Stoner TF! :D One of my favourite tropes.

    “Who the fuck are you!” You stared at the half naked man lying on your sofa, playing GTA V, the room reeking of weed and… some unidentified scent. “Get the hell out of my house!” You were shrieking like a banshee, yet this studly stranger took no notice of your rage. 

    “Yo, bruh. Why you screamin’? Calm down.” As if a Valium hit you like a brick, waves of relief washed over you. 

    “I… I don’t know.” You stood there, dumbfounded. Wondering why it was you were so surprised this dude was in your apartment. You calmly place your stuff down at the door, kicking off your uncomfortable work shoes.

    “Man, that fuckin’ job has got you stressed out as fuck.” He sits upright, patting the leather cushion next to him. Your head still fuzzy, you idly find yourself waddling over to him, and plopping down next to him on the couch. He tosses his arm around your shoulder, and hands you the second controller, which you gladly accept. There is nothing like Grand Theft Auto to let out all that aggression that builds up after a bullshit shift. “Sit back, and just let it out bro. I’ll roll us a blunt.”

    Marco bends over, opening the pot box. Wait. Marco. Yeah, that’s his name. But, why do you know him? How do you know him? Have you seen him before? It’s as you stumble over the little holes in your memory, your nose is bombarded once again by that strange smell. Sweet. Salty. Sour… It’s rank! Yet, addictive. Your mind occupied on the game, your nose focused on the smell… It’s a sensual overload when Marco finally has the blunt in his mouth, lighting it up and letting out his typical massive cloud.

    “Aight, here.” You take the blunt from his fingers, and he tosses his arm around your shoulders once again. You bring the blunt to your lips, and light it. You inhale, taking in that oh so familiar spicy taste of ganja. You sigh as you let out the smoke, settling into Marco’s comfortable hold. You try and pass it back to him, but he quietly refuses. “Nah, man. You need it way more than I do.” 

    You two shout and laugh together, high as kites as your outrageous shenanigans on GTA coincide perfectly with the absurdist humour the weed brings out. It’s at this point once again that your drawn again to that smell. It tickles the hairs in your nose, giving you shivers down your spine. Marco looks over to you, noticing your obvious goosebumps down your arms. 

    “Ahh. I know what you need.” You feel a hand grab the back of your head, and within seconds, your face is buried in a dark, dank little space. The smell is pulsating into your nostrils, clearly it is coming from here. “Yeah, I know how you like it. Breathe it in, babe.” You grasp Marco’s meaty pecs and back, pulling your face deeper into the sweaty armpit. He always knows how to treat you when you’ve had a rough day. Marco plays on, smiling, yet nonchalantly unperturbed. You lap up the beads of trapped sweat from his damp pits, savouring each and every ounce of his salty taste. 

    You pull away from your boyfriend’s musky pits for only a moment; just enough time to slowly and seductively pull down his beat up sweatpants. His gorgeous cock springs to attention, smacking you in the cheek. The familiar sour stench of his musky balls and cock welcomes you back to your favourite place on earth. 

    Marco grabs the base of it, smirking that familiar, cocky sidegrin. You know exactly what to do. You gently kiss and caress his tip, fondling those melons he calls his balls. Your insatiable lust takes over, as you go down on your boyfriend, deepthroating as if you’ve done it every single day. Each time your nostrils hit his bush, you take in that incredible stench, a product of his lackadaisical stance on showering.

    He grabs the back of your head, thrusting his cock into your mouth, throatfucking you like he loves to do. He growls, moans, and grunts as he furiously fucks your face. Each slap of his balls on your chin, you are reminded of the amazing streams of seed that will flow down your throat- your drink of choice. No sooner as you think it, Marco roars out his animalistic grunt as he shoots his massive load down your throat. Stream after stream, neverending. You can feel the cum get caught in the back of your throat, heading up to your sinuses, and trickling down your nose. Each throbbing thrust of cum fills you in ways you cannot explain. As if it flowed from your mouth to your toes, filling you up with every single burst. You found yourself pulsating, your muscles stretching and contracting with every load barreled into your powerful gut.

    Marco dismounts your cum-soaked face, and passionately kisses you. His little alpha persona is such a mock up, as you know that he’d rather just light a blunt than boss you around! You look down at the tattered remains of boring square work clothes on your lean, muscled body. What the fuck had happened? Who the fuck wears that shit? Thank god you sell out of your place, so you don’t even have to put pants on! Slipping on your favourite trash shirt, and rancid, cumsoaked undies, you plop back into your seat, while Marco begins to repay the favour you paid him. He’s in for a surprise. You didn’t wash up this morning, so there might be a little… Build up down there. You take a puff of your blunt as your boyfriend goes down on your cheesy cock. Damn. Doesn’t get better than this.


    One of my Tumblr crushes @idesofrevolution write this, it’s genius, just like him. Do your self a favor and read it!

    He was very hesitant to get to know me. For fuck sake, I'm his roommate and he's acting all awkward around me and very timid. Like, I don't care that he's a bookworm who never even touch a game console, I want him to be my buddy and make my dorm life fun.

    But well, cannot stand a roommate who cannot even speak his own mind and can't let loose for a while so I decided to take the matters into my own hand

    Now he's probably the horniest fuck tool I ever stumble upon in my entire life and he's got the skill to make my game night much more fun. Well......with that stick in his arsenal, things escalated to be very fun, very quickly.

    Oh, no, when I said stick, it's not that joystick that turned him from nerd to dumb jock, it's the other stick confined in that shorts of his


    He was on his way to class when he got a call from his best mate Jake. Jake’s voice was oddly deep and slow, like he had a cold, but when he asked him “If you were a dumb jock what would you be…” he thought it was a joke and started to answer. Before he knew it he was putting on muscle filling out a new outfit with light fair hair and a semi hard massive piece of meat between his legs, on his way to the gym to meet his bro Jake at the gym.

    Intro to Advertising

    Shit! I’m late. I grab my coffee, take a seat at my desk and open my laptop. Another semester of online classes… great. I like college. I swear I do. I’ve always been the smartest kid in the class. No other student’s brains compare to mine. That kinda sounds conceited but it’s true! I was top of the class last year. And I intend on keeping that title. No one will stop me.

    I load up Zoom and enter in the meeting code. First module of semester 2… “Intro to Advertising” it reads. Ten minutes late. No one’s gonna notice, right? The call finishes loading. I am met with the faces of fifteen other students. 

    “Looks like we have a latecomer.” The professor scoffs. “Eh… let’s see what your name is… Robert? Is that right?”

    I sit there like a deer in headlights, quickly regretting entering the class at all. I stare blankly at the screen before deciding to bite the bullet.

    “Yeah, that’s me. Sorry for being lat-“

    “We started ten minutes ago, Robert. This isn’t the best first impression. We’ve already started the discussion without you.” 

    We sat in silence for what felt like an eternity. “Sorry” I smile awkwardly and turn off my microphone. Other students in the call smirk and snicker.

    What a dick. I was ten minutes late. I’ve never been called out like that before. In fact, I’m usually never late. This was the first time. And he still made a mockery of me. Jeez. Screw this guy. 

    I had never seen him before either. He sat upright in his chair as his bulging muscles strained against his shirt. He was in surprisingly good shape for his age. He looked around forty, maybe fifty? He’s basically bald but his body seems hairy. I can see his thick forearms covered with jet black fur and a tuft of chest hair poking out of his shirt . His beard is manly and thick. His voice was deep and commanding. He might have been hot but he was still a prick for calling me out.

    “So, as I was saying.” He glared at me. “Let’s discuss target demographics. When selling a product, businesses target their adverts towards specific groups based on factors such as income, age, race, sexual orientation and occupation.”

    The moustached professor continued on with his big spiel. I passively took notes from the slides until I heard the dreaded words.

    “Robert!” The professor sarcastically smiled. “How about we use you as an example?”

    I let out a fake smile. Fuck. Why me? I unmuted myself. “Sure”

    “Perfect.” The professor smiled and leaned back on his chair.

    “Let’s say… I’m selling gym equipment, okay? And you’re my target demographic.” The professor smirks a devilish grin. “Let’s say your name is Jackson, okay?”

    “Okay… my name is Jackson” I passively agree. Something about the professor’s words… they just spiralled in my head. Repeating. Spinning round and round in my mind.

    “Class.” He addressed the rest of the students. “If I’m trying to sell gym equipment to Jackson. What kind of target demographic do you think he’s is in?”

    Brad, the class jock, chimes in. “I’d say Jackson would be big and muscular. Like big pecs… and biceps and stuff.”

    I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Does he not hear how stupid that answer is? He sounds more like this supposed ‘Jackson’ than I do. I reach up and scratch my chest but something seems… off. I look down at my chest. It seems… swollen? It doesn’t normally look this big. I thought I was wearing an oversized shirt today. But it looks totally normal on me now. It fits me to a T. I lay my hand on my obsencely big chest, letting my fingers sink into my new fat pecs. Now that I’m looking, my hands seem unusually large too. My hands are supposed to be small and thin. I shouldn’t have thick fat sausage fingers. They’re huge! My eyes travel up my arm to see my huge biceps. My once think skinny arms are now monstrous beasts. I look like I lift weights every day, like one of those dumb jocks. Are people seeing what’s happening to me? Am I going crazy?

    Brad continued rambling on about this ‘Jackson’ character. What better person to describe a jock, than a jock. “Jackson would also like… hate wearing shirts, bro. He’d wanna show off that big bod of his. He’d be just like me and the other bros.”

    Suddenly, I feel the need to strip for my class. I want to just pull off my shirt and show them these new big muscles. Oh God, what’s happening to me? I can’t be actually turning into this fake ‘Jackson’… can I? That’s crazy. And yet, I can’t help but feel the need to just show off my beastly body. Maybe, I can just take it off for a bit. I can just show my muscles and then put it back on… yeah, totally. That’s not weird. People should see my body. It’s gonna feel so good to show off.

