned to face him. Only with a pang of shock did Al realize they didn’t recognize him. How could they? He had become a sort of Frankenstein’s monster of different features from the various patrons of the club. Where they expected their scrawny, balding friend fresh out of an extensive hospital stay, instead before them stood a 6’5” bodybuilder with a face, a hodgepodge of features from various people, somehow working together to give him a handsome and exotic look.

“Hey, have you seen our friend? Short, skinny, looks like he might have been hit by a bus or two,” his friend Jordan asked. It was a simple question, but for maybe the first time in two years, Al noticed not a trace of pity in his friend's voice. No, rather it was admiration. Al’s previous intentions of coming clean to his friends and seeking help melted away as he realized the opportunity he had. He could finally escape the shadow of those busses; he could have a new start.

“Nope, haven’t seen anyone like that,” he said in a voice much richer and deeper thanks to the vocal cords of some unknown stranger. 

“I’m Jordan, by the way,” his friend said, raising his voice to be heard over the music. 

“Al.” Shit. So much for a fresh start. Jordan glanced at his other two friends but didn’t say anything. Instead, one of his other friends, Sergio, grabbed Al’s hand and pulled him into their dance circle. The contact made his whole body tingle and, glancing down, he saw that his skin had darkened to the same ruddy tan as his friend's. Luckily, the flashing lights and the general darkness of the club made Al fairly sure no one noticed the transformation.

Throughout the night, he became reacquainted with his own friends and found innocent ways of making contact with each of them. From his friend Marge, he gained her show-stopping ass, the muscular butt complementing the thick thighs he had gained sometime during his mad rush. Contact with Linsey copied her perfect Barbie blonde hair. The stylish haircut and scruff he had grown sometime during the night bleached itself instantly while all his body hair, limited as it was by various tingles, turned the same gold color. His friend Jordan took a special interest in the new Al, and Al found himself reciprocating the attention, for the first time noticing just how hot his friend was. When at long last they touched, Al grabbed the man and brought him into a passionate kiss. He swore he felt tingles but couldn’t notice any change on his body. After long hours of sweaty dancing, a round of shots, and many more kisses between the two former friends, the group headed over to Jordan's apartment. Al nearly blew his cover by heading straight to his friend's door, but the excuse of “lucky guess” seemed to satisfy his non-sober companions. After a few more hours of chatting and more alcohol, everyone left but Al and Jordan.

Jordan used the classic “let me show you something in the bedroom” line, which led to more kissing and Jordan feeling up Al’s new muscular body. Eventually, as both men removed their pants, Al discovered what he had picked up from his friend. Long and thick, Al’s penis was identical to that of his lover, which Jordan seemed delighted by, claiming he had never been with someone with a tool as big as his. It took a moment for Al to get over the surprise of his friend packing so much meat and the fact that he now did as well, but once he accepted it, he used his new member to the fullest. After hours of fucking, the two fell asleep, not waking up until the afternoon the next day. Al politely said his goodbyes and awkwardly avoided giving Jordan his number, not wanting to explain why it was the same number as Jordan's sickly friend. 

Exiting the apartment, he noticed the same elderly woman from last night and to his chagrin, she once again hit on him, asking to hold his bicep while they crossed the street. When he touched her, he felt no tingles, which he thought strange until he remembered she was the first person to induce that sensation upon him last night. Could it be that he had somehow absorbed her sex drive or sexuality? Was that why he had a sudden appreciation for men? The thought amused him as he made his way to his car. But before he could dwell on it too much, his attention was abruptly pulled back to the present.

Lost in thought, he didn’t see the bus careening down the street, heading right for him. The blare of the horn hit him a second too late, and everything went black.

The next thing Al knew, he was waking up in a hospital—a horrifying déjà vu of two years ago. A young doctor stood over him, clipboard clutched in two massive, masculine hands. His eyes fluttered as he tried to make sense of his surroundings, the cold sterility of the hospital room bringing back memories of his long, painful recovery. Blearily, Al glanced down at himself. His perfect, hunky form was now a mess—bones broken, muscles flattened. All except his hands, which looked larger and callused, suspiciously identical to the doctor standing above him. It seemed that Al’s luck with public transportation hadn’t changed, but now he knew how to build himself back up. A minor setback, sure, but nothing a few spare parts wouldn’t fix.

Wrote this a while ago but thought i would post it here with images and some small edits. Not my best but think its still a fun story.

My Stories

Hey guys! I know several others have done this, so I figured I’d jump on board and get one of these posts done myself.

Any tags I’ve used can be found in the tags of this post too! I’ll update this as time goes on and as new stories are posted (as infrequently as that may be sometimes 😂).

So, whether you’re new to the page (welcome!) or if you’re looking for something specific I’ve posted, grab a drink and let this be your guiding star.

