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cyoc49 · 2 years

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A Good Man is Easy to Make

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

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

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

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

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

“Is this really the best you can be?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I smiled “She sure is”

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

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

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cyoc49 · 2 years

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HIMBO Magazine: Talent Scouting

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FROM: [email protected]

SUBJECT: Congratulations

A dull life is a life wasted

And that’s no fun at all.

Respect yourself and those above you

That’s how you’ll stand tall.

When you learn professionalism

And learn to know your place

You’ll suit up like the big boys do

And that’s when HIMBO awaits.

- Christian Le Maître HIMBO Offices, 1544 ________ Street

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

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

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

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

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

The Next Day...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ATTACHMENT: The HIMBO Professional.pdf

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

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

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

A professional?

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

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

The PDF!

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

“A HIMBO Professional is a hard worker

A HIMBO Professional is a good boy

A HIMBO Professional obeys the boss

A HIMBO Professional dresses his body well

A HIMBO Professional feeds his body

A HIMBO Professional is a good boy

A HIMBO Professional is you”

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

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

Respect yourself and those above you

Learn to know your place

You’ll suit up like the big boys do

And that’s when HIMBO awaits

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

The Next Day...

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

And was greeted in the mirror by a total stranger.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He could finally say he was truly happy.

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

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cyoc49 · 3 years

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Auto Pilot

James was 18 and already shaping up to be a disappointment in life. After spending four years of high school slacking off, doing drugs, and not caring about anything, he now found himself a freshman in college with little prospect of where to go. He was attending the local community college - he hadn’t even wanted to do that, but his parents threatened to kick him out and cut off funding if he didn’t do some higher education. Now he found himself wandering aimlessly around campus. He had no idea what his major would be, no plans of any kind, really. He wanted to stay as distant from this college experience as possible.

To be honest, James did sometimes think about his lack of aim in life. The truth was he truly did fear committing to anything in life, for the risk of making the wrong choice, and so invented a “don’t care” persona to cope with his lack of place in the world.

James arrived at his dorm, and made his way upstairs to his room. He shared it with some guy, Clide. They didn’t talk much. As he got to the door of his room, he noticed a package sitting in front of the door. He picked it up and inspected it. Relatively small, lightweight, addressed to him. Odd. Usually this type of thing would be sent to the mail room. As James entered his room, he put the package down on his desk. Clide wasn’t there, he was probably at class.

“Might as well check this thing out,” James said to himself as he opened the box. Inside was a big red button reading AUTO PILOT.

Whatever he had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t that. It was one of those comically oversized buttons like you saw in movies. He had never seen one this big in person. And what did “Auto Pilot” mean?

Looking back into the box, James found a small booklet labeled “User’s Manual”. He picked it up and read the contents:

“INCREDIBLE AUTO PILOT BUTTON

Life can be exhausting. School, jobs, bills, food, house troubles, and countless other decisions have to be made and executed every day. At the end of the day, is all the grind really worth it? Wouldn’t you rather take the easy route? The better route?

The Auto Pilot button is simple. Press it, and your life will be set to “auto pilot”. We’ve spent decades studying the behavior patterns of successful people, and have created a formula by which we have the correct response to every obstacle and issue you will ever face in your life. Job troubles? You’ll always be a hard worker who knows how to get what he wants. Social issues? You’ll have the right line for every occasion. You’ll be more outgoing, more ambitious, and best of all: you don’t have to do any of it. When you’re on auto pilot. You can sit back and watch as your body makes all the right decisions for you. One press is all that’s needed.

Enjoy your life on auto pilot!”

James checked the back to see if there was anything else. He didn’t know what to think. He almost wanted to laugh. It had to be a joke, but the tone of the pamphlet was so certain that it could also be the delusions of some eccentric billionaire. Ah well, at least he finally had something to go on his barren desk. He slid the auto pilot button to the back corner of his desk, then paused. He pressed down on the button, just to see what those big red buttons really feel like.

Unfortunately for James, one press is all that’s needed.

*click*

As the button clicked down, James’ body slumped.

His eyes went dead.

And then he suddenly smiled.

And he kept smiling.

James was 22 and life was looking pretty great. After pressing that button his freshman year, James completely turned his life around, as if overnight. He suddenly started paying attention in all his classes. He began going to the gym, and joined an intramural soccer team. By the end of his freshman year, James had gained 25 lbs of muscle, going from a boney 150 to a beefy 175. He also ended his year, with a 4.0 GPA, and used it to apply to the local state school. It just offered him more opportunities than community college, and had better networking circles. James got in handily, and that fall found himself moving across state to university.

Almost as soon as he landed on campus, James continued his life climbing. He declared majors in international business and finance, knowing the money opportunities that lay there. The course load was nothing for James, as he always worked on homework at maximum efficiency. In fact, he had time left over to join a club lacrosse team.

Through his finance classes and lacrosse practices, James came to realize the social circle he needed to join if he wanted to get ahead: The rich preps. They were the ones who exuded the aura of success he wanted to project, and the ones with the connections to jobs after college. He modeled himself after them. He began to dress like them, in khakis and pastels, and leather loafers. Vineyard Vines, Ralph Lauren, and Brooks Brothers invaded his closet. He began to manage his hair, combing it into a neat side part every morning with pomade. He researched golf news, followed stock market trends, so he would have topics to talk about with these preps.

Slowly, by bringing up the points he now new about with classmates, and by projecting the image of a successful young preppy professional, James came to be accepted as one of their own. One of the boys. His ultimate dream. From that point it was easy: James was Mr All American, effortlessly witty and charming. By the time he was a senior, James was on fire. He had served as captain of his lacrosse team for the past 2 years, was top of his business classes. He had met several of his new friend’s fathers (all of them CEOs), and in most cases the fathers ended up liking James more than their own children. James was a professional in all aspects, and he did it all with a bright, mindless smile.

