Can I Take Seat 17? I Think It’s An Emergency Exit Row?

Mexican Flavor

“God, what is that smell?” Paul muttered as he closed the door to his apartment. He’d known his roommate Henry was having some guests over, but he could have never expected to casually stroll into this gas chamber. The whole place reeked of a Mexican restaurant’s bathroom, the kind of restaurant that could leave someone on the toilet for hours. And to make matters worse, it almost seemed like there was a noticeable haze to the room too. Paul didn’t know what could’ve caused the apartment to hold a visible spore cloud. He’d have to find Henry to get to the bottom of this.

Tossing his work loafers and unknotting his tie, Paul hurriedly made his way over to his roommate’s room. He just wanted to get undressed and take a nap after a long day at the firm, still having a party to attend later that night. Henry had mentioned he was going to have some people over from his Dungeons and Dragons club. It wasn’t their usual day of the week, but there was a new guy who wanted to join. Some foreign-exchange student from Mexico or something, who according to Henry did not physically fit in with the rest of the group. Not the racial detail, but the fact that apparently the Mexican student was some jock who completely dwarfed all the nerds. Paul chuckled when Henry had told him that, imagining his roommate’s dramatization.

“Henry?” Paul knocked as he approached the bedroom. Paul didn’t hear a response, but he noticed that the odorous cloud did seem to be seeping out from underneath the door. Sighing, he called out Henry’s name again. When a reply didn’t come back again, Paul lifted the hem of his shirt over his nose and carefully walked in. Henry’s room looked the same as before; same Star Trek posters, same lame figurines from some video game, same tidy room overall. Well, except for the large man who was strewn across Henry’s bed. 

Lying on his stomach was a muscled Latino that Paul assumed had been the source of this stench. He was happily zonked out, snoring loudly. Paul cautiously moved closer, confused as to who this stranger was in Henry’s room. He was much bigger than the white nerd had ever been. This man was at least half a foot taller with every body part noticeably greater. Plumper thighs, heavier pouch, wider feet. The man was covered in workout gear that by the look of it had very recently been used. But when Paul began investigating the Latino’s handsome, caramel face, he was shocked to notice that the man was wearing glasses. Henry’s glasses.

BBRRRPPPTTT!

Inhaling generously, Paul blinked as he reevaluated the situation. Of course Enrique was wearing his glasses; he practically couldn’t see without them. The glasses were ironic really, being the only thing about his Mexican roommate that could be considered “nerdy”. Enrique’s life was built around fitness, besides eating good food and getting laid. When the foreign jock wasn’t working out, he’d be at home slobbing it up or in his bedroom with some stranger. So Paul wasn’t surprised when he came home to the apartment smelling like a Mexican restaurant’s bathroom. Enrique had said he was going for a workout after all with his güeyes, some other Mexican bro-types. 

But after all these years, Paul couldn’t remember Enrique’s funk being this bad, let alone his gas. Enrique had always had pretty bad body odor, something he blamed on his “proper Latino diet” and his frequent visits to the gym. Enrique even tried to convince Paul that there was evidence by how his body smelled, being that there was a little “Mexican flavor” to it. Paul never bought it, but now that he was in a concentrated room full of Enrique’s fart fumes he couldn’t deny there was an element that made the back of his throat and eyes tickle. He didn’t want to, but Paul had to wake Enrique to solve this (literally) visible smelly problem. Begrudgingly, he leaned forward across the larger man’s sleeping body to wake his roommate up.

PPHHRROOOOTTTT!

A pungent cloud of gas escaped Enrique’s wet buttocks, causing the unfortunately-placed Paul to stagger back and away from the bed. His head had been right over the danger-zone. He’d been so close in fact that Paul watched the flatulence push through the tight fabric of Enrique’s running shorts before blasting him in the face. The mass almost had a spore-like quality to it, the condensed fart gliding through Paul’s nostrils and right into his brain. Now on the floor, Paul’s head felt hazy from the direct blow. Still in his work trousers and button-up, he was barely able to hear the sound of a small toot escape his own bottom.

BBRRMMPPP!

“I gotta…I gotta get out of here…” Paul murmured, the awful stench causing him to lose focus. He was in survival mode now, the smell finally getting into his system and tainting him, corrupting him. Unable to stand without falling again, Paul carefully crawled his way across the room. Each step was not only one towards freedom but one away from his pungent roommate. Each step however was also getting more difficult to take. Paul heard a sudden creak in floorboards. He hoped it was his roommate, waking up to save him from this oddly disgusting fate. Instead, it was the door to the bedroom, shutting on its own like a metaphor from some horror movie; closing the coffin lid.

SSSHHHBBBBRRT!

Enrique’s plump cheeks let out another putrid gust of air. Paul rolled on the floor, his body weakening as he became powerless to the gas. His breathing slowed, accepting the stale air into his body. Paul’s eyes slowly shut after, his consciousness escaping. The foul fumes entered his system willingly as he surrendered. Having a lot of ground to cover, the odor coated both Paul’s interior and exterior. The last thing Paul heard was another fart from his own back end, although this time its ring was a little more similar to that of his Mexican roommate’s.

BBRMMPPHH!

Similar to his roommate’s situation, Paul’s body laid on the carpeted ground lifeless. His lungs were no longer functioning to take in oxygen and release carbon dioxide. Instead, their focus has been reoriented into processing more methane and hydrogen sulfide. The rotten components eagerly flooded Paul’s system, creating an almost hibernation-like state to ease into the metamorphosis stage. While the flatulence Paul inhaled from Enrique polluted his body, he released his own gas that disposed of his previous being.

FFRRRAAABBBTT!

The spores slowly multiplied and released from Enrique’s body into Paul’s. As particular areas became more concentrated, the malodorous work became more apparent. Being hit first and the hardest, Paul’s face was the quickest to change. His nose and jaw broadened dramatically, growing wider as his skull realigned itself into something squarer. His cleft pushed back and thickened, allowing for his lips to plump up with a little extra pout. Paul’s eyebrows became bushier while his hair took on a new texture, darkening into a lovely dark brown to match the altered shades of his brow line and barely-there stubble. Finally, his skin tanned into a honey-like color that begged to be tasted.

SSSHHBBRT!

More of Paul’s lifeless figure was coated. The small amount of fat that he had earned in his first years of desk work at the firm melted away, leaving behind supple muscular tissue. The erosion led to biceps, triceps, and quadriceps. Abs upon abs, pec beside pec. His calves were excavated underneath the years of unuse, now dug up to renew their purpose. Veins that had previously been hidden were now apparent, showing the renewed strength in Paul’s body. Once any part of Paul’s body was contaminated, updated, or corrected, the caramel color came sweeping in like a fresh coat of paint. 

