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cyoc49 · 2 years

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The 43rd Annual Fettig High School Career Fair

Jackson

Jackson couldn’t have been more excited for the 43rd Annual Fettig High School Career Fair. Ever since he was a freshman, he had been making great plans for that day he would finally get to attend. He’d constantly checked the facts, the statistics, and even the charts on how each fair would go off, making sure to collect as much data as he could. Jackson wanted to make sure everything was perfect when the day would finally come. The day that he would be able to pull off the greatest prank the school had ever seen: vandalizing one of the governor’s own private jets.

Jackson had never been the best kid in school, and he’d definitely never been the best person to his peers either, but he was known for his commitment. Once he’d started something he’d do everything to finish it: even if it meant he would be considered a bully or it would hurt his grades. That was probably why his classmates were always drawn to him–he’d stop at nothing if something (or someone) challenged him. Sometimes they just wanted to follow along and watch, and other times his crew actually wanted to partake. Jackson’s influence eventually made him the leader of one of the most popular cliques in school and basically nurtured his arrogant personality into what it had become.

So in all, Jackson had the confidence, the group, and the looks. Jackson wasn’t model material, but he was attractive by high schooler standards. The 18-year-old had the hockey haircut always tucked beneath some baseball cap, he had the lightly-muscled lean body, and he had the natural cockiness that came with any confident youth. His well-known crew and casual attitude towards school also got him street credit. And even without playing sports or being involved in any activity, somehow everyone knew Jackson’s name.

So when his day to participate in the career fair finally came, Jackson couldn’t have been any more excited. He’d got on the local airport’s list without a problem, made it through security with all of his gadgets unquestioned and untouched, and landed himself and his buddies all in the brand-new in-transition private jet without a problem. Well, all his buddies except Jacob who’d been called to the assistant principal’s office for some random reason. But as long as it wasn’t himself, Jackson didn’t care.

“As I’m sure you can tell, this is one of the governor’s own aircraft we’re walking in. You have probably noticed this plane was formerly for commercial use, but the governor is currently in the process of remodeling,” the guide announced proudly. “Our governor believes that recycling is a practice worth noting.”

Jackson had to hold back a smile, knowing that once he was through with his business there’d be no point for the governor to continue his. The guide was an older male, well built and probably well off with a sturdy, tall figure and gray hair. He walked with a sense of authority he had earned with age and experience. He’d already told Jackson’s crew that he’d been flying for over 30 years before he’d been contracted by the governor.

“Do you guys know anything about our governor?”

“He’s a snowflake,” Fernando, one of Jackson’s boys shouted from the back. All the boys chuckled menacingly as the pilot tried to keep a calm stature.

“It’s best for you not to be rude towards someone on their property. You should be respectful.”

“Sounds pretty gay to me,” Jackson smirked, riling up his crew.

“Is it true he has a trophy husband?” one boy prompted.

“Yeah! I heard he had an affair with that socialist senator!” a second added.

Jackson slowly took a step back in his group, letting the chaos swarm around him.

“Can’t believe we have a gay governor!”

“Make America straight again!”

Jackson’s plans were working smoothly. While the pilot tried to swat down the other boy’s remarks, Jackson quietly slipped through the back of the group and down the hallway of the jet. Out of his hoodie pocket, he removed a small jar containing bright red paint. It didn’t take him long to get out the other items that each of the boys had also gotten through security: bottles of carbonated drinks, gum and soda tablets, plastic water bottles: everything and anything Jackson could use to make destructive explosions. Nothing that would actually harm anyone (because obviously it was a prank AND the airport had tight security), but enough to create quite the impact to the jet and an unwelcome statement to the governor.

Setting the items up in front of himself, Jackson couldn’t have been prouder of his work. His boys had come through, his plan had come through, and years of quietly waiting had come through. This pilot, and of course the governor, had no idea what was about to happen.

“This is your captain speaking.”

The stern voice sent a shock through Jackson’s body, shaking the small bottle of his mastermind mixture. Jackson knew it was the guide, but he had no idea how the pilot had gotten past his distractions. Didn’t matter anyway; all he had to do was put a tablet in and then-

“I’d like to advise all passengers aboard to immediately stop what they are doing.”

The shock coursed through Jackson’s body again, this time causing him to freeze up. He couldn’t move his hands or his arms. Not even his legs were inching forward. Jackson felt his usual cockiness disappear and be replaced with something new. Something he hadn’t felt since he was little. Something he’d almost forgotten the name of: fear.

“I already know what you’re planning on doing,” the pilot said through the speakers, his deep, silky words intimidating. “Your boys already told me.” Jackson flinched.

“They’re speaking with other pilots right now,” the pilot’s smirk could practically be heard in his voice. “They surrendered easily.”

Jackson’s face flushed with anger. He didn’t know who to be more angry at, his group or the pilot. It didn’t matter though, his fist was already tightening at the thought of punching anything or anyone. He didn’t even notice he had placed the tablets and bottles down.

“Insubordination, that simply won’t do!” the older pilot teased. “If you are going to work in this field, respect will be your first priority.”

“Excuse me?” a confused Jackson spat.

“I said respect,” the pilot shot back. Jackson cowered in response, bowing his head to his superior.

“Yessir…sorry sir.” Jackson stuttered in a low, soft timbre. His tone lacked the confidence of youthful vigor and replaced it with something more timid. It was something Jackson was familiar with, a calling for subservience and obedience to those above and around him.

“That’s right,” Jackson’s guide didn’t even try to hold back his delight. “Mischief is what causes errors and accidents, and that is unacceptable. Especially in our line of duty. Now, make your way to the cabin of the plane.”

“Of course, sir.” Jackson’s scurried as instructed, making his way to the middle of the aisle.

“It’s best if you follow all my orders, wouldn’t you think so?”

“Fully sir.” The words came out of Jackson’s mouth in record time.

“I knew you’d agree. I could tell when I first saw you.”

“What…what do you mean…s…sir?”

“For one thing, by the way you carry yourself,” the older pilot started as if it was obvious. “You’ve got no real personality kid. You’re about as tame as the majority of politicians that I meet. Just by looking at you, I could tell that even after flying around the world your favorite things are Vineyard Vines and IPAs.”

“Gotta love Vinny V, sir!” Jackson smiled suddenly, a sudden spark of excitement replacing his usual flaccid personality. It was true, some people thought of Jackson as bland for his likes, but he believed he just enjoyed the simple things in life. Why venture outside of the plane when you’re already comfortable inside?

A sudden memory of a closet full of the same three outfits at home caused him to pleasantly smile. One for work, one for day-to-day, and one for pleasure. They were basically the same articles of clothing in a rainbow of colors. IPAs were definitely Jackson’s favorite too, and he wasn’t afraid to admit it! Except, why did Jackson feel a slight hesitancy to admit it?

“You’re also built like you’re compensating for your lack of character.”

“I am…sir?”

“Completely,” the pilot replied back, his husky phonics clicking through Jackson’s earlobes. “Look at those arms, how much are you lifting, kid?”

“Just enough to keep my bis and tris prominent, sir,” Jackson replied, subconsciously crossing his arms in order to rub said mounds. He wasn’t doing this out of pride however, this was an act of submission. Even though Jackson had developed upper musculature, he couldn’t help but feel called out by the truth in the pilot’s words.

“And that torso too, obviously traded brains for brawn.”

“Thanks, sir!” Jackson guffawed, chuckling while patting the abs he knew were tucked underneath his button-up. He couldn’t help but tweak his nipples too, which thanks to his thick pecs were easily accessible behind his two shirt pockets. With his mouth, he made a little “beep beep” noise as he fiddled with the two teats, pretending as if they were the same noises particular buttons made in the control room.

“I’d say your head also took a beating from hitting the ceiling of the plane so many times. How tall are you again, kid?”

“6’5 I think, sir.” Jackson replied, the top of his pulled-back ‘do rubbing against the ceiling.

“Well, at least some of that muscle is useful for something.”

“Is it sir?”

“Sure,” the pilot responded back over the speakers. “For instance, those legs of yours make you strut with authority, even if you don’t have any.”

Jackson looked down over his thighs and calves, his dark trousers looking like a casing over two titanic sausages. The pilot was right, because of his thunderous quads he did have to strut through terminals like he was in charge. His Size 13 feet to also made each footfall sound more like a stomp. Jackson chuckled to himself at that thought; being in charge wasn’t meant for someone like him. Or at least, he didn’t think so.

“And that square head is mighty handsome, even if it is rather empty.”

“My momma’s said it only holds what’s most important!” Jackson nodded proudly, accidentally bumping his head on the ceiling. He immediately placed a meaty palm onto his forehead, feeling his shortly-kept bristles of hair rub through his fingertips. Once his hand was done there, it moved to his chin, admiring the rough, wide nature of it. A history teacher had once remarked that Jackson’s face looked similar to a Neander…Nean…old human’s with his forward brow and large ears and nose.

“I bet she did,” the pilot sighed. “But luckily you’re just smart enough to be a pilot after way too many years in school. How many was it again, kid?”

“10 years I think, sir.” Jackson’s answer was not as jovial as the past few had been. It had been hard for him in school, being that he was never the smartest student in the toolbox, but he wouldn’t give up! And he finally made it through just when he had turned 29. With that said however, the administration he had signed on with required him to be with an older, more experienced pilot at all times. Someone that could lead Jackson constantly, guide him without restraint.

“There are just a few good things about you though.”