The one thing James hadn’t accomplished in college was finding a girlfriend. Of course he’d had several offers, but he never took a woman to call his own. Every once in a while he found himself staring at the guys on the lacrosse team while they changed, but these were only fleeting feelings. Certainly not the most efficient way to live his life.

But this didn’t matter to James. In just a few months he would be graduating top of his business program, and thanks to the father of a friend he had a job lined up at Plexicorp, one of the biggest marketing chains in the nation. James was only 22 and he was a consummate professional. Is this what a perfect life looks like?

James was 30 and on top of the world. After graduation he went right into work at Plexicorp, and immediately assumed the stereotype of a “young urban professional”. His work ethic was tireless, and through a mixture of countless golf matches and the perfect water cooler humor, James quickly became the most popular guy in his office, and the model employee. He rose in the ranks quickly, and was now a regional manager with a six figure salary at only 30.

With extra cash to spare, James had gone to work giving his life an upgrade. He bought clothes from extremely expensive brands, though sticking to his preppy classics. He got salon quality pomade for the classic styling of his hair (which had only gotten lighter over the years), and routinely had dermatology and dental work done to keep his face looking as fresh as possible. He bought a serene little cookie cutter McMansion out in the suburbs. Even with all this going on, he perfectly worked time into his schedule for gym and nutrition, keeping his body in peak shape even as he got older. At age 30, James was quickly approaching a DILF.

With the perfect job, the perfect clothes, and the perfect body, you’d think James would have quickly found a suitable wife, or at least someone looking for a QoL upgrade. But even over the years, James still never found himself fully committed to women, even though he knew starting a family young would be most productive in the long term. In a particular night of conflicting emotions, James made his way to a leather bar on the outskirts of town, where a nice 50 year old man with a beard and a harness taught James what he had always known. He was gay. And he loved it.

There must have been a hole in the Auto Pilot system. Certainly heterosexuality would be most efficient for a successful life, but somehow James’ base feelings came through. Of course he had no way of knowing what was going on in his body. All he knew was what was most efficient, and what felt best were in opposition to each other right now.

Eventually, with a smile, the straight James won out. After his encounter with the leather clad friend, he quickly found himself not thinking about sex at all. A life of chastity was certainly good enough for him. Letting sex be for pleasure hardly worked out, as we see. Sex should be for utility. Creating the family. And to get a family, he needed a wife.

The following weekend James took a trip to his local country club, and after a bit of scouting, chatting, and brown-nosing, James was introduced to Amber, an interior decorator. She wasn’t the most brilliant with a conversation, but she was single and looking to marry and that was enough for James. They went on several incredibly vanilla movie and dinner dates, where hand holding was the most action either of them got. After 8 months, they married and moved in together.

Now standing here at 30, James looked in the mirror. He felt his decently-sized chest push against the cotton undershirt and mint green button up sitting on top. His rotund and muscular ass was perfectly wrapped by his khakis. He looked down at the counter of his bathroom. Marble. With plenty of space. Even with his tricky sex situation, James had to admit he had a great body and a great life. He had made (almost) all the right decisions, and was reaping plenty of the rewards. As far as living life, this was a pretty good way to do it.

James was 40, and life was perfect. The shareholders of Plexicorp were so impressed by his keen business instincts and impressive management, and at only 32 offered to make him the youngest shareholder in the history of the company. From there he went from “pretty well off” to “disgustingly wealthy”. James knew how to invest his money well, and from the moment of that promotion never worried about money again. He moved into a mansion in the nice part of town and upgraded his wardrobe to suits, suits, and more suits. Now that he was one of the elites, he had to project as such. He kept his appearance as clean and refined as possible at all times. He loved to flash off in a khaki suit (a nod to his preppy roots), and with his now perfectly-blonde hair, he was the absolute image of refinement. He had certainly aged like fine wine, and there was no doubt about it: James was a DILF.

The only sore spot in his life has been Amber. After years of trying and failing to conceive due to lack of excitement, Amber eventually asked to file for divorce. James knew he had to grant her this, and handled the proceedings quietly (and generously) to let go of her gently. At 35, James was finally meeting a dead end that his Auto Pilot skills were unable to find a solution to.

Until he had an investment meeting with a local stock analyst named Robert

Robert was an image of success, beauty, and sharpness that James had seen in only one other man: himself. It was almost unnatural how beautiful and crisp Robert was. His perfectly parted hair. His well-fit gray suit and polished dress shoes. As James eyed this man up and down, it dawned on him. Robert must have made every decision perfectly in life to look like an image of success in his his 30s, because he did. Robert had help from Auto Pilot too. And judging by the lack of a ring on his finger, and the way he was eyeing James in the exact same way James was eyeing him, James had a suspicion that Robert had the same problem he had.

Robert was someone whose every value, choice, and lifestyle matched up with James’.

James knew exactly the right decision to make.

The two flashed each other perfect smiles and firm handshakes, and although the topic of their first meeting stayed on stocks, it was clear there was a mutual spark between the two. They quickly decided that weekly investment meetings would be best, which turned into lunch meetings twice per week, which turned into dinner, which turned into something much more. The two took it slow, to be safe, but it was clear they were disgustingly perfect for each other. On Tuesdays and Thursdays they met up at the gym at 6AM to exercise together. They had quickly learned they wore the same suit size, and exchanged looks on several occasions. Robert taught James just how he achieved his razor sharp part, and James taught Robert how to match pocket squares to outfits. After a few years of dating they married in a picturesque countryside summer wedding, and both knew this one would last.

Now standing here at 40, James could genuinely say life was perfect. He had gone from an aimless place in his life to the top of the world, and although it had been a bumpy road, he was now with the perfect partner living a life of gentility. Checking his suited image in the mirror one last time, James left the bathroom and walked to the front door where Robert was waiting. The two had plans to attend an orchestra show and get dinner at the nicest restaurant in town.

