oli280

[oli280]

Mandatory PE Class

Markus walked through the university campus, his face clearly showing his annoyance at the situation he was going through. His school decided to "promote physical activity among the student body", and by "promote" they meant a mandatory Physical Education class every junior had to go through. And Marcus was not happy about it.

Marcus was an introvert - he didn't particularly enjoy parties, going to bars, or other typical college activities. He spent his time reading, researching and weightlifting. This might seem weird for a "nerd", but whenever Marcus put on his noise-canceling headphones and grabbed the bar with 100 or so pounds on it, he felt like he could finally relax.

But even though Marcus enjoyed going to the gym, he enjoyed it when he was there alone - no one with him, the amount of people in the gym at a minimum. These were the perfect conditions for him. This class would not be it. He would have to deal with God knows how many people, plus most likely some smart ass coach, who thinks he's the next Arnold Schwarzenegger.

The university gave him a choice of what he wanted to do during the class and Marcus chose weight training, hoping he would be left alone and allowed to just follow his usual routine without any interruptions.

Marcus arrived at the athletics department's building and after wandering through its corridors he found his way to Weight Room C09. He knocked and heard a booming voice invite him inside. He opened the door and walked into a smallish locker room, where a few guys were getting ready and another man, clearly older than the others, stood on the side and waited. That was probably the coach.

"Marcus, right?" the supposed coach walked up to Marcus. "I'm Assistant Coach Baker and I'll be leading your group this semester." He extended his hand and Marcus shook it reluctantly. He quickly turned around and began changing into his gym gear.

Once everyone was ready (and there weren't many people in Marcus' group - only 6 guys) the group led by Coach Baker moved to the weight room proper. Marcus wanted to walk up to Baker and ask him if he could just do his own routine, but before he had mustered up the courage to do this Baker began warming up and expected the rest to do the same. Marcus rolled his eyes and sighed, before joining the group.

The next hour passed slowly. Baker had the group do a fairly quick and lite set of exercises, lite for Marcus at least. After the class had ended everyone was getting out of their sweaty shirts in the locker room. Marcus put his gear in his backpack and as the rest of the students began leaving the room, he walked up to Coach Baker.

"Sir, could I make a certain request?" He asked, a bit shy.

"Oh, Marcus, yeah? I also wanna talk with you about something. But go on." He wanted to talk with Marcus about something? That didn't sound great. He stood silent for a moment.

"So..." Baker looked at Marcus, his eyebrow raised.

"Oh yeah. So... I was wondering... I, I go to the gym quite often, and have for a few years now... and so I thought... Would it be a problem if during these PE classes I... I just followed my usual routine and you, you just did what you have planned with the rest?"

Coach smiled as he listened. Marcus wasn't sure if this was a good or a bad thing.

"Well, Marcus, I'm glad you see the importance of exercise. But I don't want no divisions in my group, you understand. I want to work with all of you, show something to everyone. Although, because you asked, I'll be sure to adjust the exercises for your level." Marcus nodded, although he wasn't really happy with Baker's response. "And while we're talking, I wanted to ask you something - would you be interested in trying out for our football team?"

This took Marcus by surprise. The football team? Where did that idea come from? He was not about to join a group of brain dead jocks.

"What?" he simply asked, confused.

"Well, I have noticed your strength during our hour together. And I think you would do great on the gridiron." Baker put his hand on Marcus' shoulder. Marcus did not like that.

"Wel, uhm... thank you for the proposition, but... no, I'm, I don't think I would fit in."

"Are you sure? I could help you fit in just right." Baker grinned again.

"Yeah... I'm sure... Mr. Baker" Marcus stood there and avoided eye contact with the older man.

"Call me Coach" Baker laughed. "If you're sure... well, I ain't gonna force ya. Now go, I'll see you next week."

As Marcus left the building he sighed. This was going to be an exhausting semester.

Reality turned out weirder than he expected.

As the months progressed Marcus attended every PE class, his annoyance with Baker's refusal to just let him do what he wanted not strong enough to risk messing with his attendance. Baker meanwhile stuck to his word, and for the most part Marcus was doing what the rest of the group was doing.

Although... this wasn't the whole truth. Because even though Marcus wasn't allowed to do his own thing, while doing the exercises Baker would come up to him and ask him to change something about the movements, add more weight, do another variant of the exercise. So even though he was working with the group, he did get the chance to do way more challenging things.

Baker himself was weirdly invested, at least that's how it seemed to Marcus. He very much got into that role of the supportive coach, he stood next to Marcus, counted his reps, motivated him to "just push further". Marcus found that strange, but didn't want to get into any kind of argument with the coach, so he just went along with this.

As the semester came to an end Marcus also had to admit he got something out of these classes. The exercises Baker had him do were pushing his limits, and he did adjust his normal gym routine to include stuff he learnt from him As he looked in the mirror, standing in his room on the day of the last class before the end of the semester he had to admit he was bigger than 5 months prior.

The last class came and went pretty uneventfully. Marcus beat his PB on the bench by 10 pounds and after an hour he came back to the locker room sweaty and gross. Baker thanked all the guys for coming, asked them to continue going to the gym and said goodbye.

As Marcus got ready to leave the locker room Baker looked at him and said "See you at practice, 90" and went back to the weight room. Marcus had no idea what that meant, but the class was over so he just shrugged and left.

Marcus entered his dorm room and sat behind his desk. He had some work to do on a paper he wanted to submit next week. He opened his laptop and quickly got to work. After a while he needed something to drink so he stood up and walked up to his mini fridge. There he noticed a mug standing on top of it. It was a cup branded with the logo of the Lions, his university's football team.

This was weird, as Marcus did not recall ever getting any merchandise like that. Maybe someone left it here by mistake, Marcus didn't know. But it seemed it was the only clean mug he had, so he quickly poured soda into it and went back to his laptop.

He got into the flow of writing and research pretty quickly. Then, around half an hour later, he was surprised by a notification from some group chat. 10 unread messages from "jungle kingssss 💪". What the hell was that? Marcus was sure he never joined such a conversation. Maybe it was some new kind of scam.

The notifications just kept coming, and at one point instead of deleting it Marcus clicked on it and a chat window appeared.

nah bruh, ya slayed that bitch well dude - steroidss#96

dude concentrate ffs - big dog jake#7

stfu bros where the fuck is tron where ya need him - mike chief#53

hes jerkin of or meal preppin bro, ya know that - steroidss#96

Marcus looked at the chat, even though he had no idea what he was looking at. It seemed he somehow had access to a group chat of some random meatheads. Although the numbers from their nicknames were tickling something at the back of his head, somehow.

if hes jerkin his fat dick ill kick his fat ass, we have state to fuckin beat - big dog jake#7

State? What does it mean they have to beat-- oh yeah, the Lions' next game is against Ohio State.

Wait.

What does that we mean in "we have state to beat"?

How did he know the Lions' schedule?

Marcus felt his head spin a little. Was he sick? He looked at the screen again and suddenly a new message appeared.

am not fuckin jerkin off you piece of shit, got fuckin dumbass school to take care of you idiots - tron's big dick#90

Marcus looked down. His fingers were still touching the keys. HE WROTE THAT!

And that we... It meant the football team! Marcus was reading the football team's group conversation. How the fuck did this happen?!

dunno why i even bother wit any of your stupid fat asses you fuckin shits - tron's big dick#90

Marcus jumped out of the chair. He did it again! His fingers were betraying him. He shut the laptop down and opened the window. Maybe he had to breathe in some fresh air. Was he hallucinating? Was this some infection? What was happening to him?!

He sat on his bed and breathed in, then out. In and out, in and out. In and out. In and out-- was he drooling!? Marcus wiped the drool from his face. It was getting late and he decided it would be beneficial to go to bed early. He turned around to get to his bed only to notice a sweaty hoodie with badly cut-off sleeves. It had the Lions' logo on the front and the number 90 on the back.