    I grab the bottom of my t-shirt and strip, putting my body on full display for everyone to see. I can’t deny, it feels to right to be shirtless. I don’t even want to think about covering myself up. I should just stay like this for the rest of the class. It won’t hurt anyone. I bounce my new tits playfully at the camera.

    “So, would a business target something like a book towards someone like Jackson?” The professor watches my bouncing tits and smiles.

    Callum, the posh kid, scoffs. “Jackson probably doesn’t even know how to read. He just spends all day at the gym. Flexing his muscles and jerking off to porno mags.” 

    As I absentmindedly play with my tits, I hear movement across the room. The noise is emanating from my bookshelf. I’ve spent years trying to fill it up. It’s got every book you can imagine. That bookshelf is one of the reasons for my grades. It’s filled with every literary classic you can imagine, from The Great Gatsby to Jane Eyre. The noise from the bookcase only grows louder. The books start vibrating. As if each book is trying to wiggle its way out of the shelf and onto the floor. My huge body sits helplessly in front of the Zoom call. I focus in on my favourite book, The Catcher in the Rye. I’ve been in love with that book ever since I was younger. I watch it wiggle and struggle as it slowly creeps closer to the edge. With one final wiggle, the book falls off the shelf and towards the floor. As the book falls, it elongates and becomes thinner. As it hits the floor, I hear a loud thud. I look down at the ‘book’ in horror. The book is now nothing more than a gay porn magazine. I try to think of the book it was before… but I can’t remember. All my knowledge of the book is gone. As if I had never read it. Each literary classic falls of the vibrating bookshelf. Each one of them becoming gay porn magazines as they hit the floor. With each thud, my brain shrinks a little bit more. All my literary knowledge is gone and now replaced by images of big cocks and fat fuckable asses.

    The thuds become too overwhelming for my brain to handle. I panic after seeing I had drooled all over my laptop. I glance back at the Zoom call to see everyone staring at me. Some students were laughing. Some were scoffing. They now saw me as some big dumb brute. 

    My jaw drops open, becoming slacked and lazy. I’m left looking like a dumb ape who can only breathe through his mouth. My brain feels so small now. As if the words of my professor and classmates have just drained my IQ. My head is beginning to feel so light. So floaty. Airy. It feels so… goooooooooood. Huhuhu, I cahnt stap dreeewlinggg, brah. My hed is sooooh emmmptyyy, broooh. 

    “Everyone is completely correct.” The professor smiles. “Jackson would be in the target demographic of dumb gym buffs in their early 20s.” 

    “Huhuhuhu yehhhh I ammmm” I chuckled dumbly.

    “Now Jackson, thank you for accepting to be our example for this class. But this degree is for smart, hardworking students. So, we won’t be needing you from here on out.”

    “Huhuhuhu, okaaayyyyy, sirrrrr. Taht makezz senze” I slurred.

    “Alright, Jackson. Say goodbye to the class.”

    “Byyyyyeeeee, brahs” I dumbly chuckle before Zoom closes.

    ‘You have been kicked from the call’ appears on the screen. I chuckle, grab one of the porno magazines off the floor and begin beating my 9 inch cock until I shoot my thick potent load all over it.


    Jackson was now nothing more than a dumb smelly college drop out. The apartment which was once full of academic papers and literary classics was now littered with dirty underwear, gay porno mags and video games. By the end of the class, no one even remembered the high-achiever Robert. They only remember his new self, Jackson, the dumb fuckable jock who would never amount to anything in life.


    Story idea by Galloway2017

    Witness Protection

    They called him Vinnie the Mouth because he talked a lot, but in the end his mouth was their downfall because he squealed.  It wasn’t like he wanted to be a rat, he had been given no other choice.  Jimmy Marconi, his long-time boss, had put a hit out on him, all over his running a tiny little protection racket on the side.  He was taking initiative, they should have been impressed.  

    In any case his career in organised crime seemed to have come to a screeching and permanent end.  Two months stuck in a flea-bag motel off the interstate had been followed up by a stellar court performance.  He made sure they knew they’d fucked with the wrong guy.  He knew where all the bodies were buried… literally.  After all he’d put a few of them there himself.  

    The kind of shit he admitted to in court would normally get a guy a lifetime sentence.  But he’d gone to the feds himself.  They had nothing on him, so they had to pay a high price for his full cooperation.  Full immunity, and a guarantee of witness protection somewhere far away, and somewhere with a warmer climate than Chicago.  

    But to be honest when he asked for somewhere warmer, he’d been imagining California, or even Florida.  Which is why he was more than a little disappointed when Special Agent Garcia pulled off the highway and headed deep down some winding, country roads into the most backwoods part of Appalachian Tennessee.  This was major redneck territory.  He’d have to set up a moonshine operation to make money here.  

    Things were looking down already, but then the car turned down a dirt driveway, winding up through a thick stand of trees that hid the property from the small country road it sat upon.  

    “Here we are!” Agent Garcia announced happily.  Too happily in Vinnie’s opinion.  

    Garcia didn’t like Vinnie, that was no secret.  It would have been weird if the fed had liked the gangster.  So if Garcia was happy, Vinnie knew it couldn’t be good for him.  

    “Where the fuck are we, Garcia?” he demanded.  

    “The ass end of nowhere, Tennessee,” Garcia replied cheerily.  “This is going to be your new home for the foreseeable future.”  

    “This is bullshit Garcia, and you know it.  I’m going to talk with Landau,” Vinnie threatened.  

    “Go ahead, he approved the assignment.”  

    Shit, Garcia seemed pretty certain.  This was going to suck.  

    They cleared the trees, revealing an old farmhouse, a small barn next to it, surrounded by an expansive yard.  Vinnie saw a couple chickens pecking around the dirt in front of the house.  Wow, this really was the worst.  

    And then it got even worse.  

    A man came running out of the woods just to their right.  He was a tall, strongly built man, probably in his thirties, with a shaved head.  He was wearing a pair of blue-jean bib overalls, shirtless, with the legs cuffed up over bare feet.  He was grinning like a fool, racing to keep alongside the car, waving frantically to them.  He looked mentally challenged.  Or perhaps seriously inbred.  Vinnie wondered if the man had many teeth.  

    “This is some Deliverance bullshit Garcia!” Vinnie roared.  

    Garcia just laughed and laughed, pulling the car to a stop in front of the house.  

    The bald man in overalls planted himself alongside Vinnie’s window, patting it with his palms and hopping up and down on those bare feet, giggling and saying, “Hi! Hi! Hi!”  

    Vinnie was a bit nervous to get out.  The man was even bigger up close.  Sure Vinnie was a tough guy, but he usually let his gun do the talking or sent in one of his enforcers.  This guy probably had the strength of the stupid.  

    The door to the farmhouse opened and another man emerged.  This man was older, likely in his forties, well built but only average height, with a full head of dark hair but graying temples.  He was also wearing overalls, but he had on a long-sleeved plaid shirt and workboots as well.  

    “Well hello there!” he greeted them.  “Bobby, get yer butt back and let the poor boy out of the car!” he called to the bald man.  

    Bobby pouted like a small child, but stepped back as instructed.  “Yes Pa,” he said.  

    “Good boy,” the older man praised him, like he really was a small child.  

    Vinnie got out of the car, feeling the oppressive heat and humidity wash over him at once.  God, the AC really had hidden their descent into the South.  

    “Welcome home Vinnie,” the older man greeted him.  

    Vinnie awkwardly extended his hand, feeling the touch calluses on the other man’s dirty hands as they shook.  He reflexively wiped off some of the transferred grime on his thigh.  

    The man chuckled.  “Oh boy, you best get used to gettin’ dirty.  You ain’t gonna be all clean like this again for a long, long time.”  

    Bobby giggled at that as well.  

    “He’s awll cwean Pa!” he chimed in.  “He gonna look diff’rent when he awll dirty!”  

    Vinnie looked the man-child over more closely, seeing that he was in fact much dirtier than the father.  His body odor smelled even from a foot away.  His hands looked like he’d been making mud pies.  His bare feet were absolutely filthy, grime caked under each toe.  God he was a mess.  

    “I take pride in my appearance,” Vinnie cooly replied, running a hand through his well styled black hair.  

    “Well, we’ll just see how long that lasts,” Pa declared.  

    “Okay Vinnie, you’re all set,” Garcia jumped in, dropping the one bag he’d been allowed at his feet.  “You keep safe now, and if you have any problems at all, feel free to call us.”  

    It was an odd thing to say, but obviously totally insincere.  What did that mean then? That they wouldn’t take his calls?  If they wouldn’t, he’d have no choice but to walk away from witness protection and take his chances.  He couldn’t stay here long term.  

    Garcia got back into the car, wasting no time in pulling back down the driveway, smiling the whole time.  

    “Okay then, let’s get you inside and get you changed out of those city clothes,” Pa declared.  

    Vinnie shook his head.  “Look Pops…”

    “It’s Pa,” the man corrected.  

    “Whatever.  You’re only what, ten years older than me though, so it’s a little weird to have me calling you Pa, don’t you think?”  

    “All my boys call me Pa.  Bobby’s about the same age as you.  He calls me Pa,” the man explained.  

    All his boys?  

    “Are there more of you here?” Vinnie asked.  

    “Oh yes. Jason and Chris are around here somewhere.  Jason! Chris! C’mon out ‘nd meet the new boy!” he called.  

    Two more men quickly emerged from the barn and Vinnie’s jaw actually dropped.  He’d seen a lot of fucked up stuff in his time in the maffia.  But this… this took the fucking cake and then some.  

    The first man was a bit younger, maybe twenty-five, skinny with buzz-cut blonde hair.  He was wearing a pair of undies that seemed to be covered in dinosaur designs, like a little boy’s.  That was all he wore though.  The rest of his body was bare and he was every bit as dirty as Bobby.  