“There are?” A big smile spread across Jackson’s face, filled with delight over someone else’s approval.

“Well sure,” the pilot’s voice rang. “I mean even though you’re very handsome, you’re too meek and mannerly to be arrogant.”

“Oh, um thank you…sir?” Jackson didn’t know how to take that last comment. He wasn’t one to handle compliments well, and he was straight. So the combination of both issues in one phrase really stumped Jackson on how he should respond.

“There’s also those two amazing beach balls attached to your back that everyone can’t help but stare at.” Jackson blushed at that, clenching his buttcheeks just to appreciate what the pilot was saying. He was still uncomfortable with the situation though.

“And remember what I had said about compensating earlier? Well, there’s definitely some compensation there.”

Jackson bowed his head in humiliation, unintentionally being forced to look at his pouch. Pouch might have not been the right word however, for the front of his trousers were very flat. Jackson was not enjoying this conversation with his senior captain, but he also wasn’t one to fight back.

“Sir…I-”

“What, are you embarrassed?” The pilot whispered, his massive body suddenly right behind the younger man. Jackson had no idea when the man had left his station at the speaker system and had appeared in the cabin. And even though Jackson was about the same size as the pilot, he still felt shrink down in submission.

“It doesn’t matter what you think, remember?”

Jackson felt a shiver run across his body as the pilot moved around and in front of him–his huge, thick meat rubbing across Jackson’s leg as he passed.

“What’s your name, anyway?”

“J…J…Jackson, sir,” Jackson stumbled out.

“No, not your last name,” the pilot’s scoffed, although the offhand comment still made its mark. “Looks like it will stay that way now. Anyway, I am your captain, and your job is to follow my orders.”

Before he could protest (something Captain Jackson hadn’t been planning on doing anyway), the senior pilot unbuckled his belt and dropped his dark trousers. A 9 inch tube of pure man meat sprung out, bobbing up and down in excitement.

“So, captain,” the older male grinned, knowing the title was simply worthless when worn by the younger man. “Your first duty on this aircraft will be to help your senior advisor. I know you’ll be pretty familiar with the task, being this was how you made your way through all those years of school.”

“Yes sir,” Captain Jackson smiled earnestly, unnecessarily proud of the truth. He carefully placed one hand on the seat beside him, ready to lower himself to his superior just like he had countless times before.

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cyoc49 · 2 years

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A Good Man is Easy to Make

I’ve always been the optimistic type. I believe that even society’s worst troublemakers have the potential for goodness buried somewhere within them. It’s a matter of understanding where someone has come from, and where they need to get to for their betterment.

…And of course if I’m able to help them along that path, I always do!

Last week I was walking home after work. As I passed by Miss Minnie’s Pie Shop, a beloved local bakery, I noticed some shadowy figures down the alley to the side. They didn’t notice me as I approached them, but as I got closer I could tell there was 3 men, all roughly college age. Eventually I could see what they were doing: vandalizing the building with obscene graffiti.

Well this was simply shameful! And a prime example of the vagrancy that’s so rampant in our world today. I saw a problem, and by god was I going to fix it.

I cleared my throat, letting the delinquents know I was there. They stopped spraying for long enough to turn and look at me, with confusion followed by pity for the idiot who thought he could win a 1 on 3 fight. Of course, I had no intentions of physically stopping them. Instead I just asked them one simple question:

“Is this really the best you can be?”

In an instant countenance on their faces changed from anger to shock. I knew a pit of worry was now forming in their stomachs, as if their bodies felt something was deeply wrong. Humans have a second nature for detecting threats, but rather than an immediate threat, these boys were feeling a historical threat: a realization of every single poor path they had previously been led down, every wrong decision they had made that had led them to the point where they were vandalizing an old woman’s bakery. And as soon as their bodies realized what was wrong, they lurched to correct the errors. I saw them writhe and contort; they were undergoing the overwhelming but not painful experience of their pasts changing, course correcting every wrong decision into a right one, leading them down the one perfect path that would make them the best possible versions of themselves.

By the time they finished, the three men who stood before me were unrecognizable compared to the wastes they had been before. They now appeared to be far more agreeable fellows.

First was Charlie, the former ringleader of the group. He had grown up in a religious household, with parents who went to church every Sunday. But at the point at the point in time where he had previously refused to go to church and eventually joined a group of rebels in his neighborhood, Charlie instead eagerly embraced the weekly tradition. He loved his Church’s local community and all the good people he met just as much as he loved the sermons & scriptures. He took every opportunity to give back to those in need through service groups & events. Charlie believed in the inherent goodness of people, and used his church community as a personal touchstone to the community at large.

Outside of church, he was one of the most sociable and outgoing people on his college campus. He made a point to know as many people as he could on a first name basis, and people left conversations with Charlie feeling a lot better about themselves. He continued to stay active through several extracurriculars: campus ministry, track & field, choir, and Beta Rho Omega, a fraternity for the most upstanding men on campus. He was the guy everyone got along with… as long as you didn’t mind that he was also the kind of guy who brought his guitar along to every event and retreat.

Charlie was the perfect friend, always encouraging and friendly, though he cared especially for his two best friends. The three were essentially joined at the hip, always volunteering together and supporting each other’s events.

Next was Eddie, now known as Eckworth. Whereas Eddie had always had a taste for music with vulgar lyrics, at a young age Eckworth had discovered a love of reading, which ignited a curiosity for knowledge in him ever since. He had always been the brightest student in his classes, which had (along with his participation in crew) taken him to Princeton on a full ride scholarship. He was studying neurology and one day hoped to go to medical school to become a brain surgeon; his 4.0 and multiple medical internships certainly helped with that. He shared his gift of knowledge with other students when they needed it, helpful but not cocky, and was effectively a tutor for his brothers in Beta Rho Omega.

Raised in Cape Cod, Eckworth was unwaveringly polite and well-mannered, with an old money charm about him. He may be the only college student with a mahogany bookcase in his dorm room, filled to the brim with classic literature, physics texts, science periodicals, and all sorts of other intellectually stimulating reads. He took care to look & dress sharp every time he left the house, allowing his body be another outlet for the intelligence and class he felt inside. There’s no doubt Eckworth was one of the finest young men you’d ever meet.

And finally Thompson, the definition of “Mr. All American”. He had grown up in a small town in Vermont, and in a past life had even run away from that town in favor of living on the streets with a shady group. But Thompson would never do that. He always helped his ma & pa on their orchard growing up, while also trying hard in his local high school and serving as captain of his football team. By the time Thompson moved to the big city for college, he was a hometown hero, doubly so when he was named MVP of Princeton’s football team in his junior year. Outside of this he studied business management and agricultural science, hoping to take the family orchard to new heights one day, and maybe even eventually start a loving family of his own.

He had a small town charm laced with a kind humility, the kind of man who just wanted to make his ma proud. He was a natural charmer to women (and a few fellas too), and always offered a helping hand to his fraternity brothers, especially his two best buds. When he wasn’t at the gym keeping himself in peak physical shape, he was out immersing himself in nature. Whether it was a hike through the forest or a trip to the oceanside, Thompson loved to feel as one with the earth. One time he had even convinced the boys to come out camping with him. For as much as he kept his appearance clean, he had a strong rugged spirit.

Together the trio brought out the best in each other: Charlie offering charisma and leadership, Eckworth providing a voice of reason, and Thompson boosting their confidence and work ethic. They embodied the refined charm of New England, and were model gentlemen. A complete 180 from- well that doesn’t matter now. Let’s let bygones be bygones and pretend those old fellows never existed at all. I like these ones much better, don’t you agree?

As I faced the new upstanding men, they once again stared at me , though this time with much more warmth in their gazes. They helped Miss Minnie out around her shop every Thursday, keeping the premises tidy and organized. They were taking out the garbage when I had run into them.

Charlie offered a pleasant greeting in my direction “Hello there sir! Hope your day is going well.”

“Indeed” Eckworth chimed in with his hands clasped behind his back, “it’s such a pleasant day today.”

I concurred, “complete agreement, good sirs. I hope Miss Minnie is treating you well.”

“Oh, it’s always a pleasure working for her.” Thompson offered with a hearty laugh. “She always offers us goods at the end of the day. She’s really as sweet as apple pie!”

I smiled “She sure is”

I wished them a great day, and headed out on my way after receiving a near-simultaneous chorus of “you too, sir!” from them. I walked away from the scene happy that the world was now a slightly better place. As I said, everyone has the potential for greatness in them, and it is an honor of mine to help them achieve that greatness. I silently hoped another troublesome situation would arise on my way home, so I could continue to keep my community upstanding. After all, a good man may be hard to find, but he sure is easy to make.

#preppy #preppy tf #preppytf #stepfordization #all american #reality change #male tf

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cyoc49 · 2 years

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Hey, I'm a 5'10" white guy with an average body.

What happens to the old bodies of short nerds and dumb skinny twinks that become buff jocks? Can you give me one of those former bodies?

The Top Of Your Class

Although I don’t quite understand the reasoning behind having the desire to turn into a short nerd, who am I to deny someone from achieving their dream body? Luckily for you, I have a tendency to save templates of every subject prior to them undergoing their own transformation. To me, there’s nothing more amusing than scrolling through the before and after perspectives of how people transform under my direction. But since you want to be one of those short nerds, how about we go all of the way with it? A few weeks prior, I had the chance to transform a frail college student named Ernest into a brand new football player, and looking at what you’re asking for, I think his body would be perfect for your wish of becoming a nerd.

