hardwriterdeluxe - Tumblr blog

hardwriterdeluxe · 1 month

Text

The Motorcycle learning experience

— This story was a bit rushed so srry!! Still kinda ate, let me know what u think! —

It was Christmas, and Logan found himself gifted of an intriguing gift: a full-day motorcycle riding lesson with an instructor. As an 18-year-old nerd, he initially felt apprehensive about the gift, that was given from his roommate. Motorcycles, cars, sports… none of those were interesting to him, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless and thanked his roommate before going to sleep for the night.

Months later, the appointed day arrived, and as Logan made his way to the designated location, he experienced an unusual sensation of liberation. It was a feeling he couldn't quite place, but he attributed it to the novelty of learning something outside his usual comfort zone, or because he was about to turn into the hottest biker the world had seen.

Upon arriving at the building, he was greeted by a man clad in a full Dainese leather suit and helmet, arms crossed in anticipation. Logan couldn't help but feel uncertain about the leather attire, but resigned himself to the fact that he would be wearing a suit likely worn by countless others before him—a thought that left him mildly repulsed.

Logan also never really liked bikers, each time he encountered one they were moving around traffic dangerously, almost making cars crash including himself. He wondered why his roommate had the idea to gift him that, it was totally not what he would usually enjoy and his roommate knew it.

"Yo, are you Logan?" the man inquired, removing his helmet to reveal a strikingly handsome, youthful visage reminiscent of a high school jock.

"H-hello...yes, I'm Logan," he stuttered, suddenly feeling more self-conscious in the presence of the attractive boy. Despite his heterosexual orientation, Logan found himself inexplicably drawn to the allure of the leather-clad figure, his attention inadvertently fixating on the notable bulge accentuated by the attire.

"Alright, man, let's get started! I'll teach you the basics, but I've heard you've been riding for quite some time, so I won't need to hold your hand too much," the instructor remarked, interrupting Logan's internal musings.

"Actually—" Logan began, only to be cut off.

"So, first things first, here are your, pants, and leather jacket. Did you bring your own helmet?"

"No, I didn't..." Logan admitted, feeling increasingly bewildered by the instructor's assumptions and distracted by his own conflicting emotions.

"Bro, it's in your biker backpack right there," the instructor interjected, gesturing toward a backpack resting nearby. Logan turned to see the backpack for the first time, realizing he had been oblivious to its presence amidst the flurry of confusion. Overwhelmed by the situation and the instructor's disarming charisma, Logan's thoughts began to slow as he struggled to process what was happening.

“Man, bikers can be dumb sometimes..you’re no exception, but we got a little issue. I only have one pair of boots, which are mine, I ride with them everyday and they’re very good, bro. Just take ‘em.”

Logan took the boots without even replying, his head fogged up.

*arriving in the changing rooms, the instructor was following him.*

“Alright, first, the boots, bro.” The instructor grabbed them, and all of the sudden, shoved one of them into Logan’s face; the boot had a cheesy, hot intoxicating musk that immediately made Logan pass out. The funk was unlike anything he’d ever smelled, it was very hot and humid, while being absolutely disgusting.

-2 hours later-

Logan wakes up, surprisingly finding himself in full Dainese leather that did not fit him at all, the leather suit was ridiculously large, more fitting for a man the size of the instructor, and Logan was skinny. He tried to take the jacket off, but it was stuck to him, he started to panic.

“Nah bro, don’t take it off. You’re becoming a biker boy now.”

“S-stop..get it OFF!” He was becoming mad and anxious, not knowing what was going on and panicking inside the suit.

“Alright bro, it’s coming again.” The instructor was coming with the same biker boot in his hand as earlier, and Logan knew what was coming. He again shoved the biker boot on his face, the odiferous stench inside of it making him pass out again after just a few sniffs.

As he was passed out - the instructor watched Logan’s feet grow, more and more, until they stopped at a size 13.5, with long thick toes and perfectly cut nails. The smell emitting from his new feet was simply rancid, and similar to the instructors. Cheesy, manly, and sweaty. Every time he’d remove his boots, or shoes, the strench would be able to reek up an entire area. The instructor thought it would be good for dominating.

Next, Logan’s legs shrunk a little. Not in musculature, but in height. He became 5’9 fairly quickly, which was still a proper height.

Speaking of musculature, his legs and quads exploded out, becoming full of muscles and veins. They were a sight to see, and his thighs able to crush watermelons easily.

The instructor needed to keep Logan passed out, and this time he chose his feet. He took his big fat muscular biker feet, wrapped in white Nike socks that were more yellowish now, and shoved them into Logan’s nose again, keeping him « asleep ».

After his legs, came the awaited moment of his butt. It was currently hidden beneath the leather, so flat that it couldn’t be seen at all. Suddenly, the once flat buns were becoming stronger, and bigger. They were becoming large, fat and full of muscles. Not necessarily massive, but round with fat and muscles. The two orbs now started to bulge out of the leather pants attractively.

As the transformation continued, Logan would now have another way to dominate and be worshipped due to; frequent & fetid gas. His digestive system changed, matching one that would be made to emit farts very frequently, and even more due to Logan’s new diet, burgers, tacos, and overall greasy foods made his gas smell like rotten eggs & sulfur. The strench would also get caught up in the leather gear and make his entire body stink whenever he was wearing leather pants.

Logan couldn’t feel it, but his penis was now undergoing some changes. The precious 3 inches had been growing at the same time as his orbs in the back, now stopping at an over average but still reasonable 6 inches, but a smaller 3 inches soft, with balls that would be able to produce lots of alpha cum.

The once unassuming upper physique of the 18-year-old nerd underwent a discernible metamorphosis – his abs, once absolutely inexistant ,emerged with striking definition, now a defined sweaty 6pack that would turn heads whenever he was shirtless.

His chest, once modest in appearance, underwent a notable change. It expanded and firmed up, revealing well-defined pecs that seemed almost pillowy in their muscular fullness.The leather jacket sleeves strained against the growing bulk of his arms, which were also changing, combining sinewy strength with a compelling visual presence.

The aroma of genuine leather lingered around him, but other than that atmosphere, a unique fragrance emanated from Logan's body. His armpits, once understated, now emitted a confident, sweaty alpha scent – a true proof of him being an alpha, made to dominate and be worshipped.

As Logans transformation would soon end, his facial features underwent very much needed changes. he once unassuming face of the 18-year-old nerd evolved into something strikingly different. His jawline sharpened, cheekbones gained prominence, and his eyes took on a newfound intensity.

Simultaneously, subtle changes extended to his overall attractiveness. His skin acquired a healthy glow, and any lines that hinted at youth's passing subtly softened, adding an undeniable allure to his appearance.

Then, Logan woke up. Mixed thoughts were in his head, both wanting to escape and other ones where he thought he’d always been a biker boy, dominant and alpha.

“Right. MAX. What’s your name?” The instructor asked.