The spores continued their work across Paul’s frame. His feet shrunk from their average US Size 10 to a more appropriate MX Size 26. His buttocks plumped up underneath his weight, now vibrating every time a new blast of gas was released. Paul’s pouch swelled larger too, each of his balls the size of ripened, flavorful tomatillos. His cock also grew meatier, girthier, swelling proudly into a thick chorizo sausage. Paul’s clothes also adapted, his office attire disappearing entirely except for his loose boxer shorts. Those shrunk in and stretched across his lower half, encasing the bronzed skin underneath a tight spandex material.

FFRRRBBTTT!

The fumes were now undeniably a fog, crowding all of Enrique’s room after being confined to such a small space. The last of Paul’s body was tainted in a matter of moments. His body hair either completely disappeared or transformed into something darker, coillier, and a heck of a lot smellier. His Adam’s apple shifted slightly upwards while his vocal chords replaced some vowel sounds with others. Even the tiniest details weren’t spared. Anything that could be made more Mexican was.

All this time, the spores from the toxic gasses had been infiltrating Paul’s body too. Memories of family in America, culture in America, life in America were all slowly altered. The red, white and blue became the prickly pear, rattlesnake, and golden eagle. Burgers and fries were erased by enmoladas and posole. Paul’s mom dropping him off at law school became Pablo’s mamá dropping him off at the airport. Paul’s life goals were centered around becoming an incredible lawyer, but Pablo’s life goals were centered around having a good time.

BBRRMMPPP!

-and spreading his Mexican flavor of course. Everyone had to get a whiff of him. He loved his manly, Latino scent. And he knew everyone else would as well. 

Wrapping up their job, the spores gathered the last bits of the previous being and ushered them towards the backdoor. Anything that screamed “American,” “white,” or “Paul” was clustered and pushed out the two new bouncy globes the man would call his mejor activo. With one final thrust, a concluding fart escaped his system, permanently discharging anything left of his former self.

FFBBBRRRMMPPHH!

Pablo’s eyes fluttered open slowly. He groaned, his head feeling cloudy from the hedor that lingered in the air. He loved it. Pablo adored his manly smell and wanted to indulge in it. Fortunately for him, it didn’t seem like su trasero was planning on stopping anytime soon.

“¡Amigo!” Enrique’s voice loomed from up above. Pablo pushed himself up, noticing his very atractivo roommate in the doorway. “You could’ve slept in mi cama,” he continued smoothly.

“I couldn’t make it,” Pablo replied with a cute accented English. “I fell to my knees when I saw your bella Durmiente.”

Enrique smirked and rolled his eyes. He sat on the floor to join his roommate/lover, but Pablo was already up. The two had unintentionally swapped spots. 

“¿Mi bebé varón?” Enrique purred, giving a playful smack to Pablo’s beach balls.  “Where are you going?”

“I’ve got that party tonight, remember? For that law firm.”

“Ah yes,” Enrique replied. “Lover by day, el compañero by night.”

Pablo smirked. “Don’t be too sad. I’ll be back soon.” He then turned in the open doorway, leaving a proper parting gift.

FFFFRRT!

College Changes You

/includes: jock tf, getting handsomer, getting taller, gay to straight

Danny looked at Chris in shock. They hadn't seen each other in months, but they both had come back to their hometown for Thanksgiving. Since they were both in town, they decided to catch up over dinner.

Only the man in front of Chris wasn't the same 5'5" twiggy computer science major. The man in front of him was at least 6'3" nearly a foot taller than the old danny, and incredibly buff. Danny was never horrible looking to Chris but it was like a hollywood casting agent had replaced him. He was recognizable if you squinted enough, but the sharp jawline and giant brown eyes just drew you in.

"So what have you been up to man?" Danny was the first to break the silence.

"Uh not much, just school yaknow...."

Chris couldn't stop staring at his huge pecs. Not fully being able to make conversation

"How about you?"

"Oh not much! Recently I invented a new device that lets me change the fabric of reality."

Dan said with a smile, casually. His sensual voice singled out in the loud restraunt, it was like it was the only thing that Chris could focus on.

Chris didn't know how to respond, he watched danny pull out a small device that looked much like a normal smartphone. He tapped a few things and put it back in his pocket.

Suddenly he grew a few more inches to 6'10". His aura becoming much more enchanting, like he was the only thing in the universe thay existed.

As the waitress came over, she couldn't help but only look at the muscular adonis and not Chris.

"What can i get started for you guys?" She said, only looking at Danny.

"Actually, i think we changed our mind, we're gonna go somewhere else. Thank you so much for your help, heres a tip."

Danny said as he got up, gesturing for Chris to do the same. Chris hadn't seen him at his full height yet, it was stange to see his once best friend be a full foot taller than his own 5'10"

The waitress couldnt stop blushing as she just nodded and walked away, as chris stood up he realized he was fully erect.

"Haha already gunnin for it huh?" Danny said as he smirked, flexing his pecs.

---

They walked around a nearby park, chris dumbfounded unable to speak by the giant hunk next to him.

"So, i actually came to meet you for a reason."

Danny wanted him? He couldn't believe it. Chris looked up at him, surprised and blushing.

They both stopped walking as danny held chris' hands.

"I want you to serve me, Chris."

Suddenly, the ground dropped from underneath him as he buckled into himself, pure bliss and euphoria came over him as he came right there.

His limbs elongated and his shoulder broadened as they filled out with muscle. He moaned as his voice dropped a few octaves.

"I want you to take on the persona of a dumb straight frat bro."

Chris clutched his head as he felt his hands grow bigger, his mind losing memories of being any sort of intellectual. He had gotten by with his looks and athletic ability alone, and thats all he needed.

He stood up as his package slithered down his newly formed sweatpants.

"Now look at me pretty boy."

Danny grabbed him by the jaw as his face reformed into a much more appealing form. His jawline sharpened as his eyes lightened. Cheekbones rising as his face became perfectly symmetrical. Danny whispered in his hear one more time

"We're gonna be a couple, but you will be in denial. Girls dont do it like i do."

Danny gave him a long sloppy kiss as he trailed down his new muscular body, making sure to trace each nipple as he licked his way down his taut muscular defined torso.

Chris moaned as he felt danny start bobbing on his 10 inch member. He had never felt anyone's tongue be so skilled. This was far better than any girl he's ever had sex with.

Danny was pleasuring himself as sucked chris off, his huge 18 inch python calling for Chris' hole.

As chris came over and over again he looked down at his bro. Covered in cum.

"Now its your turn to serve me, turn around."