Checking in on what you were currently up to, I couldn’t help but chuckle as I found you in the library attempting to study for an upcoming final exam. Surely you wouldn’t be caught dead in a library without a valid reason, but by the end of the day this place would be your new favorite spot to spend your day! Although you’re not the buffest guy around, I certainly think you undervalued yourself when you described yourself as average. I mean just look at your angular facial features and toned body! Just silently observing you as you continued to peruse the aisles of the library, I thank the heavens that I didn’t choose your second suggestion of turning you into a dumb twink! No, shifting your current self into one that has the body of Ernest was most certainly going to be a fun thing to witness!

As such, my own personal excitement to witness your change caused me to immediately initiate the transformation. At first it started rather small, with your height gradually decreasing step-by-step as you continued to grab some books to source in one of your final essays for the semester. Inch-by-inch, you continued to shorten down from your 5’10” stature down until you were just barely over 5’5”. It was around this height that you finally began to realize that something was amiss as you struggled to reach the top level of the bookshelf.

Upon reaching the point where you were forced to get a step-stool to grab your desired book, a quick observation down at yourself informed you of the fact that you were currently transforming in the middle of the library. Despite how hot this aspect was for you, you forced yourself to remain calm and slowly make your way back to a table where you had left your laptop and backpack. Eager to work and allow the transformation to work its magic, you pulled open your laptop and immediately got to work on the Physics essay you had been putting off.

Based on the fact that you had next to no progress completed besides putting your name on the paper, I quickly began to realize why you were so eager to get the body of a nerd. If you became a nerd, concepts like studying, tests, and writing essays would be a breeze and you’d easily succeed at any course you attempted to take. While this was admirable and understandable, I felt a bit annoyed at the withholding of these facts. As such, I decided to alter my plans and instead move right on to the mental changes.

Your mind initially had trouble comprehending the confusing concepts and translating it for your fingers to type, however a deep tingling in your skull promptly informed you that it would soon begin to change. In order to make room for your future super-genius capabilities, your mind was forced to erase some of the previously pertinent information that your old self saved. Given the fact that you were going to become a complete nerd, your already inflated brain had no need to retain information that involved diets, workouts, or even any knowledge of sports or their basic rules. Instead of having a drink at a bar and watching some sporting event on the widescreen TV, your free time now involves reading content-heavy novels and textbooks as learning now provides an insatiable thrill that alcohol, socializing, or watching sports couldn’t ever compare to.

Although the concept of going back to your dorm room to snuggle up in bed with a philosophy textbook was quite appealing, your mind didn’t consider the possibility for long as this tingling sensation in your brain dissipated and instead began to make its grand return everywhere from the neck down. Taking a few glances down at yourself, you were in awe as you watched the muscles in your arms and chest tense every few seconds. But as you continued to observe the changes, it quickly dawned on you that each subsequent tensing was causing your muscles to fade away and give you an extremely average build. After a few minutes, your arms had lost every morsel of definition, turning into a pair of twigs that certainly no longer strained against your shirt sleeves. As for your chest and abs, those had also faded away to nothing to the point of turning you into a flat-chested man. In fact, your torso had become so flat that the only protrusions in that area came from the slight jutting out of your nipples.

As the changes continued down below your waistline, you could feel everything as your thighs turned into skin and bone to the point of gaining a permanent thigh gap. Even worse, that familiar tingling feeling in your crotch caused you to take a moment to focus on your prominent manhood. In doing so, you were able to slowly feel it shrink down to a more reasonable and fitting size of 4.5 inches. By the time you had finished mourning for your diminished manhood, the physical changes had completed as your calves lost all definition and your feet even shrunk a few sizes to no longer fit in your tennis shoes.

Although you wanted so badly to go to the bathroom to observe your changes, the fact that your clothes were so ill-fitting to the point where they would surely fall off upon standing up caused you to patiently wait out the changes. Luckily enough, my magic was quick to remedy the situation as your simple white t-shirt began to undergo a slight shift. The fabric became more starchy, which was quite irritating given how baggy it was and how it rubbed against your torso, but that was eventually fixed as the shirt shrunk a few sizes and a grid of lines and colors emerged on the fabric to turn into a more form-fitting dress shirt that is completely buttoned up all of the way to the collar.

Next, your pants and shoes are the final areas to undergo some severe alterations as no nerd would ever wear stylish pants and top-tier brand new athletic shoes. As such, the ornate pattern and designer fabric quickly altered, shifting in both density and texture until they were a rough pair of grey jeans. As your shoes shifted into a well-worn pair of dress shoes, it seemed as though your physical transformation had finally completed.

Eager to check yourself out, you finally began to stand up and make your way across the library to a nearby restroom. But as you made it a few feet away from your table, you quickly realized that your pants were still a bit too loose around your frail frame and thus threatened to fall down to the ground. Before you even had the chance to quickly move your hands down and grip the waistband, two bright blue and red suspenders suddenly pushed forth from the backside of the pants and looped around to secure your pants. While you were understandably shocked by the sudden snake-like suspenders that had manifested out of nowhere, there was an equal amount of shock dedicated to the bright red polka-dotted bow tie that had suddenly hindered your view when tilting your head downwards.

Seemingly finally done with the transformation, you walked with a slight pep in your step towards the restroom. While doing so, that all too familiar tingling sensation re-emerged.. with the focus now on your head. Like you were getting a fine scalp massage, you could feel your hairstyle shifting from a styled yet messy appearance to something much flatter and firm. Moving one hand up to touch the new hairstyle, your eyes widened at just how greasy the hair felt along with the fact that you were now rocking a sharp middle part that just screamed dweeb. Although you couldn’t witness the changes that were now affecting your face for yourself, you could feel the alternations of your features as they grew less defined. Your nose was the biggest proponent of change, shifting from an angular shape to a wider and more curved shape that would surely be the source of future taunting. As if on cue, your rush towards the restroom left you oblivious to the solid wall of mass that you ran into as they crossed the aisles.

“Whoa bro, watch where you’re fucking going!” the deep voice cried out as you helplessly tumbled onto the floor.

Upon making impact with the carpeted floor, you were quite shocked and scared to find your vision incredibly blurry. Not only had the impact with the hulking man only emphasized how weak and frail you were, but it also initiated the shift in your vision as you lost your perfect 20/20 vision. Knowing that you most likely had a pair of glasses now scattered across the floor, you moved around on your hands and knees in search of the glasses despite the extreme blur that you now saw. As you continued to frantically search around, the sudden snap of plastic caused you to immediately turn and crawl towards the source of the noise.

Just as you had expected, your hands finally came across a pair of glasses, which had magically already been repaired with a few pieces of thick white tape to repair the broken nose bridge. Although you were relieved to have finally restored your sight upon pulling them back on, you couldn’t deny that you were a bit peeved about being turned into a stereotypical nerd in both body and fashion choice.

But as you finally got back up on your feet and looked up at the man who had caused you to fall onto the ground, those thoughts quickly were pushed aside as you took in the sight before you. The man was clearly a college athlete, made especially evident not only by the university branded football shirt that was adoring his upper torso but also the extreme muscle that was struggling to be contained within that very shirt. His arms looked like the size of boulders, especially to you given your frail arms and smaller stature. Even his pecs were incredibly intimidating as you struggled to see the over 6’ tall man’s face due to looking up and seeing just how protruding they were towards your vision.

“What the hell do you think you were doing dweeb?” the man angrily roared, immediately causing your body to quiver and your cock to suddenly throb from the directed statement. Although you were extremely at ease with your sexual orientation as a gay man, the fact that you were turned on by him insulting you was a terrifying thought. You hadn’t been like this prior to the transformation, but that was just my own little addition to your personality as a slight punishment for only wanting a nerd body so you could get your college finals over with.

“I- I’m sorry,” you anxiously said, which caused your eyes to widen and your body to physically cringe as you heard the high-pitched nasally voice now coming out of your mouth. “I didn’t see you, I was just trying to get to the bathroom,” you continued, trying to calm the situation and make sure the jock didn’t initiate your new life with a terrible ass-beating.

However, the man wasn’t willing to be too forgiving, especially as he looked down and took note of the small yet noticeable boner that was straining against your jeans. “Holy shit bro, why the hell are you rock hard? Was all that knowledge making you horny…” he started, suddenly stopping as he began to put the pieces together. “Holy shit, are you some sort of fag or something? Did the physical contact of a REAL man really get you rock hard in seconds flat,” the jock happily cried out, causing a bunch of wandering eyes to direct their attention towards the interaction. To punctuate his sentence, the jock even showed off by lifting up his arms and flexing to seemingly show you what a real man looked like.

“I-, I’m not-, that’s not true,” you tried to respond, the words stuttering as you struggled to conceal the boner while handling the increasing levels of anxiety you were now feeling. As more people started to join in laughing with the burly jock, you were eager to escape the situation and thus immediately broke into a sprint to the nearest restroom. Upon finding the men’s restroom, you immediately slammed the door shut and locked as you tried to cope with everything going on. Although you weren’t entirely unhappy with the new body you had been gifted, the reality of what life as a nerd would be was finally dawning on you. To say that you weren’t enjoying it would be a clear understatement.