“I’m..Logan…” Logan, or should I say max, answered.

“No, your name has always been max, you’ve always been a dominant biker boy, 19 years old, bisexual, horny, gross, primal and eager to fuck.” The instructor said, hypnotising Max permanently and overwriting his previous memories.

“Yeah bro, I’m max. Wanna smell my fucking feet ?”

The transformation was complete. Max drove home on his motorcycle, smelling ripe with sweat and very hungry for a hole to fill. It was his new life. Max just wanted to dominate, fuck, spread his funk, and ride.

159 notes · View notes

hardwriterdeluxe · 1 month

Text

Bin Boy

You’ve probably heard this one before, but It was a typical Monday morning for me, travelling through town on the way to class. Exciting, huh. Half way there, I turn down a back alley and see a bunch of young chavvy lads in hi-vis vests tossing trash into the back of a garbage truck behind a building site. Being 24, they were probably a few years younger than me. Otherwise shirtless, their toned bodies were embarrassingly on display under their work gear. The ground is littered with broken wood, other materials and piles of garbage. By the logo on their chests they clearly work for the local council.

I stop and watch them, a slightly bemused expression on my face. I’m glad I managed to get into university, imagine spending your days doing basic labour and clearing trash. If only the dim delinquents had paid attention in school.

But maybe I stare for a little too long. One of the lads turns and spots me, sneering in my direction. They stood out from the group, taller and well built. He looked slightly older than me - maybe mid to late 20’s? I quickly look around awkwardly in a rather transparent way to save face. “Oi bellend, Somefink funny bruv?” His dull voice carries over the street to me.

“Pardon me, come again?” I respond, attempting to maintain composure.

“Think ya betteh ‘den us innit? Just cuz you go to uni?” He yells out. The other boys behind him laugh and jeer. For all my smarts, instead of thinking something witty I kind of just stammer, falling over my words.

“No sir, I’m waiting for my friend Timothy and I—I was just looking at the…the…”

“Hey up, Dans on the warpath now.” Another brainless chav shouts out from behind him, throwing a bin bag into the rear of the truck.

“Shut it Luke.” Dan the scally shouts back, walking over to me while I’m frozen like a deer in the headlights. He puts his grimy hand on my shoulder, the smell of intense body odour, flavoured smoke and the distinct stench of trash flows up my nose. It’s so strong it’s almost as though I can see a cloud surrounding him. I recoil, trying to pull away but his grip is too strong and my head is beginning to feel dizzy. He wipes his fingers across my blazer, leaving a slimy stain behind.

“Ugh. No…stay back. That’s pu—pungent.”

“Dat’s it, breathe it in. Gud shiz innit. ” Dan murmurs, leaning in closer. His musk was making me feel a bit more docile, the urgency of the situation seeming less important.

“Please desist. I…I need to make haste to university.” I slur, subdued.

“Nah. Fancy prick. Need’ta relax. Like dem. Just wotch Luke.” He whispers rubbing his hand over me. I just stare forward, watching the other lads continue working as the rank smell surrounds me. I see Luke guffaw and idly touch himself like an animal without second thought. Shameful as it was, there was something attractive about them, about their crass attitude. Although, they clearly have the intelligence and maturity of a horny donkey. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing though… they didn’t seem to mind at least.

Just braying and rutting. A brain the size of a pea.

Unbeknownst to me, the smell is spreading across my body, consuming my clothes - warping them. My university blazer deforms, the soft material growing coarse. I look down and see a fluorescent yellow vest hanging loosely off my frame, the council logo proudly sporting my chest. The cool air brushes against my exposed bare chest. Further down, A dirty grey jogger is now sagging off my hips, accompanied by a sporty pair of trainers.

I picture myself working with Dan and the rest, scarily, I fit in perfectly. People would look at me and judge me as a failure, an utter dimwit. They’d snicker and point at me to their friends. Smile as they feel rightfully superior - just like I had done. And I wouldn’t care one iota. Satisfied with my stereotypical chav idiocy. With my skill-less job of hauling rubbish, a job that could be done by a monkey. With stinking all day long. Satisfied. Proud. Happy even. Gosh, why does that seem so appealing. So…propa. Ugh. This is damn wrong. That would be humiliating. I’m in my final year at uni, predicted for great results, a promising future. And yet….Fu-fuck That smell. That luv—horrible pungent smell.

“Pungent!” I manage to blurt out loud, to Dan’s obvious amusement. “Adjective. A—A sharp, strong taste or sm—smell.” I continue to ramble incoherently on the spot, unsure of what else to say.

It doesn’t stop there though. The scent has me in a strangle hold, clinging to every surface, suffocating my body. It heats up my chest, pushing against it. Fat burns away to lean muscle - seeming like I spend all day on my increasingly large sweaty feet. I seem to lose several years as my skin gets more youthful, looking fresh out of school at 20 years old. The intense smell evaporates away all my body hair, from head to toe. My weary face is slowly adjusting: dark circles fading, cheeks reddening, jaw sharpening. Mmmffuuck. A burst of pure energy flows through me. Tight abs poke between the gap in my bright vest. My rear pushes out against the tight fabric of my joggers as it fattens up along with my dick out front. I was looking more and more like just another basic chav, like the others. Nothing distinct, nothing special or unique. “Dats what I luv to see. Brill.” Dan remarks, observing my changes. I sway on the spot, adjusting to my new stature. The twig like arms at my sides bulk up slightly - but not too much, just ready for basic lifting. A strong funk growing under my pits. “Wot are yous?” He questions, running a hand across my bicep.

“A—a uni…a university s—st—student.” I stutter, unconvinced by my own assertion.

Aah! My neck loudly cracks, thickening below my chin as my vocal chords adjust. Tingling, my ears stretch and pull forward, sticking out embarrassingly far from my head. I couldn’t see it but my hair had receded to a harsh short crop - framing a distinctly more dim and thuggish looking face, mimicking the other lads hot chavvy style. Wait. Hot? F—uck me. My thoughts were getting all messed up. Loike, you know, hard ‘n shit.

“Dat’s it bruv, throw all that smart crap away, like the stinking trash it is. Right into the fucking bin. Cuz mate, yeh gonna be assigned to the bins. A simple bin boy.” Dan hands me an empty black bin bag, my fingers automatically grip at its opening. Now I really did look the part. “Go on, throw yeh smarts all in dere.” Heavy shiz innit?” What the…impossibly, the bag starts to fill up, I feel the weight begin to lightly pull on my arm. A looseness swells in my mind. No. Fuck that. I was going to university, was going to get a degree.

With a last ditch effort my common sense takes charge and attempts to break free, but instead Dan just laughs and pulls me closer. He grabs my head and buries it deep within his hairy armpit. I struggle for a few seconds before I succumb, swallowing his heady musk like an addict. Eventually he pulls away and stares at my blissed out, sweaty face. The bag in my hand felt so heavy and full as my brain continued to empty straight into it. Bit by bit.

