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trying-harder-then-u · 3 months

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Someone Unexpected

"Fort Stonepeak was a small town in the middle of the Appalachian Mountains. With a population of only a few thousand, most people made their livelihoods by serving the farmers that worked just outside the city boundary or as members of the lively tourism industry that flourished in the region due to its fresh air, majestic mountain peaks, and clear blue rivers. Maybe that's why I came here? I did need some space after my breakup, but it hasn't worked. All I've done is sit in this hotel under this dim light on a creaky bed and feel sad for myself. Jesus, I need to do something. Maybe I will go to the bar tonight, and then I can at least drink my problems away. So after a shower, I looked in the mirror, put a shirt on, and got going.

Walking into the bar, spots flashed before my eyes as the bright lights flashed. I hadn't been expecting them; it gave the bar much more of a rave atmosphere than I had expected, but when in Rome, trudging to the bar, I had to practically scream over the music just to get a whiskey. Looking around, I saw couples dancing. Great! I thought, Now I get to mope with a headache, but just as I thought that, a clink noise sounded next to me. Looking over, a gay, twunkish-looking farm boy sat next to me. "I hope you don't mind me sitting here; there are not many seats around." His chuckle filled me with a giddy feeling as he laughed. "No worries, I'm not waiting for anyone," I replied, putting my hand out for a handshake. He had a much firmer grip than I thought.

The next few days, I went to hang out with John and began to learn more about him—about his family, friends, and, most importantly, his sexuality. It was another night of meeting at the same bar when John finally dropped the bomb. "I know you are gay; I am too, so I was wondering if you wanted to..." John trailed off. I was shocked as all hell. I had had my fair share of exchanges with other guys, and sure, a lot of them wanted me badly, but none had ever been this blunt. "Sure," I said, winking, "I can give you a good time," and before I knew it, we were heading over to my small hotel.

Leading John back to my apartment, I was full of joy. There was a strut in my step as I led him, and I had to slow down to stop myself from rushing too quickly. Once we got to my room, I held the door open for him and followed him in. The door shut with a bang, and I saw his shoulders tightening. Before he turned to me, "We're going to the bedroom now," he told me. I was shocked. Just a minute ago, he had been following me and gleefully talking about the starry sky and how he couldn't wait to do the deed with me. Now here, he was acting like he was in charge. I was going to talk to him about that, but then I felt the will to fight him on it leave my body as he stared at me, and like a defeated puppy, I followed him to my own bedroom, where he got me to sit down. Looking at me, I could feel his eyes undressing me before he finally seemed to be focused on my face. "I know you want me, but I want to hear it from you," he said. Still in shock at the situation, I stayed quiet, but soon waves of pleasure began to radiate through me. I looked to see where they were coming from, and his hand was massaging my crotch. "What do you want?" he asked me, and as I moaned, I only managed to whisper "you." Smiling at me, John pulled off my shirt and pants and pulled me into a kiss. I could feel his tongue invade my mouth, and I knew this was my last chance to assert that I was in charge here, so I fought back, but it was futile as he continued to slowly pressure my pouch, and finally I submitted, and his tongue began to explore my mouth. This is when I felt the first change begin. I felt inside my pants that my boxers were changing, the fabric changing to be less coarse, perhaps nylon, and shrinking down until my goods were held in a pair of briefs. looking down at them. John grinned; he said, "You look good on me," and I could feel my cheeks go hot as I blushed.

He proceeded to push me down and start kissing what felt like every inch of my body. As he did, my muscles began to shrink and my broad shoulders narrowed, but I still had a muscular frame, just a swimmer build rather than the body I had worked for at the gym, and before long, John was pulling down my pants and staring at my 9-inch. I looked at him with begging eyes as he began to suck me off, wave after wave of pleasure as I neared closer and closer, and right before I came, he moved back to kissing me and finished off my transformation as he gave me a hand job. Ribbons of cum flew out, leaving me with a reduced size. Putting his fingers covered in my own product into my mouth, my neurons fired. My brain was rewired; I was a bottom through and through, and John was certainly my boyfriend, and every night we would make love. That was how it was.

a few months later, and I've finally moved in with him. Of course, I do all the cooking and cleaning at home while he works the farm. Every night, I get to enjoy his hot, sweaty body. I think I hear him coming now. I don't think I've ever been so happy as when I see him after a long day.