So as you made your way over to the sink, your already extreme anxiety increased tenfold as you caught sight of your new reflection. Taking a look at yourself, you witnessed practically no real remnant of your former self reflected in your new form. In all honesty, you weren’t sure whether that was a great thing or something terrible. As your mind continued to race about the reality of your new life, your heavy breathing began to quickly grow into something much more serious as a heavy wheeze began to escape from your lips. You were no stranger to a panic attack due to being a college student, so you knew for a fact that this was something much worse and far more serious. Leaning against the sink and tilting your head down to try and catch your breath, your sight immediately caught sight of a bright red inhaler suddenly sitting on the granite countertop area. With no other options and a desire to finally calm yourself down, you gripped onto the inhaler and brought it up to your lips. As you squeezed it and inhaled the fumes several times, the sudden calmness you felt was a huge relief.

After taking a second to maintain this level of relaxation, the issue of your still-throbbing and now leaking cock returned to prominence in your head. Although you were still ashamed of this newfound kink that you had seemingly inherited from the transformation, the enhanced sexual libido left you eager to push that aside and get off as quickly as possible. Not surprisingly, this desire ultimately won out, causing you to pull down your suspenders and pants and quickly pulling out your small cock. As soon as you gripped onto it, it only took a few strokes before you immediately ejaculated onto the bathroom mirror.

Relieved to find some form of release given the intriguing hot interaction you had with that jock, your mind immediately shifted to nerd mode as you felt an intense desire to return to finishing up your final essays and projects as soon as possible. After you quickly cleaned up your mess and pulled back on your clothes, you finally unlocked the door and made your way back out to your table. Although life as a nerd wasn’t entirely what you were expecting, you figured that there was at least great relief in knowing that you’d easily nail your finals and become the top student of your class… despite realizing that there would now forever be the looming threat of wedgies and constant bullying in your life.

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cyoc49 · 2 years

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Table of Contents

Full Length Stories:

HIMBO Magazine: The New Hire (Preppy, Nerd)- Barry Allen is interviewing for a social media position with a gay fashion magazine, but the boss thinks he’d be perfect for the accounting department with just a few changes.

HIMBO Magazine: Changing Departments (Corporate Drone)- Derek Hale, a cocky & homophobic model doing a photo shoot for HIMBO gets on the boss’ wrong side and pays the price.

Auto Pilot (Preppy)- A slacker college student receives a strange button that makes life a lot easier for him.

Golly, Archie! (Preppy, 1950s)- Archie Andrews and Jughead Jones are sent back to the 50′s by their biggest opponent in Riverdale.

HIMBO Magazine: Talent Scouting (Preppy, Subservient)- A beachside slacker receives a strange “Help Wanted” email that slowly pushes him into the corporate world he dreads.

A Good Man is Easy to Make (Preppy, Nerd, Well Behaved)- On my way home from work, I help three vandals do better.

Short Stories:

Mr. Grey’s Newest Boy (Suit)- A prototype for my later suit stories. Jim Halpert is surprised when a man approaches him with an offer he’s unable to refuse.

Preppy God Father (Preppy)- A fashionable fairy transforms two deadbeat men into their best selves.

Preppy God Father, pt. II (Preppy)- Two more stories of men reaching their brightest potential, with a few new twists along the way.

Preppy God Father, pt. III (Preppy) - Preppy God Father is back with three new cases of men in need of a life upgrade.

Shopping for a Few New Wide Receivers (Preppy, Subservient)- Four of the top quarterbacks in the NFL are perfectly suited to serve as my new house boys.

Model Student (Nerd)- A disruptive student comes into class late, and the teacher decides to make an example of him.

Just Add Starch (Preppy)- As it turns out, starch isn’t just good for straightening out clothes.

New Uniform (Suit, Subservient) - One of my readers receives a dress code perfect for a daddy’s boy.

Reblogs:

The Interviews (Suit, Old Fashioned)- Three recent college graduates receive intense vetting during their interviews with the elite Carmichael Corporation, but come out all the better for it.

Keeping Up With Old Friends (Redux) (Preppy, Old Fashioned)- A college student meets his former lab partner several times, and is surprised to find him more and more genteel each time. What surprises him even more is when he’s offered the opportunity to head down the same path.

Re-Education (Preppy)- A nonconformist college student received special induction to fit in better at his new university.

Prep the Halls (Preppy)- A young twink is excited to spend Christmas in a cabin with his boyfriend, but is concerned when his boyfriend returns from his office meeting looking a bit different.

Top of Your Class (Nerd)- You ask to become a smart nerd to help write an essay for class. The controller gives you what you asked for and more.

The 43rd Annual Fettig High School Career Fair: Jackson (Preppy, Pilot) - A young troublemaker attempts to vandalize a private jet during a school visit, but when he’s caught he faces some unexpected consequences.

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cyoc49 · 2 years

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HIMBO Magazine: Talent Scouting

HIMBO Magazine: The Gay Man’s Guide to Modern Fashion & Lifestyle™

Despite the exaggerated name, HIMBO has provided joy, hope, and wisdom to countless gay men across the United States. It’s finger remained on the pulse of the latest queer trends, making it a must-have for the social homosexual. For many up-and-coming gay men, a job at HIMBO would be a dream come true. Unfortunately, job openings at HIMBO are few and extremely selective. For the lucky few that do get them, though, it often ends up being an offer too good to refuse.

Christian Le Maître, HIMBO’s CEO and Editor-in-Chief, is a large part of why that is. As a policy, he selects, contacts, and interviews all potential employees himself, to ensure that only the best men would join his team... and of course, to make sure only the best would service him. “Mr. M”, as the office called him, was a very fair and generous employer: he offers fantastic salaries and benefits. One of the most important benefits, however, was a secret one: a total rewrite to ensure you’ll be the perfect fit for HIMBO’s elite. You might become a little devoted to your boss, but with Mr. M that was not a bad thing at all.

Currently, Christian is in the market for a new Personal Assistant. A few of his boys would soon be promoted to the house-husbands of Manhattan’s elite. Before he let them go, he needed to bring in someone new to fill their role. And also, if he was being honest, he was ready to spice up his selection of boys a bit.

After weeks of studying the area surrounding the office, Christian had found the perfect candidate: A slacker barista at a local café. Absolutely gorgeous, but content to smoke all day and let life pass him by slowly. It’s such a waste, Christian thought to himself, that body could be put to such better use. If there was anyone to fix that, it was Christian Le Maître.

As for how he would get this young man to join his ranks, that would be a bit more tricky. Usually he would get the fresh meat to come into his office, where they would be fully subject to his... influence. But this man would not accept a job if it came running towards him, so he would need to use a different approach. An email, imbued with special properties that would slowly but persistently bring him around to Mr. M’s way of thinking.

Christian began to type up the email. In his special way, Christian already knew the boy’s email address, as well as a whole host of other information about him. As he composed the invitation to HIMBO, Christian let his persuasion flow into the words...

Mark Matthews had two items on his to-do list for the day. After clocking out of his (four hour) shift at the Pink Elephant Café, he had done #1, and as he headed towards the riverside with a joint in his pocket, he was getting ready to complete #2. Mark had never understood the pressure to aim high: if we’re all just evolved monkeys, why not stick to the natural urge to have a good time? He had always done the bare minimum to get by, relying on his natural charm and good looks to do the rest. Though his friend group had never stayed consistent, and he had never been in a relationship with a woman that lasted longer than a weekend, Mark felt that he was at just the right place in his life.

On his way to the beach, his phone vibrated. He could tell from sound it was the email jingle (aka the “ignore” jingle), but as the phone vibrated in his pocket, it sent an unexpected wave of pleasure through his thigh. Mark gasped as the euphoria shot through his system, but quickly pulled himself together before anyone on the street noticed. He then immediately pulled his phone out of his pocket, filled with the sudden desire to see what had caused the feeling.

FROM: [email protected]

SUBJECT: Congratulations

A dull life is a life wasted

And that’s no fun at all.

Respect yourself and those above you

That’s how you’ll stand tall.

When you learn professionalism

And learn to know your place

You’ll suit up like the big boys do

And that’s when HIMBO awaits.

- Christian Le Maître HIMBO Offices, 1544 ________ Street

...What the fuck? This was understandably Mark’s first reaction. This went beyond regular spam, it was just weird. Wasn’t HIMBO that gay guy magazine, why were the emailing him? And why did it rhyme? Do gay people really like poetry that much? Whatever it was, Mark quickly deleted it and went on his way to the shore.

But even as he walked, the words in the email were starting to scratch at the back of his head. A dull life is a life wasted. Was that about him? It couldn’t be... was he wasting his life? He had never thought so before, but he suddenly found that question eating away at him. He had his routine down pretty well, but could he do better? Did he respect himself?

…What was he thinking? Of course he did. Some junk email was not going to ruin his day.

Mark finally sat down at his favorite bench and lit up. As he watched people go by on the street, he found himself looking at the hot women less than usual. Instead, it was the businessmen that caught his eye today. The big boys, as the e-mail had weirdly called them. For the first time, he found himself wondering how it felt to be them. As they went to and from their offices. They were doing things with their lives. Professional. Could that be him some day?

Mark rode out the rest of his high and eventually made his way home, but even as he unwound in the evening, he still pondered the possibility of living the corporate life. Finding his place in the hierarchy of corporate America. The thought had once disgusted him, but now he didn’t know how he felt. And that scared him.

The Next Day...

Mark had an 11:45 alarm set for his 12 PM shift at the Pink Elephant. It had been a long time since he had clocked in at the actual start of his shift. How he remained employed was anyones guess.