“Wot was it you said, ‘pungent’? Bet you can’t even say dat word no more dunce.” P-un-junt. He was wrong…I didn’t even know what the word meant now. Not knowing made me feel so good downstairs. Pleasurable.

The rank smell didn’t seem too bad anymore either, I barely even noticed it as it radiated from every part of me. I sniff at myself, my cock instantly chubbing up in response. “Pee-uu, I fukin’ pong!” I stank like a propa lad. Tough as fuck; hard as balls. Eau de Chav. My stance changes, my back slacking as my neck leans forward. My mouth pulls into a gormless grin. Eyes distant. The trash bag bloats a bit more, inhibitions and manners dislodging free from my head. God, it wouldn’t stop. My tense arms relax and my free hand enters my pockets, pulling the crotch forward on my grubby, sagging jogger. I was gunna get a degree all right, a degree in deez nutz.

I thrust my groin out at Dan. “Huhu. At this rate B-boy, you’re gonna make the rest of us look like geniuses. Is wot you get for thinking you’re so much better. Not so much anymore, king moron.” King? Yeah, I’m the king, the MVP. OG. The GOAT. Number 1 trash clearer here boys!

Trash…wait, I…“Uhhh.” An unfamiliarly dense sound leaves my lips. The bin bag in my hand sagged low as it strained to contain all the complexities of my simplifying personality. The more the bag filled up, the better I felt. Man that’s wack. It was well exciting, straight up.

“Wot r yous, mate?” Dan asks again, bluntly - bearing down on me.

I had some recollection of having to be somewhere else… but where else would a illiterate chav like me need to be? I was lucky to get this job at all like. I needed to be a good worker grunt, doing what I’m told, following instructions. “A dumb stinking fukin’ tradie innit. A bin boy.” I answer in a typical working class accent, dull and thick. Expertly adopting the other lads rather basic and crude speech patterns. All my school knowledge was unburdened from my shrinking mind, loading up the bin bag, pulling the thin material taut. “Head’s as empty as dese bloody bins will be, for real. No cap. Huhaww.” I mumble, guffawing at my childish, witless joke like a dumb donkey.

Dan the man passes me a vape and I instinctively lift it to my cracked lips. He then removes his hand from my shoulder and slaps me on the back. I exhale a huge plume of smoke.

“Lit, rite? The real gud shiz. Anyway, enuff dossing off. Bin boy. Time to join the rest of the chav lads, don’t worry, dey’s also thought they were above dis. Luke used’ta be a fucking engineer. Now look at yous all. Shite for brains eh. Ha. Here, get stuck in mate.” He says pointing towards several wheelie bins where my ‘workie m8’s’ were, a clear smile on his face. “Throw all dat useless rubbish away.” Dan motions down at the overflowing bin bag i’m holding, my mind now cleared of needless garbage. The weight of my smarts, all that fukin’ wank knowledge is heavy in my hand. Gotta dump it innit. I follow him over to the rear of the garbage truck and hesitate as I look down. Maybe I shouldn’t? Man, ain’t this stuff like important or somefink? The bag strains for the final time as my cares and worries flow right into it. Ughh. Fooking hell. That’s much better like. Sorted. I toss the stuffed bag into the compactor, shuddering as my old identity and intellect joins the rest of the pile of stinking refuse and is subsequently crushed flat. Where it belonged.

Huhu. I was a rite thicko now. A thick as shit workie. Propa. “Ye, well wicked mate.”

“Good lad. Feels fucking cushy ey? Get to the rest now B-boy. The quicker we finish up ‘ere the quicker we can welcome you to the crew and my cock can get stuffed up dat tight arse.” Dan informs, patting my large rear end.

“Whaheyy!” The immature lads behind him tease, crudely thrusting their crotches into their hands. “Boiiii is gonna be dicked. Dicked good. Then he gonna be ‘bum boy’. Bet yous ‘ard just finking bout it like!” Luke teases, making a wanking motion with his hand while they all laugh, me included. Cheeky wanker. Bum boy. Fukin’ funny. They’s clever in all.

I was hard though, stiff as a door nail in fact. “Horny. True dat.” I openly admit. My dong obviously tenting for all to see as I get to work, quickly catching on to the job - not that it was very difficult. Just lifting crap and throwing it away, even I could do this. It was like I was made for this. The lads are ace too, shooting the shit with Luke - the big L, complaining bout last nights footie scores. Simple tasks and simple talk. I luv it.

Half an hour later and I was bent over inside a stinking porta potty, getting my once virgin hole stretched out by Dan’s smelly unwashed cock. And then being spun around to lick those moist nuts clean. I hear Luke and the other lads enthusiastically chatting outside as they wait their turn with the new company hire. My arse was just a bin to dump their cum into. Living up to my new nickname ‘Bum, the bin boy’.

___________

Eventually we finish up and the truck moves onto the next area, leaving us to run from house to house and unloading the bins left outside. I’m stopped by some trussed up guy in a blazer passing down the street. For some bizarre reason this ‘Timothy’ seems to think he knows me. Rambling on about coursework and other bollocks. That out of pocket shit pissed me off, he was making fun of me, thinking he was better because of some ‘degree’. I grab his shoulder, pass him a bin bag and tell him to fill it up, that his ‘ead needs a good emptying.

“Gah. That’s pu-pung…dat reeks mate!” He groans dimly as ‘Tim’ joins the bin boy crew, his sweaty fat arse pushing out of his new sagging joggers. Ready to get bummed. Fan-fucking-tastic.

405 notes · View notes

hardwriterdeluxe · 2 months

Text

Rendezvous

Browsing through Sniffies, Maurice sighed gruffly. After six or seven weeks of coming up with zero responses, he was ready to throw in the towel. He was lonely, working a dead-end job downtown with no real trajectory or path to self-improvement, living alone in a house crumbling to debris around him. He was hoping one, just one guy would return his advances, just one little victory to put under his belt amongst the plethora of disappointments. He felt the ever watchful eye of his manager looming over him as he sat behind his desk, looking for any reason to have a "meeting" about his efficiency. Scrolling under the desk, he hoped that as long as his work was complete by lunch, he would avoid any unpleasant lectures. Under his breath, he muttered the names of the nearby guys looking for trade.

"BigDaddy69... Cockinator5000... Scatterino... TitsMcGeeTheGreat... Ugh, what the fuck, man. This is bullshit. None of these guys are even interesting to me, and I still can't even get a response." Frustrated, he slammed his phone onto the desk and continued typing away at his spreadsheets. More than anything in the world, he just wanted someone to be there by his side as he weathered the bullshit of the world, but be it his body, his face, his personality, something... there were never any interested parties. As he continued to plug away at the monthly expense report, his phone vibrated against the desk. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. Surely his boss couldn't be ready to scalp him for not having an expense report ready before the last day of the month... Dreading the barrage of gaslighting and tedious sanctimony, he slowly grabbed the phone and turned it over, opening his eyes.