    Right behind him though was a tubby man, somewhere between the skinny man’s age and Bobby’s.  Like Bobby his head had been totally shaved.  He was also completely naked. He’d been shaved all over in fact.  His balls had been shaved too, he was all smooth down there, his penis just bouncing free.  All tubby and smooth and naked, he really looked like a massive toddler.  

    “Daz da new boy Pa?” the man in the undies asked, pointing rudely right at Vinnie.  

    But Vinnie could see the man was oblivious to manners of any kind.  His eyes also lacked any flicker of intelligence.  They were dull and glassy, and yes he was missing several teeth, visible as he stood there slack-jawed.  

    “Yes Chris, this is Vinnie, he’s our newest little family member,” Pa answered. 

    The naked man, who had to be Jason, suddenly and inexplicably blew a big, wet raspberry at Vinnie, before grinning at his joke, spittle dribbling down his chin.  

    “Don’t be silly to the new boy, Jason,” Pa chided him.  

    “Sowwy Pa,” Jason said, twisting his dirty toes in the soil and nibbling on one of his fingers.  

    “So, all your boys are…” he almost said retards, but reminded himself he needed to stay here at least a little while.  Don’t piss them off right away if possible.  

    “They’re all disabled?” he asked.  

    “Oh we don’t think of it like that,” Pa told him.  “They’re special boys, that’s all.  And they’re all very happy, very good boys for their Pa.”  

    All three of the men grinned and squirmed like hyperactive little boys, drinking in what they evidently took as praise.  

    “And you let them… um… wear whatever clothes they feel like?” 

    For a moment Vinnie was sure the redneck bastard would be offended.  But Pa just chuckled again.  

    “Well not exactly.  They have outfits for if we got to go to town and a special outfit for church.  But at home, well I’ll explain the rules to you shortly.  We got to get you inside, show you your room and get you changed into your home clothes.”  

    “I’m quite happy dressed as I am, thanks,” Vinnie told him.  

    Pa looked him up and down, clearly finding that very funny.  Okay, so the expensive Italian shoes and suit he was wearing weren’t for a farm.  And he didn’t really want to mess them all up walking around here.  But he wasn’t putting on any clothes this guy thought was more appropriate either.  

    “Just c’mon in and we’ll get you settled,” Pa said, leading him up the steps onto the porch.  

    Vinnie followed him inside.  The house was pretty clean actually, better than he’d expected given the outside.  

    “So you expect me to help you with taking care of the… special men?” Vinnie asked, not really prepared to deal with retarded inbred rednecks like that.  

    “No, no, not at all,” Pa assured him right away.  “That’s my job and mine alone.”  

    Vinnie breathed a sigh of relief.  

    They entered a bedroom and Vinnie saw there were two beds in the room.  One had clearly been occupied for some time by one of the boys, as Pa called them.  There were small children’s toys cluttering the floor between the beds and the sheets were car and truck themed.  

    The other bed was clean and made up.  And lying across it was a single item, a simple white tank-top, a wife-beater some would call it.  

    “There you go Vinnie,” Pa said.  “That’s your bed, and you can leave your bag downstairs.  I’ll deal with it later.  Everything you need is right here in this room, in the closet and dresser.  I got some clothes in there for church and town.  But I don’t want you going in there, gettin’ them on, gettin’ them dirty.”

    “I’m sorry?” 

    “It’s natural for farm boys to be messy, to get themselves dirty. They’re always playin’ in the barn, wrestlin’ with each other, and with the pigs too.  They get messy doin’ their chores, the get messy eatin’ their dinner.  And four boys means a lot of laundry if they’re gettin’ their clothes messy.  

    “So, y’all got one outfit for home, but y’all got to share it,” Pa told him.  

    Vinnie was totally confused now.  “Share it? Share an outfit?”  

    Pa nodded. “Today Bobby’s got them overalls.  Chris got the undies and I saved the shirt for you.  Jason don’t mind though, he liked bein’ nekkid more ‘n anything else.  With four boys there always gonna be one a you nekkid.  Well at least one.  No rule that you gotta wear your part of the outfit,” Pa explained with another chuckle.  

    “You can’t mean… you, don’t expect me to take off all my clothes and put on that wife-beater and what, that’s it?” 

    To his utter shock, Pa nodded instantly.  “You get changed out of those city clothes before they get ruined.  I’ll take them down to goodwill when we go to town in a couple days.  Get changed quick, then come on down to the kitchen and we’ll give you a haircut.”  

    Vinnie jerked backwards reflexively, as thought the scissors were coming for his hair right then.  

    “Look man, I got my hair just how I like it.  No one touches my hair, you got that,” he warned, using his most menacing tone.  This guy didn’t know who he was fucking with.  

    But Pa wasn’t deterred at all.  

    “Hair on little boys just gets filthy, gets matted, gets infested with lice.  It gets in your eyes, gets all sweaty when you’re playin’, when you’re explorin’ and doin’ yer chores.  Easier to get rid of it.

    “Now hurry up, we got to go on our walk too.  The boys are all excited for it.”  

    “Walk? Where are you planning to walk to?”  

    “Oh we have a nice trail that goes up onto the mountain behind the house.  It’s real quiet, no tourists or anything around here.  It’s a rough one, but that’s just the point.  We need to start getting your feet toughened up.  It’ll be sore at first, sorry to tell you, but it won’t take no time at all ‘nd you’ll be able to run over gravel like the others.  

    “But we gotta get your feet used to it, so a nice long walk up the mountain will get you started.  It’s gonna feel so nice Vinnie, especially since you’ll be nice and cool in your new outfit, no hair to get in your eyes.”  

    “Get my feet used to it? What does that even mean?”  

    “Well none of my boys have shoes, not even for church.  Around here it’s pretty much expected for little boys to be barefoot.  Keeps ‘em surer on their feet, makes climbin’ the trees easier and saves buyin’ boots for the barn.”  

    Vinnie had heard enough.  The old bastard wanted him to be like these morons he cared for.  He actually thought he’d enjoy a half-naked, barefooted walk in the woods.  

    “Just stop right there man.  None of that is going to happen.  I’m not stripping naked and walking around with my cock flapping in the breeze for you to see.  I’m not letting you touch my hair. I’m not going for a stupid walk, and definitely not barefoot.  

    “You don’t seem to get that I’m not a retard like those other guys.  I’m not an inbred hick with an undeveloped brain.  I’m actually a pretty smart guy.  I ran a lot of rackets back in Chicago.  People knew not to fuck with me.  I don’t need you to take care of me.  I can take care of myself just fine!”  

    “Okay, okay, okay, just calm down now,” Pa urged.  “Look, I know you aren’t like my boys.  I get that Vinnie, I do.  And I seen your file. I know what you done, what you can do.”  

    Vinnie nodded, finally glad to have a little respect.  

    “I’m not a rich guy like you.  The only valuable thing I even have is this pocket watch, passed down from my grandpa to my pa to me.”  

    He fished the tarnished, old pocket watch out of the pocket of his overalls.  Pa held it up for Vinnie to see more closely and Vinnie wondered what the piece of junk would bring at a pawn shop.  Probably not nearly as much as this idiot thought it was worth.  

    “I cherish this pocket watch, mostly for the sentimental value,” Pa admitted.  “But also because it has helped me to build a loving family.”  

    Pa pressed a button and the lid of the pocket watch flicked open.  But inside it wasn’t a clock face.  It was a digital screen, something much newer than the outside of the watch.  And it was filled with these strange swirling colors.  So bright, so eye-catching.  Vinnie didn’t even hear Pa still talking, he was just looking at the swirl of colors.  

    “It’s so pretty ain’t it?” Pa whispered.  

    He was standing next to Vinnie now, patting his arm gently.  Vinnie found himself nodding.  Yes, it was very pretty.  

    “Each of my boys saw my pretty pocket watch on their first day here,” he went on.  “They weren’t so different from you before that.  They were smart, they were all so independent, so confident.  And then they saw this pretty watch.  Don’t worry Vinnie, it feels good, doesn’t it?”  

    Vinnie did feel good.  It felt so peaceful now. All his other thoughts and worries were just gone.  There was just the pretty watch and Pa’s voice, echoing around his head.  His muscles were all getting nicely relaxed too.  His whole body was just losing its tension.  

    “Yeah,” Vinnie mumbled, so relaxed now, it was hard to even speak.  

    “Yes, it feels lovely. They all saw the pocket watch just like you.  And then they changed out of their city clothes into farm boy clothes.  They got their haircuts, they went for their walks and they became a part of the family.

    “Jason was the last one to join us.  He was a banker before.  He didn’t want his farm clothes either when he saw them.  But after he saw the pocket watch he still didn’t want them, but for a totally different reason.  After our lovely, sleepy talk, he didn’t want clothes at all, silly boy.”  

    Somewhere in his head Vinnie felt alarm bells going off.  He needed to stop looking at the watch.  He needed to get out of here.  But his body wasn’t responding.  His muscles were all relaxed, all asleep, his arms and feet heavy as stones.  

    “Don’t… don’t wanna forget…” he managed to slur.  

    “Oh you won’t forget everything, I promise you that.  No, you’ll still know who you used to be.  I won’t take that away from you Vinnie.  But you are going to need to forget a lot about how to be that person.  You’ll need to forget things a simple farm boy doesn’t need to know, like how to drive, or how to read, or how to tie a pair of shoes.  Course you won’t have any shoes to tie anyway.

    “We need to make sure that you need your Pa.  Make sure you mind your Pa, appreciate your Pa.  Make sure you only got the simplest of thoughts, ‘bout playin’ with your brothers, doin’ your chores, gettin’ nice and messy.”  