Enjoy!

~~~

Seguir leyendo

Chirp Chirp

CLICK

Hmm… not bad. Sure, kinda douchey, but that’s the idea, right? The babes I’m after want douchey. This one will really get ‘em wet…

ChirpChirp

What the hell… I didn’t download this. Fucking bloatware. Fuck! My glasses! No! Shit! Don’t fall into the toilet! Gotchya! Nice save… whoa, almost dropped my phone, too” ChirpChirp      ChirpChirp Thank you for beginning your 1-time trial, Please continue your selections…

I didn’t begin any… whatever, let’s see what kind of bullshit step-tracker or shitty music subscription I’m gonna have delete this time. What? I’ve already made a selection? No “back” button, huh? Fine, not like I’m gonna keep this. Oh, fuck this! This is not for me. What are you, some kind of self-actualization app? “Positive vibes, good thoughts, visualizing the change you want to see in the world?” kinda shit? oh, you mean bullshit? Pretty sure you’re a bullshit, time wasting app. Nothing changes in this world with out work, blood, sweat, and tears… Fuck, you’re not gonna close till I finish, huh? Well… I guess I would like to not have to deal with these fucking coke bottles. I’ve tried contacts, but there’s just too much work and, fuck, I don’t always know where I’m gonna spend the night, too much pussy out there to satisfy. I guess I’d want to have perfect 20/20 vision.

ChirpChirp Thank you. Please continue your selections…

Oh, duh? I want to be able to tan. I’m sick of using like a whole bottle of sunblock each time I go to the beach or practically anytime I go outside. Yeah, I bet I’d look good with a tan. ChirpChirp Thank you. Please continue your selections…

Fuck… this thing better not be reporting this shit to some freak out there… I-I kinda always wanted to have my foreskin back. Be uncut, ya know? Like, my cock is perfect, a huge, pussy destroying sword, but it’d be nice if it still had its “sheath”. Bet that would feel fucking amazing… ChirpChirp Thank you. Please continue your selections… Maybe… I’d be down to look at little younger? Babes know I got cash on me, but some of the girls I’m into give me that look, like, they wanna call me “Daddy” or some shit. I don’t want that to be no one’s “Daddy” Oh, wait, hold on. There are things I like about myself, though. I love my muscles. Worked hard on em. Used to be kind of scrawny. and OF COURSE I love my big dick. Like, who would I even be if I didn’t have this monster fuckstick between my legs. ChirpChirp Thank you. Selections complete. Processing. Sean O’Connell -  Processing -  Sandro O’Connell -  Processing - Sandro Ocampo - Complete

WHAT! NO! FUCK NO! I’M WH- I’M W…. UUNNGGGHH I’M MIXED! What?!?! I didn’t mean to say that.. I’m… Filipino and Salvadorian? I’m Puerto Rican and Brazilian, too? I’m American-born? Wait, start over. My name is Sean O’C- cough cough My name is Sean O’Camp- NO! MY NAME IS SANDRO OCAMPOS!  OH FUCK-OH SHIT-OH FUCK. I can’t even talk about myself, like my FAKE self! Fuck, that’s not what I meant! I meant to say FAKE! FUCK! My tattoos! my sweet fucking tattoos! They cost so much money, and now they’re gone! My piercings! Look at these brown little nipples, I uuunngggghhh fuck, man, these are more sensitive than my fake ones… I just said “fake” without even thinking about it… And… and… fuck, I’m tiny. I can’t be more than like, 5′7 now. Fuck, 6′3 was NEVER my height… Wow, really starting to hate that. Wait, where are my glasses? They’re… I don’t need ‘em, do I? I can see fine! And my skin, so dark, so perfect… I bet I tan all the time. Shit, I look MY AGE. fuck, gotta get past that bullshit. Can’t have my mouth talking over and saying dumb shit like that. Guess I just gotta accept this. Hold up, I still got muscles. Look at these! I mean, they’re not as big as… hmm… I mean, they’re not huge. But they look good on me. Definitely not scrawny. And my rod… I did say… WHOA HAHA! NOT BAD, BRO! I mean, maybe a little smaller than- than other cocks, but still, this is fucking meaty. And on muscle packed, short dude like me, it looks deadly.  My place… It’s my place… not someone else’s. Not some dude’s named Sean. I wonder what part of the City I’m in now. Or if I’m even in the State I think I’m in… Or the coast… Doesn’t fucking matter. Everything looks like it’s forcing itself to work, even my own fucking voice and words. I’m gonna have some fun with some tight, wet, BROS- Oh fuck… nonononopleaseno I… like… COCK I’m a PECS man. I eat DUDES out. I fuck MYSELF ON HUGE DICKS.

shit, no, I don’t wanna be a STRAIGHT DOUCHE. I want to be my GAY PARTYBOI self! ChirpChirp What the fuck now, that fucking app ruined my life. WAIT. Maybe I can use it again. Huh? It’s gone? What the fuck is this orange hockey mask icon? Dudes?!? Its all dudes! I, uhh, hmmm… these dudes are actually… Whoa, little Sandro down there is taking notice of these dudes, haha. Fuck, did I never really think about… I mean, they’re all so gorgeous. Those fucking muscles… those bulges… those smiles… those pecs! ChirpChirp   

ChirpChirp ChirpChirp Oh fuck! Look at all these guys…  ChirpChirp - DblGingr4U: Hey Cutie, WYD? Open couple here, looking for 3rd. Think you can take us both at once?  Jesus Christ… I gotta reply back! XLDownTwunk: Totally down. Gimmie a time and a place! Ha! Is that my user name? Whatever…

I better send em a pic! CLICK DblGingr4U: 🍆 🍆 🍆  How about right now? Fuck ur hot come over right the fuck now lol Hope you enjoy cut ginger cock x2 ;)  XLDownTwunk: Dudes, I’ve loved ginger cock my whole life! Send me your location, I’m leaving rn.

Rafael Alencar, 2006 photographed by Joe Oppedisano