James flashed Robert the perfect smile, and Robert returned the favor.

“Ready to go, darling?” James asked the man of his dreams.

“Of course, love.” Robert replied in a smooth tenor. The two briefly joined to kiss, before heading outside where the driver was waiting to take them into the city for another wonderful night.

#gaytf #preppy #gay #preppy tf #preppytf #stepfordization #straight to gay #gay to straight #suittf #suitandtie

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cyoc49 · 3 years

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HIMBO Magazine: The New Hire

23 year-old Barry Allen looked across the street at the office building of HIMBO, a lifestyle & fashion magazine targeted at gay men, and the site of his job interview. After graduating last May, Barry has tried for months to find a communications job with no luck, until he saw HIMBO’s advertisement for an entry-level social media position. The pay was unbelievably good, and they reached out to him about applying which made the whole situation seem very promising. He was a little uncomfortable about the idea of working at a gay magazine. I don’t have any issue with gay people, Barry thought, I just don’t understand a lot of the culture and I’m not really trying to. Still, the job was too good to pass up without at least interviewing.

Barry walked into the lobby of the building and was directed on how to reach the HIMBO’s offices. Stepping into the elevator, Barry thought about how sharply dressed everyone in the building was. It made him feel a little unprofessional, in his blazer, checkered shirt, and jeans. But the email had told him to dress “Appropriately for his position,” so he dressed the way he knew modern social media teams did.

As the elevator opened, Barry was greeted by the bright offices of HIMBO. The personnel working there (all male, he noticed) were dressed in a mixture of ridiculously eccentric business wear, speedos and harnesses, club outfits, other other bizarre fashions. “I’m guessing those are models?” Barry wondered, before walking over to a desk attended by a swishy receptionist.

The twinkish secretary looked up at Barry, and his eyes widened in excitement. “You must be the new applicant!” He exclaimed, jumping up out of his seat. “Oh, you’re perfect! He always knows the right people to pick. Well knock on wood, but I’m excited to work with you!” Then in a swift motion, the man darted around the desk and grabbed Barry by the hand. “Here, I can take you to him! He’s been waiting for you. I’m James, by the way! I work the desk!” And with that, Barry found himself being dragged along through the HIMBO offices.

“Uh, I have a question. Who is ‘he’?” Barry called along as he tried to keep pace with the fast-paced James.

“Christian Le Maître, the Editor in Chief! He’s brilliant. He does all the interviews and hiring himself. He’s the one who reached out to you.”

Wow, he picked me out himself, Barry thought, I must really be promising.

Barry spoke up “That’s pretty cool, to have a boss that cares that much.”

James nodded enthusiastically “Oh yes, he cares for us all so much! We’re all his boys here.”

Looking past the odd use of “boys”, Barry continued “I’m, uh, applying for a social media position.”

“Oh okay, interesting,” James said with less enthusiasm than usual, “He’ll sometimes try to figure out a different position for you during the interview. Just go along with what he says. I promise he has your best interests at heart.”

Before Barry could ask what that meant, James came to a sudden stop in front of a large heavy door. He knocked on it several times, before a deep muffled voice called out “Send him in” from behind the door.

James turned around, grinning ear to ear “Okay, best of luck! Remember: you’re gonna fit in here.” With that, he pranced back down the hallway, leaving Barry alone in front of the door.

He took a deep breath. “Well, here goes nothing,” he thought, and opened the door.

Walking into the office, Barry looked behind the desk and saw one of the most beautiful men he had ever seen.

His face was rugged and handsome, with insatiably curious eyes, perfect white teeth, and a beard that was just the right amount of stubble. His hair was parted with gel into a professional, clean, and gorgeous haircut. His toned muscles perfectly filled out his expensive looking business clothes: a light blue silk dress shirt, grey pinstripe pants, suspenders hung over his shoulders and pressed out by his chest, gorgeous-smelling black leather dress shoes, and a sterling silver watch. He was an absolute alpha male, so perfectly handsome and successful that Barry couldn’t help but feel awe, jealousy, and a hint of... lust?

The man looked at Barry and smiled a perfect smile. “Barry, is it? I’m Christian La Maître, but everyone around here just calls me Mr. M.” The man stood up, revealing his daunting 6’4 frame, and extended a muscular hand to Barry

Jesus, his voice is intoxicating, Barry swooned. It was so smoothly deep and inviting. With just the few words Barry already felt like he could listen to the man for hours. He reached out and took hold of Mr. M’s hand for an extremely firm handshake. As their hand touched, Barry felt a jolt, and found himself unable to take his eyes off the powerful man before him. And more importantly, he had no desire to move his eyes away.

Mr. M sat back down again. “So Barry, tell me about yourself. College graduate?”

“Uh, yes. Digital Communications maj-“

“Have you ever read HIMBO before?” Mr. M cut Barry off.

“No, sir” Barry said, neither objecting to being interrupted, nor noticing the “sir” he just said.

“Are you gay?” Mr. M examined Barry’s body up and down, never making eye contact.

“No, sir. I’m straight.” He paused “Is that okay?”

Mr. M let out a hearty laugh, and Barry found himself laughing along with the man too. It just felt right. This brilliant, perfect businessman that Barry was lucky enough to be in the presence of, anything he did had to be right.

“Ahhh, Barry. You’re a fun kid. Now unfortunately, that social media position was filled earlier this morning by another applicant. But I would be a fool not to bring you into the HIMBO team, Barry!” This filled Barry with joy. The approval of Mr. M felt so good.

“Now if I think about it...” Mr. M paused for a few moments, giving Barry another thorough looking over, “I think we have an opening in the accounting department.”