!!New Message from: BrotatoChip on Sniffies!!

His jaw dropped to the floor. Besides the ridiculous name, he was floored. This was the first message in months, and it wasn't even someone he'd contacted. He swiped his finger across the cracked screen, opening the Sniffies page immediately. There, in bold, was the message. He cautiously tapped on the profile, and when it popped up, he was even more dumbfounded. He was a hunk! One of those stereotypical dude bros he avoided eye contact with at the gym, naturally handsome, muscles with bulging veins, a bountiful beard, showing off one of the wettest armpits he'd ever seen. The tank top he wore looked equally as drenched, and the dominant scowl on his face immediately brought pause to Maurice. He was definitely emitting Alpha-bro vibes, surely amongst the BO that would waft around him.

Yet, to Maurice, it was immaterial. It was the first fish on the line in quite some time, and he wasn't going to let the moment pass. He scrolled through the profile: 24 years old, 6'3, 195 lbs, 9.5" uncut, fit, gay, vers, jock... quite the stats. Strangely, his bio only had a bunch of emojis one after another. Skeptical, but desperately hopeful, Maurice tapped on the conversation to see what he was sent.

BrotatoChip: Whassup bro! How you doin' today?

Maurice smiled warmly, eager to jump right into the fray. He responded meekly with a generic "Hey how's it going," in hopes that the neutrality of his statement would bely his true excitement. He moved his finger to the lock button, only to have the guy respond almost immediately to him. Maurice raised an eyebrow in intrigue and read the message.

BrotatoChip: It's going good, dude! I just finished going to the gym, working out with some of my bros and trying not to stare at their beefy pecs. Hahahah. What about you, bro?

Maurice grimaced, the guy spoke like a neanderthal. But, beggars can't be choosers. At least he was nice to look at. He crafted a careful reply.

Maurice1280: Ugh. I’m stuck at work. The daily grind, you know? Would much rather be there!

BrotatoChip: Aw, I'm sorry dude. The grind is the worst. I hope your boss lets you leave early to go hit the gym instead! But it sure is dope of you that you still took the time to chat with me! I'm Chip, by the way.

Alright, that was kinda cute. He was no Lord Byron, but at least he seemed sincere. At least, as sincere as you can be from typing behind a phone screen.

Maurice 1280: I'm Maurice! And if I could skip out I would. Feels like a better use of my time ya know? It sounds really nice to spend time with friends at the gym.

BrotatoChip: Oh fuck yeah, bud! We really get pumped! And after, I'm always sure to take off my worn-out tennis shoes that reeeeally stink, and then I don't bother to wash them because I know a bro will come and sniff them and love them! Do you like it when the shoes stink, bro?

Maurice sat at his desk, unsure of how to respond. It was rather forward of Chip, certainly. Though, perhaps from the sweaty profile picture and the simple fact that he was on an app called Sniffies would have prepared him for a guy into scentplay. He'd never tried it before, but it wasn't as if he'd had a lot of musky himbos knocking at his door to try it with. He wasn't against it by any means, but it was far from the top of his list of priorities. Yet, for the sake of pursuing the dim lug, he decided to play into it.

Maurice1280: Dude… I fucking love it. Kinda get off on it if I’m being honest!

BrotatoChip: Really? That's hot! I think I'll keep going to the gym without socks, so my feet can get really sweaty and gross, and the shoes are all rank with my hot stank. How does that smell sound to you, huhuhu?

Maurice1280: That sounds... mouthwatering.

BrotatoChip: Heh, thanks, bro… It's nice to know that another guy will be turned on just by sniffing my hot, ripe feet. Man, that's really hot, huhuhu. Maybe you should take breaks during the day and come meet me in the gym parking lot. It's private back there, and the bro air is gonna be hot and sweaty from me and the boys working out, you know?

Was this... Was this an invitation? Really? At last? Was it what he was expecting? No, absolutely not, but who knows what would happen. He sat back and reflected on how many times he'd been ignored, tossed aside, and never given a chance. Perhaps it wouldn't be the worst thing to give a shot to the one guy who gave him a chance.

Maurice1280: Oh man… is that… is that an invitation?

BrotatoChip: Yeah dude! I'm gonna be in the parking lot for my one-hour rest break after I finish these deadlifts. I'm gonna be taking my worn-out, rank tennis shoes off after the workout, and I'm looking forward to having your feet slide into them. Think you'll be able to resist the temptation to sniff my bro toes? I know I'm gonna have you gagging with my stinky, sweaty puppies, huhuhu. If you're down, of course!

Maurice felt a strange sense of anticipation. He even started to like the sound of Chip's ideas. He'd try anything once, and if Chip was as friendly as he was on the app, perhaps it could be nice? After all, what's more intimate and sensual than indulging in some body worship? He found himself actually starting to believe the messages he'd exchanged with Chip. He'd read enough Tumblr smut to at least have an idea of what to do. With a blush-tinged smile, he replied.

Maurice1280: I think I could probably sneak away during lunch!

BrotatoChip: Fuck yeah, good idea bro! Nobody would think anything of it if you took an extended lunch break, especially if you're gone for a while…. That's an hour you could be gettin' some quality time if you know what I'm sayin!

Maurice1280: Fuck man, I don’t know if I’d wanna go back to work after something like that. Sounds too good to be true!

BrotatoChip: Heh, that's just cause you haven't had a bro! Or a couple of bros... Huhuhu! I'm sure after I'm done with you, you'll have a whole horde of thirsty, sweaty himbos who always want to sniff your hot, rank feet and worship your huge swole arms.

Maurice1280: Ah... You might be disappointed, then. I'm not really athletic or anything. Just a couple of cardio days at the gym every few weeks for me. I'm no beefcake.

BrotatoChip: You let me worry about that, bro. It's almost my hour break, and I'm feeling pretty worn out. I can't wait to take off my sweaty, stinky shoes and let you come sniff them and slide em on like I know you want to.

This guy was a freak... But it was a change of pace, it was exciting, and he was undoubtedly hot...

Maurice1280: Well, alright then. If you send me the location I'll meet up with you. See you soon!

He waited merely five seconds before a live location was shared with him. The gym was a stone's throw away from the office downtown, walking distance. Maurice shook off the nerves and hit 'plan route.'

---

The summer day was hot- blistering almost, as Maurice made his way down the side alley. The gym was in a warehouse by the docks, some sort of CrossFit specialization. It was a place he'd never venture if not for Chip's rather forward advances. As the alleyway cleared into a wider area covered in shitty, torn up astroturf and miscellaneous kettlebells & tractor tires. He was definitely in the right place. There, just beyond the plastic muscle garden was the parking lot; and hanging around a beat up Supra were four gigantic dudes laughing like hyenas. Among them, arguably the largest of them, was Chip.