This was not happening.

This was just a dream.

Marcus told himself that repeatedly as he got into his PJs. He checked if his laptop was turned off and laid on his bed. He could swear he could feel a faint smell of sweat and... cum? But this didn't stop him from quickly falling asleep.

Marcus was dragged out of sleep by his alarm clock. He slowly got his body into an upright position, then began going through his usual morning routine.

He made himself a protein shake with added creatine.

He ate the oatmeal and eggs he always had for breakfast.

He put on the sweaty shirt from two days ago. It was fine, no one would notice. And he looked hot in it anyways.

He sent a message on the group chat.

you bitches ready to get dominated n pushed into the grass by my fat dick - tron's big dick#90

He got his gear ready and put his duffel bag on his shoulder.

the faggot of the team has spoken everybody - hall/of/glory#38

Marcus walked through the campus. He let out a dumb chuckle as he read the message. Jalen was the best.

not everyone can slay pussy like tron, bitch - tron's big dick#90

He entered the building and walked towards the locker room-- Marcus suddenly stopped and looked around.

Where was he?

He didn't remember waking up.

He didn't remember dressing up.

He didn't remember coming here.

Where was he?

As he tried to understand what the fuck was going on Assistant Coach Baker appeared, walking through the corridor, coming towards him.

"You know why you're here, Marcus?"

"No!" Marcus shouted, surprising himself, but not Baker.

"As I thought. Follow me" the older man waved at him and Marcus instinctively followed his lead. They walked through the football wing of the athletics department until they reached a door. Locker Room L01.

They both entered - Baker first, Marcus second - and Coach pointed to an open locker. Marcus walked up to it and looked inside.

Jersey. Number 90. Schoeder. His name.

Shoulder pads.

Cleats.

Condoms.

Gym gear.

It all reeked of sweat.

So fuckin' musky.

Huhuhuhuh, a proper jock's smell, bro

bro

bruh

WHAT!?

Coach came up to Marcus and looked him in the eyes.

"Do you know why you're here, 90?"

Marcus opened his mouth and tried to answer. But no words came out.

Coach grinned and took a sweaty Under Armour shirt from his locker. He then put the shirt up to his nostrils.

Marcus automatically inhaled and a fog descended over his mind. He took a few more sniffs. So sweaty, so musky. A fuckin' football jock's smell. A stupid grin appeared on his face, drool began flowing from his mouth. Bruh, that was so fuckin' good bro.

"Sick bro..." Tron drawled and put his arms into a double bicep pose. Coach Baker just smiled and took back the shirt before throwing it into the locker.

"Now, 90, put on the gear. I've trained a new defensive end for 5 months. Let's see it it was worth the hassle." He patted Tron on the back before barking at him. "Main field in 2 minutes or you won't be able to walk for a week, 90!"

"Huhuhuhuh" Tron responded with a dumb chuckle. "Yeah, Coach. No worries, dude."

He then quickly got ready and ran out onto the field.

whos ready for a fuckin beatin - tron's big dick#90

[oli280]

Himbo Haunted House

“Oh, come on, dude, stop being such a pussy!”

“It’s just a haunted house, man; it’s not like there are real axe murderers in there!”

“You’re not even man enough to step foot inside the house, Cary?” And that was right. Cary was at the front of the line at the haunted house at the local carnival. Behind him was a group of jocks from his school who knew him because he was the target of their constant bullying. He soon felt himself go off-balance while trying to determine if he really wanted to enter the house or not. He was able to turn around just enough to see and hear the jocks snickering and laughing before the door closed.

He banged on the door, hoping the attendant would help him out, but that didn’t seem to be the case. He felt around for a door handle or knob on this side, but he couldn’t find one. He would have looked but it was pitch-black in there, with seemingly no light source as far as the eye could see. He slowly walked around until he felt what he hoped was a wall, and followed it until he reached a corner. “I guess it’s a maze of some kind,” he said to himself, as he rounded the corner and got to work going through the funhouse maze.

All things considered, the haunted house wasn’t really bad at all. Cary wondered how they could even make it so that absolutely no light came in, but other than the total darkness, it was just like one big maze. However, there was one other difference that Cary noted. It was pretty hot inside of the maze, seemingly for no reason at all. Of course, he didn’t think to bring his drink inside with him, so his breathing soon got heavier and more painful. He hoped that the end was coming soon so that he could get something down his throat.

Cary was getting so sweaty that his clothes were starting to stick to his body. That he didn’t find weird at all. After all, it was an expected side effect from being in such a hot environment, as well as getting sweaty. What he did find weird, though, was that his thoughts increasingly turned to sex as he tried to make his way through the maze. Cary was gay, although very few guys wanted to date a stereotypical nerd like himself. But for some reason, he just couldn’t help thinking about sex with hot guys, whether they were models, celebs, or even a couple of the jocks that had bullied him into this haunted house!

He soon had an erection and there was seemingly no way that he could get it down, as even though it was pitch black in here, he didn’t want to risk someone finding him while he was jerking off. Cary was thankful for the complete darkness now as he continued to make his way through the maze. He knew that he was getting close to the edge of the maze whenever he felt a draft of cold air on his body. It felt refreshing, especially since he felt insanely hot. What he didn’t realize as he was walking around, mainly because of the pitch blackness, was that some of his clothes were disappearing or changing as well.

The first piece of clothing to go was his sweatshirt. Cary wore sweatshirts no matter what the weather was, since he was a bit afraid of what others might think of his body. He didn’t take it off himself even after he started sweating bullets, but while making his way through the maze, it suddenly vanished. The same thing happened to his shirt, as well as his pants. Since he was still in complete darkness, Cary didn’t realize that he was now just walking around in his underwear, sock, and shoes.

His underwear changed a bit, though, as he continued to make his way through the maze, the end seemingly nowhere in sight. Once he just had his underwear on, with every step Cary took, a little bit more of the fabric disappeared. He had started with wearing some boxers, but it wasn’t long at all before the boxers had become boxer briefs and got even tighter on his body, regardless of sticking to him because of the insane heat inside the maze. The brand of the underwear also changed as well, becoming Calvin Klein instead of Fruit of the Loom.

Cary’s change in clothes weren’t the only physical changes that had happened to him in the maze. It was actually soon after his clothes had disappeared and his underwear had changed that his muscles had started to grow. It happened similarly to the underwear, in that with every step that he took, more and more muscle was added to his body all over. His biceps and other arm muscles grew in size, becoming much bigger than even the muscles of the jocks who had pushed him inside of this funhouse maze. His forearms were quite veiny now and his shoulders had a lot of bulk to them as well.

His pecs also grew in size, but Cary didn’t have as rounded and squishy pecs as some other men had. Instead, it kind of looked like they were literally squished on top of his chest, but regardless, it was still a massive improvement over the flat chest Cary had when he entered the maze, and his deltoids were enormous as well. The star of his front was more so his six pack of abs that didn’t require any flexing to be chiseled. His obliques were the same way and he most certainly had what some gay men called cum gutters between those magnificent abs.

Cary’s ass also ballooned in size, becoming a bubble butt instead of the flat ass he had had before stepping foot inside of this maze. His legs also gained some sizable heft to them as well, although they were the most muscular part on his body before all of these transformations began. Finally, his cock also got bigger. In addition to being a weak nerd, Cary also had a small cock to complete the trifecta. After the transformation was done with him, his new cock had a visible bulge in his admittedly tight underwear now, his hefty balls hanging below a cock that was now eight inches when erect and had some sizable girth to it as well. There were a few more smaller changes, like clearing Cary’s acne and making his back straighter.

It wasn’t long after the physical changes were complete when Cary rounded the next corner and saw light for the first time in what seemed like hours. He finally took his hands off of the wall and made his way around the final corner into the end room. Surprisingly, there was nobody there, not even to help him or anything. Now that he was illuminated for the first time since the changes took place, Cary could see what had happened to him.