Today however, Mark found himself up and ready at 10 AM. It had been a long time since he had been up this early, but some force inside him felt the urgent need to go to work. I mean, if he was on time for work, then he certainly wasn’t a waste. Mark walked over to his dresser. He was preparing to get out something casual, a band shirt and ripped jeans like usual. But as he looked at his options he felt another stirring. You’ll suit up like the big boys do. Mark didn’t own anything close to a suit, but he had a few bits and pieces for formal occasions. If he really wanted to stick it to upper management and show he wasn’t some dull slacker, he could blow them away with a keen outfit selection. Something that said “success”, like the men in suits he had seen the other day. He fished around until he found some of the few “nice” pieces of clothes he owned: a cardigan, some tan chinos, and leather shoes. Paired with a (clean) t-shirt, Mark thought it gave him a look that said business without being too serious.

Mark walked into the bathroom and finished up by styling his hair. After he was done, he looked at himself in the mirror.

... Not too bad! Definitely way dressier than he would ever normally go, but enough to surprise his managers. With an hour to spare, Mark left his apartment and showed up to work at 11:30, half an hour before the start of his shift.

Inside, his coworker Audrey and his manager Todd were already there.

“Do my eyes deceive me? Is Mark… early for once?” Todd sarcastically asked.

“And what are you wearing? Where’s the Tommy Bahama shit?”

Mark got ready to snap back at them, but something held him back. Instead, he just politely responded “Felt like getting a head start on today”, slipped an apron over his head, and went to his station.

Audrey and Todd glanced at each other, both sketched out at Mark’s sudden change of attitude. But when you make minimum wage at a café, there’s only so much you’re willing to care about, so they dropped the issue fairly quickly. At least he wasn’t dragging his ass for once.

On the contrary, Mark was having what was possibly the most productive work day of his life. Gone was his normal slow pace and unapproachable attitude. Mark was serving every customer in expert time, and doing it with a friendly smile. There was a rush of energy inside him, a desire to show that he could do his job well if he felt like it. It seemed like the outfit switch up was giving him a new perspective for the day.

Mark took customers orders, restocked the food shelves, organized the store room, and much much more. He did it all in rotation. He lost track of time as he let his work absorb him.

It wasn’t until he was in the midst of mopping the floor that he thought to check the time. The nearest clock said 6:30. He usually clocked out at 4.

“Oh god! I’ve been here two hours over time?!” Mark exclaimed with disbelief.

Todd snorted from behind the counter. “I mean, I wasn’t gonna stop you from cleaning the bathrooms. And you did some good work. I’m liking this new Mark.”

“A guy changes his pants and suddenly he’s a different person. You’re lucky I lost track of time.” Mark took off his apron and prepared to throw it at Todd for that last remark, but hung it on a hook instead. As he headed towards the shops exit, Mark shouted over his shoulder “I better get extra pay for this.”

He couldn’t believe he had lost track of time for that long. And he wasn’t even doing anything fun, he was just cleaning up the store. That was the worst part of it: how earnestly he had given help to the job that didn’t give a shit about him. What had come over him? Is this what those businessmen are like? … Is that what he could be like?

These thoughts weighed on Mark’s mind for the remainder of his walk home. When he got back to his house, he threw the cardigan and chinos on his bed, leaving him in a t shirt and boxers. Mark walked to the mirror and took a long look at himself. This was who he really was, right? A casual guy who didn’t care about his appearance or making people happy. That dress-up good worker stuff was a nice change of pace for a day, but that’s all it was.

Mark chuckled. Yeah, that was right. He didn’t need this people pleasing businessman bullshit. Honestly, he might skip work tomorrow and get high in the park. Keep Todd from getting too attached to this new hard worker Mark. And besides, he had basically done two days worth of work today, why not take a day off-

Hiss phone buzzed with the same orgasmic tone as yesterday. Even from across the room he felt his legs quiver as his whole body was flooded with pleasure. It had to be the same people as yesterday. He went over and picked up his phone. Maybe this email would help him figure out what had happened. You know, so he would know what to ignore going forward.

FROM: [email protected] SUBJECT: Imagine working at HIMBO - Christian Le Maître HIMBO Offices, 1544 ________ Street

ATTACHMENT: The HIMBO Professional.pdf

Against his better judgement, Mark opened the PDF. As soon as he did, his phone must have glitched and set itself to max brightness, because the whole screen flashed with bright white light that was painful to look at. Mark recoiled as his eyes were assaulted by the bright phone and dropped it in the process. He rubbed his eyes and blinked several times as his vision readjusted, but even after a few minutes had passed things still looked blurry.

Something inside Mark told him how to solve this problem. Instinctively, he reached over to his bedside table and put on his glasses. He blinked a few more times, and could see perfectly again.

For a brief moment he felt confused, like he shouldn’t be wearing glasses. But this feeling quickly passed and was replaced with another feeling - no, an understanding - that this was definitely right. He needed his glasses to see, always had. He glanced over to see his reflection in the mirror. Honestly, how could those jerks at work ever say he didn’t take his job seriously. With these horn-rimmed bad boys on, honestly he could be wearing nothing else and still look like a professional.

A professional?

Why the fuck am I so concerned about being a “professional”?

Being professional disgusted him. And yet, even as he tried to vehemently disagree with the word, it stuck to his brain like glue. Like “PROFESSIONAL” was seared across his forehead in big letters. He went from disgust to fear at his seeming inability to focus on anything other than this one single word. How could he get this to go awa-

The PDF!

That was it! The PDF was titled “The HIMBO Professional”. He was probably just trying to remember what he had been doing before he dropped his phone. Shaking his head, Mark returned to the document.

“A HIMBO Professional is a hard worker

A HIMBO Professional is a good boy

A HIMBO Professional obeys the boss

A HIMBO Professional dresses his body well

A HIMBO Professional feeds his body

A HIMBO Professional is a good boy

A HIMBO Professional is you”

Interspersed throughout these sentences were photos of immaculately suited businessmen, slicked beacons of proper masculinity. Without realizing what was happening, Mark was entranced by the document and stared at the images and words for hours on end. They permeated his mind, absorbed him. The glory of being a HIMBO Professional. The joy of being a good boy. It flooded him. He couldn’t pay attention to anything else but the words.

The hours passed late into the night, and Mark kept thinking about what he read. Putting his phone down, trying to go to bed, and picking it back up to read all over again. His mind could not think about anything else. And as he finally hazily passed into sleep, the thoughts followed him into his dreams, as he pictured himself being serviced by businessmen. They dressed him up in their suits and forced him to strip it all off as they stood over him. He bent down on all fours, as felt pure ecstasy as the men filled him with loads of obedience, punctuality, submission, diligence, ravenous desire, over and over, and over, ravishing his subconscious.

Respect yourself and those above you

Learn to know your place

You’ll suit up like the big boys do

And that’s when HIMBO awaits

The contents of the email hazily echoed through his mind as this scene played out, only stopped by the ring of Mark’s alarm at 8AM, as he realized it was

The Next Day...

But even as Mark got up and prepared for the day, he still felt the PDF and his dream occupying his mind. He kept thinking about that true calling. He couldn’t stop comparing his own life to those of the businessmen he saw, and the concerning thing was he didn’t know who he felt sorry for any more. Mark absentmindedly got ready as these questions continued to clash in his head. When he had his work clothes on he turned around to check his hair.

And was greeted in the mirror by a total stranger.

Mark’s usual surf-stoner wardrobe was gone entirely. He had on a button down office shirt with a bright plaid pattern, fully buttoned including the cuffs. It was tucked into a perfectly pressed pair of navy slacks, with a smooth leather belt holding everything together. Instead of sneakers on his feet he had... were those loafers?? And of course, his glasses perched on his face, along with his hair combed into a nice neat cut. He could even feel a slight touch of pomade running through it.

I look like a… corporate dork! This was the first thing that came to Mark’s mind as he viewed himself in the mirror. Where did he even get these clothes?? He didn’t own anything like this. Even worse was how his posture had subtly shifted to match the look: Mark stood straight as a board, with his chest pushed out, derrière turned up, and hands clasped behind his back to accentuate the best features of the office outfit.

He shook his head in horror, and yet at the same time, Mark had a feeling that this was very very right. Look at the way this shirt fit him. He looked professional, and it made him... handsome was the word that popped in his mind. Why did he feel this way? Why did he feel so good dressed like this?

He remembered the address at the bottom of the email. HIMBO offices. No matter what was happening to him, they were the common factor. Forget the café today, Mark needed to find out who had been sending him these emails, and get some closure to this whole ordeal.

Mark reached the office building reading “HIMBO”, and inside he was pointed to the appropriate floor by a helpful directory. As he got off the elevator he looked at the occupants of the office. All men, some of them in eccentric fashion and costumes, but a lot more in suits and ties. They were like the office workers he had seen on the streets, but more... refined. As if they had taken the traditional corporate uniform and perfected it to accentuate a clean, crisp man. Mark’s eyes lingered on several of these men as he approached the front desk, where he was greeted by a twinkish receptionist. He was also suited in a brown and pink number, with a touch more flamboyance than the others. He looked at Mark with familiarity, as if he already knew who Mark was.

“Welcome to HIMBO! How can I help you, dear?” The receptionist asked.

“I- uh, uh...” Mark found himself suddenly lost for words. The fact that he had not only seen all these perfectly suited men, but was lingering in their presence, overwhelmed him. Even in his dorky corporate best, compared to everyone else Mark felt underdressed and... inferior?