    Vinnie managed to shake his head.  It took a lot of effort.  His eyelids were drifting half closed, but he still couldn’t look away from the swirl of colors, even as his chin came closer and closer to resting on his chest.  

    “That’s it Vinnie, you’re almost there buddy.  Just let go buddy, let your eyes drift shut and let it all go.  You’ll have the most lovely nap, it won’t feel like long at all to you.  And when you wake up, you’ll be special just like the other boys.  Your head will be nice and empty, nice and clean, the opposite of how your outside will be from now on,” he added with a laugh.  

    “I know you think you can fight it honey, but you just can’t.  All the other boys let their chins touch their chests, let their eyes close and when they woke up, they were silly and simple and ready to be my good farm boys.  

    “It’s much better this way.  They don’t even remember the naughty things they did before.  Now they’re innocent.  It’s a relief for them, and it will be for you too darling.  Soon you’ll have the most innocent of eyes.”  

    Vinnie felt horror flashing through his mind.  He didn’t want to be innocent and utterly helpless.  Jesus, others would see him too, when they went to town, or church.  And Agent Garcia had made a point of telling him he’d visit from time to time, see how he was enjoying his new life.  He understood what he meant now.  He was looking forward to seeing Vinnie reduced to idiocy.  

    That couldn’t be his new life!  It just couldn’t.  He wasn’t going to go to sleep.  He wasn’t going to let this fucker do this to him.  

    “Deep sleep Vinnie.  Deep peaceful sleep,” Pa whispered, gently pressing his head downward until his chin touched his chest and his eyes got so heavy and they drifted closed.  It felt so good to finally drift off to sleep.  


    Vinnie’s eyes fluttered open.  He was still standing up, but no longer in the bedroom.  They were in another room, facing a mirror, so he could see what he looked like now.  

    He gazed into the mirror, looking first at his smooth head, his hair all shaved away.  His fancy suit and Italian shoes were gone too.  He was wearing the tank-top now, but that was all.  It was a bit small for him, only just reaching his belly-button, leaving his penis fully visible, soft between his legs. It was smooth too. Pa had shaved him all over apparently.  

    Vinnie looked down at his feet, wriggled his toes experimentally against the wood floor of the farmhouse, feeling it under his soles, getting used to it.  

    Pa’s hand pressed the middle of his back.  

    “What you looking at there Vinnie?” he asked.  

    “Toes,” Vinnie answered.  

    “Oh yes, toes are interesting.  You should have a closer look, honey.  It’s okay, go ahead and sit on your bum.”   

    Vinnie sat on his bottom, feeling the floor under it as well.  He took one foot into his hands, looking at it, wiggling the toes again.  His eyes widened.  Toes were so interesting.  He wanted to do something else with them, but he stopped.  That was silly.  That was dumb.  

    Pa got down on his level, put a supportive hand on his shoulder.  He looked over at Pa, confused by his urges, by how fascinating he found his toes.  

    “It’s okay Vinnie, go ahead,” Pa assured him.  

    It’s a huge relief to know it’s okay.  He pulls the foot to his mouth, puts the big toe between his lips and tastes it, explores it with his tongue, jams two more toes in there, slurps at them as Pa watches and nods encouragingly.  

    Finally they come out with a pop, a line of drool slips out too, he feels it running down his chin, dripping on his chest.  

    “Why I wike toes Pa?” he asked the man.  

    Pa ran a hand gently over his smooth head.  It felt lovely to Vinnie, felt so soothing.  

    “You were such a good boy for me Vinnie.  You looked at my special pocket watch and had a wonderful, long nap.  And we took away all the smarts in your silly little head.  So now you’re just a little boy honey.  

    “You’re a very little boy inside a big boy’s body.  But it’s okay because I know you’re all little inside.  And it’s okay to do little boy things, to enjoy little boy stuff, like playing with your toesies,” Pa explained. 

    Vinnie nodded his head.  He remembered going to sleep now.  He’d had a nice nap and Pa had helped him forget all his naughty things.  He was certain he’d been a naughty boy before.  But he couldn’t begin to recall what it was he’d done that was so bad.  Pa had taken the burden away.  And now he was little inside.  Yes, he felt little. Pa was telling the truth.  

    “Okay honey, let’s go for our walk now. After that your feet will be awfully dirty and those toes will taste different when you eat ‘em next time,” Pa said, helping Vinnie to stand up.  

    That did sound good! What would his toes taste like next time?  Vinnie wanted to know.  And walking sounded fun too.  He was going to be such a good boy for his Pa.  


    Special Agent Garcia pulled the car around the final bend, exiting the woods and sighting the farmhouse he’d last seen two months ago.  He hadn’t even parked it when Chris emerged from the barn, rushing over in a pair of shirtless overalls.  

    “Garcia hewe!” he announced brightly.  

    Bobby appeared right behind him, beaming ear to ear, wearing a tank top and dirty looking holey undies.  The two giggling idiots were eager to say hello to their visitor, but it wasn’t them he’d come to check up on.  

    “Where’s your Pa?” he asked them.  

    “Pa’s feedin’ the hogs.  Bwudders is hewpin’,” Chris answered.  

    “Right, well maybe you should go tell them I’m here.”  

    The man in overalls nodded like a bobble head and rushed off.  

    Moments later he returned, hopping along, hand now being held by Pa.  A moment later two more men emerged from around the side of the house.  Tubby looking Jason, nude as always, and right behind him Vinnie.  

    Vinnie was just as naked as Jason now, his whole body deeply tanned, his hands and feet brown with dirt, head shaved, body smooth like the others.  Garcia couldn’t help but smile.  The former gangster had been such a smooth operator, such a good liar and manipulator.  They called him the Mouth, but it was really his brains that made him so good and so dangerous.  

    Garcia had worried that those brains would have found a way out of this end.  That he’d have slipped past Pa somehow.  

    But as the naked man came closer he could see in his eyes the same vacancy, the same blankness as in the other boys.  His face had a slackness to it that utterly transformed his facial features.  He had worn a near permanent sneer before.  Now his jaw was slack, his chin shiny with drool.  

    “Vinnie, do you know who this man is?” Pa asked him. 

    Vinnie gaped at Agent Garcia, his eyes looking at him, but still not focusing.  

    “Pow-ees-man!” Vinnie declared after a moment, his lips then tugging upward into a pleased smile.  

    “That’s right Vinnie,” Pa praised him.  “He’s the policeman who brought you here to Pa.”  

    Vinnie looked stunned for a moment, then hurried over to Garcia, grabbing his arm.  

    “Pa made me hab a nap,” he told Garcia, clearly excited to deliver this news.  

    For a second Garcia was worried.  Was Vinnie trying to break through, trying to get out of this after all?  

    “He did?” 

    Vinnie nodded.  “Made me all spethal ‘nd widdle,” Vinnie told him seriously.  “Widdle inthide.”  

    Garcia swallowed hard and nodded.  

    Then Vinnie’s lips tugged up again, that silly smile reappearing on his face.  

    “Now I go nekkid!” he announced, grabbing his soft penis and yanking it upward to show to Garcia.  

    Garcia laughed out loud.  

    “I see that.  It’s nice being all nekkid then?”  

    An emphatic nod from Vinnie.  Then he turned to Pa and urged him, “Show da pow-ees-man Pa! Show ‘em da spethal watch!”  He turned back to Garcia and assured him, “Feews so good!”  

    Garcia ran his hand over the man’s smooth head, looking into his eager, peaceful eyes.  

    “I’m glad it felt so good for you.  But I have grown-up things to do.  I can’t let Pa empty out my head and turn me into a dumb little nudist redneck like you, okay?”  

    Vinnie blinked, his mouth still hanging open. 

     “Otay,” he said, not a flicker of insult taken at the response.  

    Then he sat down with his bare bottom in the dirt, grabbed his foot and slipped his toes into his mouth, sucking on the filthy digits even as he gazed vacant eyed up at the two grown-ups. 


    I told my roommate something was too uptight and he needed to get under the sink to fix it. He figured it was a clogged sink and being the stuck up pretentious nerd of a roommate he is he accused me of being too dumb to fix it- “Thought dumb muscle jocks like you were built to do this kind of thing.” I told him I thought a smart twerp like him could handle it and he should use all his smarts to do the job and prove me wrong. I knew he’d love to prove me wrong.

    So that’s what he did and every turn of the wrench it was fun watching him do it and his body transform. He used up all his smarts, loosened up the uptight stuck up problem (his personality), and made sure to prove me wrong- a skinny nerd couldn’t handle it, only a dumb muscle jock could do the job right.

    City Boy

    “Please don’t break down now. Not here. Anywhere but here!”

    Nick had been travelling through the countryside when his rusty car broke down. Nick was a rich city boy. Being stranded in the countryside was completely out of his comfort zone. Nick stepped out of the rickety old car. He was surrounded by nothing but corn fields. Not a single person or house in sight.

    Nick began walked along the side of the road, hoping a car would pass by. Nick had been walking for around an hour before he saw something in the distance. It was a house. A big bright farmhouse with a barn out the back. It was the first house Nick had seen in miles. Nick precariously approached the farmhouse. He could see a big hulking farmer feeding cows out the back. The shirtless farmer glanced back at the 19 year old.

    “What do you want, city boy?” The reeking man’s voice growled.

    The cowboy brought Nick into his home and sat him down in the kitchen. Nick explained what had happened. The cowboy barely seemed to be paying attention. He kept staring lustfully at the 19 year old. His disgusting farm stench filled Nick’s nostrils.

    “So city boy, I’ve been looking for some help on the farm” The cowboy said in his southern drawl. “Are yer interested?”

    Nick laughed nervously. “No, man. I just need to use your phon-”

    “Man?” The cowboy questioned angrily.


    “I’m sorry, sir” Nick blurted out. It was almost as if the words just slipped out of his mouth. As if the cowboy’s words had infected his brain, forcing him to say it. Nick was confused.