He stood a solid 3 or 4 inches above the rest of his comrades, and was just as attractive in person as his photos. That stringy purple bro tank of his showed off his wide, muscular back and massive arms dripping with the sweat of a long gym session. On his huge feet, a pair of extremely beat up Nike Free 5.0 trainers; formerly bright white, and now yellowed with sweat from daily gymgoing since at least 2014 when the shoe came out. Did Maurice know this? Of course not, to him the shoes were on a hot guy, and that's what mattered to him.

Chip was bursting at the seams laughing at Brody's gross joke, tossing his head back as he belched out his booming chortle. As he did, he saw Maurice standing by the gym, looking rather sullen in his cheap button up and khakis. Chip turned around and grinned from ear to ear. The little guy was cute, very much your run of the mill boy next door type, but endless potential. As Chip smiled and waved at him, the other guys around him chuckled to eachother; smirking and ribbing eachother as their leader strode towards the nervous little shrimp.

Maurice smiled and waved back, sheepishly walking toward the Greek God that was jogging at him. The closer he got, the difference in scale became clearer and clearer. Maurice felt like a child compared to Chip, he was at least a foot taller than he, and muscles that doubled him in size. The fact this guy was 24 was unbelievable. Maurice extended his hand to shake it, only to be met with a bear hug by the sweaty giant.

"Oh! Uh, hey there! Good to actually meet you!" Chip dropped Maurice back onto his feet. "Damn, dude that must have been quite the workout, you're drenched!" Maurice looked down at his cleanly pressed work shirt, now patched with sweat marks. Chip smirked and bounced his pecs.

"Yeah dude! I've been going extra hard today with the bros…I just can't stop pumping that iron. Like what you see, right?" Chip winked at Maurice, instantly flushing his face with a deep red. He would do what he had to do to suppress whatever insecurities arose from the difference in his perceived attractiveness, not that Chip would have noticed such shortcomings anyway. Maurice leaned a bit to the right, watching as the hunk's friends stared at them with jeering smiles.

"Yeah... I sure do... I didn't know you were with friends, though." Chip turned, only now realizing how intimidated his little date might feel around a hoard of sweaty muscleheads. He chuckled to himself, and ruffled Maurice's hair.

"Yeah, well, maybe all these guys would like a chance to get in on the action…but only if you want to, bro. If you want to have some time with my big, muscular body all to yourself, I can tell the other bros to take a hike and we can head across the parking lot to the car… If you aren't getting cold feet." Maurice read this for what it was; a challenge. A playful one at that, but he could tell that Chip was testing his boundaries, but leaving the ball in his court. He came to be with one hot guy for an hour of bliss, but now he had the opportunity for four? Was it dangerous? It was broad daylight, which he hoped would dissuade anyone from doing anything they shouldn't... and if he was being honest with himself, the idea of spending some time with four muscular dudes wasn't entirely unwelcome.

"I mean, as long as I get to be with you I don’t care what other sexy dudes come join in. I came to… hang with you. You take priority here." Chip stood back for a moment, seemingly touched by the earnestness in which Maurice presented himself there. The little guy was putting himself at Chip's mercy, and it was an opportunity he wasn't going to pass up. Though in the back of his mind, cogs began to turn.

"Yeah, the fact that such an attractive guy has such a clear attraction towards me and my big, buff, stinky body… well, that kind of has me feeling like the best thing since bottle preworkout. Huhu…." His dim laugh really spoke volumes besides the decibel, Chip wasn't the brightest bulb in the pack. It was somehow endearing to Maurice, and making him feel more secure in being around guys who may have been as sweet as this dumbass. Chip threw his arm around Maurice; the hot, wet hairs in his pits sitting just to the right of his face, as the duo strutted toward the car. Chip's friends started high fiving and whispering amongst eachother: to them, another fun little conquest under their jockstraps. To Chip, on the other hand, perhaps something more.

The crowd parted as they arrived at the car, moving their quiet cheering a foot or two away from the car. Maurice smiled and waved at them, which had all three of them winking, flexing and puckering their lips. Idiots, all of them, but harmless for now. As Maurice opened the car door, the intensely hot and humid air from inside seeped out like molasses from the car. The scent was ripe, like an entire NBA locker room condensed into a little Supra sedan in the baking summer sun.

Maurice took a seat in the car, and Chip plopped down in the driver's seat. He turned to his puny Sniffies date awkwardly smiling at him. Smirking, Chip shut the door, and began to slip off his beat up sneaker. Almost immediately, the stink in the car intensified. Like a mixture of blue cheese and camembert after being microwaved. Chip lifted his sweaty bare foot onto the dash, flexing his massive bicep.

"Fuck, bro. Those puppies are ripe! Here, take a whiff!"

That smile… Those huge arms… Those size 15 monster feet… And that smell… Maurice couldn't have a single coherent thought outside of 'please let me have them.' With Chip grinning his pearly whites, Maurice brought his face just close enough to feel the heat radiating from the meaty sole. Just as he was preparing to take his breath, he felt Chip's calloused fingers on the back of his head, and his face soon collided with the sticky sole of his foot. Outside of the car, the three other jocks watched intently, pawing at their growing bulges as Maurice began to feverishly sniff their bro's ripe foot. They were all too familiar with the scene, as they all savored their moments not just with Chip but eachother as well, and they were drooling to get in on that action.

"Fuck yeah, bud! Get some of that good shit. Stick your tongue out!" Maurice did as he was told, letting his tongue gently slide up the sole of Chip's foot. Over callouses, between his toes, suckling on every fragrant inch of the foot, Maurice had never felt more alive than in that moment. The hours… no, days spent wasting away at that shitty office, when he could have been savoring Chip's flavorful body. As Maurice savored the salty, funky flavor of his feet, Chip leaned back in his seat, putting his hands behind his head and taking in the smell of his own ripe pitsweat. By the time Maurice had come up for a breath of air, he turned to the window to see the three jocks leaning in against the window of the car, their sweaty dicks all being out and in hand. Chip smirked, "What do you think, bud? Think you're ready for a party?" Maurice turned and smiled.

"Let's go." Those two simple words were enough to send Chip into a frenzy, as he grabbed Maurice by the head and pulled him into a deep kiss. The bros outside start cheering, and pulling at the door. Chip took no time in pulling both himself and Maurice into the backseat, while the other three piled in the car: two in the front and one joining them in the back. Maurice was so enamoured with Chip's sensual kisses and firm gropes, he was oblivious that the jocks began to strip their gymwear from their sweaty, muscular bodies, tossing them into a pile in the back as they began to swap spit and sniffs.

The car windows were fogging from the heat, and in the dead of summer that is tough to do; but the humid stink of four massive sweaty jocks and one normie was enough to make the interior of the car feel like the Amazon Rainforest. Sticky, hot, sweaty, wet, and musky, the jocks began to pry the clothes right off of Maurice as he continued to suck Chip's tongue. Before long, he was bare ass naked, with meaty hands all over his body; roaming, groping, squeezing, and pumping. Chip pulled away from the kiss for just enough time to let Maurice moan from the pleasure.