#mental changes #dom to sub #top to bottom #twinkification #personality change #body transformation

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swappetf11 · 2 months

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Alex, AKA Dameon.

#bodyswap #body swap #leatherman #transformation kink #leather #leather boots #body transformation #bluf #body possession

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malebodyexhibit · 1 year

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Two Tops Can't Make A Bottom... Maybe? (a free commission tale)

Beggars can’t be choosers. But, do I look like a beggar? Naw, man. I could walk into a bar and come out balls drained. Twinks love this body and these magic fingers. My boyfriend and I met at that bar with the public toilets you could screw in. We hit it off well, mostly because he was so hot. We had friends in common too so it was easy to hang. Eventually we moved in together and after 3 years, I’m over him.

He’s still insanely hot and still manages to keep his body tight. Being on the college football team helps, but he just doesn’t do it for me. My tastes got more complex since I met him. The other night, he wanted to screw while pinning me down. He wanted to top of course, but I like topping too.

Do you see the problem? We’re not compatible anymore!

I just wish I had a cute twink boyfriend, but not like those desperate freshmen. I want a guy that needs a strong guy to show him how to act. I want to hold him down while getting a little rough with him. But I do want a twink who still plays sports so I can undress him and smell him. But it seems like a wish that’ll never come true, then I remembered I have a friend who’s a witch.

She managed to cast a spell for me that would make my boyfriend the perfect twink. All I had to do was sneak something into his protein powder and let it do what it does. Simple enough.

This morning while my boyfriend was in the shower, I took out his protein drink and spiked it with the magic powder. He came out and chugged it down. I watched as before my eyes, he started to change. His strong arms became slimmer and graceful. His blond became more fair. His confident stance of standing chest out and hands balled into fists, became more relaxed. His muscles shrank, although he still had a nice, firm build. His eyes became softer, almost angelic. He looked more like a preppy schoolboy than his former jock self.

I walked towards him and asked if he was alright. He looked at me confused, then meekly stammered, “y-yes.” I grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him to his knees. I told him to start sucking. He didn’t fight back and he became my submissive bitch. He still has his old memories, but lacks any dominance to try to assert his old cocky jock self. In fact, he seems to prefer this. After he does his workouts, he comes home, smelling of sweat and BO. I love pulling him close and smelling his stench. He’s so ticklish as I sniff him from his neck, his armpits, and his feet. I never knew how much I love a smelly boy. I love to give him a good spanking when he showers. Something about smelling him like a dog in heat drives me nuts.

He now bottoms like a pro. My favorite position is grabbing his thin ankles and bringing them to his ears. What a flexible bitch! It makes fucking his hole so good. His little 4 inch cock looks so cute to my 10-inch rod. I don't think he could be such a perfect twink.

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Author's note: thanks to zzzinternetperson for this recommendation and picture. Although I did change a few details.

#male body exhibit #male body transformation #body transformation #male tf #jock to twink

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fatguarddog · 8 months

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A chubby witch hosts a Halloween party where the main attraction are her magical transformation cookies! Guests simply cannot get enough of them, whether they enjoy being transformed and the attention they get from it, or are simply there to admire the show. All the effects will wear off come the morning, but for the night all guests out in the bonfire lit field (open space is needed for the size of some of the transformations!) are welcome to try the various cookies on offer:

Jack-o-lantern cookies which cause you to swell up into a huge, rounded out pumpkin, wrapped up in vines all comfortable and relaxed

Witch's cat cookies that will give you cute fuzzy cat ears and a tail of your choice... and also make you instantly put on 50 pounds so you're an adorably tubby kitty

Cauldron cookies which give you cauldron bellies! Your belly juts and rounds out making you look fully pregnant with a slightly translucent quality to your belly. Anything you drink shows up as a beautiful glowing liquid so that you (or other guests) can have fun mixing different drinks to get different colors

Ghost cookies that fill you up with thick, gooey ectoplasm making your belly so big and bouncy. When the effect wears off you can choose to digest it and keep the weight or let the ghostly goo ooze satisfyingly out of one of your holes

And if you'd like any of the transformations to be permanent, the witch is very happy to help you with that with a little extra magic 🔮

#hutch posts #witches #body transformation #pumpkin inflation #pumpkin tf #inflation kink #cat girls #cat boys #weight gain #magical weight gain #rapid weight gain #ghosts #slime inflation #intox kink

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whereserpentswalk · 3 months

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transformationloversblog · 2 months

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Stu will always be one of the best pornstars out there. Though this new roided version is another level of hotness. His thighs are exploding. His arms have tripled. His hotter than ever. Wish he’d join the porn industry again.