Chris fell into the grass. Pulling down his sweats, his muscular ass straight up in the air, pulsating as it felt it's master so close to it.

Danny felt his slick in his hands as he continued to massage it. He flopped it around a little as he held it by the thick veiny base.

"No homo though though, right?"

"No homo bro"

Man Of Your Dreams

Wallflower Dylan is gifted a new psychedelic from his friend. Used to watching frat bros from afar he finds the pill seems to affect far more than his mind.

Intended this to be plot light but so it goes! Probably going to take this week off to avail myself to other authors entering my Viral Transformation Challenge! The next story will likely be my own take on the theme so look forward to that next week alongside those from a litany of other stellar TF writers! Until then! -Occam

Dylan was fairly straight-laced, going into his senior year of university he hadn’t strayed much at all from class besides tagging along with his friend from high school to some of the more boisterous frat parties. Said friend Tony was quite more of a wild child, often invited himself because he was the source of some of the more illicit substances to be found at these parties. He’d invite Dylan whenever he’d need a more sober pair of eyes, namely if he was planning on rolling or otherwise getting high on his own supply. Despite his mild manner, Dylan always hopped on the chance, going to ragers was supposed to be part of the whole college deal right? And besides, he didn’t mind the chance to ogle brazen men he would under normal circumstances be fearful of making eye contact with.

Knowing of his friend’s meek disposition, and repressed hunger for the most vulgar of men, when Tony hears of a crazy new psychedelic on the market he has a feeling Dylan might finally let his hair loose. Reviews say the stuff makes reality feel like a waking dream. Anything seems possible and to your body it might as well be. Steamier sources swear that dreaming about sex on the stuff is even better than the real thing. Tony, never concerned about side effects of his material, gets straight to hitting up the usual channels to see what he can get and is able to scrounge up a single pill of the stuff. He wonders if he should try it out himself first before deciding he owes his friend at least first dibs.

Dylan is floored at how quickly he agreed to taking the pill. After initially being standoffish at Tony’s suggestion that he use it to fuck frat bros in his mind, once his friend started explaining what he’s heard Dylan couldn’t pass up the opportunity to really live out his fantasy. He’s not going to outgrow being a wallflower, nor is at all confident that any of the performatively masculine men would fuck him. Staring at the pill the only thing holding him back is Tony’s vapid instructions. ‘Just have a blast dude, fuck your way through those bros hah!’ Dylan’s asking about the side effects falls on deaf ears as Tony just crassly humps the air to try to convince his friend to go out on a limb. Despite his qualms and fears, and the lack of confidence inspired by Tony’s actions, Dylan feels sure that his friend wouldn’t give him something actually potentially dangerous.

Holding tight to that misplaced confidence, as soon as Tony departs Dylan pours himself a glass of water and chokes the pill down. The small tablet leaves a metallic taste in his mouth, quickly hidden by the copious amount of saliva and bile starting to rise in the back of his throat as he immediately feels the urge to vomit. Man of will despite appearances, he keeps it down and just as soon scowls as he thinks about the lack of preparation offered by his friend and prepares to tear into Tony as soon as the trip is over. Standing up he feels the room spinning around and murmurs in shock, “su- surely it’s shouldn- work this… fas-” He stumbles over to his bed and falls face down as he feels his body growing sweaty.

Before his well-practiced anxiety response can rise his mind is flooded with every pleasant hormone it’s able to produce. Every muscle in his body tenses and he feels his cock struggle to force itself erect in the awkward position he’s fallen in. Dylan moans as every sensation sends signals so intense and potent that his mind can barely maintain consciousness. Indeed he finds himself struggling to even hold his eyes open as his eyelids grow weighty. Even perfunctory bodily functions feel erotic as he begins to fade, the burning of cold air in his stretching lungs, the sound of his own heartbeat and the warmth of blood coursing through his veins. Drool immediately pools under his head as he crests into a stuporous induced unconsciousness, far too unprepared for what awaits him in his trip, and the new world he is to encounter afterwards.

Dylan is sitting in a chair across from a man he knows too well and not at all. Face to face with Ben Harrington, president of Beta Delta Alpha, Dylan has to push down the immediate rush of fear. Taking a breath he reminds himself that this is a dream, one that Tony swears he should have pretty lucid control over. As the president stands opposed, leaning on nothing he flexes his arms and the pastel button up Dylan usually sees him clad in changes into a t-shirt with the sleeves torn off. He smirks as he pushes sunglasses up his face and speaks in a tone intoxicated, under the influence of nothing but Dylan himself. His raspy voice sends a shiver down the meek man’s spine as he feels himself unable to retreat, “So, uhh, Dylan is it?” 

Approaching enough to touch him, Ben puts an arm over Dylan’s shoulder, exposing his clearly unwashed pit. Dylan takes a deep breath and forces his eyes closed from the burning over-stimulation of this man baring down on him. Still, from the sticky breath blowing across the face it's clear he is continuing to inch even closer, “You want me do you?” Dylan gulps as the man gets even closer, Ben’s lips almost touching his own, “Or do you just want to be me?” This takes Dylan out of it as he steps back away from the imposing man. Eyes opening he tries to manipulate the scene as Tony implied he should be able to. The Ben of his mind tilts his head and tsks, “‘Fraid you’re not the one in charge here after all.”

Ben closes the gap once more and throws his arm around the easily manhandled Dylan pulling his body against his own sweat stained form. He smirks and leans in directly to whisper something into the dreamer’s ear, “and if you do really wanna fuck me, well. You’re gonna have to become something more my type. Yeah?” Dylan blinks in surprise, he’s heard of bad trips and the like but something seems decidedly wrong here. Before he’s able to come to any cogent conclusion the dream Ben reaches down his free hand into Dylan’s pants. His sweaty hand instantly wraps around the smaller man’s balls and squeeze. Dylan hasn’t a chance to scream in shock he feels himself lose control. Of his body, his mind, and the world around him as he begins to fall back.

He’s humping the air as he’s falling into an abyss. He doesn’t feel the fear that this descent should evoke. Usually nightmares that turn this way immediately blast him back to consciousness, instead it fills him with adrenaline that only heightens the delight coursing out from his cock. Sure that he’s now laying face down in a pool of his own semen in the real world, Dylan does what he can to focus on the pleasure as intended. 

The sound of wind tearing past him makes him unable to hear his moaning screams as his clothes are shredded by the searing gale. Rapt in delight, the blaring gusts begin to slow. Air caresses him like a full body hug and suddenly he is deposited onto soft ground. Dylan doesn’t quite repose as his body continues convulsing. Cum begins to sprinkle down on him from the plethora of loads released during his descent and he finally finds wherewithal to paw at his crotch. Grasping at his balls he finds them unmistakably larger, “Wha?” No longer falling, Dylan opens his eyes and seems to be back in reality.