"Whaddya think, bro? Wanna roll with us?" Maurice could only squeak out an affirmative, as he began to suckle on one of the jock's fingers. Chip let out a hardy chuckle. "Fuuuuuuuck yeah, bro. I'm gonna make you one of us. I wanna show you just how good and manly it feels to be a gay meathead like us! I wanna get you dripping with sweat and smelling like a man. I wanna see your muscles pumped, your body pumped, your brain pumped……all with man musk, huhu…." Chip nodded to the other jocks in the car, it was time for some initiation. One by one, the jocks picked an article of their gym clothes from the pile in the backseat. Maurice suddenly felt a warm, wet fabric being shoved down his arms. He opened his eyes, and one of the bros had slipped their sweaty white tank top onto his slim frame. Before he could protest, not that he would have at that point, Chip had taken the liberty of straddling him, pulling down his shorts and yellowed jockstrap to reveal his thick, musty uncut dick. Maurice had little time to admire the easily 11 inch cock before Chip plowed it straight into his mouth. The taste was tangy, salty, cheesy, and irresistible as Chip made easy work of the man's throat and mouth.

As the rhythmic face fucking continued, another jock slipped their ripe jockstrap and black shorts onto Maurice, leaving just enough room up top for his cock to be sucked by the hunky lug. The last one pried the sweaty cap from his head, slamming it down onto Maurice's head as Chip thrust forcefully into his mouth. The scene was surreal- this normal guy decked out in four dude bro's nasty gym gear as they pleasured him: his mouth gagged by Chip's musty cock, his own cock being sucked, his own ass being eaten, his own pits being huffed... A pervert's dream. Chip's pace began to hasten, his breath becoming bated and shallow.

"Ohhh fuck, bro... You ready? Fuuck I'm gonna blow one big ass load into you. You want that? You want my seed inside you, bro?" Maurice could only say yes with his eyes, looking Chip directly in those sapphire eyes with the faintest gleam. Huffing as he finally began to climax, Chip let out one final grunt: "Welcome to the club, bro!" Immediately, the floodgates opened. The first torrent of Chip's potent spunk went barreling down Maurice's throat, a gush that lasted a total of 10 seconds uninterrupted. More and more cum came flooding into Maurice's gut, Chip's sweaty balls still slapping against his chin as they pulsated. It started in his belly, as it inflated fairly quickly with the spunk, expanding like a water balloon filled with cum. The jocks began to knead at it, smirking as the seed started flowing out into his muscles and bloodstream.

From the bulbous gut, a firm six pack of abs popped out one by one as the cum squeezed into their muscle fibers. Two prominent cum gutters quickly followed suit, along with a quickly inflating ass beneath him. Maurice could feel himself being inundated, taken over by Chip's essence, but he was so in the thralls of euphoria and gleeful at the prospect of this being his new life that it couldn't matter any less. Two juicy pecs pillowed out, as his back expanded with thick, carved muscle. His fingers began to swell, and callouses began to develop on his palms while his biceps and triceps quickly swelled with jiggling muscle and bulging veins. His legs swelled quickly, his calves becoming hard as rocks and his thighs firm with a nice layer of fat just as bristly hairs began to sprout from his skin.

"Ahh, bro, your legs are getting huge, huhu…. those tight shorts are almost cutting off your circulation bro! Ahh man, you look so damn good now, huhu……your body looks huge and muscular and sexy as hell…" Chip's dim-witted voice soared over the moans and sounds of wet kissing and stretching skin as more cum shot out of his musky rod like a geyser. Maurice's feet began to swell and crack, growing and expanding quickly. Size 10... Size 11... Size 13... Size 14... Finally filling up with as much seed as possible at Size 15, they immediately began to emit a ripe funk of their own, one that did not go unnoticed. Maurice felt tongues lapping at the sweat dripping from his meaty soles, a feeling that began to feel so right and so empowering. He grabbed the back of Chip's firm ass, pushing his face harder against his groin, milking every drop from his bro's ripe cock.

The spunk had filled every possible crevice and fiber of him, so as it started to slowly rise up his throat, pooling in his mouth, he could feel the pressure growing in his head. His cheeks started to swell as the cum had no where else to go, the pressure growing and mounting against the top of his palette. Chip smirked with one final and extremely rough thrust. Something popped in the back of his head, and the cum rushed up into his skull. His head started to feel tight and malleable, as his features began to shift and change. His brows lowered and thickened, his lips swelled into plump kissers, his nose widened and the veins in his muscular neck prominently bulged out. As Chip slowly removed his cock from Reece's dripping mouth, his dim witted, empty brained bro could only smile and pant.

"Shiiit, bro. Lookin' fine as fuck, aren't we?" Chip smirked as he looked down at his creation with pride. Reece smiled as he panted.

"Yo, bro. That shit was fire! Look at me, bro!" Reece slid upright, flexing his new muscles with that trademark emptyheaded look on his face.

"Lookin' like a real bro now, Reece! Just one thing missing." Chip turned to their bros in the front seat, grinning from ear to ear as his stanky sneakers were placed in his hands. "From me to you, bro." Chip slid the sweaty sneakers onto Reece's feet, a perfect fit.

"Awww, bro!" Reece chided, as he pulled Chip in for a kiss. The two locked lips, pulling eachother tightly together while their friends went to town on eachother.

---

The gym attendant had plenty of experience with the group of dipshits plowing eachother in the parking lot. It wouldn't be the first time someone came in to complain about the car rocking from side to side with an orgy of men inside. He trudged across the hot asphalt toward the Supra, windows completely fogged up. He sighed as he knocked on the car window, watching as the rocking of the car quickly subsided and a guffaw of dim witted chuckles quietly rang out inside the car.

"Okay, Chip. Hope you got your nut, but the neighbors are complaining again... Open up." The window slowly rolled down, and a thick haze of manscent gushed out of the opening. Inside, five ripe, ripped dudes all smiling and snickering- one of which was unfamiliar. "New guy, then Chip?" Chip smirked.

"Yeah, Clint. This is my boy Reece. He's probably gonna join the club. Right, Reece?" The massive stud of a man in the drivers seat leaned over the armrest, licking the cum off of his moustache.

"Yeah, bro. This place seems tight. I'll be in to sign up in a second, unless..." Reece's sultry gaze stared holes into Clint's soul, as he leaned in closer, gripping Chips prominent bulge in the passenger's seat. "Unless you wanna hop in with us, bro? Bet I'll get you sweating before the sun goes down."

711 notes · View notes

hardwriterdeluxe · 8 months

Text

Economic Hockey Boys

In a small, conservative town, Alex's life was about to take an unexpected turn. He was an outsider, a creative soul who had always felt like he didn't quite belong. His colorful and artsy presentation was a stark contrast to the traditional masculinity that dominated his school, especially in the language class he shared with a group of stereotypical boys.