#muscle transformation #musclegrowth #roided muscle #roidspiration #roids #body transformation #muscle #bodybuilder

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idesofrevolution · 3 months

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Father

Dad had been acting strange for quite some time. Honestly, it wasn't that noticeable in the beginning, which I suppose made it difficult to pinpoint when things started to change. I only started to notice maybe seven months or so ago after he turned down the daily Budweiser. Patrick O'Shaughnessy turning down his biggest vice? I knew something was off right then and there as he sat there, smiling at me from his armchair with the game on in the background: red flag number two, my stepfather had NEVER been a sports guy. Binging Fox News while fingering pudding cups, sure; but actually knowing what was happening in a football game?

I'd originally thought he'd perhaps found a side girl to cheat on my mom with. It was far from outside of his character to do something like that, if he'd ever be able to get his nasty ass out of the recliner for ten fucking minutes... He'd gotten too comfortable in his laziness. When my mom married him a year ago, he was already a piece of shit lardass who refused to do a single thing around the house, refused to work a normal job (he was waiting for a management position apparently), and above all refused to acknowledge me whatsoever. He was rude, crass, could never even so much as break a smile at me. And there, in that moment as his eyes made contact with mine and his lips curled into a smile, I knew something was wrong.

"What, no beer burps for me today?" I scowled at him, raising my eyebrow in a malicious curiosity.

"Nahh little man, I'm trying to cut down." Little man? He'd never gotten my name right let alone given me a nickname... We did not have that kind of relationship, at least one that would have an affectionate nickname for one another. "Say, I'm hittin' the gym in a couple minutes. Whaddya say you come along?"

"You're... you're going to the gym? Really?" I sat there slackjawed. Something was indeed off. What it was, I couldn't exactly tell. Nothing outside of his UberEats order would ever get Patrick out of the chair. He laughed at me, gripping his sizeable paunch beneath his stained tee shirt.

"You bet, bud. High time I set an example for my boy. How's he gonna respect a couch potato loser? You should come along. Nothin' like a father and son spending time together, especially in the gym. Get the boys lookin', right?" He stood up from his chair, grabbing his keys off the kitchen countertop as he headed toward his car. I, on the other hand, stood there with tunnel vision. Patrick was not the most supportive parent when it came to... well, anything. But the biggest bone of contention was me coming out to them last year. It was the biggest hullabaloo, Oscar worthy. Thrown glasses, flipped chairs, disownment, threats of eviction... the only thing that kept me in the house was my mother putting her foot down. It wasn't a big deal for her, but for him... I was the biggest embarrassment on the planet. What would Tucker Carlson think?

Yet as I stood there, staring at the cigarette-stained wall, my brain couldn't process what I'd just heard. 'Get the boys lookin' he said... As if he were trying to play wing man for me... What the fuck was happening? My heart fluttered the moment his words sank in, that was pride. It was something neither my father nor my stepdad ever had the courtesy of giving me. My walls were up, and I was beyond skeptical, so for my own peace of mind I had decided then and there to investigate.

From that day on, the moment I came home from school, I was spying. While most of my friends were trying to enjoy their senior year, going to parties or getting ready for college, I was at home peering behind corners at my stepfather. Over the first few months I watched with complete disbelief at the changes. Every single day, I'd come home, and he'd be on his way out to the gym. The normal scowl he'd gift me upon my entry was replaced with jovial smiles and hair ruffling as he schlepped his gym bag over his shoulder out the door. He'd be gone for two or three hours at least, and come home just before dinner dripping in buckets of sweat. I'd begun to avoid driving his car, as the stink of his sweat had completely inundated the fabric of the seats. He'd toss his bag on the floor by my book bag (gross), and plop down at the dinner table where he would ask genuinely about my day or sweetly flirt with my mom while winking at me. I still wasn't convinced. He kept asking me nearly every day if I'd come to the gym with him, if we could go shoot hoops at the park across the street, or if I'd play FIFA with him. Each time I'd shoot him down, he'd have a momentary break in that happy facade of his, as if it were hurting him I wasn't spending time with him.