Dylan awakens and blearily rubs his eyes with clearly semen stained hands. “Oh what the, ugh- Am I awake?” His eyes take a few seconds to adjust to the lighting of a room that is decidedly not his bedroom. “Can’t be right?” Shaking the mess off his hands without a second thought he stands to his feet with a grunt and feels his cock bobbing, still impossibly rigid. His hands return to this turgid beacon before they almost happenstance fondle his balls. His sluggish mind struggles with how heavy and large they feel, nothing like the ones he has in reality. He smirks as the last words of Ben snake through his mind- “Become something more my type.” Who’d’ve thunk the president was into horndogs.”

Sniffing the air he begins to inspect the room surrounding him. Dirty clothes litter the floor and he finds a pervasive musk filling the air. Something in the back of his mind itches that there should be a can of axe around somewhere to cover it up, which he ignores for a number of reasons. He should be able to will the room to stop stinking. He certainly wouldn't do so with cheap body spray, and for the life of him he can’t bring himself to want to. Each deep breath of the stink he finds himself growing even hornier. Dylan feels his balls churning as he grasps them, he’s already cum a good number of times and yet he still craves release. 

He imagines the firm ass of a frat brother and leans against his dresser he uncontrollably begins to hump once more. Something flickers at the back of his mind yet again and he rips into an open drawer. Throwing clothes onto the pile of dirtied garments already littering the floor, Dylan removes a fleshlight which he proceeds to make exuberant use of. No time for his mind to question why he’s suddenly a top as his cock fills the sex toy more with every grunting thrust. 

Pubes scratch against his thumb as his crotch shifts into one that would instantly render a razor unusable. Likewise hair that has never even had to be controlled on his ass begins to thicken, growing itchy as a true jungle of curls begins to flourish on both sides of his waist. Soon enough his cock grows large enough that the toy is rendered unusable, with a furrowed brow and ungrateful grunt he tosses it to his room leaving it dripping on the floor as he somehow remains just as sexually unfulfilled as when he began, “Fuck I need the real thing…”

The real thing not present Dylan looks down at his cock and gasps as he sees what has become of his package. He doesn’t have a ton of sex but he usually keeps it clean and pretty hairless down there just for his own sake. Beyond the forest of pubes thick enough to get his hand stuck in, he covers his mouth in shock as he sees a veiny cock larger than he’s ever seen on a man with the low hanging massive balls to match. He does his best to focus up on anything besides how horny he is, but as pre continues to trickle from his hardened cock that becomes increasingly difficult. He bites his lip and looks past his throbbing cock at the floor. If he puts it away perhaps it’ll quiet of its own accord.

Dylan doesn’t pay heed to which clothes are clean or dirty as he throws on whatever best could hide his cock from his hands and mind. Nor could he notice just how far cleanliness and decency have fallen as priorities for him as he struggles to fit his package in clearly stained sweatpants. Itching at his waist as his pubes begin creeping up into a treasure trail racing to mee the spreading curls beginning to decorate his chest, his dull awareness finally notices that his whole body has begun changing. His thin arms have clearly put on powerful muscle from his mindless sessions of self-love, veins trailing down them make it difficult for him not to get straight back to masturbating at the thought of his own strength.

Similarly his eyes latch onto a chest that has somehow exploded into pecs without his knowing. Muscle that has never begun to grace his body now jiggles with every movement. He clenches his jaw hard trying to muster willpower not to give into his most basal urges, but as he feels his thighs fill the sweatpants he just threw on he wonders how long he could possibly hold out. His cluttered mind struggles to recall that he is on some kind of psychedelic trip as he fails to remember how long Tony said it would last. Instead swimming through dulling memories the voice of his, er, the frat president speaks up. “Ah god… You’re looking fucking good Big D. How’s your mind hangin’ in there?”

It takes a few moments for the words to sink in before Dylan can reply, “My, unh- mind?” His balls pulse as his eyes dash across the room while he struggles to think. God he’s been struggling to think this whole time. His cock lurches as he’s able to realize that every thought in his mind has been growing increasingly clouded. “Big D?” Dylan can’t help but smirk as his beyond impressive cock strains his sweatpants at being called Big D. He grunts as he tries to shake off the lusty delirium, “Need to chill out. Ugh. Sober up.” He hears the president tsk at him yet again, waiting with bated breath for the mans words his pecs bulge even larger on his chest. “Too late for that bro, just give in. Why have a trip into true unadulterated ecstasy when you can have a lifetime. You can finally be the man of your dreams.” 

As soon as the words of Ben, his president, are spoken in his mind it becomes clear that Big D doesn’t even have the ability to fight back against the ever-present urges that now control his body. He tears off the sweatpants that were barely holding in there as he fully give himself to whatever is calling out for him, the drug, Ben Harrington, whatever. His body bulks beyond measure to become man enough to carry the vulgar package that lies in his crotch. He masturbates into the leg of his sweatpants torn asunder as his torso bulks up, evidence of his endless celebrations as a man of Beta Delta Alpha.

Bestial body hair begins to cover his torso as his beard grows thick and dark. The tangle of hair in his pits thickens and spreads enough that it, nor it’s dominating musk, could ever be hidden. Muscle bulges on his arms large enough to haul kegs and toss out fuckers that get to rowdy at their festivities. Beyond apathetic to manicuring his appearance as he knows he’ll have people lining up at his doorstep regardless of needless things like hygiene or cleanliness he rubs his thick sweat covered thighs and feels how sensitive every inch of his skin has become. 

He smirks as he imagines, recalls rather, how constantly he gets to enjoy the sensual opportunities offered by his new form. He’s got all he needs dangling between his thick thighs and everyone who matters already knows it. The president certainly does. Big D smirks as he thinks of their vacations together on the frat’s dime. He puts his arms behind his head and sniffs his musky pits as he lays in repose, a thick cloud of musky sweat surrounds him as he begins to hear the sound of festivities breaking out on the floor below him and someone’s fervent footsteps racing up the stairs to his den.

Suddenly there’s a knock at the door and Big D imagines that some couple is looking for an empty room with urgency. He paws at his crotch excited to join in on their fun. Instead he sees some nervous looking guy who freezes as soon as he sees the behemoth, fear in his eyes. “D-Dylan!? I- That drug, there was something, something s-” He stutters and his hands shake as Big D rolls his eyes and stands almost two heads taller than he should over Tony, one of their frat’s little party drug dealers. Still, he wouldn’t have come up here for no reason. Big D silences him with a finger and slams the door shut behind him. Tony’s brow furrows as he looks around the room in confusion. Even his perpetually drug-addled mind can tell something unreal, something impossible has happened to his friend. “That pill can’t have done this right?” Tony takes nervous breaths and Big D’s musk rapidly fills his lungs, distracting him from whatever petty issue brought him in. Who cares about concern when his small cock is beginning to rise from simply standing near the priapic titan.