“Wait, where did all of my clothes go? Why and how did I get so muscular so fast? Frick, I really need to jerk off!” he moaned, as he felt up his new much more muscular body. He staved off orgasming for quite some time, which was impressive considering just how horny he was, as he played with his squished pecs and chiseled abs and even his bubble butt. He was getting more and more horny but he still didn’t blow his load yet, although he was vigorously jacking off, hoping that he would be able to cum any minute now. As he felt his mind slowly turning into mush, or more accurately cum, he finally tried to stop jerking off, but by now, it just felt so good and pleasurable that he couldn’t help but blow his load.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!” he moaned as he orgasmed, blowing sperm as well as his intelligence out of his cock. He was now as dumb as a bag of rocks but still incredibly horny as he walked through the door to go outside, or so he thought. Even a certified genius would have never imagined that the door led to a stage where an auctioneer was waiting and a bunch of horny men were waiting in the audience.

“Ah, I see the Himbo Haunted House has sent us its next victim! According to what we were able to learn, his name is Cary and he used to be a weak nerd with a small dick. In fact, some of his jock bullies pushed him into the HHH! As you men can plainly see, he has impressive muscles, with a growth rate of over 250%! Hiding in that underwear is a cock that’s grown over 300% in size and in girth, and boy oh boy, you men will certainly like this! Our himbo here spent well over a minute in the last room stroking that impressive cock of his! Cary might not be able to tell you what 2+2 means anymore, but he’ll be great in the bedroom and will do whatever you want without question! Let’s start the bidding of this himbo hunk at $1 million!”

Cary had a goofy grin on his face and flexed and pouted every few seconds as the bidding skyrocketed quickly. It wasn’t long before most of the men quit, many not able to afford the high price that Cary was being offered for. Two bidders competed against each other for quite some time, the two of them egging each other on until one finally had to call it quits when Cary was sold for half a billion dollars! As the man who bought him made his way up to the stage to escort his newly-bought himbo off, the door opened again and another himbo stepped out. Cary faintly recognized him, but he didn’t know where. The auctioneer would soon announce that this himbo was actually one of the jocks who had pushed Cary inside, forced to become a himbo himself.

[oli280]

"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the vainest one of all..."

Entering the locker room after his first time in the gym, he was simply planning on using the bathroom and leaving the facility with no intention of returning. Instead, he had come close to a mirror to get a closer look at this inscription—the famous fairy-tale adage printed across the top with one notable change: a blank where the original saying had the word "fairest," and no-doubt the reason for the white board marker sitting off to the side. In this case, someone prior had recently written "vainest."

In a confused tone, he read it aloud—still taking in the odd wall art within this locker room and knowing this addition to the saying would never apply to his unremarkable self. But then—turning towards the bathroom stalls—he catches himself in the mirror and flashes his winning smile. He might not have the body, but fuck he had a charming smile... and of course his clear and moisturized skin... and his sharp jawline. Man, this lighting really brought out his jawline.

And same with his pecs. His pecs looked great with his stylish shirt and lit from this angle... He took off his shirt—fuck yeah, his muscles had a great pump after his daily workout.

He messed up his hair—it was messy, but not the right messy, not "hot" messy, except... now it looked fuckin sexy like the rest of him.

He leaned down and flashed his cocky smile to his phone and stopped the tiktok. He'd post it after he changed the funny saying on the wall—was it from... Cinderella? Rapunzel? Either way—he was always the vainest person he know so he figured he'd change it and have a bit of fun with it. He wrote the new adjective down, laughing dumbly before turning and heading off to his appartment to take some pics for his OnlyFans.

Left on the wall behind him was the new adage waiting for the next person who reads it aloud:

"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the hungest one of all..."

[oli280]

Headphones In, Guns Out

Bradley entered the weight room. He took out his phone and plugged in his headphones. He then went into Spotify and selected a new workout playlist the algorithm suggested for him a few days ago. As the music began playing he began warming up.

bruh

He was doing upper body today, wanted to see his chest and arms clearly defined under his t-shirts and hoodies.

just a dumb brah

He found his way to the free weights section, took two dumbbells in his hands and began doing bicep curls.

fuckin' pump that iron dude

He went through the three sets and felt... like it wasn't that hard, actually. Motivated by this feeling, he moved over to an unoccupied bench and put on some weights on the bar.

wearin' that sweaty tank bro

Wow, he was sweating from all that exercise, this workout was feeling so different.

such a dumb bull, a strong bull

He finished rep after rep, lifting the bar as if it was made from feathers. Goin' great, yeah bro?

a bull needs a trainer

Huh?

a sweaty jock follows his Coach

Oh, the playlist is looping already? Huh, thought it was longer. Whatever, let's continue with the lifting.

bruh

just a dumb brah

Wow, he could actually see some pump on his arms. Damn, dude...

fuckin' pump that iron dude

wearin' that sweaty tank bro

Oh yeah! He finished another set and he felt great. His bros would beg for guns like his, duhuhuhuh...

such a dumb bull, a strong bull

Wait... what?

a bull needs a trainer

What bros?

a sweaty jock follows his Coach

Bradley looked down... and he was huge! His whole body had clearly defined muscles, and his now t-shirt, damp form sweat, was straining against his pecs and shoulders. And... and he didn't have any bros, he wasn't a dumb jock like that, he wasn't some strong bull! Bradley grabbed the cable of his headphones and was about to--

BRUH

JUST A DUMB BRAH

FUCKIN' PUMP THAT IRON DUDE

WEARIN' THAT SWEATY TANK BRO

SUCH A DUMB BULL, A STRONG BULL

A BULL NEEDS A TRAINER

A SWEATY JOCK FOLLOWS HIS COACH

...

BRUH

...

PUMP THAT IRON

...

SWEATY

...

DUMB BULL

...

TRAINER

...

JOCK FOLLOWS COACH

...

--Brady let out a dumb chuckle as he added more weights to the bar before going back to lifting. Up and down. Up and down. Rep after rep, set after set. He was such a strong bull. A beast his Coach would be proud of.

As he lifted the bar for a hundredth time he thought about that party his bros invited him to. Dude, that will be sick, bro.

Duhuhuhuhuhuh, look at these guns bruh.

Such a dumb and strong bull, brah!

[oli280]

The more Archie hears the graphic details of his frat's conquests, the more his gay mind is corrupted with intense curiosity for females. He can't stop fantasizing about pumping his big, gay cock into some tight, wet pussy. Desperately wanting to hear a woman beg for his seed and feel her cream on his cock. It won't be long till Archie finally succumbs and begs his frat to hook him up with some pussy. He'll be straight as an arrow by the end of the semester.

[oli280]

[oli280]

You live to grow

Reblog if you think about your body thickening and exploding with muscle more than anything else. I want to be your friend.

[oli280]

FlexVirus

Ping

Martin looked down at his phone screen to see a notification of a new message. He could see from the short snapshot of it, that it was nothing more than a spam message. He opened it up to see what rubbish it was, so he could block the account immediately. As he brought up the message though, his eyes were glued to a pic of a half-naked guy smirking right at him. His small chubby cock popped up at the sight of the guy. He stared at him before reading the message;

“Broski, The world is in desperate need of Brosephs to help fight the nerds and whiny fucks in our society. Open the app and sign up to help us take back society from those dweebs”

Martin was perplexed, the message was loaded, but didn’t seem like a conservative or republican message. His mind told him this was just a scam or a virus, but his dick knew that whatever page it took him to, there would be more hot bro’s to look at. Gulping down his fear, Martin tapped the link and opened the page. The page however had nothing on it, just a black screen. Martin looked at it for a second, before seeing a notification that an app was downloading, this must’ve been the virus. He tried to escape the link and stop the download, but his phone was frozen. He sighed, realizing he had fallen for some simple bait.