Within five months or so, he was nearly unrecognizable. I guess protein shakes & a low carb diet really works on a guy: he'd lost nearly 70 pounds and gained about 20 in muscle alone. He'd struck up friendships with my school's wrestling coach and a couple of the neighbors, and we were finding ourselves invited to barbecues and block parties for the first time. I had to endure little hallway chats with Coach Weston about joining the wrestling team, as he was in talks with the school district about bringing my stepdad on as assistant coach. It was bizarre to me for many reasons, but one stood out above all: Patrick was never a wrestler. Not in college, not in high school, my mom even confirmed it one night at dinner. He'd brush it off as if it were something fun he were doing with 'Dane', which in and of itself was weird to hear the coach's first name used at all at home.

Sleep was getting difficult. My mind ran at a thousand miles an hour, but now he and mom had begun to fuck like rabbits. Loud, hard sex almost every other night with their bed slamming against my bedroom wall for hours. Mom of course was radiant at that point. The years of one piece of shit husband being a complete and total asshole, replaced by another piece of shit husband treating her like garbage melted away in the course of a couple of months of Patrick being a strangely brilliant partner. He'd started to cook us meals, he'd started to do the yardwork, he'd even fixed things around the house that had been broken for years. Sure, the sex seemed to help, but as she would say: "He's lessened my load so much, Jonas. I wish you'd give him a chance."

Sure, he was treating my mom well and that was a good enough reason for me to like him. Was it enough to trust him? No. I'd still turn down every single request to spend time alone with him. No gym. No basketball court. No gaming. Though, in one single concession for my mom's sake, I begrudgingly agreed to let him drive me to school in the morning. That one decision is what truly changed my life forever. I went to bed that night, putting on my earbuds to drown out their disgusting sex in the next room, less than eager for the fifteen minute drive the next day.

Thus, on that warm April day, my morning began as normal. Shower, dress, drink my morning smoothie, grab my bag, and walk out the door. It wasn't long before I was greeted by his chipper, dim witted voice shattering my peaceful morning.

"Ayy little man!" I sighed, turning toward the garage, where there he stood: shirtless and dripping sweat from his chiseled body. As a gay guy, I have to admit, it was hard not to stare. He had become quite a sight to behold. The other moms in the neighborhood certainly would sit and stare at him on his morning runs, even a couple of the dads as well, and now I sat there oogling the ripped, gleaming body he'd built.

"Hey, Patrick. Do you need to shower? I have to get going, but I can catch the bus if there's not enough time?" In my head, I was praying to God that he'd just hop in the shower he never seemed to take and I could go on my merry way. Though, no such luck.

"Nah, man! It's all good. I promised you I'd take you to school, so hop in the car!" I sighed, turning to his 1998 Mustang with a shiver cascading down my spine.

"Sure, Patrick." I dragged my feet headed toward his car. Opening the door, the humid, musky air within poured out of the car, punching me in the face with his scent. Imagine a noxious waft of butter, blue cheese, saltwater, and feet just drowning you. That was the stink that swamped his car, and him for that matter. I took one final breath of fresh air before I sat in the car and closed the door. He wasn't far behind, not even bothering to put a shirt on as he hopped in beside me.

"Alright! Let's get goin' bud!" He turned the key and the car roared to life. I sighed, thankful it was only fifteen minutes. As we pulled out of the driveway and onto the street, I turned on the radio, hoping to dissuade him from making some puerile small talk. We sat there in silence for a moment, before hitting the main road. "You know what, bud?" He turned to me, looking me up and down before rolling up the windows and turning off the radio. "Ahhh fuck it. We're playing hooky today."

"Wait, what?" I had no time to protest, before he turned onto the main road, but in the opposite direction from the school. "Patrick, I'm not playing hooky. I have to go to school." He laughed, ruffling my hair yet again.

"You gotta stop callin' me Patrick, Jonas. I don't have to be dad if you don't want, but Patrick is so... not me. Just call me Pat."

"Okay, PAT. I'm going to school." He turned to me, and his smile faded, letting out a solid sigh that would put mine to shame. He pulled over onto the shoulder, and put the car in park.