“Yes! I accept!” Barry shouted out. He didn’t even care that it was a totally different position than he had come here for, nor did he care that he had zero accounting experience. If Mr. M said he would be a good accountant, then Barry had to be the best accountant for his boss.

The man chuckled again. “There’s just a little on boarding we’d have to do to get you ready for the position. Beginning with dress code, for starters.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes, sir?” Barry asked eagerly. He would do anything for this man, who was offering him a coveted job at HIMBO magazine. Barry would change anything about himself.

“Well, you just dress so... cool. I mean look at that outfit! You are a hip young man who is ready for a good night out. And I love that for you, but I think a good accountant would dress a bit... sharper.”

The “sharper” bounced around in Barry’s head. Visions of men in suits and ties flooded his mind. He began to feel attracted to the idea of being a finely dressed man. In fact, he couldn’t imagine ever dressing down, not even in his free time. As Barry listened to Mr. M’s words, his plaid shirt rippled into a crisp white dress shirt. It tucked itself into his jeans.

“A good smart accountant would look his best at all times.”

Barry’s jeans turned into tight fitting grey dress pants, and a brown leather belt cinched itself firmly around his waist. His casual wool blazer morphed into a clean grey suit jacket matching his pants. Underneath, a gray sweater materialized and hugged itself to Barry’s slimming build.

“A good, clean-cut accountant.”

Barry felt his feet shift as his shoes changed into well-polished brown leather dress shoes, with wing tips. His socked changed to clean white socks, and inside his pants he felt briefs take form around his shrinking manhood.

“A good, nerdy accountant.”

A red bow tie wrapped itself around Barry’s neck and tied itself into a perfect knot. Large round glasses popped up on Barry’s face, which he knew he needed to wear every day. Barry’s hair ruffled as if wind was blowing through it, before settling in a clean side part, well-combed and maintained.

Barry stood before the incredibly powerful man before him looking totally different. Just 10 minutes ago Barry had dressed like any college graduate, but now looked as if he wore a suit every day of the week. But as for Barry himself, he had never felt better. As his clothes changed, Barry’s thoughts realized how right this felt. Barry now perfectly remembered his 2 hour morning dress routine. He knew exactly how much pomade to use to achieve the perfect side part, he remembered tying bow ties for six years now. His home wardrobe, all of it, had been replaced with suits, sweaters, shirts, dress shoes, and bow ties of every material, pattern, and color imagineable. This was the way he had dressed ever since he got to college and felt he could express himself truly. The truth was Barry loved the feel of a suit. The cleanness and dignity were an intoxicating feeling, and he couldn’t imagine himself in anything else.

Mr. M smiled a big smile. “There we go, an absolute perfect fit for our accountant opening. Welcome to the HIMBO team, Barry. Or should I say Bartholomew.”

That was right. Bartholomew Pippin, and he couldn’t be happier. He was a timid, nerdy kind of guy, sure, but he felt on top of the world. Bartholomew was an avid HIMBO reader for its good guides on men’s formalwear (and also so he could jerk off to the photos of shirtless guys), so to work at the magazine he loved, doing the job he loved (accounting) was a dream come true.

Mr. M stood up and walked over to Bartholomew, getting extremely close to him. “There’s just one last step in the hiring process...”

Barty shook a bit as he looked up at the domineering man before him. Mr. M was a tall man to begin with, but at his new height Bartholomew was 5’9, and the taller man encompassed him.

“I seal all my contracts... with a kiss.”

Barry’s knees quivered. He had realized he was gay at a young age, but aside from a few “almosts” in college, he had never gone farther than holding hands. Bartholomew had always reasoned that he would meet the right one eventually... and looking up at this man, Barty knew he had found it. Mr. M was all Barty would ever need. This man would control his work life and his sex life, dictating when Barty could pleasure himself, when he could come, and when he got the ultimate privilege of spending the night with Mr. M.

Bartholomew wrinkled his note and nodded eagerly “Of course, sir. I would be honored to kiss you.

As Barty stood on his tip toes to kiss his new boss - god, his lips were smooth and perfect - Barty felt all his changes lock into place. This is who he was. Bartholomew Pippin, mild-mannered accountant of HIMBO magazine, and one of Christian La Maître’s very good boys.

The two parted, and Mr. M gave Bartholomew another killer smile. “Bartholomew, I can already tell you’re gonna fit in here perfectly. And as a signing bonus, how about you stop by my place tonight. 7 PM sharp.”

“Oh thank you so much, Mr. M! I’ll be there at 6:45, I promise.”

“That’s a good boy, Barty. Now get settled in, your desk is at the end of the hall.” He gave Barty a spank on his bubble butt, and sent him on his way, to his new job and new life.

#gaytf #preppy #gay #preppy tf #preppytf #stepfordization #nerd #suittf #bowtie #the flash #barry allen #the flash tf #grant gustin

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cyoc49 · 3 years

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Shopping For A Few New Wide Receivers

Hello followers! Hope you’re all doing well. I’m writing to you today because I’ve run into a most troublesome predicament: I’m all out of boys.

Yes, I know it’s shameful of me to run out of good suited boys to serve on me and keep me company, but I was careless. I’m not perfect, my apologies. I lent some of my boys out to my elite friends, and now they’re off in Manhattan with no sign of coming back. The others, well let’s just say I accidentally left my poppers out the other day. My boys got their hands on them, and by the time I found them, they were so hopped up on nitrite that they wanted to do nothing but… okay that part was actually quite fun. Unfortunately those chemicals ruined their already limited brain power, and I had to send them off to boarding school to be “re-trained”. So here I am with no good boys by my side.

So I’ve decided: Why not go shopping! And if I’m going to get new boys, I might as well get them from one of the best sources:

The NFL!

Come on, those men all hopped up on adrenaline. Their bodies massive temples dedicated to physical perfection. Imagine what they could do for me!