But before he put his phone down, a loading image appeared. It was a blue light at the centre of the screen with an outline of some cartoonishly bulky character. As the loading finishes, he watches as the app begins going through his images, mostly selfies but also taking memes and other things he found. Martin was horrified at the possibilities of what this virus could do with that, but then as he thought it couldn’t get worse, the app began rummaging through his messages, across multiple apps. His Instagram, Snapchat, WhatsApp, messenger and anything else he used, nothing was safe.

His mind raced about thinking of the worst possible situations this app was going to put him in. The app was beginning to lump all the data together, creating a profile of who he was. Confusion swept through Martin. A picture of Martin abruptly formed on the screen, surrounded by text boxes with aspects of his life, personality, memories, interests and body features. What was it doing?

Profile created…

Positive attributes: None

Brocess level: 5

Begin bodily changes:

Martin gazed in amazement at the sight before him. However, before he could react, his phone began to vibrate, sending shockwaves down his arms and immobilizing him.

His abdomen tightened and tensed, his previously soft stomach rippled with muscle into a chiselled six-pack. His abs form a mesmerizing grid, each muscle defining itself more pronouncedly than before. Martin is now the epitome of physical fitness, his once-soft midsection now an iron shield.

Martin's chest and pectoral muscles undergo a profound metamorphosis, swelling in size as they become larger and fuller. They push outward with undeniable force. The fabric of his shirt rips apart like tissue paper, exposing boulder-like pecs that rise and fall with each breath, oozing raw masculinity. A shadowy valley forms between the two mounds of impressive strength. Martin's calves and thighs began to expand gradually, muscles bulging and gaining definition. His once slender legs grew thicker and stronger with every passing moment.

His shoulders broaden, broadening his frame and giving him a more commanding presence. The undersized shirt strains against his expanding mass, pleading for mercy. His biceps that were once thin and weak bulged with power, filled with sculpted sinew beneath the skin, as veins snake their way across his forearms, pulsating with raw strength.

Martin was in shock at his transformation, what was happening to him? Why was it happening? But just as he thought it was over, the app continued its onslaught against him. The app zoomed in on his face, and he could feel tiny pinches happening all over it. His face began to swell in size, his cheeks and jaw becoming defined and narrow. Prickles of dark hair began to sprout all across his cheeks and jaw, coalescing into a chinstrap. His light brown eyes, deeping into darker brown, their gaze piercing the soul. The light shade to his mop of hair dimmed slowly into a brunette, the messy strands shrinking in size before gelling into a quiff of dark hairs and forming a douchey fauxhawk. His itchy sides shortened into a skin fade that accentuated his style.

Martin watched the avatar change and then looked at the mirror in his room. He would’ve gasped if he could. His face had changed completely, as had his body. He was turning into someone new. He wanted to cry, but in his paralyzed state, he couldn’t even do that. He could only watch.

“Flex…” Bright words shone on the screen, and as he saw them, his body obeyed. His arm flexed showing off his bicep, the veins bulging.

‘No please bro, I need this to stop’ he thought

Smile…” His eyes saw it and he tried to stop it, but the overwhelming strength of the app broke him. A grin, that wasn’t his, forced its way onto his face. Behind this smirking hunk was a screaming nerd, begging for salvation.

‘Oh fuck what's going brah, I need to get free of this pump, why the fuck am I talking like a broseph?!’ he thought panicked to himself, the typical gym bro language manifesting itself within him.

“Physical changes complete…

Mental changes beginning…”

Martin shrieked in his mind, he didn’t want his mind to change, what would be left of him?

In an instant, another shock went through him. The changes were quite abrupt to him. His IQ shot down, and his vocabulary took the brunt. His long and interesting words shrunk down to being grunts before evolving into bruhs, brahs, bros, before turning into complete typical gym rat speak.

“Fuck, bro! These gains are sick, gonna need a bigger pump later” He yelled suddenly, in a voice deeper than his own and spewing out his gym rat persona.

His interest in computers and all things nerd began to break apart. No matter how much he loved or was hyped for, he just found them boring now. Bit by bit, they were reduced until they were no more. ‘Nah, man! I'm all about computers, all about Star Trek, ya know? But somethin's just off, dude. Why ain't I findin' 'em fascinating? What's the deal, bro? Please, dude, I don't wanna transform into a full-on broski!’ he pleaded in his mind, his old vocabulary and speech vanished, replaced by the vulgar speech of a gym rat.

Yo bro, it was like BAM, new interests sparked, getting shredded at the gym every damn day, bumping that same old generic banger, and chugging protein shakes, became the holy grail of his existence. As a treat for his grind, he'd game a bit, nothing crazy, just some epic shooters like CoD to fire up his brain during those non-gym hours. And when the sun dipped low, you know the drill, he'd rage till he passed the F out with his broski crew. dude couldn't help but get hella pumped about a sick party, gettin' down on the dance floor, throwin' back some drinks, gettin' freaky in the sheets, and all them fine ladies around…

‘Yo, I gotta have those badass titties, fly ass chicks, and fine-ass bitches all over me freaking pronto, bruh!’ He thought as images of chicks with curves, big breasts and tight holes filled his mind. ‘bro, somethin' ain't sittin' right with me, 'cause I'm sure I’m gay… but damn, these girls, you know, them titties be bouncin' in my mind. Shit… babes… damn, I'm morphin' into a horny-ass straight broski.’

He tried to resist all of it but the app changed and a clip of some blonde bimbo appeared. His eyes were glued to her and big tits. His mind couldn’t do anything but think of her, his free hand sliding into his undies. He grabbed his member thinking about what he would do with her with his massive member. But it didn’t feel that big. A jolt went through him and his small chubby dick began engorging in size. His hand began jerking, his balls inflated and filled with new potent jock cum. He kept on jerking, with each one, he forgot any resistance and gave into his new persona. The cockiness enveloped him, he knew he looked good and so did everyone else, why fret or feel bad. He smothered himself in arrogance, the thoughts of how he could get any chick and how his arms were the biggest of all his broski’s. “Fuck… I’m the shit… I’m M… Fuck what was my name?” he tried to think as well as jerk off.

“It starts with M, then A… then…?” His secondary thought paused while his main process fired on all cylinders looking at the screen. The app then displayed the name Max on the screen, and his brain clicked.

“M A X… That's fucking right, I’m Max!” he yelled arrogantly and as he did his dick slipped out from his underwear and unleashed a torrent of cum that soaked itself into his room, changing the very environment around him. His books transformed into a basketball, and his computer turned into a TV screen with an Xbox hooked up to it. His cooking bowls turned into tubs of protein powder, and smoothies into energy drinks. Posters of Star Trek and other nerdy franchises turned into hardcore workout posters or pics of topless babes. Max flexed to himself, before texting some chicks he could pick up later.

[oli280]

Hey guys... F*CK! Please jockify me by making me cum my brains out! I just need it so much haha😅

#jockification #jock #brainwashing #jock transformation #muscle

[oli280]

Straight Boy.MP3

Mason slid down slightly in his seat, bored. It would be a while until the train got to his stop. Luckily, his best friend, Tanner, sent him a link to an MP3 a few minutes ago. It was an ambient track, or at least he thought. There was something off about it. The beat was pretty good, but he could swear something was in the song's background. Curious, he turned up the volume and listened closely. It was a man's voice, faint and chanting something. With the risk of deafening, he turned up the volume a little more. Unexpectedly, the voice became crystal clear, scaring the hell out of him. "Dumb boy! Dumb straight boy!" the male singer chanted. Mason tried to turn the volume down, but his phone wouldn't respond. Slightly panicked, he tried taking his headphones out, but they wouldn't budge, as if glued to his ears. The intense beat was making his head fuzzy, almost light-headed.

Suddenly, Mason started to feel oddly aroused. Even though the music was blaring, it wasn't giving him a headache or hurting his ears. He was so confused yet so turned on. It almost felt like he took a painkiller, the loud hypnotic beat numbing out all discomfort and thought. The beat then kicked up, heightening Mason's pleasure. He crossed his legs, trying to conceal his stiffening erection from the other passengers.