Big D’s voice rumbles through Tony, making him weak at the knees, “You wanna have some fun don’t you?” The drug dealer can’t help but nod and swallow the drool pooling in his mouth as the bestial Adonis stands over him, cock dripping ever-ready for another round. Tony isn’t sure if he’s started tripping himself or what, but as he begins making out with the frat bro he finds himself not minding as memories of whoever Dylan was disappear. After all pleasure is the most important thing, and no one is better at spreading heady delight than Big D.

The Motorcycle learning experience

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-2 hours later-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Resort: A Void To Fill

I desperately needed a vacation. My girlfriend had left me a couple of months ago, cheating on me with someone else because I was not giving her enough attention, she said, sinking me into a vortex of sadness. I had been trying to distract myself with work, but to no avail; instead, my boss was forcing me to stay late to work almost every day, making me feel even worse. Let's not talk about friends: I had neglected them too much over the years to go back to them as if nothing had happened; they had their own lives now and I was not part of them. I felt an empty void growing inside me, the lack of something I could not explain, and I needed time to reflect. So I decided to book a vacation; I saw the ad online, it called for a week-long stay at a resort in the Caribbean, in a very exclusive and private place, at a decidedly high price. Although I was a bit skeptical, the reviews intrigued me. All the guests who went to the resort were talking about how the stay had changed their lives, giving them a unique experience that made them return home with no more sad thoughts. I figured it might be just right for me. Upon payment, I was informed that in order to enter, one had to undergo a series of surveys and psychological tests. According to the resort's logic, the results would be used to ensure the best possible experience. I gladly accepted, it all seemed very professional, and even if they were going to sell my data after that, I felt so exhausted that I had nothing to lose.

After a few weeks I arrived: the resort was indeed as it appeared from the photos. A large central building with a majestic lobby, fancy restaurants, and shiny pools, while the rooms were spread out in a large park filled with palm trees and tropical flowers, each with everything needed for a fabulous stay. At the front desk my bags were handed over to an attendant to take to my room, while I was given all the necessary directions about the resort. In addition to pointing me to all the facilities and handing me the key card to my accommodation, the concierge also handed me a rubber bracelet, yellow in color. He told me that it served to distinguish me from other customers based on the results of the surveys taken at the booking. Without asking for further explanation, I complimented him on his professionalism and headed for the beach as fast as I could; the only thing I wanted was to lie down and sunbathe in peace. After about 20 minutes, I was finally one with the beach chair. The sun warmed my skin as the tropical wind lulled me…I felt at peace. I was already anticipating spending a whole week like this when I heard a voice. - "Hey, buddy!"

I played dumb. I could not tolerate being disturbed. Maybe they were calling another person. - "Hey man! I'm talking to you!"

I turned around. A man was calling me. He was leaning against a palm tree, his body sun-kissed, a tattoo all along his left arm, his abs sculpted. He looked to be about the same age as me, but he was definitely taller. He looked at me intently. I couldn't help but notice that he was wearing a bracelet the same color as mine. I raised my hand, as if to greet him friendly, while he approached at a run. His stride was athletic, revealing how well-trained and fit he was. He got on the beach chair next to mine, taking a seat. He wouldn't stop staring at me. - "Hey bro, I've been looking all over for you! Then luckily the concierge told me you were at the beach! You finally came!"

I couldn't figure it out. Why was he calling me bro? What was all this confidence, his friendly way of talking…and most importantly, why was he looking for me! He understood that I was puzzled. He lifted his arm, showing me the bracelet. - "That's what I'm talking about, bro. We're a match! I also arrived this morning, and I was immediately alerted that there was someone else with the same bracelet as me! That's why I'm here!"

I told him I didn't understand what was going on, I hadn't been alerted to anything. He told me not to worry, it must have been a carelessness on the part of the concierge. Initially I was suspicious, but the more he talked to me, the more comfortable I felt. Apparently, we were kindred spirits. We spent an hour talking about this and that; he told me his name was Max and that he too was in the same situation as me, a broken romance, a lonely, hectic life in the offices of a large corporation. He told me that he was lonely, without someone to give affection to, without a purpose. Suddenly he seemed like the right person to spend time with in this week.

So when he asked me to go for a swim, I accepted without making him tell me again. I quickly realized that he was much better at sports than I was, truly a born athlete. That was why, perhaps pitied by my sporting inability, Max decided to give me some suggestions on how to improve my swimming style. Thus we found ourselves alone, offshore, and very close. Our legs, moving under the surface, took to brushing against each other as he took my arms with his firm hands, helping me learn the correct arm stroke. I felt good, happy…I would almost say cared for. For a reason I could not understand, the contact between our bodies made my penis hard. When I realized this, I pulled away quickly. Max stood looking at me, his intense clear eyes focused on me. - "Did I do something wrong?"

I wanted to tell him no, that it was okay, that it had been meaningless. Panicked, I did not notice the bracelets on our wrists glowing with a faint yellow light. For some reason, my mouth could not stay shut, and I told him so. I told him I had gotten an erection. He looked at me stricken, then approached me again until our faces were inches apart. - "Don't worry, I think it's perfectly natural after all. It can happen when you haven't been intimate with someone for so long."

His speech did not seem to make much sense to me, but after a few seconds of confusion I found it convincing. Maybe it really was as Max said. He smiled at me and I returned the smile. Just then, the sun was obscured by the clouds, a sudden storm was approaching. Max took my arm and gestured for me to come back in. - "Come on, let's go back inside. If you like we can go to my place, I have the jacuzzi and we can get a couple of beers from the mini bar."

I agreed, even though I had the same amenities in the room. It was when we arrived at the door, having escaped the downpour for a few seconds, that we realized something was wrong. The concierge had given us the same room. A strong anger rose in me and I made to leave, but Max grabbed my arm. - "Hey bro, calm down, where the fuck do you think you're going? There's a fucking storm going on! Come on, stay here until it gets better, we'll have a chance to discuss this room issue later."