The secretary only laughed as Mark stuttered “At a loss for words, huh? I don’t blame you. All these studs walking around here leave me breathless half the time too. Luckily I have the best view in the office.” The secretary giggled and winked as he said this. “Now I think I know who you’re here to see. Mr. M told me he was expecting an out of office hire to show up soon.”

Mark stood with his mouth open in confusion. Was he talking about the guy who signed the emails?

Taking this as enough of a response, the receptionist stood up “Here, follow me. I know the guy that can help you out.” He walked around the desk, took the dazed Mark by the hand, and led him down the hallway.

Eventually they came to a large oak door. The receptionist knocked three times, and was greeted with a deep voice saying “Let him in”.

The receptionist turned to Mark and said, “He’s ready for you! I think he’ll have the answer to all your questions. Just head on in.”

The receptionist gave Mark an encouraging pat on the back. Mark opened the door and entered the room, unsure of what he even wanted to say any more. Seeing the office had completely thrown Mark off his game. He had been expecting a way out of this mess, but now he couldn’t tell if he wanted to leave or be pulled in the deep end.

When he entered the room, he found clarity in the form of a gorgeous suited man.

Everything Mark admired and envied about the businessmen he had been ogling the last few days was perfectly wrapped up in the man standing before him. He was tall, broad, handsome as all hell. He exuded power and charisma. And as he stared at Mark, Mark felt like a worm writhing in his superior presence.

“Mark, it’s lovely to finally meet you! I’m Christian Le Maître. I believe you’ve been getting my emails?” that gorgeous baritone rang out again.

“I uh, nice to meet you too…” Mark could not think of a proper response. The sight of this man was overwhelming him and making him reevaluate his life all at once. That was an effect that Mr. M had on people. From an outsider’s point of view, Mark was staring dumbfounded at the man before him, lost in a trance of his presence.

“I’m sure you’ve been feeling strange these last few days, Mark. And I’m here to tell you that your worries will soon be over. I spotted you a few days ago and I immediately knew that you have a lot of great qualities. Handsome, charming, I bet any girl would kill to have you.”

Mark slowly nodded. Once upon a time this had been true, though he hadn’t thought much about women at all these last few days.

“But I could also tell you were missing something in life. Running around, doing drugs and slacking off. It breaks my heart to see it. Because all that great potential in you was going to waste. What you need is a strong male figure in your life.”

Mark’s nodding was slowly getting more intense. Upon hearing the words strong male figure he could feel himself getting excited. For some reason this was exactly what he wanted

All at once, Mark understood. There had always been an emptiness in his life. The only way for him to be happy was by making other people happy... The only way for him to be happy was by making Christian Le Maître happy.

The reason he felt inferior is because he was inferior. He was obsessed with the corporate men around him not because he wanted to be them, but because he realized he never could be them. They had a power and a confidence he could only dream of. Mark realized his place was one of subservience. Subservience to strong, suited men. Subservience to the men of HIMBO. Subservience to Mr. M.

“Lucky for you, I’m in need of a new personal assistant. Someone to wait on me hand and foot all day, do all my tasks. Keep me happy.”

Slowly the fog surrounding Mark’s mind cleared away, and with it went all of his old persona. What was left behind was a brand new Mark. A very different one, but one that felt like he was seeing things clearly for the first time ever.

“Oh yes sir! I’d love to join your team! You’re the only boss I could ever ask for!” Mark ran over and kneeled in front of Christian, begging with clasped hands before him. “It would be an honor to work at HIMBO.”

Christian chuckled, and Mark was filled with a feeling of euphoria knowing that he had made Christian Le Maître, the greatest man on earth, laugh like this. All he wanted to do was make Christian happy.

“Well I’m glad to hear that Mark! That’s the kind of enthusiasm I’m looking for at HIMBO. I can see you’ve already taken a lot of my emails’ suggestions to heart, but I can still think of a few more changes to make you the perfect PA. And I think it would be best…” Christian paused. He looked down at Mark, noticing his kneeled position, “… If you got a taste of what you’d be working with.”

Without a second thought, Mark opened his mouth and bared his tongue. He was ready to do anything for Christian, it was his one purpose in life.

The powerful man smiled and unzipped his pants. He pulled out his mighty member (My god! It was the biggest Mark had ever seen!) and Mark quickly went to work pleasuring him. Despite being straight until about 5 minutes ago, Mark did this masterfully, as if his mouth was perfectly suited for Mr. M’s python. As Mark worked, Christian filled him up with massive load after massive load, and with each one Mark changed more and more into the perfect assistant for Christian. His teeth became pristinely white and shiny, as if they were coated in Vaseline. His hair gelled up higher into a permanent quiffed side part. His posture became rigid and obedient at all times. A plaid bow tie slid around his neck into a perfectly done bow, his shirt lightened to a light blue plaid pattern (a voice in Mark’s brain told him that he always color coordinated his outfits, as Mr. M liked him when he looked put-together. Pastels were his favorite), and a cardigan slipped over the top of the ensemble. His already muscular body filled out more underneath the chaste getup, with his buttocks significantly expanding and pushing his slacks to their limit. Within them, the two pillows contained an insatiable hole, always quivering for one man’s cock. As for his own penis, Mark could feel it shrink down in stark contrast to the rest of his bulking body, until it was no more than a nub that would barely provide him pleasure. And as he felt the metal touch of a cage locking around what remained of his manhood, Mark new that pleasure would only come with the permission of his new boss.

As Mark finished satisfying his new boss and master, he stood up, completely changed mentally as well as physically. He retained his buff bimbo body, but it was completely trapped underneath the wardrobe and mind of a wimpy subservient bottom. He could barely get a sentence out without slipping “sir” somewhere in it.

He was no longer Mark Matthews, he was Marcus Meekerson, the devoted Personal Assistant of Christian Le Maître, always ready to assist him in whatever way he needed.

Mr. M chuckled again, and this time Marcus nearly came in his pants listening to the sound of his boss happy (though he knew he could not come without Mr. M’s permission).

“Marcus, I have to say I am beyond happy with your work. Now I know this is sudden, but I hope you don’t mind if I ask you to move into my residence full time. I would greatly appreciate having access to your services around the clock. I have the perfect quarters set up for you to live in.”

Marcus bounced on his toes at this offer, “Sir, this is the best news I could ever hope for! It would be an honor to live in your abode. How lucky am I to have the best boss ever!”

“I’m mighty pleased to hear that, Marcus”

“No problem, Mr. Le Maître! You know I’d do anything for you!” Marcus burst out in the brightest, most earnest smile he had ever made. No longer would he worry about having no direction in life, he had found somebody to take care of all those decisions for him. What he dressed, what he ate, everything about his life would be under Christian’s control now, a figurative lock and key. Not a single thought ran through Marcus’ head, and he liked it that way. Things were simpler now, they were better. Marcus had found his purpose.

He could finally say he was truly happy.

#gaytf #gay tf #straight to gay #preppy tf #preppy #preppytf #gaykink #stepfordization #suit tf #bowtie #tf #officetf #obedience #subserviant #male subservience #supergirl #chris wood #mon el

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cyoc49 · 2 years

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Model Student

The clock was at 9:55 as I walked into my World History lecture. There were several students around me who had arrived early and were already set up. I made my way to one of the seats, got my stuff out, and at 10 AM sharp Prof. Elwyn began to lecture. I’ll admit, for a gen ed history professor, he had made these first few weeks of class pretty enjoyable. He was the type of guy who knew a lot of stuff about the history of the world, and was eager to share his accumulated knowledge with us. The type of professor who almost seemed on another level with his smarts. At the very least, he made taking history as a college junior bearable.

“Today, class, we’ll be talking about the earliest days of civilization,” he began, “the time known as ‘Before the Current Era’. What’s interesting about this period is that due to the relative lack of artefacts and documents, historians have to be creative in how they construct understandings of what the people of these times were like. This is why studying history is so important: those who truly understand history can control the narrative of how humans lived. It’s almost as if-”

Prof. Elwyn’s lecture was then interrupted, as it had been the last few weeks, as Manny strolled in ten minutes late and dropped into the back of the classroom, playing music on his phone and slurping on the end of a Big Gulp soda.

Manny and I were in the same grade, and throughout my time here he had always been a pretty bad student. He was always late to class (on those days when he attended), and I don’t think I had ever seen him do homework. He preferred to hang out with his group of friends, usually going out to the bar rather than doing any kind of studying.

He didn’t bother me too much (it wasn’t my tuition he was wasting, after all), but when he got in the way of professors doing their job like today, it was hard to ignore how much of a jackass he was.

Prof. Elwyn sighed as Manny came in, and simply stared at him while he caused this scene. After a few moments, Prof. Elwyn calmly but firmly asked “Manny, please turn off that music.” Manny obliged, but took his sweet time to hit pause.

Prof. Elwyn continued “This is the third time this week you’ve arrived late and caused a scene. You’re interfering with your fellow students’ ability to learn, and that’s not fair to them. If you’re going to remain in this class, I’m going to need to see improvement in your behavior.”

Manny scoffed, putting his feet up on the desk. “Dude, you really think this class is important enough for you to be demanding shit from me? This is a fucking gen ed, nobody wants to be here. Let me sit back, get my C, and go on with my day.”

One of the students closer to the front spoke up “He’s always been like this, Professor, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, shut up!” Manny angrily retorted.