"No! Manspread like a good dumb straight boy!" The song harmonized. Mason was shocked, not just by the lyrics, but by how his legs abruptly positioned themselves into a manspread on their own. "Proudly show off your bulge like a good dumb straight boy!" Mason's cock got harder, having his tight bulge on full display for all to see. Luckily, no one noticed. Even luckier, the few people in his section got off at the next stop, leaving him completely alone.

"Dumb straight boy! Dumb straight boy!" The song kept repeating. "Play with yourself, dumb straight boy!" Mason moved his hand to his stiff crotch and rubbed, slowly at first, then hard and fast. His mind felt like it was melting. It was scary yet thrilling. "Good boy! Good dumb straight boy!" the music harmonized. Mason moaned as the song started incorporating sounds of sports games and revving engines, flowing perfectly with the hypnotic beat. He always hated those noises, but now they fill him with nothing but pleasure. Mason smiled as his mind was abruptly filled with images of himself playing sports and fixing cars. "Dumb straight boys do dumb straight boy things! Sports good! Cars good!" the music droned. "Say it!" the song aggressively commanded. Mason moaned again; he wanted to fight against the music, but the temptation was too good. "Sports good! Cars good!" Mason happily chanted, rubbing his stiff bulge harder.

The beat then shifted to female moans, turning Mason on further. His gay mind was then abruptly filled with images of himself fucking women, ravishing their pussies with his tongue and cock. Mason wanted to resist, but his mind was putty in the music's harmonious hands. "Good boys fuck girls! Good boys breed girls! Good boys don't wear condoms! Good boys never pull out!" the music droned. Mason gasped in agony, trying to resist, but couldn't stop rubbing his stiff bulge in utter pleasure. "I'm a dumb straight boy! I'm a dumb straight boy!" the music droned. "Say it!" the music commanded. Mason bit down on his lips, resisting as best as he could. The music then blasted sounds of female orgasms, forcing Mason's mouth open as he let out a deep moan. "Say it!" The music commanded. "Say it!"

Mason was panting like a dog, trying so hard to resist. Suddenly the woman moaning in the song started moaning Mason's name as if they were all creaming on his gay cock. Mason's eyes rolled back; he couldn't take it anymore. He rubbed harder and faster, feeling like he could cum any second. "I'm a dumb straight boy! I'm a dumb straight boy!" Mason mindlessly roared as he made a mess of his pants with his hot, sticky load. Mason then closed his eyes in relief, totally fried. The music blasted off its finishing beat, then abruptly stopped. The song was over. Mason's headphones then released themselves from his ears and fell onto his lap.

A few minutes later, Mason opened his eyes in a total haze. He had no memory of what just happened, only that his stop was coming up. He assumed he must have dozed off, having a nasty wet dream, judging by how moist his pants felt. He faintly remembered something about making a girl cream on his cock. He smiled a little, trying to remember the pervy details. The train then halted at the stop before his own. Two young women in short skirts got on, grabbing his horny attention. Mason's smile widened, peeking up their skirts and realizing one of them wasn't wearing any panties. Mason squeezed his sticky bulge, getting lost in the thought of making them cream on his fat cock. He felt so dumb, so horny: the perfect straight boy.

[oli280]

Titz

Bryan huffed as he locked the door behind him, “Finally…”

School had been as insufferable as always, constantly surrounded by dickwads and idiots he’d grown up with for the past 18 years. Bryan was smart, but not at an Ivy League level or anything. However, he was just smart enough to be recklessly harassed by the popular crews. As in the backwards-cap, crotch-grabbing, fag-bashing, athtletically-inclined Brosephs of high school. And it only got worse when Bryan’s mother had remarried to one of the football coaches right before his freshman year, granting him a stepfather who not only supported these arrogant pricks, but defended them as well.

But now, Bryan had the whole weekend to himself. His mother had planned a romantic getaway for herself and her second husband, leaving Bryan the entire place until Sunday evening. Bryan barely had any homework, so the next 48 hours were going to be spent doing what he knew how to do best: lounging. Playing video games, watching television, mindlessly eating. That’s what the pudgy high school senior was most excited for. His mom had stocked up before leaving, and with no one to physically impress, Bryan planned on stuffing his 5’6 frame to the limit.

After dumping his belongings in his room, Bryan entered the kitchen with full anticipation. Still wearing a nicer shirt and khakis from the school day, he decided he should start with something that wouldn’t cause such a mess. After investigating through a couple of cabinets, his eyes eventually landed on a box of crackers. Everything about them followed the Nabisco branding guidelines he and the rest of the world were so accustomed to, but one thing in particular stood out.

“Titz?”

Bryan blinked, but the “T” still stood proudly where the “R” should’ve been. Bryan didn’t really know what to make of the situation, but he also didn’t care. He just assumed it must have been some random one-in-a-million processing plant error. It was ironic really. Bryan was gay, but it wasn’t like he was forcing it on anyone. The harassment at school probably would have been far worse if he had come off as more flamboyant. That being said, his flamingo-print socks probably didn’t help his case.

With the box of crackers and an energy drink in hand, Bryan jumped onto the couch and turned on the television, switching to his favorite documentary channel. A two hour-long special on World War I artillery was about to start, and Bryan couldn’t think of anything better to do than to lay back, absorb, and munch away. He quickly ripped open a sleeve and grabbed his first Titz, the cracker gone in just two bites.

The documentary started off a little slow, but Bryan knew they always tended to–especially the longer ones. He couldn’t help but continue eating the crackers one by one, not even registering each Titz that went through his teeth, down his throat, and finally landing within his stomach acid, digesting before assimilating into the environment around it. 

After about five minutes, Bryan found himself unusually impatient, absentmindedly scratching at the itchy material of his button-up shirt. His fingers graced along some Titz crumbs that had begun to accumulate onto his bloated stomach. The teenager was not at all bothered by this development. His attire and figure however were. 

The program droned on, with Bryan’s eyes fixated elsewhere as his stomach began to gurgle within his outfit. The Titz crackers had begun to process and were incorporating their intoxicating, American-made chemicals into the 18-year-old’s system. The standard blue button-up began to soften and lighten in color and material, the buttons popping out as a seam brought together the two edges. The generic color was replaced with a designer teal, brought along by the new logo fixing itself right above Bryan’s left pec. The sleeves shortened as well, morphing into the perfect tee for his tightened upper arms.

Left pec? Tightened upper arms? Those descriptions would’ve never been given to Bryan’s previous chunky frame. Yet the Titz crackers weren’t only having an effect on the high schooler’s clothes. As his stomach continued its light grumbling, the fat began to wash away. It was like each wave pushed a little more off into the distance, never to be seen again. Underneath it all lay the beginnings of an excellent six pack, a set of two powerful pectorals, and the beginnings of powerful pairs of biceps and triceps. A little more masculinity was bestowed upon the burgeoning man as well, with his pits puffing up with hair and veins crawling along his youthful arms.

“BUURRP!”

Bryan wasn’t usually one to belch so easily, yet nor was he one to not be invested in a documentary. Especially one that should have been as captivating as the war it was explaining. But Bryan continued watching along, unknowingly growing more uninterested by the second.

That wasn’t the only thing he didn’t realize was growing however. His legs, one propped up while the other stretched out, were each pushing a little further with every passing moment. The Titz crackers were accumulating and making space by elongating the bones and tendons along them, moving Bryan’s height up inch by inch. Before long, Bryan now stood (or lay) at a solid 6 feet, yet he would later claim an extra inch when asked.

With the legs at their full capacity, the Titz crackers continued their work on the 18-year-old. The quadriceps were first, shaping the thighs from full fat to full musculature while maintaining their cushy size. Calves built for running distances across soccer and lacrosse fields, followed by feet plumped up to generous Size 13s to better fill out the socks-and-sandals look. 