    “I want to work here, sir” Nick blurted out again. Nick had no control over his mouth anymore. He felt like the cowboy’s puppet. Completely suggestable to everything he was saying. The cowboy’s words embedded themselves in Nick’s brain. His words were not only changing Nick’s reality, but they were also changing Nick as a person...

    Nick jumped up from his seat in fear. Nick looked at the hulking cowboy. His 6’8 stature. Nick could smell the cowboy’s hairy body which reeked of pigs and hay. Nick then made a B line for the back door. He needed to escape. What was this man doing to him?


    The cowboy’s words buried deep into Nick’s mind. He couldn’t just run away... could he? He can’t just leave the cowboy. It wouldn’t be right. Deep inside, Nick knew it was immoral to leave the farmer, but Nick forced himself to keep running. Nick ran until he reached the front of the farm. He was ready to run back to his car but... his feet refused to bring him any further. His body refused to take a step outside of the farm. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t leave. He was trapped here...


    The cowboy’s words began to tamper with Nick’s memories. Nick’s recollection of growing up in the city vanished. They were replaced with fake memories. Memories of growing up in the South. He remembered life on the farm. How he loved milking the cows, feeding the chickens and stacking the hay. It was his favourite thing to do ever since he was a kid. The 19 year old grabbed his head. He knew the memories were fake. But they felt so... real. Wait... maybe they weren’t fake? Maybe Nick did grow up on the farm?

    “What are yer doin to me?! This ain’t my home! I’m from over yonder. I ain’t some hillbilly farmboy!”

    Nick’s hands clasped at his mouth. Nick’s accent was now completely Southern. There was not a trace of city boy left in him. It sounded like he had never even been to the city. It sounded like the only place he had ever been was.... the countryside.


    The cowboy began to rewrite Nick’s genetics. His lineage being rewritten. Nick began to forget about his real father. All memories of living with his loving father faded until there was nothing left. But new memories filled their place. Nick’s mind began to be filled with memories of working on the farm with the cowbo- no... not ‘the cowboy’... his father.

    Nick’s genes began rewriting themselves. Changing to adopt the genetics of the muscular cowboy standing in front of him. Nick grew in height as his genetics were replaced with the cowboy’s. He went from a generous 5’8 to a monstrous 6’5. Nick’s muscles began growing. His biceps grew bigger and bigger. His chest bulked up. His abs became more defined. His shoulders broadened. His small dainty hands began thickening, turning into big meaty paws. His fingers fat like sausages. Callouses formed on his hands due to the copious amounts of farm work he had done throughout his entire life in the countryside.

    His body grew hairier and hairer. His smooth boyish skin became more coarse and manly. His 19 year old face began aging. It aged until the 19 year old looked like he was in his 30s... and that’s because he was. The 33 year old’s face was now covered by a thick manly beard. His testosterone levels sky rocketed. Sweat covered his body, embedding itself in his new body hair. His hairy armpits reeked. He smelled as bad as the pig sty out back. No amount of showers or soap could get rid of the smell. It was the smell of a true country boy. Nick’s city boy clothing began disappearing, being replaced by his milking uniform.

    “Pops, what’s happening to m-?”


    Nick was cut off by his father. His eyes grew dim and vacant. His jaw dropped open. Drool began forming in his mouth. Nick’s IQ had plummeted. His IQ went from 140 to 80 in a matter of seconds. It began slipping down further and further.


    His IQ slipped from 80 to 70.


    His IQ slipped from 70 to 50.


    It slipped down further and further until it eventually fell to a mind numbingly stupid 30.

    “Imma dumb farmboy, pops” Nick flexed his massive biceps releasing his pit stink into his father’s nostrils. His father smirked.

    A dumb blissful expression crossed Nick’s face. Nick felt so at home in his father’s hands. So safe. So vacant. So dumb.

    “Sarry for trynna run away, pops. I dunno whut I were thinkin, sir” Nick rubbed his empty head.


    Nick’s new father clicked his fingers. And with that, Nick felt a swelling in his chest. It felt as if his pecs were filling up. Filling up with liquid. They felt so heavy. The new weight on his chest almost caused Nick to fall over. He shifted his new weight causing the fat pecs on his chest to jiggle. Nick dumbly looked at his tits. There seemed to be a white liquid leaking out of his nipple. It looked like... milk. Nick’s once lean pecs began getting bigger and fatter as they filled up with milk. They looked so heavy. So fuckable. His nipples grew so sensitive. The slightest touch evoking the most intense pleasure. Nick’s father just wanted titty fuck his son right then and there.

    “Ma boobs done grown so big, pops”

    “As punishment for trying to run away, your fat tits will now supply our farm’s milk” Nick’s father deviously grinned as he stared at his son’s leaking breasts.

    Nick’s father forcefully grabbed his son’s nipples and began milking his tits. It felt so orgasmic. So pleasurable. Nick felt his intelligence being milked out of his tits. He moaned in pleasure. The more Nick was milked, the more he tried to fight back against his natural urges. But the pleasure soon became too much for the farm boy. He couldn’t hold it in anymore. The dumb country boy tried to resist, but he couldn’t help but let out a big



    And so, Nick lived out the rest of his life on his father’s farm. The dumb country boy happily fulfilled his duties on the farm. He fed the chickens, stacked the hay, let his father cum deep inside his ass. But most importantly, he supplied the farm’s dairy by letting his father milk his fat tits. Nick’s father glanced at the buckets full of his son’s milk. He grinned.

    “Go get me some firewood, son. If you disobey, I’ll make it so the only thing comin out that dumb mouth of yours is MOOOOOO.”

    Fan Service

    Apologies for the sparse activity on this blog - I have some stories & challenges planned in the coming weeks, but for now here’s a quick story that came to mind last night. Enjoy! And thanks for sticking with me.

    All characters are fictional.


    Miles was a product of his generation. Kind, intelligent, charming. He came out of the closet before he even made it to high school, and he educated himself on other cultures and their entertainment long before the popularity spike.

    He had a loving boyfriend, a scholarship to a prestigious college, and a huge crush on his favorite K-pop idol, Hyeon. He was the lead singer for one of the newest bands to make their debut, and already he had captured Miles’ heart.

    It was all playful, of course. Miles had a wonderful guy in his life, and a comfortable future, not to mention that if the tabloids were correct, Hyeon was totally straight. He’d be lucky to ever get a picture with the guy.

    But still, he was infatuated, and so desperate just to be near the handsome singer. He was flawless, and his voice was heavenly, and Miles just wanted to be in his presence for a mere moment. So he spoke those ill-fated words.

    “I just wish I could be around him.”

    And it should have been simple, and innocent. Until his eyelids started to flutter, and everything warped around him, until suddenly he was left with the sensation of a clearing headache and the surroundings of a private jet around him.


    And he… he was different. He looked down to see the flashy suit he was now wearing, the rich fabric and fine details, but then his attention shifted to body beneath it all. It wasn’t his. Everything was tight, and bloated. Huge.

    It seemed like one movement would send his new pecs spilling out, or a thigh shredding through the leg of his pants. All he could do was flex his new sausage-like fingers, making the gold rings on his hands clang together.

    His hips and ass filled up the whole seat, his shoulders stretching beyond the backrest, he was an absolute unit of a man. And for some reason, he couldn’t stand up, or shout, or express any of his confusion.

    His posture was solid, and straight, like he was waiting for orders. It’s like his mind had been transported into the body of a living boulder, crying out in fear and anxiety, but unable to control the massive hunk of muscle. Unable to move.

    Until he grunted like some sort of animal, and reached down a meaty paw to adjust the bull nuts being squeezed by his tight trousers. And then he mumbled something in frustration, but the voice wasn’t his. Not even the language.

    It was deep, and bovine, short and to the point and so dumb-sounding. His whole body vibrated with the sound of it, but more than that, he could vaguely recognize the strange words coming out of his mouth as Korean.

    “Too tight. Too big.”

    He shouldn’t have been able to understand, but something about his new brain was wired differently. He could speak Korean now, or at least this beast he was trapped inside of could. He felt his lips twist into a smirk fit for a proper douche.

    “Nah. Never too big.”

    And then the bathroom door swung open, and the stewardess stumbled out with a look of ecstasy across her features. Giggling. And then there was a flush, and the sound of zipping, and out walked Hyeon. He adjusted his package.

    Miles could feel his heart start to race, or at least it should have been. He wanted to rush over to him, to ramble on and on about how incredible of a performer he was, but all he did was smirk once again. And chuckle.

    “You satisfied, Boss?”

    His celebrity crush lowered himself into the seat across from him, running a hand along his cheek like a true fuck-boy and licking his lips. “Yeah. Sure am.” Miles was panicking even more now. What was happening?

    He kept his gaze on Hyeon, but even though his mind told him that he should be swooning, he simply sat there. He didn’t blush, didn’t compliment the idol on his fashion or perfect hair, he just rolled his shoulders and grinned.

    “I’ll have to hunt some pussy for myself. After your concert.”

    Miles froze inside of himself, looking at Hyeon, looking at anyone, hoping to place the words to another mouth. But then his chest shook again, and he laughed, and Hyeon started laughing, too. The heartthrob slapped his shoulder.

    “My bodyguard, the pussy-hound.”

    It was all he could do to scream in his mind. He was straight? Korean? The bodyguard of the man he idolized? The wish played itself out in his mind once more, wishing just to be around Hyeon, and he hated himself for it.

    Because it came true.

    Here he was, right across from the guy that starred in all of his dreams, in a body that felt no attraction or respect for his talent. They simply talked about all the hot chicks they had conquered, and their gym routines.

    Miles had been transformed into the one male who could spend all of his time around Hyeon. Not a gay white boy, but a hulking, straight Korean monster of a man. His life was lived on autopilot, forever serving his crush as his bodyguard.