So I’ve been scoping out a few of the finest quarterbacks the league has to offer. I sent them invitations to my manor that they found unable to resist, and they arrived earlier today. I already offered them drinks to dull their senses and put them in a state of euphoric bliss, now all that’s left to do is for me to give them a look and personality improvement, and then I’ll have some brilliant new boy toys!

Let’s look at who we have

Brady Quinn

Oh my, look at that hair! Brady looks like he could be the stand in jock in an early 2000s teen rom com. Only this story is going to end a bit differently for him.

Now face and body wise, I don’t have to do anything. That chiseled jaw, those massive arms? Perfect. That hair is definitely going to have to go, though. Let’s cut it down quite a bit, put in some gel and comb it into a perfect part… let’s do a little more gel… there we go! A gorgeous business cut.

And to go with the business cut, why not a suit! I’ll start simple with a white dress shirt- my, look at how it hugs his chest and arms. I’ll give him a smart grey suit in plaid, and a red tie with a similar fun pattern. I think he’s going to be in patterns from now on. It’s a little striking, but also bold, and that’s what I want from him. I’m taking his confidence, his strong personality, and turning it into a flirtatious cockiness. He is going to be “The Cassanova”, a boy who’s goal is to surprise you with dates and gifts all the time. He buys you suits and watches because he wants you to look as good as he does, and is always trying to whisk you away to dinner… when he’s not running your errands, of course.

Oh yes, this is perfect for Braden. That smirk combines with the mindless gaze, you can tell he’s thinking with his second head. As he should be!

Kirk Cousins

Now Kirk here has quite the scruff going on! Living up to his Viking name. Thankfully, I like my men rugged. But what I like even more is watching rugged men go clean.

So let’s drop those clothes, let them disappear. Look at how hairy he is! But now we’re going to get rid of all that hair, let it pull back in, and the pores they came from seal off, making future hair growth impossible. We’ll give that big bushy beard have the same treatment and- wow! That square jaw and golden smile! A bit baby-faced, but it works. The only hair he can grow now is his eyebrows and hair. And both of those stay neatly maintained on their own now in a short, clean cut

The suit, I’m thinking light colors and neat patterns. Close checkers and stripes are his favorite thing now, in bright colors especially. His wardrobe shines as bright as his smile from now on. Kirk is becoming “The House Husband”, a sweet obedient boy who knows that you deserve to live in a tidy home. He ensures that every asset of the house is spotless, cleaning up in his frilly apron and yellow rubber gloves every day. He also makes sure you wake up to a freshly cooked breakfast and come home to a freshly cooked dinner every night. And he’s always ready for after bed cuddles and tea.

Sweet Kirkland, he dotes on me more than all of them. He’s a sweet soul now, always surprising me with fresh flowers and other sweet gestures.

Jimmy Garoppolo

What a smile! You don’t even need to see the 49ers jersey to feel that classic California cockiness dripping off of Jimmy. Unfortunately, we already have Braden to fill the role of hot shot, but I think I can channel Jimmy’s energy into somebody just as important.

Now I’d say lose the beard and body hair, but the truth is that disappeared as soon as I laid eyes on him, he just didn’t notice. And I’m going to break my “no changing bodies” rule just for now, to push him up to 6’5”. I’m allowed to be greedy, okay! And speaking of greedy, I can tell from the way he’s adjusting his pants that his equipment has scaled up to match.

We’ll comb his hair into a clean business part. And also keep his suit on the simple side. A clean navy suit with a white shirt. He sticks to solid suits in classic colors now, although he of course fills them out magnificently at his new height. And he also has no need for a tie. His focus is more on immediate needs, as “The Chauffeur”. He just loves to carry your bags now (don’t tell anyone, but I may have rewired him so that he’s sexually aroused by carrying bags), and he also drives you wherever you need to go. “Where to, sir?” He says with a pearly white smile.

Look at James now. He’s oh so helpful. And oh so horny as well, it seems. No worries, we can pull over and take care of that soon.

Cam Newton

Last, I have the man himself, Cam Newton. He’s so skilled they call him “Super Cam”. Whenever I think of the Patriots, I always think of the vast culture of New England, particularly the more upper-class aspects. “Cape Cod gentility” could look good on you, Cam…

Let’s clean up that hair, both facial and on your head. Clean shaven, so I can feel his smooth skin. The suit: I’m thinking bright, I’m thinking preppy. In fact, let’s give him a bow tie! We haven’t done that for anyone today. In fact, let’s make bow ties his daily choice of attire from now on. Along with the cleanest, finest looking preppy suits he can find. He’s going to be “the Gentleman”, a boy who introduces you to the finer aspects of life. Trips to the country club, exclusive yacht parties, first class flights to the Swiss Alps, this boy will do it all for you. He always smells like aged brandy and fine leather polish, and as you spend time with him, you can’t help but appreciate the expensiveness.

Here Cameron is now. God he looks so dashing. We’re actually off to a wine tasting now. James is pulling around with the car as we speak. And once again, my life is blessed by good, well-dressed, obedient boys! The way it should be.

Thank you so much for joining me today, followers! I hope you got some valuable insight on how to pick and change your boys to best suit you!

#preppy #gaytf #preppy tf #preppytf #stepfordization #jock to preppy #suittf #suit and tie #suit tf #suit

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cyoc49 · 3 years

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Golly, Archie!

[Based on an inbox request sent to me by @tfkinky ]

Hiram Lodge stood in front of the mirror and adjusted his tie. Today, as with every day, he looked his best and most professional. The crisp black dress shirt wrapped around his powerful chest, his strong arms were hugged by a deep blue suit coat, and a matching tie perfectly pulled the look together. His eyebrows were neatly shaped. His hair... not a strand out of place. He radiated power, and for a good reason: Hiram Lodge basically owned Riverdale.