Speaking of clothes, the square pants Bryan once wore had crawled all the way up his legs, leaving only a 5-inch inseam left for the world to imagine what hid underneath. At least the obnoxious boxer briefs gave a clue. And as for the once flamboyant socks, those had dried up into a starch-white pair meant for any typical jock, now even adorning the same certifiable-douchey logo of his tee.

“BUH-UUuurrrp!!”

Bryan followed up the more deep and guttural belch with a little guffaw, feeling slightly impressed at his own work. He was not however impressed with this documentary. It was so stale and boring. This war happened like a gajillion years ago…who cares? Grabbing the remote, he switched channels until eventually landing on a game. Right away he could tell it was a rerun for a football match, even though this knowledge had never existed to him before. But Bryan became much more invested in seconds, satisfied and crunching away at the Titz crackers.

As more of the crackers entered Bryan’s system, their alterations began to work elsewhere. After lengthening out the neck a smidge to make room for a more prominent Adam’s apple, Bryan’s head began to undergo its own miraculous improvement. First, a good chunk of his baby fat was stripped away, leaving him with the more typical facial structure of a high school jock: young, privleged, and undeniably attractive. Longer nose, duller eyes, and a voice now much more suited for the syllable “uh”. As a finishing exterior touch, Bryan’s hair grew out and flopped neatly underneath the backwards cap that had secured itself upon his head, a different logo matching his energy drink visible next to the strap.

Before long, Bryan grew tired of watching the game play out for him. Although he didn’t remember when, he knew he’d already seen this match-up. And thanks to the Titz crackers he’d been chowing down, his attention span was rapidly decreasing. The external cranial work had been finished, allowing for interior revision to begin. Bryan picked up the remote and began flicking through the different options. While every channel number went up by one, his intelligence inversely went down.

A news segment on sunscreen? Nah, Bryan didn’t need that junk. He loved his hard-earned tan lines from the many afternoon practices with his bros. A commercial for a scented detergent spray? Pfft, that wouldn’t do anything against Bryan. His teenage-boy funk was an unstoppable force (not like he wanted to get rid of it anyway). A lesbian porno? How could that-

“Mmph…” Bryan grunted, his now deeper, lackluster timbre fully apparent. With a Titz cracker in one hand, Bryan was surprised to find his other underneath his shorts fondling his dick. His massive dick. While chipping away at his psyche, the crackers had made two final physical adaptations. First, a perky bubble butt that would forever entice the wrong audience. Second, a pair of fertile, sweaty balls with 8 inches of young man meat to match. A set that would certainly entice an audience. And by the way it was reacting to the porno, that audience was women.

Bryan rolled his eyes back into his head, a surge of pleasure enveloping his system as the compounding effect of the Titz crackers annihilated what was left of Bryan. The individuality, the integrity, the intellect, and even the homosexuality were etched away, leaving only the most basic of materials behind. As Bryan felt himself coming to an edge, the Titz crackers took everything with them to his churning testicles, leaving only the stereotypical husk of the common high school jock.

“BRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAP!!!”

The belch wasn’t the only thing released from the 18-year-old’s system. Not even bothering to adjust himself, the high school senior felt the warm, sticky goo slowly sink into his boxer briefs and shorts, marinating his awesome pouch. 

“God, these aren’t cappin’ bro!” Ryan exclaimed, taking another Titz cracker from the sleeve. Suddenly, the front door unlocked and opened from behind him. Ryan didn’t even bother turning or changing the channel–by the heavy footfalls he already knew who it was.

“Forget something?” Ryan called out to his stepfather. The coach entered the room from behind, his smile widening as he slowly took in the scene around him. The voice was the first clue, but the open sleeve was the confirmation. 

“You’re mom noticed I forgot the condoms,” Ryan’s stepfather chuckled in his bass register. "We weren't too far yet so I decided to swing back and grab them."

“Hope they aren’t too old.” A smirk fell over Ryan’s face, “Gotta replace 'em every now and then cause they can get holes.”

Ryan's stepfather couldn’t help but beam with pride when he noticed the slightly tampered box placed proudly on the dining table. When he’d planted the crackers, he knew it wouldn’t take long for his stepson to get to them. He hadn’t planned for an immediate success however.

“Wish me luck, kiddo,” Ryan’s stepfather replied as he made his way out. Ryan only released a farewell fart, its poignant odor not at all muffled by the couch cushions beneath him. He really did hope his stepfather got lucky this weekend. And after grabbing his phone, Ryan realized he ought to too.

[oli280]

Welcome to the Frat, Bro!

Felix closed his locker, ready to hit the showers. He couldn't wait to thoroughly scrub the sweat and stink of his brutal workout off his chiseled body, especially his ripe pits. Nothing disgusted Felix more than the stench of body odor. Turning around, he was surprised to find someone's worn-out black cap on the locker room bench, considering it wasn't there a minute ago. Upon closer inspection, he discovered it was embroidered with an obnoxious green weed symbol, offending his highbrow taste. His nose was then abruptly assaulted by an overpowering scent of weed, cheap deodorant, and masculine musk, clearly coming from the hat. It unquestionably belonged to one of the gym's many frat bros, who utterly annoyed him.

The smell was vile but strangely gave his cock a pleasant twitch. Even though it was entirely unlike him, he was compelled by the unexpected twinge of sexual pleasure to pick it up and sniff it. The scent was revolting, yet at the same time, it made him feel surprisingly turned on. He couldn't help but drop his towel and start playing with his hardening cock, taking deep sniffs. He didn't understand why he enjoyed doing something so out of character; it was as if he was suddenly possessed.

"Fuck. This smells so fuckin good, bro." Felix moaned, muffled by the hat. He was shocked at how casually that came from his mouth. It was as if he abruptly lost all sense of self. He wanted to stop but couldn't. He needed more. "Fuck, bro." His brain felt fuzzy, taking in such an overpowering scent up close, but he couldn't stop. He desperately needed more. "Fuck yeah, bro!" His cock was hard as a rock, dripping pre like crazy. He stroked faster, slinging pre all over the floor. "Fuck. My donger's so fuckin hard, bro!" He couldn't believe how dumb he sounded, but it felt so fucking good. It got harder to think straight with each deep sniff, but it didn't stop him. Nothing could stop him. "Fuuuuuuckkkk, bro." He felt so brainless, unable to not talk like a stoned frat bro. He always hated weed and those who partook, but he could go for a fatty right now.

Suddenly, Felix heard the sound of low-pitched humming. It took a second in his slow state, but he eventually realized the sound was coming from the embroidered weed symbol on the cap. He squinted at it, utterly confused. "What the fuck, bro?" The weed symbol then started to glow bright green, transfixing him. He stood there slack-jawed, mindlessly staring into the radiant green glow as the low-pitched humming got louder. The sound was hypnotic, making him feel like whatever was left of his brain was melting into his balls. "Fuuuuuuckkkk, bro." The weed symbol then abruptly flashed into his eyes, blinding him. "Fuck!!!" He looked around, squinting in pain. Everything looked green like his eyes had a heavy green filter over them. "What the fuck, bro?!" Then, instantly, the pain was replaced with pure euphoria. His head felt magnificently empty, and his balls felt. He simply stood there smiling like an idiot, forming drool. "Fuuuuuuckkkk, bro."

Utterly mindless, Felix placed the douchey frat bro cap on his head, sealing his fate. The hat then suctioned itself to him, making him laugh like a dumbass. "Fuuuuuuckkkk yeaaaahhh, bro." It started to vibrate, making his whole body shake. His eyes rolled back in pleasure like he could cum any moment. "Fuuuuuuckkkk, bro." The vibrating kicked up in speed, making his throbbing cock twitch. "Fuuuuuuckkkk, bro!!" Instantly, his quivering cock shot out ropes of hot sticky cum all over the locker room floor, hands-free. "Fuuuuuuckkkk yeaaaahhh, bro!! Holy fuck!!"