    When he was away from Hyeon, his body was at the gym. Tearing into anything with raw protein, pumping weights until his massive body was sore, until he was pouring sweat and making all the passersby cover their noses in disgust.

    Miles was forced to watch as this man uploaded selfies to his new social media, crying at how lazy and straight it all was. He looked like a balloon filled with meat, not even facing the camera, unashamed of how manly he was.


    He was stupid, and immature, but so strong. The perfect man to protect and serve one of South Korea’s newest treasures. And Miles was there for all of it, experiencing everything through this vessel he had wished for.

    Watching as Hyeon partied his way through life, fucking any girl that would spread her legs, and even being forced to watch his own body plow women during his breaks from work. He would stare down at the bouncing tits.

    Feel his cock swell. Feel his smirk start to form again. Crying out in Korean as he filled the slut with his alpha sperm, as Miles cried out at the existence that had been robbed from him. He hated this person. He hated himself.


    His new name was Dong-hyun, a douche who loved to crack jokes about his own massive dong, who told people to call him Kong. Because he was a king, a man in his most primal state. Everything about him screamed masculinity.


    He loved his best bud, Hyeon, the man who paid his bills and took him around the world. Not that he had ever listened to any of his music, much as the voice in his mind would argue, and not that he thought the guy was really all that special.

    He was skinny, and weak, and much too feminine. But he was loaded, and had a hunger for women, and that was all it took to win Kong’s respect. He lived the lifestyle of a true playboy, all the while keeping the pretty boy safe from harm.


    And Miles is still trapped inside.


    Forced to travel the world in luxury.


    Forced to spend his time around other straight muscle monsters.


    Forced to take douche-selfies for the ladies.


    Forced to spend the rest of his life at the side of Hyeon, taking his orders, laughing and joking and swaggering his way through life. Because he’s fucking Kong now. He’s the king of this castle. The uncontested alpha.

    Even if he doesn’t pay the bills.

    At least he gets the most pussy - right, Miles?

    The Promotion

    “I’m going right into Mr. Johnson’s office and i’m demanding a promotion”

    “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Elijah?”

    “I’m at my desk working 24/7, dude. I deserve to get paid way more”

    “Last time someone asked for a raise, I never saw them again. He must have fired them or something”

    “Well, that’s a chance I’m willing to take” Elijah stood at Mr. Johnson’s office door. He looked back at his coworker.

    “The next time you see me, I won’t be working the same old boring desk job anymore. Trust me”



    “Come in” Elijah could hear Mr. Johnson’s gravelly voice inviting him into his office.

    Elijah opened the door to see Mr. Johnson sitting at his desk. His suit perfectly tailored to his slim 40 year old body. His legs were spread wide, accommodating for his big manly bulge. He ran is hands through his perfectly sculpted salt and peppered hair. He was the epitome of masculinity. He glared up at Elijah.

    “Take a seat” he commanded.

    Elijah swiftly closed the door behind him and sat across from his boss. It felt as if Mr. Johnson’s eyes pierced into his soul.

    “So why are you in here today, Elijah?”

    “Well, I’ve been working a lot recently and I think I deserve a promotion.”

    “A promotion?” Mr. Johnson’s furrowed his brow.

    “Yes, a promotion. I’ve been sitting at that same desk for years. I think it’s time for something new”

    “Well” Mr. Johnson flipped through the papers in front of him. “I do have one available position. And it’ll get you away from that desk of yours”

    “Yes! That’s perfect” Elijah tried to hide his excitement. Finally, he was getting out of the office. Away from his computer. Away from the monotony of his boring desk job. He’s finally getting the promotion he’s always dreamed of.

    “I just have to ask you a couple of questions before you start.” Mr. Johnson stared directly at Elijah.

    “Since you’re interested in this new position” Mr. Johnson grinned. “I imagine you love gross smells. You probably don’t mind your body hair reeking of sweat by the end of the day, right?”

    “Em, I... I don’t understand.” Body hair? Gross smells? Elijah was confused. Elijah was hairless. He was a 21 year old and couldn’t even grow a beard. He had no hair on his chest. No hair on his arms. Nothing. He had always been insecure about his lack of body hair. And who the hell likes ‘gross smells’? And what the hell does that have to do with working in finance anyway? What a weird question. Elijah was able to shrug it off.

    “You’re hairy and love gross smells?” Mr. Johnson asked again. But this time, he was firmer. More deliberate.

    “No, I’m not. I don’t know what you’re talki-“

    You’re hairy and love gross smells” Mr. Johnson stated. This time it wasn’t a question. His tone was direct. It was confident. There wasn’t a shred of doubt in his voice.

    “I’m hairy and love gross smells” Elijah felt the words slip out of his mouth. Elijah sounded so sincere. He said it so truthfully, as if he really believed it. And that’s because he did. Elijah rubbed his hairy arms and smiled.

    “I love gross smells. Smelly farts, stinky underwear, sweaty armpits, I love it all. I shouldn’t tell you this but... every time I sense a fart coming, I shove my hand down the back of my pants and fart onto my hand. Then I just rub my smelly hand all over myself. I love stink. I can’t get enough of it” Elijah confessed as he played with the chest hair poking out from his shirt. It felt good to be so honest with someone.

    “In order to fill this position, you have to be pretty strong” Mr. Johnson smiled at Elijah. “You’re quite big, Elijah. You even have a gut, don’t you?”

    “Um, no... I’m quite skinny” Elijah laughed nervously. What was his boss talking about? Elijah was small both in frame and stature. He was barely even 5’8 and he was very skinny. Not even the lean kind of skinny. He had a flat hairy stomach. Thin hairy arms. Small biceps. Small hairy legs. That’s how he had always been. Mr. Johnson must have been thinking about someone else.

    “You’re fat and muscular, right?” Mr. Johnson questioned.

    “No. You’re thinking of the wrong per-“

    You’re fat and muscular” Mr. Johnston stated.

    “I’m fat and muscular.” Elijah smiled at his boss as he adjusted his large body on the tiny chair. His 6’4 stature and muscular frame had always caused this problem. But when you’re as fat and as muscular as Elijah was, this kind of stuff always happened. But Elijah had always been this way, so he was used to it.

    “Yeah. I’m fat and muscular” Elijah flexed for his boss.

    As Elijah showed off his big hairy muscular body to his boss, he realised that his shirt was undone. Most of the shirt’s buttons were lying on the floor... as if his shirt had just... burst open. How did that happen? The shirt he was wearing was an extra small. Why would a big masculine man like him be wearing such a small shirt? Elijah only wore extra large shirts. No other shirt could cover his big fat muscular body.

    “Well, Elijah. I doubt a younger man would be interested in this position” Mr. Johnson smirked. “So, I say you’re around 34? Is that correct?”

    Elijah was desperately trying to button what was left of his shirt. But his big fat beer belly was getting in the way.

    “No, I’m only 21. I’m still quite youn-“

    You’re 34.”

    “I’m 34.” Elijah enjoyed his 20’s but he was happy to be in his 30’s. He didn’t yearn for the past. He‘s a lot smarter now. Especially since he was able to go back to college in his late 20’s. With each year, he grew wiser. Elijah was a clever man. Fit for any job.

    “So because you’re interested in this position, I don’t imagine you’re too smart, huh?”

    “That’s definitely not true. I have a degree in finance“

    “So, you’re dumb?”

    “No, not at all. I’m actually quite well educat-“

    You’re dumb”

    Elijah vacantly chucked as he scratched his empty head. “Huhuhu, I guess I am pretty dumb, aren’t I?”

    Elijah knew he wasn’t the smartest. He dropped out of high school when he was younger. He was never interested in college. Was never interested in learning. He just didn’t have the brain capacity for it. But that’s just life. No point in trying to change it.

    “So that’s all the questions I have for you, Elijah. I think you’re perfect for the position”

    “I guess I am BURRRRRPPPP” Elijah’s dumb chuckle was cut off by a gross smelly burp.

    “You’re perfect for the construction worker position. I’m sure you’ll do a great job building the extension to our building”

    “Definitely will, Mr. Bossman.” Elijah’s hulking frame jumped up from the chair, his beer gut jiggling.

    Elijah tore off the constricting shirt and lifted up his huge arms, showing off his sweaty pits. He buried his nose deep into his smelly armpit, took a sniff and then let out a long sigh.

    “Damn that’s the stuff”

    “Now get to work, Elijah. That extension isn’t going to build itself.”

    Elijah dumbly chuckled and started walking towards the exit. His big massive size 12 feet stomping on the carpet. The construction worker opened the door and looked back at his boss.

    “One last thing, Mr. Bossman”



    And so, Elijah continued his life as a dumb smelly construction worker. Obsessed with his own stink. Constantly farting around coworkers. Constantly burping into people’s faces. Constantly skipping showers. Elijah loved his life. He loved being the way he had always been, just a dumb gross smelly construction worker.

    But Elijah got what he wanted. Elijah will never have to work a boring desk job ever again...

    (Story inspired by @dumb-and-jockeds Like Father, Like Son. Go check it out)

    The History Exam

    “Shit! There’s a history exam today?!” Charlie panicked. “What’s it on?!”

    “It’s on the Romans, dude” Charlie’s best friend laughed at him.

    “Just go to the bathroom and study for like 10 minutes. They won’t start the test without you”


    Charlie ran out of the class and made a beeline for the bathroom. He kicked open the bathroom door, threw his bag into the stall and locked it behind him.

    “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Charlie dragged his history book out of his bag and opened it to the correct chapter. ANCIENT ROME the textbook read.

    “Oh god. I‘m not gonna remember any of this” Charlie dropped the textbook and put his hands on his head. “I’m so fucked”

    I wish I knew everything about the Romans.” he sighed.

