The jock sat there staring at the rocks and pondered why he was even there. He remembered touring Europe with his bros but couldn't exactly remember why he was here. Just a bunch of rocks in a circle seemed like a dumb tourist attraction, even for him. He had no idea this was an ancient Neolithic site dedicated to the worship of old gods no one prayed to anymore. He had no idea that a few moments ago a college nerd on summer break touring Europe made a desperate prayer to these gods. Saying he would give anything to be stronger and more attractive so he could have more friends and find a girlfriend. He had no idea these gods still listened and accepted his offer, taking it upon themselves to take the nerds intelligence as payment since he said he'd give anything. He had no idea he was the person that nerd had become. How could he? He was too dumb to remember such things. But even being dumb he knew it was stupid to travel just to go see a bunch of rocks.

    Peter’s Essay

    “I wish I didn’t have to write this dumb essay”

    The more Peter wrote his essay, the bigger his body got. His body filled with muscle and fat. His smooth hairless body sprouted thick smelly hair. His fowl stench stunk up his once clean room. Peter’s arms grew heavier as they packed on muscle. His biceps inflated with each word he wrote. Peter’s fingers thickened until he couldn’t even use the computer anymore. Peter tried to focus on his essay, but clouds of fog invaded his brain.

    Peter’s room began to change. The posters of him and his boyfriend on the wall disappeared, being replaced by pictures of his new hairy body kissing a sexy woman. His scholarly books slowly shifted into straight porno magazines. His hidden dildo thickened and changed into a fuckable fleshlight pussy. Peter’s phone began blowing up with messages from girls calling him Daddy. Peter stopped thinking about his essay. He stopped thinking about college. He stopped thinking about his boyfriend. All he could think about was fucking girls, jerking off and staying smelly.

    Fuck, I stink bro” Peter chucked. “LIKE EVERY REAL MAN SHOULD!” PFFTTTTTTTT

    Peter got what he wanted. He’ll never have to write another essay again. Why would he? He’s a dumb straight man now. He never went to college. He’s never written an essay in his entire life. Peter now has everything he could ever want in life. Fleshlights, porno mags and a sexy fuckable wife.

    And with that big fat cock between Peter’s legs, it wouldn’t surprise me if he becomes a father very soon.

    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 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?

    Caption 1 - Monday

    Here we go! Enjoy a week’s worth of photos submitted by @mystrangetfs. We agreed to keep our captions around 250 words each, but we shared such hot pictures that none of y’all can blame us if we happen to go a little overboard! Look out for his story later today, it’ll be a real treat.

    Derrick didn’t want this. He had never intended for this to happen.

    It was just a stupid, careless wish. When you had a boyfriend like Kyle, sometimes you would get frustrated. The little twink was so fiery, and so reckless, that it was all Derrick could do not to throw up his hands in a fit of rage and walk out of the relationship. He loved Kyle, but he wasn’t sure he could stay with someone so immature.

    “I just wish he would listen to me.”

    That was all it took, those were the seemingly harmless words that had caused all of this to happen. When Derrick walked out of the restroom still rubbing his puffy eyes, his boyfriend was waiting for him on all fours. This was not one of his kinks, neither of them had expressed any interest in leather or bondage or pup play, but here Kyle was. Cuffs on his wrist and a jockstrap around his perky ass.

    And a gas mask, for whatever perverted reason.

    He laughed at first, thinking maybe Kyle was trying to apologize in some fucked up, sexy way - but then he just kept sitting there, even as Derrick asked questions and told him to get up. That last part, he did without hesitation. That was all he did, just standing there and breathing deep breaths. Awaiting command. He didn’t speak, he didn’t express anything at all.

    All he could do was obey, but it was like the original Kyle never existed. “Be normal,” Derrick would say, and his boyfriend would fall to all fours and present his ass for fucking. Like that was his default state. It was a turn off, he didn’t want a slave. It was horrible, thinking of selling his lover to a master, but Derrick wanted his life back. He couldn’t go anywhere without Kyle following, even just walking into town his boyfriend would crawl behind him. People stared.

    Derrick was shy, and caring, and too submissive. Kyle was a drone for pleasure. He tried to sniff everything, tried to offer all his holes, obeying every little command that came out of Derrick’s mouth. So he did the unthinkable, and he took his boyfriend by the leash and placed him in the rough hands of a muscle daddy covered in hair and leather. Someone who could put his worship to use.

    It would have ended there if Derrick hadn’t made another foolish wish as he was petting his boyfriend’s hair goodbye. If he would have kept his mouth shut and just walked out of the door. “I wish I didn’t have to leave you.”

    And then the collar appeared on his neck, and he was on all fours with Kyle sniffing his butt, and the muscle daddy was laughing in amusement. He had two pups now. One for each reeking armpit.