There was a brief moment of silent afterglow, broken by the opening of the locker room door. Felix, now dumb as a brick, didn't think to quickly cover his large cum splodge on the floor and instead just stood there like a proud dumbass. One of the gym's many idiotic frat bros came around the corner of lockers, smiling at the sight of Felix's cap. "So that's where my hat wandered off to! It seems to have taken a liking to ya, bro!" He then looked down at all the cum on the floor, amazed. "Fuck, bro! Looks like my frats just found its newest member!" He walked up to Felix and took his cap back. He placed it on his head and threw his sweaty arm around Felix's shoulder, getting his sweaty pit reek all over him. "So, ya gonna shower before we go, bro?"

"You know the stink makes the man, bro!" Felix cockily grinned. He then flexed his arm and gave his ripe pit a deep sniff. "Fuuuuuuckkkk yeaaaahhh, bro!" The two chuckled like dumbasses and walked off, leaving the sticky remains of Felix's old self on the locker room floor.

[oli280]

Roommates

Sven wasn't exactly the type of Swedish exchange student that the Alpha Phi fraternity had expected. Of course, they had expected some kind of Viking. Long blonde hair, muscular body, hard-drinking beyond measure. Sven was NOTHING like that. None, slight with a slight belly, vegan, teetotaler. A bore and a nerd! If anyone didn't fit into the fraternity, it was this nerd, whose bed had long since been neatly made at 08:00 in the morning and who was already sitting in the library studying. Most of his fraternity brothers simply ignored Sven. But it wasn't so easy for his roommate Alex. Sven didn't like it when Alex smoked pot with his bong, Sven constantly asked Alex to keep order and clean. Sven annoyed Alex with every single one of his Swedish breaths.

Saturday morning. Alex had a serious hangover. The party yesterday had been more than worth it. Of course he would have preferred to fuck the linebacker in his bed. But of course Sven had already been in bed at 10 p.m. and couldn't be disturbed. But hell, the fuck in the broom closet had been hot. And where had the little nerd gone again? The bed was already made, of course. There was a note on the pillow that read in little-girl handwriting "I'm at the museum today, will be back around 8pm." Museum! On a Saturday! What a loser… Alex had no idea why he was doing this, but he just wanted to get one over on the little neat freak. So he wiped his hairy, sweaty armpits with Sven's pillow. Then he pissed, wanked his morning boner and lay down again to sleep it off. When Sven came home in the evening, he sighed. Once again, Alex had left behind a mess that reached right into his own half of the room they shared. He tidied up at least his part of the room and went down to the kitchen to prepare his dinner. The other guys had all gone out. Sure, it was Saturday night. Sven enjoyed preparing and eating his vegetable soup while reading National Geographic. He got ready for bed around 10 p.m. He wanted to go to the botanical garden in the morning.

Sven's night was restless. Not just because of Alex, who came home at around 03:00 in the morning, full to bursting and then had to throw up in the toilet. It was also because of wild dreams. Sven woke up twice because of an almost painful boner. And after getting up, he had to jerk off urgently. He had never been this horny before. Damn it, if he wanted to get to the botanical garden in time for the tour, he had to hurry. Showering was out of the question. He smelled under his armpits. Phew! And he really needed to shave there too. What a bush that was growing there. Sven quickly took Alex's deodorant. The scent should mask the stench. And then he hurriedly got ready and quietly left the frat house.

When Alex woke up, he had to grin. For the first time, Sven's bed wasn't made. His silly pyjama bottoms were actually on the floor. And he hadn't left a note about what nerdy activity he was doing today. Alex took Sven's pyjama bottoms and pulled them through his own ass crack a few times with relish. The idea of the little nerd putting these pants on made him really horny. He leaked precum, which he wiped off with Sven's pyjama bottoms. His personal pain in the ass deserved that.

When Sven came back in the late afternoon, most of the jocks were sitting in the living room watching football. Sven had no idea what the rules were and he wasn't really interested. But he thought it was cool to hang out with the guys now. As long as he was in the fraternity… Plus there were nachos and beer. If that wasn't a reason to sit down in a free seat…

When Alex woke up the next morning, Sven's bed was empty, of course. Miserable nerd, thought Alex. Then he heard the sound of the toilet flushing. And a naked Sven came out of the bathroom. "Hey, didn't you wash your hands, you pig?" Alex asked, looking at the mighty cock dangling between Sven's legs. Sven held his hand under Alex's nose. "Doesn't stink, so doesn't need washing, Bruh," he said with a grin. And as he pulled on a pair of sweatpants, a no-longer-fresh T-shirt and a sweat jacket, he added that he was late for the first lecture. And asked if he would meet Alex at the gym later.

Whatever drugs Sven was taking, Alex thought, he should keep taking them. Speaking of drugs. Alex was in the mood for a bong. Now that the nerd was gone. Alex would be skipping the first lecture anyway. His Monday started with the lunch break at the earliest. He lit the bong. And taking advantage of the opportunity to be alone, he blew the smoke right onto Sven's crumpled pillow.

Normally, Alex would have been embarrassed to be seen in the gym with Sven. But actually, the little wanker wasn't doing too badly. Sven wasn't necessarily muscular. But wiry. And he obviously had the ambition to put on weight. Alex shared his protein shake with his roommate. And Sven thanked him with a huge protein fart on the leg press. Hell, did he smell like that himself, Alex wondered, feeling a little sorry for Sven. Having not showered since Saturday morning, Sven insisted on showering after training. Sissy, Alex thought at first. Until he saw Sven naked in the changing room. "Hey, Swedish stallion, wait for me," he called after him. Never in his life would he have thought that he would ever jerk off in the shower with Sven.

Sven got up the next morning. He should have done his laundry yesterday. But now he had to do it in yesterday's jockstrap and socks. He had showered last night, so he could use the precious time to smoke a joint. Damn it, there had to be tobacco and weed somewhere in his hopeless mess. Alex was still snoring. The tent he had built in his bed clearly marked his morning wood. Sven would have loved to give the stud a blow job. But he had now decided to have a joint. He didn't have time for both together. As usual, he was running late. And he often couldn't afford to be late any more. Alex was well off. Thanks to his rich parents and his football scholarship, he could afford to sleep through the morning. Sven had to get reasonably good grades so that his scholarship abroad wouldn't be canceled.

Before he left the fraternity house, he quickly made himself a protein shake. One of his frat brothers hugged him from behind and grabbed the bulge in his sweatpants. "Time for a quick fuck, stud?" Fuck, now he was late for class after all.

"You look good, Bruh!" Alex said that evening after the workout. "Ever thought about a roid cycle?" Sven was hungry for more. In his mind, he put on 40 pounds of muscle. The thought of a massive roid gut gave him a hard-on. He knocked the cap off Alex's head. "You only want that to make my cock shrink. You just can't swallow that beast like that." Alex got down on his knees and pulled the waistband of Sven's pants down. The precum-smeared cock popped out of its prison. "I think I'll just give it a go…" Best roommates ever!

Pic of the two studs found @meninthemirr0r

Story based on an idea of @1-800-give-a-chance

[oli280]

[oli280]

The Curse of the Himbos

“I’m telling you, Chester, the class is cursed!” Thomas said to his best friend. 

“There’s no way that a class can be cursed. It’s a metaphysical conception, and besides, I don’t believe in curses and magic and all that junk anyways.”

“Okay, okay, I hear you about the curse and all, but do you really wanna spend your time tutoring dumb jocks?” Thomas asked. “I heard one of them got two plus two wrong when asked!”

“That’s the reason why I want to do this,” Chester said. “I want to break the dumb jock stereotype, and turn them into nerdy jocks!”