"Listen. I know you don't like me. I know you don't trust me, and I get it. I made a lot of changes to him very quickly, and it's hard to keep up." Him? Why did he say it like that? "I'd been watching you just suffer endlessly for years, man. All the time. I just wanted you to have a good role model for once. A man you could lean on, and not some shitty lard who talks bad to ya."

"What the fuck are you on about?" My patience had worn too thin for my calm veneer to bear. He turned the key, and the engine quickly died.

"C'mon bro. You know something's different about him, right? I know you've been watchin' me like a hawk. Think I haven't noticed you watchin' me from around the hall corner? You think I don't know you're creepin' while I beat one out huffin' my strap? I know, dude. I've always known. C'mon, man." Pat threw his hands in the air in frustration, the first time since his attitude adjustment that I'd seen anything like it. But, this was different. It wasn't rage, it was exasperation.

"Okay, Pat. So you saw me watching you. Can you please tell me what the fuck is going on now?" He slowly rested his sweaty head against the headrest, and sighed. Then, a chuckle. Then another, until he was full on laughing. "What!?"

"Ahhh, man. I never thought I'd see the day you'd man up and come to. Yeah, Jonas. I can tell you what the fuck is going on." I sat back, confounded- even more so than before. "My name was Matt Wilde. Way back in the day, I used to wrestle for Palm Heights High. Was pretty damn good at it too, but one day I got pinned just a little too hard and poof."

"Matt Laurent? What the fuck are you talking about, Pat? Are you high?" His dumb laugh threw him back in the seat.

"Nah, I finished that joint earlier, man. Stone sober now. But, safe to say for the past 50 years I've been just hoppin' body to body. Started with a couple of my teammates just so I could finish out the years, wrestle a bit more. Got bored, hung around the gym, in and out of some lug heads. Did a stint in some Libertines, that was fun as fuck. But man, I saw you sulkin' around the school for the past three years and thought, damn that kid looks sad. So, I may have eavesdropped a bit, maybe caught a bit about your dead beat, piece of shit dad; then right after he ditches, Mom lands this fuckin' winner." He slapped his chest, little droplets of his sweat landing on my bewildered face. "Oh shit, my bad." I sat there, slackjawed, completely disoriented as he dumbly wiped his sweat off my nose and cheek.

"You... you're dead?" He snapped his fingers, winking and smirking at me.

"Bingo, bud. Right on the money. I was like, I'm in a very unique situation here to fuckin' do something this. So, I slipped into this dumbass and just stuck around. Did the work. Tried, emphasis on TRIED, to be like the Dad I had and that you deserve, ya know? Haven't made it fuckin' easy, but... ahhh. That's parenthood, am I right?" I scoffed, he must have taken some damn good drugs. I was convinced. There was no way!

"Okay, then. MATT. So, if you're some dead jock bro possessing Pat, where the fuck is he?" He pondered for a moment in silence, shrugging his shoulders.

"I think he's gone, bro. I haven't stayed in a dude this long, I used to hear him bitchin' and moanin' all the time, but he went silent a couple of weeks ago." Fuck, I wish that were true. I had to admit, even if only in my mind, this Matt-Patrick was lightyears better than Patrick Patrick. Sure, he was dumb, he was every stereotype dudebro in the book, he smelled like he bathed in sweat baths... But, for the first time in my life, he wanted to be around me. He wanted to spend time with me. He made an effort. He... liked me. The mental gymnastics needed to make sense of the situation was growing too monumental to comprehend, but in that moment as he sat there with his dumb fucking grin on his face as if I was going to just completely buy it, I started to hope it was true.

"So, what now, Matt? Are you just gonna keep fucking my mom and prentending to be my Dad for the rest of your life? Or are you gonna hop out and ditch us?" He raised his eyebrow in genuine confusion.

"I mean, yeah that was the plan. One, your mom is fuckin' hot and she's better than any girl I've ever been with. Two, I kinda like our little family. Three, I ain't ditchin' ya, bro. You had enough of that shit for one lifetime. Besides, I gotta get you to chill the fuck out one way or another, so I was hoping we could give it a shot. Like I've been beggin' man." 'Matt' put his hands together as if praying, pleading to me. I suppose it wouldn't be the worst thing. It's better than coming home every day to spy on him, and it's way better than being the sad wallflower all the fucking time. Besides, those dumb fucking puppy dog eyes...