Prof. Elywn let out another sigh at Manny’s reaction “I really do see the makings of a great student in you, if you actually tried. If only your history had been different.”

And without saying another word, Prof Elwyn raised his right hand and snapped.

The clock was at 9:55 as I walked into my World History lecture. There were several students around me who had arrived early and were already set up. One of them, currently at the front of the class turning in his homework, was Manuel. As I settled into my seat, I noticed he seemed to be having a good-natured conversation with the professor about something relating to Ancient Egypt. That didn’t surprise me; Manuel and I had been going to school together for 3 years, and he had to be one of the smartest and hardest working guys on campus. You pretty much had to in order to be an International Business and Finance double major like he was. It was clear he took college a lot more seriously than half the people here. To be fair, you could probably guess that just by looking at him: he dressed nicely for class every single day. I don’t think I had ever seen him without a collared shirt and dress pants. His hair was always combed nicely and he almost always had a textbook or two in hand.

We weren’t close friends, but we were friendly. He was nice to pretty much everyone, always willing to share answers and help people learn the material. He did seem like he had a bit of a stick up his ass sometimes, but that was just to do with how seriously he took school. Every time we were paired up for a group project, I knew we would get an A. That was reason enough to like him.

“I finished that book you recommended about the pharaohs of the Fourth Dynasty. I had never learned about Menkaure like that before!” I heard Manuel say to Prof. Elwyn.

“Well I’m glad you enjoyed it! If you’re interested in the rest of the series, stop by my office. I have a few of the books and you’re more than welcome to borrow them.” Prof. Elwyn responded.

“Will do!” Manuel beamed. He noticed the clock had hit 10:00, and he returned to his seat in the front row with his notebook set up, including no fewer than five different colored highlighters.

“Today, class, we’ll be talking about the earliest days of civilization,” Prof. Elwyn began his lecture, “the time known as ‘Before the Current Era’. And studying this period is one of my favorite things to do, because historians use such creative methods to tell the story ancient civilizations. Those who truly understand history can control the narrative of how these people lived.”

He gave us all a knowing smile “And believe me, that’s quite the power to have.”

He opened a PowerPoint and continued on with the lecture. I intermittently took notes, trying to keep up as best I could. If nothing else, I knew I could ask Manuel for his notes after class. I had seen that guy’s notebook before, and Jesus. It could probably qualify as an encyclopedia. It was nice having at least one good student in the classroom.

#tf #nerd tf #nerd #dork #delinquent to nerd #nerd clothes #khakis #dorky student #smarter #iq gain

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cyoc49 · 2 years

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You can run, but you can’t hide! 🎀🛍💕💐

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cyoc49 · 2 years

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so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god

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cyoc49 · 2 years

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Prep the Halls

My apologies for not posting in so long. Turns out that I got a lot busier than I had originally thought, but that’s no excuse to not give you all a well-deserved story. Thank you all for your continued support, and have an incredibly Happy Holidays!

“Ah! He’s here!” Andrew scrambled around the cabin, excited that his boyfriend had finally shown up. It had taken almost a week of begging for his uncle to let the two have the place for the holidays, and Andrew couldn’t express his joy when he caved in. The whole place for just the two of them–it was going to be so romantic. They had decided to leave on the morning of Christmas Eve, but Andrew’s boyfriend, Ty, was called into work for some “emergency meeting”. Understanding that he had to go, Andrew made him promise he would make it to the cabin before sunset so they could unwrap presents together. Ty agreed to the deal and sealed it with a kiss.

Making sure that everything looked perfect, Andrew ran from the kitchen through the living room and to the foyer. At 5’6, Andrew’s thin gymnast body scurried around the cabin like a mouse. He had just turned 22 last month, but his youthful appearance made him seem like he was still in high school. Buzzed platinum hair, a hooked nose, and a few spy freckles were the only really noticeable features on his body, as otherwise he was rather average… for a twink. His boyfriend however, who was three years his superior, was on the verge of a bear. He was technically a cub by age, but the size of his gut and sheer amount of hair said otherwise.

“Hello?” A baritone voice called out.

“Coming!” Andrew quickly dashed down the stairs to the front door where he saw Ty holding a few presents. But after a second, he realized the smiling man was not his boyfriend and instead a stranger. In a mix of confusion and surprise, Andrew missed the last step and fell down, crashing against the carpeted floor.

“Oh! I did not mean to startle you.” The stranger tried to drop the boxes to offer a hand, but Andrew refused.

“I’m fine, thank you.” Andrew pushed his way back up, gazing at the smiling man in front of him. The chap seemed pretty preppy, actually very preppy. Cute boy-next-door haircut and smile, plaid button-up underneath a pullover, tan loafers showcasing patterned socks. His tight clothing also displayed his moderately muscular build, something between a swimmer and a baseball player. Although he had the same large feet and comforting, chocolate-colored eyes, the lack of hair and body fat among other things made it obvious that this man wasn’t Ty. Guessing the man to be about 6’2, Andrew realized he might not be able to escape this stranger without a good game plan.

“Andrew, you could never believe how they kept me up at work,” the man began, strolling past Andrew as he made his way up the stairs. “It was preposterous, how they acted as if none of us had a home life. To be fair, as a Republican I understand the importance of the corporate world and its economy, but by no standards does that mean I should have to work Christmas Eve!”

Andrew, who was in such a state of bewilderment that he had practically been entranced, had followed the man up the stairs and to the Christmas tree.

“Who…” Andrew began timidly, “Who are you exactly?”

The man, who was placing the gifts under the tree neatly, turned his head and cracked a wide smirk. He then began chuckling merrily, thinking Andrew had said some sort of joke. He made his way over and extended his hand as if he was in on the act himself.

“Keating Eckley Whitlyn, Jr.,” he replied, “Junior Associate at the Carmichael Corporation.”

Andrew anxiously grabbed the hand and shook it.

“Andrew Macheel,” Andrew noticed a sharp shock run through his hand, but disregarded it. “Assistant Painter at the Metro Gallery.”

“Why do you have to be such a wild ruffian,” Keating snarkily replied, his proper tone suddenly taking a darker turn. “How do you expect to make any money without a proper occupation?”

“Keating, we’ve had this argument so many times before!” Andrew groaned. “I love this job! Why won’t you let me be happy?”

“And how do you expect to become a refined, young man when you walk around in those?” Keating pointed to Andrew’s outfit, which consisted of a band tee and sweatpants.

“I expect you are hiding some form of indecency down below as well,” Keating added.

“Oh, and that’s worse than your whitey-tighties?”

“They are traditional, full-cut white briefs,” Keating contradicted. “Both comfortable and respectable.”

Andrew wanted to burst into flames, for as long as he had known Keating the two had always bickered about each other’s lifestyles. But, knowing that he had to be the mature one, Andrew decided to try and veer into another topic.

“I know my taste isn’t like yours,” Andrew began. “But I don’t go for name brands like you do; that doesn’t make my taste flawed.”

“I heavily disagree, I rarely dedicate myself to particular brands.”

“You’re wearing one right now,” Andrew pointed out, jabbing a finger into the small emblem on his friend’s chest.

“You amuse me, Andrew.” Keating chuckled again loudly, “This was part of the ‘emergency meeting’ at the office today. It was actually a surprise Christmas party for all of the employees, and they handed out truckloads of fashionable clothes for all of us.”

“Oh,” Andrew muttered, investigating the symbol. “That doesn’t look like your company logo though?”

“It is not,” Keating confirmed, taking a seat on a couch. “Apparently, it is some partner brand of Polo Ralph Lauren that made an exchange with the Carmichael Corporation. They handed out free gift bags to every employee and urged us to try on this now clothes. We both know I would have never been able to exist that offer!”

They both laughed hard at that, with Andrew finally becoming satisfied with his decision to come here. Keating had invited him to come to his family’s private cabin for the holidays, the two having been close buds since meeting in college. Andrew didn’t know why he had stuck with Keating so long now, as the two disagreed on many different issues quite often, but it probably had to do with Keating being so attractive. Sure he was way super preppy, but every time he tried to leave, that easy-going smile always pulled Andrew right back in. It was unfortunate however that nothing could ever happen, as Keating had explained through one of his numerous homophobic rants that he was in fact straight. Andrew was still in the closet, so luckily the issue never came up.

“As long as this topic is present,” Keating mumbled, grabbing one of the presents beside him and tossing it to Andrew. “The Carmichael Corporation accidentally ordered too many bags, so they prompted us to hand them out to our family and friends as well. There was no way I could refuse such an excellent offer.”

Andrew groaned internally as he faked a smile. “Oh, thank you, Keating.”

“Of course! I thought my best lad ought to have some more fashionable clothing. My taste is quite sophisticated, so I hope you do immensely enjoy it.”

Keating’s face burst open into a wide grin as Andrew ripped it open. To Andrew’s dismay, the box contained a plastic-wrapped outfit that looked as if it was plucked from a privileged, arrogant fratboy’s closet–just like Keating’s ensemble. He first pulled out a baby blue button-up that was made of a surprisingly soft material. Sadly, it was two sizes too big, but Andrew was probably never going to wear it. Next was an evergreen colored pullover with the emblem embroidered on the left breast. That was followed by tight, gray chinos that were again too large, a pair of striped socks, hazelnut-colored penny loafers and a pair of extra large whitey-tighties probably identical to the pair Keating was wearing. At the bottom of the box was a kit of personal maintenance materials and a small sheet of paper which Andrew assumed was a receipt. He definitely need that later. The whole gift disgusted Andrew, but he was thankful he’d never have to wear it.