“Good luck with that!” chuckled Thomas. “Well, it was nice talking to ya, Chester, but I have to go now. Have fun with your dumb jocks!” Chester didn’t respond as Thomas walked away, leaving the school by the front door a minute or so later. As for Chester, he walked down the hall the other way to the supposed cursed classroom. He knocked on the door and entered the room to find several dumb jocks, himbos even, goofing around, probably waiting for him to arrive. 

“Yo, are you, like, our tutor for today, eheheh?” asked one of the himbo jocks.

“Yes, yes I am,” Chester said. “Now, if all of you would have a seat, I would like to get started quickly. You men have a lot to learn and there’s only so much time in the day!” He then tugged on his shirt a little bit. “Are any of you guys hot?” he asked, as he was getting his materials ready. 

“Yeah, like, lots of people say, like, we’re hot, eheheh!” said another himbo jock, who promptly got punched in the shoulder by a third one. 

“No, brah, he meant, like, the temperature! Nah, teach, we’re, like, all good!”

“Oh, okay,” Chester said. He did sometimes get hot flashes after all, so it was probably just one of them. He didn’t expect the himbo jocks to be so nice, though. They followed his orders quickly, all of them sitting down at a desk already, and correcting each other when they got something wrong, which admittedly would happen quite often with this group of men. “Let’s get started then! We’re going to start with some mathematics. Normally I wouldn’t start this low, but you guys need the help. So, one plus one equals two and two plus two equals four.”

“Oh, so, like, that’s the answer, eheheh!” said the himbo jock that Thomas had overheard getting the math problem wrong once before. The math portion of the lesson today was going surprisingly well, and all of the himbos were getting it somewhat quickly. They weren’t afraid to ask questions and help each out too. Chester was getting a bit annoyed with their language, but that would be hard to change, and at least all of them could speak in grammatically correct full sentences! As he switched over to the basic science lesson he was going to teach them today, he noticed something a bit odd. His shirt was getting to be a bit tight. 

“Hmm,” he wondered. “Is it really that hot in here that my shirt would be sticking to my skin? The himbo jocks don’t look hot and their clothes still fit perfectly?” Their clothes were showing off their muscles too, but Chester was more focused on teaching than on the muscular hunks sitting in front of him. He didn’t realize that his shirt was getting tight because he was gaining muscle, slowly but surely getting to be the same size as the himbo jocks. Throughout the course of the science lesson, which was about volcanoes to hopefully pique the himbo jocks’ interest, there were some other changes, these ones happening below the literal belt. 

Chester’s pants slowly changed materials, and length, going from chinos to athletic shorts. The change happened gradually, the material changing first and then more and more of the pant leg disappearing into thin air until he was wearing athletic shorts, just like the himbo jocks. As for his underwear, that changed too, from boxers to briefs. This change was also gradual but invisible to the himbo jocks, since it was both happening at the same time as the pants change as well as the fact that the pants still covered the underwear. Fabric slowly but surely disappeared from the pair of underwear, and it even changed brands as well, going from Fruit of the Loom to a brand called EWA. 

Surprisingly, Chester didn’t notice these changes at all. He was too busy teaching the himbo jocks, who were also enamored by learning about volcanoes. A few of them did happen to notice the clothing changes because of the angle they were sitting at, but they didn’t say a thing. Towards the end of the science lesson and the beginning of the social studies lesson, there was another clothing change totally outside of Chester’s control. As he droned on about the Revolutionary War, his hoodie slowly but surely began disappearing, and this time around, nothing was replacing it. The fabric just disappeared into thin air, and since it was much closer to Chester’s face, he was much more likely to notice the changes, which he did, eventually.         

Along with the disappearing hoodie, his shirt changed as well, still straining from his new muscles. However, this one was mostly just the sleeves disappearing, the shirt becoming a tank top instead of a long-sleeved button-down shirt. The buttons disappeared as well, merging with the new fabric of the shirt, until Chester was wearing a tank top just like most of the himbo jocks in the room. When he finally looked down to check his notes on a topic he always seemed to forget about when talking about the war, he realized the changes and screamed. 

“GAH! What the heck is going on here!? Is this classroom really cursed? I’m out of here!” he screamed, not caring about turning himbo jocks into nerdy jocks anymore. There were transformations already happening that he didn’t like, and Chester rushed over to the door, only to find it locked. He didn’t remember locking it when he came in, and none of the himbo jocks had left the room to go to the bathroom or leave early or anything like that. “Let me out! Let me OUT!” Chester bellowed as he banged on the door. Unfortunately, no one was around to hear him. 

One of the himbo jocks, the closest one to the door, grabbed him, and all of the himbo jocks in the room began chanting “One of us, one of us,” like they were in some cult. Chester was horrified by the implications of their statement, but was soon distracted by the himbo taking his shirt off and massaging his muscles. 

“That feels so good!” he moaned, drawing out the words as the himbo massaging his big muscles. Surprisingly, Chester was getting more and more turned on by the massage for some reason. He identified as straight and was open to experimenting with guys, but he didn’t think he would be enjoying it this much. His cock was bulging in his briefs and was even obviously tenting out his athletic shorts as well. As the massage continued, another himbo opened his backpack and took out a gold chain, like many guys wore, including most of the himbo jocks in this classroom. 

He walked over to Chester and placed it around his neck, Chester oblivious to the action as he was getting turned on immensely from the himbo jock massage. Another himbo jock took a baseball cap out of his backpack and did the same thing, placing it on Chester’s head backwards, of course. While the gold chain didn’t have any special powers or anything, the cap certainly did. Chester could feel his intelligence moving through his body, a strange feeling that he had no way of describing, even if he could right now. He was still lost in the orgasmic high of the massage and hornier than he had ever been in his life before, but he did realize that his intelligence ended up in his balls, nearly all of his intelligence moving from his brain to his balls now churning with cum. 

It didn’t help that soon after the cap was placed on his head, two more himbo jocks came around and began rubbing his throbbing erect cock through his pants and underwear. They then took turns stroking Chester’s cock, making sure he didn’t cum just yet as more and more of his intelligence was being drained into his balls. Additionally, some other himbo jocks were playing with his nipples, sucking on them and twisting them to cause him an erotic mix of pain and pleasure during the handjob. It wasn’t just the nipples being played with, though, but most of Chester’s other erogenous zones. The himbo jocks stroking his clothed cock had a hard time making sure he didn’t cum from all of the pleasure Chester was currently feeling.

 In the midst of all of this, Chester had a moment of lucidity and realized just what was happening to him. He tried to take the cap off of his head, since surprisingly, none of the himbos were holding his limbs down. However, as if by magic or some other force, two himbo jocks appeared by his side and held his arms down tightly, so that he could barely move them, let alone grab the cap off of his head. 

Eventually, all of the intelligence from his brain had made its way to his balls, Chester now technically no smarter than the himbo jocks he was assigned to tutor. The two himbo jocks stroking his cock finally allowed him to cum, with Chester having an enormous cumshot from all of the edging that he had just endured. His cum flew across the room and then trickled out from his cock, all of his intelligence coming out with it. Once the last drops of cum made their way out of his cock, Chester grabbed his cap and took it off for some reason. However, it was too late for Chester, even if he realized why he was doing it in the first place. He was just another dumb himbo jock. 

A couple weeks later

Chester was hanging out in the locker room with the rest of the himbo jocks. They had just played a game of basketball, skins vs. skins, and they were all sweaty and musky. One of the few himbo jocks who hadn’t been playing with walked into the locker room and made an announcement. “They, like, found out another tutor, eheheh!”

“Another himbo jock to, like, add to the group, eheheh!” said most of the other jocks, Chester included. He loved living life as a himbo jock without a care in the world. Sure, he couldn’t understand what two plus two meant, but who needed math when you had a body like his?

[oli280]

I resisted corrupting my roommate at first. He was a nice guy, very considerate, friendly, and clean, but watching a shy small and smart guy like him turn into a cocky horny himbo was too good to pass up. Now he doesn’t miss a chance to smirk and show off everything’s become and I’m more than happy to play along with the fun.

[oli280]