One of these boys was Max, a tall, athletic, and incredibly attractive member of the local hockey team. Max was the embodiment of the masculine ideal, with his chiseled jawline, strong physique, and a confident charm that made him popular among the girls and respected by the boys. Little did Alex know, but he had developed a crush on Max from the moment he saw him.

Their shared language class had been a source of both excitement and anxiety for Alex. Excitement because it allowed him to explore a new subject, but anxiety because it meant spending more time around the boys he secretly admired. Max, in particular, had caught his attention.

One day, their language teacher assigned a group project, and “fate”intervened to bring Alex and Max together. Before the lesson Max and the boys had requested to be paired in this group. They found themselves in a small group along with a few other students, working on a project that required them to sit closely together in a small group room.

As they settled in to work on the project, Alex couldn't help but feel nervous sitting next to Max. His heart raced, and his palms grew sweaty. Max, perhaps sensing Alex's unease, turned to him with a friendly smile. "Hey, Alex, don't be nervous. We got this," Max said, his voice smooth as honey.

Little did Alex know, Max had a plan of his own. He subtly flexed his arm, causing a bead of sweat to glisten on his bicep. Then, as if by accident, he raised his arm to reach for a pen, allowing his armpit to come tantalizingly close to Alex's face.

Alex's heart skipped a beat as he inhaled Max's intoxicating scent. He was oblivious to the fact that Max was intentionally using this opportunity to get closer to him, to make his presence known, and to send Alex's heart racing.

But the other boys in the group knew exactly what Max was doing. They exchanged knowing glances and stifled their laughter as they watched Alex struggle to maintain his composure.

As the project continued, Alex found it increasingly difficult to concentrate. Max's proximity, his scent, and the subtle but deliberate physical contact left Alex feeling dizzy with desire. Little did he know that this was just the beginning.

At the end of the lesson, Alex was dizzy and could not focus on anything but the smell. Originally, he was supposed to have an art lesson after the language lesson, but because of his foggy brain, he didn't think twice when he got the offer from the other boys. Max and the boys asked Alex if he wanted to tag along for their scheduled hockey practice. The team had made up with the school so that the members of the hockey team could practice during school hours.

Alex said yes, of course, and walked with them to the hockey arena, still dizzy but not as much. Alex's attire was a funny clash with the other boys' clean sporty look. Since Alex wore artsy and flamboyant clothes, he looked like a disco ball next to the conforming boys.

As the group and Alex finally arrived at the hockey arena, Alex started to question the situation a little bit more. Firstly, he knew nothing about sports or hockey, and he didn't even have any gear. Secondly, he was a skinny twig, not like Max, a Greek god. But he didn’t question it since he wouldn't be playing anyways

Max continued to be friendly with Alex and made Alex follow him and the boys to the locker room. In the locker room, the boys exchanged knowingly smug looks and waited for the action to begin.

They were tired of having to share their class with a walking pride flag and couldn't wait for Alex to become the extra resource they were missing on the team and in their bro-group. Max and the boys started undressing at their stations while Alex just stood there and started smelling the tasty air. Of course, a sweaty locker room filled with gear from matches played by hormone-filled 18+ boys would smell.

The boys had changed into their hockey attire and counted on Alex to poke around their "leftover" stuff. Just as they knew that when they left for practice and left Alex intoxicated by the air, Alex would start sniffing the leftover stuff and start his transformation.

Alex went from locker to locker and bench to bench, burying his face in socks and jocks, to jerseys and gloves. He got so hard he finally caved in and started to undress. All the leftover stuff he would put on to be one of the boys, the boys he envied and crushed on.

Firstly, Alex put on the used jock and felt so hot. He followed that up by covering his dainty feet in the big socks. He continued to dress up with the pants and put on the "gigantic" skates that were yellow from all the wear and tear. These definitely belonged to a player that used his full potential.

After he had laced up the skates, he put on the shin pads and the large shoulder pads. He continued to gear up with his elbow pads and his slash guards. Finally, he could put on the team-repping jersey that currently displayed a random number and name. He put on the helmet, hiding his blush-red face, and sealed off his hands with the large gloves.

Alex went over to the locker room mirror to see a pathetic boy in baggy gear. Just as Alex had the sad thought that this was stupid and that he needed to hurry before the others found him, he felt a tingle.

It first started in his feet where the once baggy socks and big skates soon filled out with rough, manly feet that had the skate methods in them. This was followed by his small legs growing larger, his calves exploded from the practices they had been through, and the changes just kept going up. His thighs became big and well-trained.

Alex's torso cramped before its fat disappeared, leaving rock-hard abs and a mesmerizingly good physique. Alex's once nonexistent pecs quickly hardened, and he started to fill in the gear well. The once large jersey, pants, and guards now fitted him perfectly, protecting him at all costs. Next up were his twig arms contrasting his currently good build. Alex's arms exploded with muscles, and you could see that he was clearly right-handed since he had used that hand for the hockey stick. The changes tracked to Alex's hands that juiced out, hands became hard and full of energy.

The changes took Alex's back and made a landscape of muscles, made his nether region grow and fill out the now small jock cup, and made his flat ass round up from all the practices in the sport.

Last but not least was Alex's average face. His rounded jaw became as sharp as a knife, emitting the peak of masculinity. Alex's nose bridge became broken and healed in an instant, caused by all the sport injuries. Alex's eyes narrowed and became focused and quick. Alex's once playful hair straightened into a simple middle part just like the rest of the boys. Lastly, in the transformation, the musk from all the "forgotten" clothes was absorbed by Alex, and this made him finally conform now that his brain was changed.

He wasn't Alex the artsy freak; he was a hockey bro, a confident chick magnet with a killer body. He was Alex the economic dude who always reeked from his pits.

The real world conformed to these changes, and gone was the old Alex. With this, the jersey he wore changed into Alex Benson and his number.

The team came back from practice, not knowing the old Alex, just the new. The only one who knew was Max.

"Alex, bro, let's change after practice; you stink, dude.

Hehe, bro, I went all out on the ice, you know me."

No more were Alex's old clothes. Instead, before him in his "new" locker, laid gray sweatpants, a fresh hockey hoodie, a black cap, a chain, and his shoes and socks—the attire of a real man.

(should I make a part 2?)

#musk #jock tf #jockification #Bro #Hockeytf #Hockeygear #Gear #sports #frat bro #lockeroom #gay to straight

665 notes · View notes

hardwriterdeluxe · 10 months

Text

BuildTech

Emily, a determined and hardworking college student, found herself in a constant struggle to make ends meet. With mounting bills and the pressure of rent looming over her, she embarked on a relentless job search to secure a source of income.

One day, as she scrolled through countless job listings online, a particular advertisement caught her attention. It read, "Exciting Opportunity at BuildTech: Join our Dynamic Team!" Intrigued by the promise of excitement, Emily clicked on the ad to learn more.