He was right, going to complain now was perfectly useless. Besides, I was so comfortable with him that the resolution of this problem could really be postponed. We then stood drinking a beer watching the tropical storm raging outside as the jacuzzi heated up and began to produce bubbles. I suddenly felt cold. I thought I saw our bracelets light up, but maybe it was just lightning in the distance, or some kind of optical effect. Just then, out of nowhere, Max put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close to him. I felt discomfort, but it lasted only a few moments. The warmth of his body was so pleasant and enveloping that I melted and leaned my head against it. He was perfectly sculpted, his massive chest a perfect pillow. I sought his gaze; he found mine. I don't know how many seconds passed, but it seemed like an eternal moment. My heart was beating wildly, my cock was getting hard again, much harder than before. I read in his eyes the same sensations I was experiencing. Without being in control of myself, I began to touch him with one hand, passing one by one the muscles of his body, his pecs, each abdominal, never taking my eyes off his face. Caught up in the moment, I did not notice that I had gone too low. I felt something hard in his costume, and it didn't take me long to realize what it was. I immediately stopped touching him, and walked away under the pretense of having to throw away the beers, snatching even his empty bottle from his hands. I felt my face burning with embarrassment and went to the sink to wash my face and recover. What was I doing? Without looking at him again, I grabbed a t-shirt and made to leave, but his voice called me back and I suddenly stopped. - "Hey, you're going already?"

He was in the jacuzzi, showing me one of his biceps. Foam covered the surface of the water, but I quickly realized he was naked. I was about to retort, but the armband lit up again. I had no chance to reflect on it. My arms had already dropped my shirt and I was taking off my underwear, showing Max my erect cock, without feeling the slightest shame. My feet, without my control, entered the warm water of the jacuzzi. At that point my mind collapsed. I felt my lips relax into a big smile, all tension disappear. I sat next to Max and looked at him dreamily, entranced. His lips moved, stammering with desire.

- "Hey…bro…no, sorry…b-b-b…babe…k-k-kiss me."

I didn't let him tell me twice. I slipped my tongue into his mouth as his powerful arms held me. The warm water lulled our making out bodies, the foam resting on Max's perfect muscles as I touched every inch of his back and chest. Beneath the surface, I could clearly feel his manhood. As our legs intertwined, our penises slammed into each other making me acutely aware that Max, in perfect harmony with his statuesque body, had a huge cock. For a few moments I still felt embarrassment at the thought of his hard penis, but it was short-lived. It was enough to meet his gaze again to convince me that everything was completely fine. He smiled at me. - "I would go take a shower, to get rid of this foam. How about following me, babe?"

He told me, giving me a wink, and then stepped out of the water. When he stood up, I finally saw his cock. Not only was it straight as a spear, but it was really long and big. Mine wasn't doing too badly, but his looked to me like a Guinness World Record-sized shaft. I didn't think that maybe, porn excluded, I had never seen another man's erect dick in my life. I stared at him, as one and only one thought invaded my mind, and our bracelets pulsed with light again. I had to touch him, I had to swallow him, I had to have him mine. He walked away toward the shower, and I followed him as if under a spell, my eyes focused on his toned ass.

With each step I took, an intuition grew stronger. The emptiness I felt inside me was in the shape of Max's cock. Having that penis inside me was the only key to happiness - it was obvious. As the first drops of water began to fall on his perfect body from the shower head, I fell to my knees and stood before the monster Max had between his legs. His cock slammed into my face and I smelled it. I was uncontrollable: my mouth opened and began to swallow his huge shaft.

I choked a few times, but I couldn't resist: one swipe on my tongue had made me realize that this cock tasted the best I could imagine. Letting out soft, manly moans, Max took my head with one hand and guided me carefully, preventing me from running out of breath again. Our gazes crossed as the drops of water fell on my face and his sculpted body. The more I looked at him, the more aroused I became: I threw one of my hands over him, brushing against his wet chest. In that instant he exploded in my mouth. Like a volcanic eruption, his cock pulsed between my lips as hot streams flowed down my throat. His white semen, mixed with the water that drenched my face, began to drip from my mouth as we were both in ecstasy. I pulled his penis out of my mouth, looked at it again, and stunned remained on my knees as Max ran his hand through my hair. - "Babe, you are such a lecherous little slut. I didn't expect that."

His words were the icing on the cake. I took my penis with my free hand, while with the other I still enjoyed the feel of his wet body. Within seconds I came on his legs, my seed dripping onto his calves and ankles, ending up in the shower drain. As soon as I caught my breath, he grabbed my chin with his hand and forced me to look at him.

- "Now finish washing and then come over there. I'll be waiting for you to feel my hard cock again."

A shiver ran down my spine, my penis became turgid with excitement again. Obediently, I got up as Max got out of the shower and left me the free space to wash myself. I cleaned my body well, especially my anus, not knowing why, as if it was an instinct I could not control. The bracelet was constantly glowing by now, but I didn't give it any more thought. I came out of the bathroom clean as Max had asked. I found him sitting on the couch. He was flexing his biceps, showing me his strength. Nothing more needed to be said.

I got down on my knees in front of him, my face in front of his underwear. I licked the fabric of his boxers, letting my saliva soak into them. I slipped my tongue into his groin, trying to move past it, grazing his ball sack. My nose was filled with his manly scent; my mouth wanted nothing more than to taste his giant penis again. I could feel it throbbing, aroused as never before. Max, however, did not seem to flinch; he continued to stare at me, but I sensed something now that was not there before. His eyes were fierce and tender at the same time, filled with the desire to possess me. I was his thing. I heard a voice inside me, like a memory from the past, an echo telling me that I should not be there, that I was not like that. I got up suddenly, to leave, as if I had suddenly awakened from sleep. - "Are you really going to leave me here like this, babe?"

As my back was already turned in the direction of the exit, I felt the elastic of his panties move. I stopped. His cock. His huge penis was the only one that could make me feel good. Why was I leaving? I turned around again and saw him standing, facing me, his muscles always in view with a dominant air.

I moved closer, coming within a few inches of him, then stood on tiptoe and putting my arms around his neck, kissing him tenderly. Then I brought one arm down to touch his cock. Max moaned in a vigorous, primal way. He took that hand and squeezed my wrist hard, then dragged me into the bedroom. He threw me onto the sheets. I, as if it were natural, turned on my stomach, lifting my legs and showing him my freshly washed anus.

When he entered my ass without finding the slightest resistance, intuition came to be awareness. As his cock brought me pleasure like never before in my life, I sensed pure joy, total ecstasy. There was no more emptiness inside me, no sadness, just the happiness of being his little slut. The little bitch of a stallion who had found his purpose again. In his gaze indeed, as he gripped my hips and penetrated me savagely, I could read the same overwhelming ecstasy, the same joy I was feeling. He came inside me like a wild beast, as if I were his own female to impregnate, letting out animalistic cries as I too sprayed my belly with my seed. Then he collapsed on top of me completely satisfied, our sweaty bodies in need of a shower again.