"You know what? Sure, Matt. What did you have in mind?" I could barely finish my sentence before he'd twisted the key and slammed on the gas. The man drove like a bat out of hell through town, hooting and hollering in victory as if he'd won a match.

"Hell fuckin' yeah, man! Dude we're gonna be so tight, it's gonna be awesome. You're gonna be so fuckin' sexy, the dudes are gonna be on their knees by the time we're done! Slobberin' on that dick like SLURPEDY SLURP! WOO!" So fuckin' dumb. Dumb as a box of rocks. But I couldn't help but crack a smile as he swerved left and right, shouting at the top of his lungs. "Let's get you sweatin' man. We can get you pumpin' iron, playin' ball... I'm burning everything you got in your closet, bro. Nobody wants polos and button ups, man. Gettin' you some J's, some good jocks. Oh, how do you feel about chains?"

"Matt, dude. I'm not like you. That's all well and good for you, but I can't pull that shit off..." He slammed on the brakes and a cavalcade of horns from behind us rang out like a brass band. Matt whipped his gaze to me in shock.

"Don't say that, bro! You could be a bona fide stud! Look at you, man!" A couple of hard slaps against my bony chest and a harsh wheeze later, perhaps it sank in a bit. "Aight, well we have some work to do. I mean, if you're up for it." He smirked at me, lifting up those massive arms and flexing. His veins bulged from his massive bicep, the wet hairs in his ripe pits wafted that pungent scent I'd regrettably started to secretly love... Yeah, maybe I did want it.

"I don't know how, man. If I were like you, I bet I could." As if a cartoon lightbulb flickered to life above his head, I saw the spark of inspiration hit him like a sack of bricks. That stupid smirk grew into a wide, toothy grin.

"Aight, bro. Haven't tried this before, but I'll give it a go." He clapped his hands together, rubbing them gently. "I saw Jimmy Morales do this once when he needed a spotter. Gotta ask, though. You trust me, right?" I sat there and wondered if I did. I'd pretended up until this point that I believed every word that had come out of his mouth. This insane, psychotic story. It was nuts. It was crazy. But that little voice in the back of my head, deep down in the dark recesses of my brain decided to finally speak up.

"Yeah, Matt. I trust you."

"ALRIGHT! Fuck yeah, man. Oh shit, this is gonna be great! Okay, so don't freak out, just trust me and let it happen, okay? It doesn't hurt, the dudes usually bust a nut after it's all over." I heard a squelching rumble from in his stomach: wet, guttural, as if he were getting ready to vomit. Which became more and more likely as I saw a lump start to make it's way up his throat.

"Matt..." His body began to shudder and quake, his veins bulging and head thrashing from side to side. Then, from between his lips, a glowing blue vapor began to slip out. It was tiny at first, a little tail whipping about, before more and more of it started to bellow out of his mouth. Slick, bulbous, translucent. I had mere seconds of watching it slither out before it darted right into my own slack jaw. It squirmed as it wriggled from his body into mine, slurping deep into my bulging stomach. The feeling of fullness overtook me, watching more and more of the rubbery thing enter me, squeezing into every available inch within me, and he was right: it felt good. It felt like an eternity, but in reality it was just moments. The last of suctioned into me, and the world went black.

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I woke the next morning in my bed. Shooting straight upright in a puddle of sweat. I rubbed my hands on my face, running my fingers through my drenched hair. What a fuckin' dream. I groaned as doubled over in pain. I felt like I was hit by a train. Everything hurt, a soreness unlike anything I'd ever experienced before radiated from every fiber of my being. Then, a soft caress of the nostril. Salty, buttery, funky... I raised my arm, finding the culprit immediately.

"Fuck!" I spat out, before taking a deep breath, another hit. "Fuuuuck..." Another inhale, a familiar stink, a comforting stink. What started as gentle whiffs quickly turned into full on huffing. I buried my nose in my pit, letting the wet jungle lather my face in my own sweat.