    Suddenly, Charlie was hit with an overwhelming sensation. Heat rushing through his body. Heat flowing through his veins. Charlie closed his eyes and groaned uncomfortably. He felt as if his shirt collar was choking him. In fact, he felt as if his entire body was being strangled by his clothes. His clothes now skin tight on him. Were his clothes shrinking? What was happening to him?

    Suddenly, Charlie’s bicep tore through his school uniform. Charlie yelled as his body grew to gargantuan proportions. Charlie felt his pecs balloon up. They became big and heavy. His shoulders broadened and stretched. He broadened to the point where his shoulders were pressing up against each side of the bathroom stall. Charlie started forming a six pack. He felt a rush of masculinity flow through his body. He couldn’t help but flex his new masculine muscles.

    “Fuck... it feels so good.” Charlie groaned, his voice growling. He sounded like some kind of animal.

    Hair began to sprout all over Charlie’s body. His chest became covered in a thick pelt. His pubic area growing a full bush, as if it had never been a trimmer. His legs and ass becoming hairier and stinkier. His armpits growing thick pungent hair. Charlie now reeked of masculinity. His scent intimidating any man that smelled it. Charlie was repulsed by his own smell... at first. But the more he smelled his own stink, the more his began to like it. He lifted up his arm and took a whiff of his sweaty, stinky armpit.

    “Oh yeah” the beast growled. “That’s the stuff”

    The pulsating heat enveloped Charlie’s head. Charlie’s ability to think slowed down. He became stupider and stupider. His brain devolving. His high school education being drained from his mind. His IQ plummeting. His 130 IQ draining out of his head becoming a generous 40. Charlie’s face then began to shift. His brow becoming more pronounced. His eyebrows becoming bushier. His face becoming more angular and masculine. His memories of growing up in England were erased from his mind. They were replaced with memories of growing up in... Rome. No... not just Rome, but Ancient Rome. Charlie began devolving further. His manners disappearing. Losing all social awareness. His brain devolved until Charlie became nothing more than some uneducated Roman from the year 200 AD.

    A red tunic appeared on Charl.... Maximus. Maximus grunted and kicked the stall door open. He stomped through the school’s halls. His big hairy muscular body on full display. His masculine stench stinking up the hallways. He angrily stomped through the school until he reached the History classroom. Maximus opened the door, his big hulking muscular body struggling to fit through the doorframe.

    Charlie’s old history teacher’s jaw dropped. But he better be careful. Maximus is hiding a boner beneath that tunic. And it wouldn’t surprise me if the devolved hunk rips off his teacher’s clothes and burys his Roman load deep inside his history teacher’s fat ass.


    Charlie got exactly what he asked for. He now knows everything there is to know about Ancient Rome. In fact, Anicent Rome is the only thing he knows about now. Compared to his classmates, Charlie is just some dumb devolved ape. But at least he’ll get an A+ on his history exam... right?


    My jock roommate keeps pushing me to go to the gym with him saying “he can be my personal trainer” one day after saying no he had enough.

    "No," You respond harshly and finally. You had, had enough of Jason your roommate edging you to go to the gym with him. You were a nerd and not some dumb disgusting brute like him. But he just smirked at you.

    "What is it? why are you just smirking?" you reply, confused at his look.

    "Well, since I can't train you to be better, guess I'll have to make you better!" Jason yelled wildly, as he charged towards you. He ran at you and slammed onto the floor. He ripped off everything until you were naked, not caring if he damaged your clothes. Then he straddled you, placing his legs either side of you and his thick bubble but resting on you fat belly, while his cock sat between your man tits. Jason then took off his shoe and looked down at you, smirking. He forced the shoe over your face as quickly as he could over your mouth and nose, forcing you to inhale his stink. The smell was intoxicating as it infected you, but as it got further into your body it turned into a vile pulsing that shot straight towards your feet. He got off you and went to sit on a nearby chair watching as you scrambled to get up.

    "That's not funny," You gasp, your voice disappearing into the air, as you clambered up. You feet begin to feel itchy and unnatural. You look down to see your clothes are all gone. You look further and your feet to see your skin turn into shoe material. Your heart stops as a pair of white Nike trainers grow out of your feet. They continued to grow into size thirteens, considerably bigger than what your feet were. The laces came out and did themselves up. A black Nike tick appeared on the side as the material hardened. As the shoes cemented themselves to you,  something engulfed your new massive feet and slid up them. Your saw two large Nike sports socks slither up your ankles, going higher and higher until it reached your knees. You felt a cramp in your calves, as the socks began tightening to the skin. But to your surprise, your calves were growing. The growth continued up your legs, your thighs became thick with meaty muscle. Your crotch got itchy as your bush and cock began growing. Your cock grew out from its average size into a mighty python, while your bush grew out until a pair of tight white briefs appeared and covered them. There was a sudden rupture in your flat butt. Suddenly a bubble butt like Jason's burst out to fill the briefs. A pair of black gym shorts appeared over the briefs. The swelling continued up your torso expanding it with muscle. A pristine six-pack popped out of your abs. You begin to feel your hot body, rubbing it and exploring your new fitness. As your hands came back up, you could feel the growth in your pecs as they ballooned out. You scream in pleasure as they turned into soft pillowy pecs. The changes continue. You feel your shoulders grow out, while your tri's and biceps explode in size and muscle.

    You continue to moan, but your voice begins to deepen as your vocal cords are reshaped. The changes hit your neck adding plenty of girth to it, before reshaping your face. Your face becomes more angular and prominent; squared jaw, tighter face with more compact features. There's an itching sensation around your chin and cheeks as a thick chin strap sprouts. Then the hair on your sides shaves down to a size 1 while the top gets shorter before spiking out to the side.

    You look at yourself in the mirror. You're totally different now. You should scream, a small part of your sub-conscience is screaming, but the pleasure has got you. You begin to get hard to how swole you look, your body feels so good so normal. Yeah, this is your body, which you've worked at day after day with your bro Jason. Jason is your best bro, always helping you out and guiding you to what's right. Your old thoughts and memories disappear as new ones take over.

    "How you feelin' bro?" Jason asks

    "Fuckin' great bro," you reply enthusiastically.

    Jason puts his arm around you and walks you out of the room to start your new life as a jock.


    The jockification process

    Here’s sum thin my coach gave me, dunno wut it means but sounds kinda hot lolol. I read sum thin about takin nude selfies. Dude, you gotta try it. It made me a man. FUCK YEAH!

    An extract from the Top Secret File of GS
    Serum 1279 was originally created as a way of training the military for men deemed incompetent by their superiors. The injection was a way of retraining mind and body to make more effeminate men fitter and bond easily within the troops. However, tests were abandoned after men showed no interest in the army. The subject typically went through the following phas

    STAGE 1 The man has an increased sexual libido. His penis becomes erect more frequently and penis length is gained. The man will masturbate more frequently. STAGE 2 Each time the man ejaculates, it increases the release of endorphins in the body which activates the serum further. The man will become penis obsessed, and can be found absentmindedly scratching himself. As testosterone levels increase he starts to gain muscle mass. STAGE 3 Muscle mass begins to grow further. The man’s body will begin to ache and he will only feel comfortable wearing sports clothes. This stage is considered a medical phenomena. Up until this point, the changes may be reversed with the stopping of the serum. However, as the man becomes even more penis obsessed he will most likely begin taking photos of himself naked. Should he see these photos himself, it will activate the temporal lobe of the brain to reinforce the process. Any changes after this will be irreversible, as his subconscious mind now aligns with the process. This stage is commonly known as ‘point of no return’ by those effected.

    STAGE 4 Muscle mass continues to grow and more body hair is produced. The man becomes less interested in grooming as it is difficult to maintain. The continued muscle mass begins to divert blood away from the brain. Brain cells begin to die and IQ drops significantly. The man will become more forgetful and not able to grasp simple concepts. He will begin to laugh off anything he doesn’t understand. Typically, the man will only be able to understand concepts that relate to physicality…most likely sports, gym and sex. STAGE 5 Muscle mass continues to grow to the point where the man’s body is unrecognisable. He will be actively exercising at this point to remain what he refers to as ‘swole.’ Due to the death of cells, the body will start sending hunger messages to recoup lost protein. As more food is eaten, the man will begin to express excessive gas in the form of ‘burping’ and ‘farting’. As the man goes through this stage he will eventually become less embarrassed of this gas. Bizarrely will become very proud and will try to compete with other men going through the same process. IQ continues to drop. Reading and writing become more difficult whilst vocabulary and spelling become poor. A man in this stage is often defined by their inability to spell, almost creating a common language The man in this stage will become so penis obsessed he will actively seek out the penis’s of other men. If the man is not homosexual before, he will be by the end of this stage. Any man the man ejaculates into will become effected by the serum in the ejaculate and will begin at Stage 1. 

    STAGE 6 - End of process
    Due to his extremely low IQ and obsession with exercising, the man will need to be taken care of by another man. The man in this stage will seek out other men who have been through this process, and will actively try to change men into being like them. At the end of this process, the man is a shell of his former self, with barely any recognition of who he was before. The most this man could hope for is to be sexually satisfied with his partner and be instructed by an authoratarian man.

    This serum was destroyed during the failed test sequence, and all men in Stage 6 were put into a secure unit. A common myth is that a man known only as ‘The Coach’ has stolen the serum, but that has not yet been confirmed as true. As a precaution, please be aware of any men behaving in this manner. 


    FUCK YEAH BRO! Just give in to coach and be nothing but a hot muscled jock!


    you judgemental prick. you look at guys and you think “wow, that guy is a fuckin dumbass.” maybe it’s the slightly glazed over look in his eyes, the way his mouth hangs slightly open. maybe it’s his muscles - no one who has that kind of body can have been able to devote their time to anything BUT their body, right? you scoff inside your skull, but secretly?

    you’re jealous. don’t deny it. and now, every time you make fun of one of Those Guys in your head, a cluster of your brain cells is going to >pop< and fizzle out like a dud firework in the sky. as they do, you’ll feel great, but you’ll sense a new kind of emptiness in you. the craving for muscle, the boredom of books and smarts. the craving of the clanking and grunting of the gym.

    go ahead, dummy. see if you can stop it.


    huhuhu stop whut bro?