He was close to literally owning Riverdale, but he had two items left on his to-do list: Archie Andrews and Jughead Jones. At his every chance to claim total control, those two thugs somehow managed to thwart his plans at the last second. If he could get rid of them, nothing would stop him.

And as it turned out, there might be a way to get rid of them.

In a particular moment of desperation, Hiram had made his way to a local witches’ coven. There, he had learned an interesting fact: there was an alternate version of Riverdale in a local parallel universe. One where life was very, very different.

After a series of shady deals with the witches, Hiram was taught a spell which could be used to completely rewrite the reality of an individual and slip them into this alternate universe. Only in his case, it would be two individuals.

Now, Hiram walked over to his desk. He had drawn a pentagram and lit candles as instructed by the witches, and spread out in the middle were pages from a 1950’s comic, showing teenagers living in the time period. On top of the comic pages were two photos: one of Archie, and one of Jughead. Hiram made small cuts in each of his palms, and held them palms-down over the photos. As his blood dripped onto the setup, Hiram chanted:

Little boys who think they’re cool.

Hot shots, now made into fools.

No longer swear, no longer act mean.

Learn to say golly, nifty, and keen.

Slick your hair and dance the jive.

Welcome to 1955.

With each word, the photos began to warp and shake as if they were water. Slowly the photos began to almost melt into the comic, until they disappeared from the table completely. Instead, the comics now featured two new characters: goofy looking 50’s versions of his former foes. The candles blew out.

Hiram smiled to himself. What fun they’ll have

Archie wiped sweat off his brow. He had been mowing lawns and trimming hedges all day. In an effort to make some extra cash on the side he had started his own lawn care service for the good people of Riverdale. It was tough work, but the money was nice. And he got to walk around shirtless all day, which was a nice plus.

As he threw down another bag of clippings, Archie heard a voice in his head.

“You’re a good boy, Archie.”

Archie paused. He looked around. There was nobody else on the street right now. Had he imagined that? He shook his head and went back to work.

... but even as he worked, Archie couldn’t stop thinking of that little voice. The phrase “good boy” stuck with him, and bounced around in his head like a lone thought running free. Archie had never considered himself one of those goody two-shoes guys. Given everything that happened in this town, everyone had to have a bit of dirt on on their hands. But what if he didn’t? What if he had the chance to do better, wash his hands off and dedicate his life to being a good son and a good member of the community. Well, gosh, wouldn’t that be something?

Before these thoughts went any further, Archie snapped back into the moment. It was a nice idea, but this was his life.

“You’re a well-behaved, well-mannered boy.”

He hear the voice from nowhere again, and this time it sounded even more persuasive. Unconsciously, Archie shifted his back and stood straight, rigid as a board. It was like second nature - without thinking, Archie knew to look upright and presentable at all times. After all, that was the way any well-behaved boy should act.

And as he shifted into a proper posture, he felt a wave of Euphoria was over himself. Standing tall allowed him to push out his chest and show off his arms, after all. He smiled a wide, wide smile. Acting in this way, being a good boy, it made him feel indescribably happy... and also a bit horny. There was a strange feeling bubbling inside of him, growing stronger with every second. A feeling of peppiness, and perkiness. Archie knew it was right to help people. Gosh, that’s what good guys do, right? That’s why I’m mowing my neighbors lawns for free, Archie thought to himself. But no - that’s not right. No, I’m trying to make money... aren’t I? Archie felt confused, like his truth was being clouded and replaced by a new preppy reality that was only getting more intense. Golly, how much farther could this go?

“You have sharp dress style.”

With those words, the few clothes Archie was wearing flew off his body. He immediately moved to cover himself up, until the wave of preppy euphoria relaxed him again. He didn’t really miss his old clothes that much. Sloppy jeans and t shirts? And he had the audacity to walk around shirtless? Unacceptable, Archie thought to himself. I can’t look sloppy, I’m 18 for Pete’s sake! I should be dressed to the nines at all times!

The universe seemed to comply with Archie’s new thoughts as a fresh set of clothes wrapped themselves around him. 1950’s style tighty whities slip up and covered his private areas, nicely cupping his sizeable package and perfectly outlining his firm, round buttocks. The waist band went up to his high waist in that classic 50’s style, a style that Archie was coming to think of as his own.

A white dress shirt appeared next, buttoning itself up to the very top button. The shirt was tight against Archie’s beefcake body, and the outline of his pecs and arms could be seen through the shirt, a feeling Archie didn’t mind. The shirt had a small polka dot pattern on it, but of course it did. Archie loved fun patterns on his clothes! Sometimes he wore multiple bright patterns just to feel extra nifty.

Today was one of those days, apparently, as wool dress slacks with a plaid pattern slid up Archie’s thick legs, coming to rest at his high waist. Through the pants the outline of his full buttocks could be seen. The shirt tucked itself into his pants. As if I would ever go anywhere with my shirt untucked! Archie wanted to guffaw at the thought!

A plaid green bow tie wrapped itself around Archie’s neck into a perfect bow (Archie had mastered the art of tying a bow tie many years ago. He hardly left the house without one). As it locked into place, the wide smile on Archie’s face got wider. He felt absolutely giddy in these clothes. Golly, he loved to dress crisp like this! It made him feel real boss.

Pristine white dress socks rolled up his feet, and wingtip loafers wrapped around them. The shoes were brown leather, so perfectly polished that Archie could see his reflection in them. He polished his shoes every night, he liked to keep them looking a spiffy as possible. A matching brown leather belt, just as polished, cinched his waist, further defining his beefy build.

Over the top of the whole ensemble, a knit sweater vest appeared, in a deep blue. Emblazoned on the front was a gold “R” - for Riverdale High, of course! Archie loved his school and had a number of sweater vests, sweaters, ties, caps, and other pieces of merchandise for the school. He loved to incorporate them into his look - Riverdale’s quarterback should show his school pride, after all!