"Morning, bro. Good shit, ain't it?" The words echoed in my head, a soft, rippling little voice from within my brain. I should have been alarmed, terrified, even. But no, the words felt like gospel to me. "We really went to town yesterday, man. I had you liftin' like an Olympian. Take it easy. Here, I'll be right there, I got just the thing for it!" My hands started to drift southward, beneath the waistband of the teal sweats I didn't own... Were they... Pats? The door to my room burst open mid-huff, and in walked the hulking tower himself with a tray in hand.

"Goooood Morning, Kiddo! I made ya a protein shake, good recovery breakfast after a workout sesh like we had! Oh, your Mom made eggs!" He walked over to the side of my bed, kicking the Jordans I'd borrowed from him to the side. Wait, when did I do that? "Eat up, champ. Those 'ceps aren't gonna feed themselves!" Slamming the tray down onto my thighs, I let out a groan of pain.

"Pat? Dude, I had the weirdest dream." Dude? I never say dude. I cupped my hand, slick with sweat and pre over my mouth, aghast at the words coming out of my mouth. Pat smiled, grabbing the shake and handing it to me. "Drink up, my dude. For real, you're gonna be in a world of hurt otherwise." The voice boomed in my head, HIS voice. But his lips hadn't moved an inch. "Pat..." I ripped the sheets off of me, sure enough, I was sporting his nasty sweatpants & drenched socks. Cupping my manhood was most definitely his grimy jockstrap. "Hey, if we were gonna have the best workout, I had to be comfortable, bro! I knew you'd get it, though." I looked at him, a tight lipped smile, as if he were proving to me he weren't talking to me. "Feels good, right! I told ya! Just think, bro. With a half of me in there, you're gonna be unstoppable." I smiled. A genuine fuckin' smile, for the first time in as long as I could remember. I watched as my hand gripped the shake, bringing it to my lips of it's own accord. Downing the vanilla shake, our eyes met, and I understood completely. Matt winked at me, ruffling my hair, and sauntered back out of the door.

I leaned back in my bed, throwing my arm behind my head. The musk drifting from my pits and feet, identical to my dad's. Smirking, I let my fingers drift down to my growing meat in its slimy pouch, knowing fully well that I was in damn fine hands.

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So that brings us to today, I guess! One year to the day. One full year since I finally let Dad in. 'Pat' sure did join the wrestling team as assistant coach, bringing his son in tow, eager to finish my senior year with at least a title. Thanks to him, I made varsity after the first fuckin' tryout. Can't say it was all me, all the time, but after a while it was. Honestly, it all started to blend together. Me at the wheel, him at the wheel, soon it sort of blurred and it was just me. That last semester was the best of my whole fucking life. Parties, bodybuilding, skating with the boys, fuckin' the boys... Shit, it was the time of my fuckin' life.

And after every day at school, or at least after every post-practice locker room blow job, I couldn't wait to get home and smash some Call of Duty with the old man. Mom would always come in, making comments on how we seemed as if I'd become a mini-Pat. Finishing eachother's sentences, drinking the same beer, wearing the same kind of clothes... she'd always put our sneaks outside the garage door, "they even stank the same." Little did she know just how much of the same person we really were.

I've decided to stick around the house for a year or so before maybe headed to college. I don't know, family is here, friends are here, Coach Weston should be retiring in a year or two... so there should be an opening for a new assistant coach on the wrestling team. Besides, I may have landed quite the catch in the boyfriend department, and I really want him to meet my dad, I have a feeling they'll get along just fine.

#male transformation #body transformation #male possession #original #transformation #jockification #musk #body possession #musky #gay transformation #wrestler #ghost possession #familial transformation #father to son #himboization #himbofication #partial possession

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tfxtime · 1 year

Text

Newfound Understanding

Greg was an understanding Father to his kids, he was attentive and patient. He just wasn't very active, in areas where most Dad's would be teaching their kids how to catch, Greg was teaching them mathematics and history.

This of course didn't stop his kids from partaking in sports, his youngest son Arthur was now in college leading the wrestling team to the State Championship. Greg was always so supportive and went to as many matches as he could, with his wife passing away his kids had become his world.

During the meets Greg would be cheering in his usual song song voice. Normally this was drowned out by most of the crowd, and if you weren't paying attention then you wouldn't have noticed the thin man in his plain dress shirt and pants. Unnoticed by everyone except Arthur, Arthur always heard his Dad's weak chants through the crowd and it made him shrink, which in wrestling is the last thing you want to do. The match went well and Arthur's team won, despite some slip ups on his part. The team was coming together and celebrating as Greg's meek voice came through trying to reach Arthur.