The BuildTech website showcased a vibrant and innovative company, known for its groundbreaking projects and commitment to excellence. As Emily delved deeper into the company's mission and values, she couldn't help but feel drawn towards the company and this empty position. Emily decided to take a chance and submit her application. She carefully crafted her cover letter and updated her resume to highlight her skills like her leadership or strong mind and determination. With a glimmer of hope, she pressed the "Submit" button, eagerly anticipating a response.

Days turned into weeks, and Emily's anticipation grew with each passing moment. Doubts and worries began to creep into her mind, questioning whether she was qualified or if she would ever find a job that could alleviate her financial burdens.

Just as she was starting to lose hope, an email notification appeared in her inbox. Her heart raced as she clicked on the message, revealing an invitation for an interview at BuildTech. The excitement and relief she felt were palpable.

Emily meticulously prepared for the interview, researching the company's projects and familiarizing herself with the construction industry. Dressed in her best professional attire, she arrived at the impressive office building that housed BuildTech, her determination unwavering.

As she stepped into the sleek and modern reception area, the ambiance exuded an air of professionalism and ambition. The receptionist, Sarah, greeted her warmly and directed her to the interview room. Emily couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation and nervous energy as she entered the room.

Sitting across from Mike, the manager of BuildTech, Emily was immediately struck by his friendly demeanor and genuine interest in her. The interview commenced, with Mike delving into her background, skills, and aspirations. He sought to understand her motivations and determine if she would be a good fit for the company's dynamic team.

Throughout the interview, Emily's passion and dedication shone through. She expressed her desire to contribute to meaningful projects and make a difference in the world. Mike, impressed by her enthusiasm and genuine nature, saw great potential in her.

As the interview came to a close, Mike leaned forward with a smile on his face. He extended his hand and offered Emily the position at BuildTech, citing her determination and alignment with the company's values. Emily's heart swelled with gratitude and excitement. Finally, a breakthrough had come her way.

If she only knew that the company just hired men…

Ecstatic about her new job at BuildTech, Emily eagerly awaited her first day of work.

The day arrived, and Emily arrived at the BuildTech headquarters with a mix of nerves and anticipation. She was greeted by Sarah, the friendly receptionist she had met during her interview. Sarah handed her a set of documents to fill out and explained the basics of the company's policies and procedures. Emily, so caught up in small talk, didn't even realize she signed the documents confirming her work profile to be updated as male and her work position being a construction worker not a second assistant.

After completing the paperwork, Sarah led Emily down a long corridor towards the employee facilities. As they walked, Emily couldn't help but notice that everyone she passed in the corridor was male. It seemed odd to her, but she brushed it off, assuming it was just a coincidence.

Sarah stopped in front of a door labeled "Employee Dressing Room." She explained that Emily would find her uniform inside and instructed her to change into it before joining the rest of the team on the construction site. Emily thought to herself “wait wasn't my position second assistant, why do i need a construction uniform.” but she brushed it off again as a small misunderstanding. Emily stepped inside the dressing room.

To her surprise, the dressing room was unlike any she had ever seen. It was a sleek, futuristic space with walls adorned by mirrors and high-tech displays. Emily's reflection stared back at her, a mix of excitement and curiosity in her eyes.

In the center of the room, there was a platform illuminated by soft, glowing lights. A voice echoed from the speakers, its tone soothing yet authoritative. "Welcome, Emily, to BuildTech's Gender-Conforming Dressing Room. Please step onto the platform for scanning and outfit customization."

Curiosity overcoming her, Emily complied and positioned herself on the platform. As she stood there, the room's lights brightened, casting a gentle glow around her. A series of scanning beams enveloped her body, analyzing her physical features and detecting any inconsistencies.

To her shock the bright lights turned red, the AI system detected that Emily's assigned gender did not match her work profile. The robotic arms in the room sprang into action, undressing her. Emily felt a mix of confusion and vulnerability as the arms swiftly removed her clothing.

The next moment, the robotic arms approached her and grabbed her so they could correct her. they began spraying Emily in a thin clear coating, each movement molding the spray to her body. Emily felt a tingling sensation, almost as if her very essence was being reshaped.

First up was her legs as the skin-like suit adheard to her bones and molded them her calves grew pushing her from her ordinary 5’6 to a a 5’7. Her legs continued to mold and gained muscle mass on top of muscle mass and next up was her feet, her feet grew so much that she looked out of proportion, she now sported real man's feet and it continued with her thighs giving her juicy big thighs matching her now changed legs and feet. Before the transformation moved forward it blessed her legs and feet with a generous amount of hair and also gave her bad boy feet a rank stench so powerful she needed to cover them up daily. The molding continued and moved upwards the changes barely touched her bouncy butt, the spray just molded her feminine curves into the strong masculine side making her butt fuller and firmer.

The magic of the spray went on to continue and gave her torso a great gift. Her torso fat melted into string and hard abs and her female gender became male with the dick growing hard and big, to complete her downstairs or well his downstairs the changes gave him a full treasure line with hair his once female breasts flattened into some rock hard pecs adorned with yet again sweaty musky body hair.

His arms ballooned giving his once small biceps muscles. The arms extended and filled with arm hair and veins giving a strong and yet inviting look. His hands grew from a delicate soft hand into hands that could hold any dick or tool easily, these new hands were calloused and dirty from hard work and experience. Next was the armpits which grew to match the muscles and became hairy and wet sporting the same foul smell.

His physical appearance transformed before his eyes. The contours of his face shifted, becoming more angular and masculine giving him a perfect jawline and the perfect nose. His voice deepened, resonating with a newfound confidence and authority but also masculinity and toughness.

As the transformation progressed, Emily's mind underwent a parallel change. Memories of his past life as Emily faded into the background, replaced by a new sense of self. He no longer identified as Emily but embraced his new identity as Alex, a strong and capable construction worker.

The spray completed the transformation by stretching Alex from 5’7 to 5’11. The robotic arms dressed Alex in a pair of white socks or by the looks of it almost yellow, the socks had the same smell as Alex feet explaining the odor. Next the arms dressed him in sturdy work boots that were well worn and were made of sturdy leather. Alex got put in rugged pants adorned with stains and mud and some tools, Alex also got a durable work shirt with a vest. The robot arms placed a construction worker's hard hat atop his head, symbolizing his new role within the company and sealing his new identity, and with that the world only knew Alex.

Stepping out of the dressing room, Alex felt a surge of confidence coursing through his veins. The world around him seemed to shift, as if acknowledging his new identity. Colleagues who once knew Emily now saw him as Alex, a skilled and respected member of the construction team.

As he walked among his new coworkers, Alex couldn't help but notice the subtle nods of approval and respect. He had earned his place in this traditionally male-dominated industry and was now another worker in the crowd.

#hivis #workie #workies #tradie #worker #musk #chav lads #jockification #shiny gear #male tf #tf story #female to male #leather boots #hi vis workwear

237 notes · View notes