“You look clean-cut and presentable at all times.”

Archie’s hair ruffled as gel began to flow through it and lock it in a slicked back position. His signature red locks now looked like a plastic helmet on top of his head, perfectly styled into a neat all-American side part (the way every man’s hair should look!), and lightened until it was almost a cartoonish orange.

Archie’s bushy eyebrows slimmed out, taking on a clean styled look, and the pores on his face vanished. Archie how had an impossibly clear and bright complexion, aside from a smattering of freckles across his checks. His teeth straightened into a perfect row. His eyes shined a bright blue, even if his gaze was now a bit mindless.

Archie’s look had totally transformed. He no longer looked like the tough jock he was before. He now dressed like a total square. But Archie didn’t care, he thought his dress style was neato! An artificial perfection settled over his whole look, locking Archie in plasticine preppiness.

Archie rubbed his new clothes. Gosh, he enjoyed the feeling of them so much. As his fingers circled his chest, he heard several more words from the voice, only now he willingly welcomed them:

“You obey your parents, Archie.”

“You follow all orders you’re given.”

“You always hold the door open for those behind you.”

“You’d never do something without asking first.”

“You always say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’.”

“You are a good boy, Archie.”

With every command that rang through his vacant head, Archie’s wide smile only got wider. The perky feeling was growing. It wasn’t just in his stomach, it had spread through his arms and legs, into his fingers and toes and into every hair on his head. On a molecular level, Archie felt like a keen all-American teen. A swell guy who helped old ladies cross the street, always had dates home by 10PM sharp, and ended nearly every sentence with “sir” or “ma’am” when talking to an adult.

Archie’s connection to this Riverdale was fading. The squeaky clean school boy now had little in common with the unforgiving town he had grown up in. Instead, he was coming into alignment with the other Riverdale, the one where wholesome American values had never gone out of style. His memories had also shifted from the old Riverdale to the new, as he only ever remembered the 1950’s haven as his home.

But there was so much to do there! Heading to the malt shop! Going to sock hops with Betty and Ronnie! Listening to records! Gee whiz, Archie enjoyed his Riverdale life so much, he wanted to be there right now!

“Archie, it’s time to go home.”

For a brief second, Archie’s head spun as the world flashed and shifted around him.

Only for a brief second, though. After that, it was back to the setting Archie knew and loved. Technicolor houses, white picket fences. Children playing in the street. Home. Archie sighed and smiled. He was at peace here.

Suddenly, Archie remembered his plans for the day. He was going to pick up Veronica and take her to Pop’s. Without missing a beat, Archie ran to Veronica’s house. His knock on the door was answered by this Riverdale’s version of Veronica, sporting a prim blouse and skirt, with bobbed hair.

“Hiya, Ronnie!” Archie exclaimed with a wide grin.

“Hey there, Archiekins!” Veronica pulled Archie into a hug.

The two embraced for a moment and looked at each other sweetly. It was puppy love, plain and simple. Archie always wanted a girl to be sweet for, and Ronnie was the right one for him. And if he was lucky, they might get to play some backseat bingo in his station wagon later.

“Ready to go, sweetie?” Archie asked. Veronica responded with a nod, and the two made their way to Pop’s to split a sundae. Another perfect Riverdale day!

———————————————————————

Jughead paced the floor of his dad’s trailer. He’d been tipped off by a connection on the outskirts of town that Hiram Lodge had been seen paying a visit to the local coven. That could only mean he was up to trouble. Jughead had been trying to contact Archie all day, but his friend had seemingly gone off the grid. Jughead was getting concerned that it wasn’t a coincidence. If Hiram was resorting to black magic, Jughead had no idea what to expect or how to respond. As much research as he did, that was one area he did not mess with.

But now Jughead felt like he was at the end of his line. Hiram had tried multiple times to take him and Archie out, and if he had finally figured out a way, Riverdale was doomed.

He had to contact the witches. That was the only way, Jughead decided. He would drive out there and convince them to undo whatever Hiram had them do. He would beg, make them see that the safety of Riverdale was on the line. It wasn’t his best plan, but it would have to work. It would have to.

Jughead picked up his keys, but dropped them again just as quickly after a booming voice echoed inside his head.

“You’re a good boy, Jughead.”

He couldn’t move. He knew this was the end. But even scarier than the absolute terror he was feeling in the face of defeat, was the fact that those feelings of terror were disappearing. As much as he didn’t want to listen to the voice, the phrase “good boy” just refused to go away. It comforted him, the idea of giving in. Jughead had worked for so long to be a total nonconformist, and yet in this moment he wanted nothing more than to just fit on. Be one of the boys.

Jughead was terrified by the thoughts he heard and felt. He was fighting to hold on to his consciousness, but it was quickly becoming a losing battle.

“You’re a goofy, fun-loving guy.”

Jughead chuckled. He sure did feel that way sometimes. All throughout high school he had been a class clown, always making light of the situation. It was just his way of seeing the world. He liked to make people laugh, but nobody laughed louder than he did at himself.

“You are always dressed in a clean, respectable fashion.”

Jughead’s denim jacket and flannel disappeared from his body. Jughead didn’t mind too much. He wasn’t the kind of guy to dress to the nines, but he did think that every young guy should know how to dress. Jughead kept it simple, but he kept it clean.

To highlight this point, a blue turtleneck sweater popped up around his slender frame, leaving him feeling very comfortable.

White briefs wrapped up his nether regions like a Christmas present, and black dress slacks covered the top of them. The pants were freshly ironed, with visible pleats down the front. Jughead always wore clean clothes!

White tube socks rolled up his legs, and over the top of them came a fresh pair of Chuck Taylor All Stars. Jughead sighed with relief as he wriggled his toes around inside the shoes. Nothing made him feel more boss than a pair of Chucks.