    A nerd couldn’t stand his dumb jock roommate anymore. He learned a spell to change his roommate to be alike him but before he finished his spell the jock was aware of what the nerd would do to him. The jock grins and threw his dirty socks into the nerd’s mouth and began his own ritual to make him a perfect bro.


    John Andrew was, to say the very least, a bit uptight. It was the first thing anyone could tell about the young collegiate scholar. But when you insisted on going by both your first and your middle name, it became pretty obvious that there was a stick lodged up your ass.

    But he was rich, and brilliant, so he saw those things as a free pass to being an unpleasant person. He had every right to hold himself above everyone he met, because to John Andrew, that was exactly the truth. He was superior. Top of his class, always wearing designer clothes, a great family name at his disposal.

    If not every single student in his university, there was at least one particular individual that he knew he was several heads and shoulders above. Travis James, or as he insisted to be called,TJ” was a waste of an already worthless athletic scholarship. John Andrew wasn’t positive the guy had even passed elementary school, let alone qualifying for the same prestigious college as he did. At least the meathead could throw a ball around, right?


    John Andrew could forgive the fact that TJ was dumber than a bag of bricks if not for two reasons. One being, there were too many other flaws to give just one of them a free pass, and two, John Andrew was trapped in a shared dorm with the disgusting idiot. The star athlete and the star academic, in one space, even his parents couldn’t argue the reason behind it.

    But they weren’t the ones forced to swim through TJ’s sweaty gym clothes abandoned on the floor, they didn’t have to listen to him moan out some bimbo’s name as his bed frame knocked against the wall, they didn’t have to cover their noses and wretch whenever he let out a booming fart. The guy didn’t even realize how repulsive he was. He’d just smile, and burp, stretching out his arms and letting his pit stench waft into the air. “Dude, I need to take a shit.”

    John Andrew could care less if TJ tried to be friendly, if he tried to invite the outcast nerd to all the coolest parties in an attempt to bring him out of his shell. One of them actually had a future to seek out, the other could afford to throw all of his ambitions away. So John Andrew kept telling himself to wait it out, that sooner than later he’d be free. He’d be on the top, where he belonged, and TJ would end up working construction on one of his many buildings later in life.

    Then the prank happened. Or, at least, the prank that broke the straw on the camel’s back. John Andrew was trying to sleep before his big exam that next morning, already tucked away long before midnight. When TJ stumbled back into their dorm, drunk and gassy, he walked into John Andrew’s room while looking for the restroom. “Fuck,” was all he could say as he rubbed at his bloated stomach, looking down at his roommate’s exposed face sleeping soundly. He couldn’t resist it. It was a classic prank, he and his best bros had gotten lots of great laughs out of it over the years.

    TJ stomped over and swung his big meaty body in position, almost graceful in his movements. Like he knew exactly what he was doing. And when he let a squelching fart rip right in John Andrew’s face, it was the scream heard all around the campus. The nerd was frantic, and furious, and gagging, and all TJ could do was let out another one. “Bro, I need to take the biggest dump. You want me to take a pic so you can see?”

    No, he didn’t. He didn’t want to see TJ ever again. When he stormed out of their dorm that night, it was nearly a week later before he returned. He had aced his exam, but the memory of the rotten egg-like stench and the humiliation still wore on him, and it took him time to gather his thoughts. Now he had a plan, tucked away in the bags under his arms and the incantation scrawled across the piece of paper in his back pocket. If TJ wouldn’t fix himself, then John Andrew would.

    It had taken many online searches and a few calls to close family friends, but he had learned an occult ritual to bend a person into the image of another. His traits and goals could be imprinted on TJ’s caveman brain. He didn’t think the jock was quite worthy of being his second coming, but people always said that two was better than one. What was the harm in two self-obsessed nerds with superiority complexes? Maybe then John Andrew would finally have someone he could hold a conversation with.

    Setting up the ritual was easier than he expected, just a few chalk lines and one of TJ’s many abandoned gym socks at the center of the circle, candles burning all around the room. All he had left to do was add his essence to the air, transferring his energy into the thing that represented his roommate. Just a simple exhale, and he would have someone worthy of calling a companion. He was excited, voice rising higher as he went ahead with the incantation.

    And then the door swung open, and TJ stumbled in drunk. “Bro! You’re finally home, fuck.” He was clutching his beer gut again, like he always was, smiling like an idiot. “I missed my best dude!” Then he noticed the candles, scrunching his face together and chuckling. “Bro, I missed Halloween? Fuck, we should get wasted.” He stomped forward, chuckling as his big feet tore through the chalk lines. John Andrew was sputtering, trying to stand up before tripping over himself and landing in the center of the circle. The slip of paper slid over to where TJ was standing.

    All at once, everything went wrong, and so suddenly. His nose was hovering right over TJ’s sweaty sock, and the jock himself was looming over John Andrew in the circle. The big oaf bent down to pick up the paper, making his trademark “I don’t get it” face once again. He tried to repeat the words on the paper, getting eerily close to how they were meant to be pronounced. John Andrew couldn’t move, at first because he was stunned, but then because an electric charge was moving through him.

    When TJ was finished, nothing changed, and John Andrew let out a breath of relief. He looked down at the sock, exhaling a bigger breath. Wasn’t that what the spell asked for? Wasn’t he still in control? Then TJ’s massive legs were on either side of his head, and he was in a headlock, the sock being crammed into his mouth. He gagged on the salty, sour flavor. TJ just kept laughing, letting a fart slip out. And then another one, because why not.

    “My prank is better than your witch shit, bro!” But this wasn’t meant to be a prank, and now it was ruined, and... Was John Andrew higher off the ground? He found it more difficult to turn himself over than it should have been, spitting the sock out of his mouth and rotating his body to look at a developing shelf of pecs. The stench of TJ’s fart was still heavy in the air, thick with his essence, and John Andrew was still lying in the center of the circle. Covered in the stench, sweat dripping from his lips.

    He tried to get up quickly, but tripped over his stretching feet. “Fuck. No.” He never swore, but this situation called for it. His hips flared out, thighs straining against his pant legs. It was like the air from the fart was inflating him, like he kept getting taller and thicker with every inhale. “Help,” was all he could whine, but the only person to hear him was TJ. The big jock strolled over with a light chuckle, throwing his sweaty bicep around his roommate’s widening neck.


    “Man, you been working out? Sick gains.” John glanced down, and he couldn’t help but agree with TJ. He tried to tell himself it was more the fact that what was happening to him was sick, and twisted, but then he flexed a bicep without meaning to. It swelled in front of him, and he was smiling, for just a moment. Then he pulled away from his roommate, trying to run away, but all of the bulk and girth made his legs like jello. It didn’t matter that they were shredded, or that he was an absolute unit of a man.

    When his cock started to swell in his gym shorts, which he didn’t remember ever putting on, he fell to one knee. He couldn’t stop himself from shoving a big meaty hand into his jockstrap pouch, fishing out the python now growing in his hands. “Oh, fuck. I’m so fucking horny, bro.” His eyes were so full of fear, he couldn’t believe the words that had just left his lips, but TJ was thrilled. It was nice having someone who understood him. The jock was starting to forget that this was a nerd who always tried to avoid him, that he enjoyed pissing off because he was such a prissy little fucker, and was remembering that they really were best bros. And now his best bro was jacking off right in front of him.


    “Ha, dude. You should have went to the party. This one chick had the biggest rack of tits.” John, or Andrew, or whatever the fuck his name was could only grunt, laughing for no reason because that was what TJ did. And TJ fucking loved girls with huge racks, so JA - AJ? - did, too. Yeah, TJ and AJ, best bros since the first time they met and had a farting contest in front of the college scouts. It was kind of hard to tell them apart. They played the same position in football, on opposite sides of the field. They went to the same parties, wore the same clothes, lived in the same filth and flunked all the same classes. They even banged the same chick, once or twice. At the same time.

    John Andrew and all of his superiority welled up like cum in AJ’s nut sack, every trace of him had disappeared from the room. All of his clothes, all of his books, even the signs that the ritual had even occurred in the first place. The stench grew heavier as if two jocks had been living here all along. All AJ could do was laugh, busting his nut in his shorts and wiping off the globs of cum on the outside of his shorts. There was hair all over him now, tattoos on his chest, a cap on his head. He was so fucking hot. All it took was a selfie to make the girls cream themselves.


    “Dude, I’m an absolute tank. You wish you had guns like these.” TJ just chuckled, punching his best bro in the arm and walking into the kitchen to fix a late night meal. White chicken and rice, pure protein, now AJ’s favorite snack, too. He kept scratching his balls as he followed his bud, licking his lips as the food was being prepared. It wasn’t until TJ set his plate aside that AJ leaned over, trying not to chuckle and ruin the joke. “Dude, do you want some special sauce for that?”

    TJ just blinked, like an idiot, because they were both idiots. “What special sauce, dude?” Then AJ turned on his heels, bending over and pressing his big ass right over his roommate’s plate on the table. He let a protein fart rip right into the air, right over the food, and TJ couldn’t even be mad about it. He plugged his nose and guffawed. “Dude, you are fucking rank!” And he was. AJ was a pig, and a stud, and he loved it. He was so lucky to have TJ as his friend and roommate.

    He was lucky to be just like someone who was so fucking awesome. Thick, dumb, and gross as fuck. Because he had a right to be. Maybe he still had a superiority complex, huh?


    “Finish your food, bro. This pussy hound wants to go huntin’ tonight.”