We ended up ordering room service and ate it naked and entwined on the bed. The storm was over and evening was falling on the resort. We spent the night telling each other about our lives, discovering that we were more and more like-minded and full of things in common. Before finally going to sleep, I decided that my stud deserved another blowjob. This time I did not let go of a drop of his precious and delicious seed.

We fell asleep in each other's arms, happy as never before, exhausted and glad to have found each other. The bracelets, lit with yellow light until a few hours before, were slowly fading. I don't remember what I dreamed that night, but when I woke up I found him sitting beside the bed. He was wearing only his underwear. His clear eyes penetrated me.

- "Good morning, my little whore. Would you like some breakfast?"

And as he took off his briefs to show me his wonderful, huge cock, I plunged out of bed, ready to take it between my lips again.

I can't remember what made me follow you, but I am really glad I did ! I especially love your musk related story, BO is such a turn on for me, I'm into stinky men and you describe them so well...

Thanks, bro. I love imagining guys getting sweaty and stinky, dripping musky sweat and leaving smelly sweatprints on everything they touch. Sucking on their cheesy cocks and musky toes…

Dude, when was the last time you showered? The last time it rained? It’s been weeks! And every day, you spend hours sweating in the gym and hiking in the summer heat. No wonder I can smell you the moment you come in the door, considering how much you sweat just sitting down.

Not that it’s a bad thing. Show off those hairy armpits for me, bro. Mmm, smells so tangy and good. Give yourself a good sniff. You can just feel the musky stench dissolving what remains of your brain. Take off those sweat-stained socks and let me lick those big bro feet.

Bro.

BRO!

Bro…

Huhuhu, bruh, you, like, totally came in your boxer briefs, just from sniffing your musky bod! We should, huhu, go and find some lame nerds you can dumb down and musk up with your greasy unwashed musclebod. Like the bros reading this! See that, bros? You can smell my bro’s musky feet right through the computer screen, huhuhu. Let the stench get you all musky and dumb, just like us. Then we can all get even sweatier together, bros!

If this got you horny, consider putting some spare change in my Ko-fi cup so I can write even more hot stories.

Skater Stench

Inspired by Anon Ask

Clay was walking to work on an empty street, looking down at his phone he suddenly saw in the corner of his eye someone quickly moving towards him. All of a sudden, just as he was looking up from his phone, some dude on a skateboard crashed right into him knocking the both of them down. As the skater bro laid right on top of him Clay heard the guy start profusely apologizing, “Oh my gawd duuude im so sorry like I wasnt paying attention at all!”. Getting up first the skater held out his hand to help Clay up to his feet, looking down at himself Clay realized that his outfit was ruined from the fall. As the skater pulled him up Clay began to berate the guy, “How stupid could you be?! Some of us have actual responsibilities like work and I cant show up looking like this!”, etc etc. The skater obviously annoyed that Clay was getting so heated over an accident tried to apologize again, “Look man I am real sorry I-” Clay cut him off “I dont care if you’re sorry! How exactly do you plan on fixing this?!” The skater tried one last time to amend the situation “Look we got off on the wrong foot Im Apollo.” he held out his hand inviting Clay to shake his hand. Clay pushed Apollo's hand down and again just was insulting and berating the guy. Tired of this douchebag yelling at him Apollo furrowed his brows and pushed Clay back down to the ground. Falling on his ass Clay yelled out “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!?!”, Apollo responded “Dude you definitely need a reality check, i'm just helping give it to you”. Quickly turning around so that Clay was looking right at Apollo’s ass, Clay was assaulted with the stench of Apollo’s obviously unwashed ass “You smell so fou-” “PPPPPPFFFFBBBBBBBTTTTTTTT” Apollo interrupted Clay with a boisterous butt blast. “What….the…fuuuuuuuuck…” Clay said as the eggy stench that Apollo just shot into his face began to make him feel weird. Clay heard as Apollo said “Sorry man but I really think you need this” “FFFFRRRRTTT” another gust was inhaled by Clay. “...this…feels……wrong…” Clay was having an even harder time speaking than before. Turning back around and squatting to get face to face with him, Apollo held Clays head in place and told him “Look bro im gonna change you okay? You are gonna be waaaaay more chill once im done” Apollo watched as Clay gently nodded his head. “PPPPPPFFFBBBTTT” Apollo let out another fart and watched as Clay’s light brown pupil turned into swirling green spirals.

“Good boy” Apollo cooed out to Clay. “Skaters enjoy farting out rank clouds of gas, its the funniest thing to us” “FRAAAP” Clay felt as his nose began to like the fetid smell that was filling the air around the two boys. “Skaters don't mind getting knocked down, it’s part of skating” Clay felt as his anger and annoyance towards the fact the Apollo knocked him off his feet quickly rushed out of him. “FRAAAAP” those feelings quickly rushed out of his ass, producing a disgusting stench Clay would have normally been grossed out by but for some reason he found the meaty smelling fart humorous. “Skaters dont mind wearing ripped up and distressed clothes, in fact they like it” “FRAAAAP” Clay suddenly felt that his clothes were actually pretty cool, his temper would no longer rise if he was seen in ripped up clothes. “Skaters like spending their days skating and fucking other skater bros, its the best way to live” “FRAAAP” Clay’s mind grew lighter as his previous responsibilities evaporated into a smelly fart and were replaced with the desire to waste his days skating around and making his skater bros feel maximum amounts of pleasure. “Skaters are dumb mindless idiots whose brains have been replaced with their own ass stank” “BRRRRAAAAAPPPPP” Clay watched as Apollo recoiled due to the malodorous fart Clay just produced, feeling even more light headed than ever Clay began uncontrollably chuckling, “huhuhuhuhuhuh…” Apollo stood up and held out his hand and helped Clay up to his feet. Letting out one last fart Apollo watched as Clay’s eyes returned back to normal and he stood there with a goofy grin on his face. “How you feeling bro?” Apollo asked, “huhuh I feel… BRAAAP- sniff sniff gooood” Clay chuckled out. “What are you doin today duuuude?” Apollo questioned Clay, “Uhhhhhh skating…duhhhh…what else would I pfffbbbtt be doin?”

Protein Rich

You couldn't believe your eyes. Your stoner roomate Hugh had been telling you about this new expirimental pre workout he had been taking. He had started working out cause noone wanted to date him. He told you " I look super dorky and I'm not smart, so might as well do something about the thing I can change." The results were.... there... a bit more filled out shirts, his ass had a slight jiggle.

But then, one day, he called you to the living room. As you walked in you noticed his pants around his ankles and immediately turned around. "Yo what the hell man... put your pants on."