"Artie!" He called as his son then turned his head towards his Dad eyes widening slightly as he pulled away from the group.

"I am so proud of you! You really wrestled well!" Arthur grabbed his Dad and led him into the locker room and had him sit down.

"Dad you know I really appreciate you being here, but I got distracted because of you." Arthur explained as Greg looked up at him with a sad expression creeping over his tired face. "I'm just starting out here and I need to be at my best you know? I just could tell you were watching me cause you care, which is great! It just felt like a new kind of pressure...I'm sorry."

"No no...I'm sorry for putting that on you. I'll still come to the games, just won't be as loud I think." He stands up placing a hand on Arthur's shoulder.

"Don't exactly fit this place anyway." Greg admitted as one of Arthur's teammates came in.

"Artie we're going out, you coming?" He asked as Arthur looked at his Dad, Greg nodded with a small smile. Arthur nodded and leaned briefly into his Dad and then left leaving Greg alone.

Greg sighed as he sat down again his eyes staring blankly at the grey floor. His eyes trailing around absently until he laid his eyes on the singlet laying on the floor half in the locker half out. He sighed standing up his hands gingerly picked it up and then looked around. He rolled it out after just folding it up and placed it over his chest.

"It's...it's so skimpy?" He mutters to himself as he then looks around. The gymnasium had fallen quiet as now most people had left. "Well...never tried it before." He thought, he quickly stripped himself of his plain office attire. He shimmied his way into the singlet and pulled it up over his shoulders. Even though it was spandex it was still loose and clinging barely to Greg's frame. He brought up his arms and gave a paltry flex.

"That was silly." He sighed as he moved to take it off the bands pulling away only to snap back to his body. A small yelp was heard from Greg as he tried and tried to get the singlet off. He stopped as he felt a wave of heat wash over him, beads of sweat forming on his brow. His breathing became heavy as he lunged himself onto the sink counter by the showers. He put his hand against the mirror, the glass began to fog up from the intense heat Greg was producing. His eyes traveled over his body, it was covered in sweat and the singlet was tight against his frail musculature until he locked eyes on his hands. He could feel his skin boil and pop crackling underneath as now both hands rested on the mirror. His hands grew outwards the fingers swelling larger, hands growing callouses from the intense training hours they did.

As his hands grew the changes spread forth his forearms swell up veins snaking their way up through his arms as his hands balled up into fists as his muscles began flexing. His biceps began to blow up with muscle the fibers twisting under the skin as he felt his shoulders snap and pop. He let out a lewd moan as he felt the shift in his neck his voice dropping lower as well becoming thicker. His beard was replaced with a square jawline. Years of wrinkles washed away as his face began to twist and turn younger and younger. His hair shortened and became a warm chestnut blonde, while his hair was finishing up his chest practically ballooned out. The fabric of the singlet stretched over the expansive muscle as the pecs jiggled with growing mass. Greg's legs nearly buckled at the new growth, his cock was already strained against the fabric a measly 5 incher that barely had a dent on the groin. He moaned as his cock snaked upwards towards his hardening torso. It felt almost as if the singlet was massaging his cock and stretching it out. It compressed tightly against his shaft causing him to grip the countertop as his legs exploded with girth and mass. His ass filling out the singlet even further than before. He could feel his nuts swell and tighten up as he let out a deep and gutteral moan as he shot stream after stream of cum against his midsection soaking into the fabric disappearing.

Nearly dazed to the point of seeing stars Greg slowly stood himself up his new stature was impressive 6'4 versus 5'8 and about 100 pounds of muscle Greg couldn't help but run his hands over his body. His pecs popping as he teases the new form.

"Greg!" Arthur's voice echoed through the locker room as Greg stood up straight before turning around to see his son looking at him.

"Hey before we go we gotta take pictures for the school c'mon."

"Yeah of course." Greg nodded unsure in the moment before they both walked out of the locker room.

Greg smiled for the picture with his new best friend Artie.

"Hey man how's your Dad?" Greg asked between shots as Arthur nodded.

"He's good, busy but good." He answered leading to Greg to smile wide, his old life fading from memory all that remained was his new life filled with huge possibilities.

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