On top of his head, Jughead’s beanie had reformed as a paper crown, his trademark accessory. Jughead didn’t know how he had started wearing it or why he still did, but it sure was fun! And it matched his goofy personality well.

“Your appearance is just as well groomed as your clothes.”

Jughead’s long, unkempt hair was pulled to the side and perfectly groomed into a side part, shortening down in the process to a fresh cut. His teeth whitened and his skin cleared up, just as it had for Archie. Jughead now looked like a perfect model for a Normal Rockwell painting.

Jughead loved the way he looked. This was who he was: just one of the guys, always ready to join in on plans, but never looking to stand out. He was a lovable goofball, and he wore his reputation with pride.

Jughead stood in place, enjoying the feel of his new getup, as more commands piled into his head.

“You love to eat.”

Food was one thing he couldn’t get enough of. He often had multiple hamburgers at Pop’s, and always had snacks no matter where he went.

Jughead let out a low burp. His stomach rumbled, then expanded under his sweater, reflecting his new big eater tendencies. Jughead enjoyed his little pot belly. He chuckled thinking about it.

“You love to laugh.”

And as he did, his chuckle turned into a full-bellied laugh, sending waves of joy throughout his body. His laugh began to take on a honking quality as the tip of his nose expanded to a bulbous shape.

“You are slow-witted, but keen and well-mannered.”

The light behind Jughead’s eyes faded. His journalistic wit and hard-hitting problem solving skills were gone. As Jughead’s goofy personality took over, he felt his care for school and work disappear. He didn’t like to try too hard, raised people’s expectations of him too much. And besides, that school stuff was so hard. Why not take life easy?

“You love to joke, dance, and do other fun-loving, innocent teenage activities.”

Jughead smiled as he remembered his Riverdale. A town where all his best pals were, and where he got to enjoy his neighborhood and all the pleasant people within. It made Jughead happy to think of his Riverdale. He never had to try hard there. Eating burgers and drinking shakes were his highest priorities. The most work he did was cracking a joke in response to Archie’s latest goof.

Jughead kept thinking about his town and how swell he felt when he was there, and realized he wanted nothing more than to be back. Back in his 1950’s home.

With perfect timing, the final command came.

“Time to go home, Jughead.”

Jughead spun, and so did the world. Then, half a second later, everything was back to normal. He was at home, in the suburbia of good ol’ Riverdale. The sun was shining high and proud, and for the 782nd day in a row there was not a cloud in the sky. Jughead knew this was where he belonged.

And just his luck. Across the street was none other than his best pal Archie Andrews! Archie was with Veronica, but was grinning ear-to-ear as he saw Jughead, and Jughead felt the same way as he saw his buddy. Jughead ran across the street to join them (after looking both ways first, of course).

“Howdy Jug! Boy, you have no idea how glad I am to see you!” Archie exclaimed.

“Right back at ya, Archie! Gosh, I’ve been looking for you all over!”

The two pals exchanged perfect white smiles, filled to the brim with glee. What could be better than life in Riverdale, with good buds and great manners?

Archie opened his mouth again “Hey Jug, Ronnie and I were about to go to Pop’s. Wanna tag along?”

“Golly, Archie! You know I can’t say no to Pop’s!”

The three friends all laughed in unison. They turned and began to walk down the street. The sun was shining on another perfect Riverdale day, and it was only noon! Who knew what kind of wacky adventures they could get in today?

TWO WEEKS LATER

Hiram sat and enjoyed a celebratory glass of wine. It had taken several nights of hard bargaining with Mayor McCoy to get what he wanted, but after pointing out the town’s high crime rate and lack of development (and also after making a few “charitable donations”), Hiram got what he finally wanted: ownership of Riverdale. He now truly felt on top of the world.

“This morning’s paper, sir.”

Hiram turned his head to watch as Smithers, the Lodge family’s long time assistant, came in to the room. Hiram thanked Smithers as he left a copy of the morning’s Riverdale Registrar on the table. Hiram truly didn’t care about most of the tat in that paper, even though he was technically it’s owner. But he flipped through, looking for one section that he had recently insisted they add.

“Bingo!” Hiram found what he was looking for as he flipped to the comics page. There at the top was a full-color page of comics labeled Archie and Friends. In today’s installment, Archie (clad in the most garish red bow tie Hiram had ever seen) was helping the neighbor’s kid find his model plane, before being tricked and falling into a swimming pool. Hiram found himself laughing. Archie had always been a gullible fool, it was nice to see that reflected in his new persona. And there right next to him was Jughead, laughing along and eating a sandwich.

Hiram enjoyed seeing what his two former nemeses were up to. He now had a copy of the Registrar delivered to his office every day so he could observe their ridiculously corny adventures. His eyes rolled along the page, looking at the various scenarios the boys found themselves in.

His eyes stopped at the end of the page where the strip had introduced a new character, and older gentleman in a waistcoat with slicked back hair.

And his blood froze as he saw Archie call this new character “Mr. Lodge”.

...Coincidence, surely? There was a Veronica in the strip, so maybe this Mr. Lodge was just her alternate universe father. Why on earth would he be in the strip?

Then, Hiram knew exactly why. In order to convince the witches to hand over their secrets, Hiram had promised to grant the witches legal ownership of their coven’s land, as it was within town limits. Hiram had of course told them what they wanted to hear, but in his legal proceedings earlier that day, he had laid out plans to turn the woodland containing the coven into a tourist lodge.

And somehow, they had found out.

Hiram maintained his composure, even as panic rose inside him. He had faced tougher foes before, and he wasn’t about to let a group of hokey witches take him down. He just had to think of what to do.

Only it was becoming terribly hard for Hiram to think, because a new voice was speaking to him:

“You’re a good boy, Hiram.”

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