“Oh…” Andrew began shakily. “Thank you so much for all of… this?”

“Well, most definitely!” Keating replied, getting up off the couch. “Now, you must go try it on!”

“What?” Andrew cried.

“You will look like such a fine fellow in all of this,” Keating continued. “If you want to amuse me, go try it all on. It will be swell, I promise.”

“Swell?” Andrew mumbled as Keating pulled him up from the couch.

“Imagine us,” Keating rambled as he pushed Andrew and his present to the bathroom. “Two preppy lads, Republican chaps, looking polished and well-cut. We’ll both be the handsomest gentleman in the town.”

“I don’t think-”

“Trust me, you will love it as soon as it touches your skin.” And with that, Keating shoved Andrew into the bathroom with the outfit and closed the door.

“I am not letting you out until you have the entirety of the ensemble on!” Keating shouted from the other side of the door. Andrew sighed, knowing well enough that there was only one way to escape this situation. In seconds, he was standing naked in the cabin’s bathroom, looking at his skinny, pale body in the mirror above the sink. He really didn’t want to do this. In fact, he didn’t even want to be here! Why did he have to fall for the cute preppy guy? Why didn’t he go for the basketball jock or some chess nerd? Or why not someone who was actually gay? Andrew huffed as he queasily grabbed the whitey-tighties, cursing at himself as he brought them up his legs.

Without his knowledge, the moment Andrew let go of the waistband was the moment that all his worries and rational thought disappeared. With the soft, white fabric covering his private regions and hoisted up just below the belly button, Andrew couldn’t be more pleased with the gift Keating had gotten him. The briefs made him feel just like Keating: polished and proper. Every respectable man ought to wear white briefs, as not only were they comfortable, but they made a man feel responsible and well-grounded. Maybe preppy even.

Grabbing the next article of clothing, Andrew missed the fact that the once too big whitey-tighties were quickly becoming form-fitting. Two juicy, firm buttocks filled out the back of the briefs, with his hole tightening up like a door closing up to a room that should’ve never been opened. His pouch gradually filled out, making room for a sac that was much heavier than before, and that of the average man for that matter. His cock also pulsed forward, growing from its previous twinky size to something more appropriate to that of a businessman. 8 thick inches would definitely cement his soon-to-be cocky, arrogant nature. But to Andrew, it was the appropriate size for a preppy fellow like himself.

Carefully, Andrew caressed the striped socks and hoisted them up his legs. The soft fabric felt good as it brushed across Andrew’s hairless thighs. Being a few sizes off, the socks didn’t exactly fit onto Andrew’s dainty feet, but he didn’t mind in the slightest. A man ought to wear the appropriate, conventional footwear, and he’d make sure to do the same. With that said, he felt like he had loathed the two socks beforehand, but that thought ceased to exist in seconds.

Reaching for the chinos, Andrew failed to recognize the feeling of his feet slowly expanding across the floorboards. The socks filled in as Andrew’s feet became meatier. If he was to be a true man, a real preppy fellow, he’d ought to have the proper feet to announce his presence. The once tiny soles morphed into Size 14 giants, creating a scent in the air that announced both dominance and masculinity.

With the pants in hand, Andrew delicately slid one of his legs down a silvery hole. His frail, stick-like limbs easily traveled through the open caverns. The tiny calves and thighs barely filled the chinos, but luckily the waist was just barely wide enough to keep the pants from falling down. Noticing a brown belt already halfway through the loops, Andrew guided it through the rest of its journey but didn’t latch it into its buckle. Satisfied with the results, Andrew grabbed for the button-up next.

Andrew was too infatuated with trying on his new shirt that he didn’t realize his legs were rhythmically vibrating. Slowly but surely, the quadriceps and calves lengthened and thickened, adding inches to his height as they moved closer and closer to the walls of fabric. They didn’t stop however when they did meet the chinos, but instead pushed harder, only stopping when they made the seams look as if they were about to burst. With the skinny chinos now truly looking skinny, the other factors of manliness came into play. A soft, caramely forest of hair erupted from Andrew’s legs, along with a few taught tendons and sharp muscles that showed his athleticism. As Keating always said, a swell guy must keep his body swell too.

Now stabilized by two massive trunks, Andrew finished buttoning the baby blue dress shirt. He left the top open to relish in the beauty of the outfit so far, not noticing that his lithe frame didn’t exactly fill in the sleeves and chest area. He was too proud of himself to notice, confident and self-assured as he brought his head through the forest green pullover. It too placed itself nicely onto Andrew’s body, although it was also oversized. Andrew didn’t mind however, as just the thought of him dressing classic drove him wild. Not that kind of wild however, as the thought of those kinds of actions now strangely made him feel vulgar and indecent. Brushing those questions off, he decided to grab the penny loafers to top off the outfit.

While Andrew placed on the lavish loafers, his upper body began to morph into something more suitable. First, his shoulders broadened within the shirt, pushing out to create a sturdier, straighter frame. Now having more room, his arms developed second, taking on new, haughtier layers of flesh that allowed Andrew to show off developed biceps, triceps, and lower arms. His hands became calloused and mitt-like, taking on a larger, rougher texture. The amber-shaded hair flowed across his upper limbs as the changes continued downwards, carving out a six pack and a set of pectorals similar to that of a Greek statue. The hair filled in along the cracks and deep curves as well as forming a small trail to the belly button and venturing underneath the briefs to make a well-kept bush. Andrew’s torso also added a little extra height to his overall body, maxing him out at 6’3. The final touch was blossoming in his armpits as thick tufts of hair emerged, allowing for more of his masculine scent to escape.

With the penny loafers secured to his feet, Andrew stood proudly up to look over himself. He looked like a million dollars! He probably was wearing that much too, but that wasn’t the point. Looking over the other items in the box, he began to add the finishing perfections. First, he rolled up his sleeves to show off a little of his developed arms and tightened his new belt around his waist. Next, he dug into the personal maintenance kit, digging out a bottle of cologne among other things. He spritzed across his collarbone and onto his neck, bringing forth a prominent Adam’s apple that lowered his voice to a smooth baritone. He followed that with a little pomade and hair gel, massaging it delicately into his platinum hair. Kneading softly, he didn’t notice his hair slowly grow out, becoming thicker and curlier as it spilled onto his forehead. Not only that, but it adopted the familiar copper color fairly quickly.

Andrew then grabbed a small tube of lotion from the kit, squirting out a nickel onto his palm before rubbing into his skin. The lotion rapidly dissolved any blemishes and blackheads out of Andrew’s face, along with any stray hairs that hadn’t been shaved. While the rest of Andrew’s body had become rather furry, the jaw was now unable to hold any facial hair. Andrew knew that if a man wanted to stay conservative, he’d have to get a hot shave at least twice a day. Although Andrew’s jaw couldn’t hold hair, it could now cut through steel, for with the help of the lotion it had grown into a sharp point with lantern-like edges. His nose and eyebrows had traded in their pointy edges for softer curves, and with the help of a small bottle of mouthwash, his teeth had become a perfect set of pearly-whites. With every product used, Andrew looked back in the mirror with authentic joy. He looked perfectly preppy, just like he had hoped to be. Keating always knew exactly what to get him.

“Are you done yet?” Keating called from the other side of the door.

“Of course, come in and take a gander,” Andrew called back. Keating accepted and strolled in. A strong smirk sprawled across his face before an even wider grin replaced it.

“You look splendid, lad!”

“I would say I look rather befitting.”

“Befitting, preposterous!” Keating retorted. “I would go on and say absolutely charming.”

“I would hope you are not trying to use any tactics on me.” The insinuating words left Andrew’s mouth before he could think about what he had said.

“I could not believe you would assume such a tasteless, indecorous thing!” Keating seemed truly offended by the statement, but easily recovered. “I would just assert that the fine fellow in front of me looks like a whole new lad!”

“You are honestly too charitable, Keating.”

“Before I forget,” Keating paused, picking up the small piece of paper that Andrew had disregarded before. “You dropped this.”

“Oh,” Andrew replied, putting out his hand. “You have my gratitude.”

“Anything for you,” Keating exchanged the paper, shaking his hand with the other man. “Yale Stockton Rockefeller IV.”

Yale noticed a sharp shock run through his hand, but disregarded it.

“Keating Eckley Whitlyn Jr., you are the best fellow any honest man could ever ask for.” Yale was completely honest, content with their long-lasting friendship. He walked out of the bathroom and slowly made his way to the living room, reminiscing his history with Keating.

The Whitlyn and Rockefeller families had worked together for centuries, so it was no surprise that the two of them would become close friends through preparatory school and private colleges. They had led their student governments, varsity golf teams, economics clubs, and Conservative student organizations to multiple national titles. Both turning 26 in a few months, the two were already successful, working on Wall Street through the Carmichael Corporation. They were both respectable and accomplished avid workers, but it was nice to relax every now and then, especially at the old Whitlyn cabin.

“So, how do you feel about this proposition,” Keating suggested. “Tonight, we spend some brotherly bonding time between the two of us fine gentlemen.”

“Sounds indecent of you,” Yale noted cantankerously as he took a seat on the couch.

“Tomorrow,” Keating continued. “We explore what the locals call ‘nightlife’ and meet a few fine women to accompany us back to our quarters.”

“That seems much more suitable.” Yale cracked a wide smile, excited already for the holiday break.

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