"Uhhh... oh yeah ... I will but look, I noticed some small text on the bottom of the jar, and... well look."

You turned back around, seeing him shuffle towards you, his pants still on the floor. He handed you the jar and pointed at where you should read.

"Advised to use with High concentrations of protein." You read out loud. You looked up at your roomie and frowed. "Okay, so what youre gonna eat alot of steak now?"

Hugh grinned and turned to the counter and grabbed a cup of milk he has poured. "Nah I'm just gonna mix it with this."

You rolled your eyes. "Hugh, milk contains calcium, not protein. Its good for your bones, not your muscles."

"Oh... but this isn't milk... well not from a cow at least." He said with a wink, before dumping two scoops of formula in it and stiring it.

"What do you mean?" You asked confused as he started to chug the whole glass in a single go.

Your eye widened as his shirt slowly started to strain against his chest. As the mixture was sliding down his throat, his body was starting to grow in every direction. His once oversized shirt was almost plastered on his massive torso.

The countertop was hiding most of it, but you noticed him slowly getting taller, his shirt riding up his midriff as he raised his arm to finish the drink. You slowly walked around the kitchen to see that his formerly skinny legs were now giant trunks of muscle, with a massive bubble butt to boot.

Hugh slammed the glass back on the counter and let out a massive belch. A cloud of protein powder and... oh was that...

"Cum, I used my own cum. Hassa lotta protein ya know." Hugh smirked and raised his massive arms and flexed. A whaft of sweat and weed spread through the room. As it hit your nostrils you started to feel a bit dizzy, your high functioning braincells coming to a screeching halt. You slowly began to make your way to Hugh and ran a hand down his sculptured chest.

He looked at you with a smile and pulled you up against him. "Ahhh this is what they meant about attraction. I get why they call it Bi-Pro now.' You barely heard him. Your hands had started to feel up his massive physique, squeezing every muscle they could find.

"Hey bro... you wanna look like this too? You wanna feel and smell amazing like me?" You slowly nodded and he grinned. He reached over to the counter and grabbed a spoonfull of formula and pressed it against your lips. "Open up bro, this is all for you"

You opened your mouth and let him pour the dry powder into it. He poured two more in before he closed your mouth and you immediately swallowed. It went down surprisingly easy.

Hugh then picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. "I'm gonna give you the time of your life bro." He carried you into his bedroom, and threw you down on the mattras. He pulled of his tight shirt, and you could finally appreciate his full stature. His massive pecs were dripping with sweat, and casting a shadow on his slim waist due to them pushing out so far. His sculpted abs and hard V-Line were gistening in the sun that came through his window.

Your eyes traveled down to his groin and you saw the largest dick you have ever seen. Now granted your heterosexuality didn't really make it so you had seen many, but his was one of remarkable size. He smiled softly and leaned down to take off your sweatpants to reveal your strained underwear, damp in precum. "Goddamn... it really works. You know, I have always wanted to hit it off with you, but you were so straight, I wouldn't dare ask."

He leaned down even more and put his lips around your dripping bulge. You let out a stifled moan as you felt his mouth nibble on your hard package. Before you could do anything else, he turned you over and turned your tighty whities into a make-shift jockstrap by tearing open the back, revealing your bare ass. He chuckled and groped his rock hard python. It was glistening with pre, which hes scooped up and lathered on his thick index finger. He then started to probe your hole with his lubed up finger, and gently began to enter. You couldn't help but moan and squirm. His singular finger was almost enough to send you over the edge, and the thought of his massive dick entering you, added on to that, creating a vicious cycle of edging you couldn't seem to get out of.

After your hole was sufficiently loosend, Hugh climbed ontop of the bed and pressed his thick member up against your hole. "Im gonna go in now baby, let me know if it hurts."

You nodded, biting down on a pillow. He then promptly plunged his whole length into your ass, making you scream in overwhelming pleasure. His rod hit all the right spots inside of you, and he hadn't even started thrusting yet. As he started doing just that, your whole body started to squirm. You had never bottomed before, but somehow you knew exactly how to make your boyfriend cum. Wait... boyfriend... what...? You wanted to disagree with your weird new thought and memories, but your brain still hadn't restarted, so you just giddily accepted this turn of events and continued riding Hugh's dick.

His rough hands ran across your slim back, sending shivers down your spine, which made your hole flex. You could hear Hugh whisper behind you: "Fuck... im gonna..." and you quickly started to move your ass on the rhythm of his thrusts, speeding up the process even more. Hugh groaned: "Fuck... wait baby ... shit I'm.... I'm gonna cum". As those were exactly the words you were hoping for, you continued milking his dick as you felt his dick twitch inside your hole, which send you over the edge. A few ropes of cum shot on the sheets, and you let out a long moan as your balls were emptied.

"Fuck me... that was so good Hugh" you looked over your shoulder to see Hugh with his eyes shut, biting his lip. "I... I can't...HOLD IT!!!". And with that Hugh's massive balls emptied their huge load into your hole. Rope after rope, thrust after thrust hit your insides, the warm liquid rushing into your stomach.

Hugh just kept shooting, and from the feeling you got you knew he wasn't shooting blanks, but... you didn't feel full. He had been shooting for at least a minute, every release at least on par with the previous one, sometimes even stronger. But your stomach felt as if it had just began getting filled.

Then, you felt a rumbling in your cum filled stomach. You looked down and saw your slightly pudgy stomach suck in. The soft rolls turned into rows of hard cobble, while your eyes widened shortly, before your mind completely accepted this change as well. You turned around on Hughs dick so you could more comfortably look at your changing body, and look your baby in the eyes as it happend. The rumbling traveled to your legs, which quickly went from small twigs to thick skullcrushers. Your feet grew a few sizes to match, and immediately started to eminate a similar stench as the one keeping you in a horny trance. As the rumbling traveled back upwards it passed your still penetrated ass, which quickly doubled in size. Hugh groaned again ass your new massive bubblebutt squished his hard rod even more. The rumbling continued upward, your waist slimming down some more, as your pecs began to drop. They started to hang, while filling up nicely with muslce. You couldn't help but run a hand across your massive tits, which were super sensitive to the touch. You gave them a soft squeeze and a loud moan escaped your lips. Your shoulders started to bulge outwards, fixing your bad posture and giving you a slightly intimidating stature. Your arms grew to proportion, which you admired by flexing your guns at Hugh. Your formerly smooth pits quickly grew saturated with a generous patch of hair, out of which came a familiar stench.

Your neck widened, and your traps started to slightly rise. Your face contorted as the rumbling made its way to your head. Your features began to bubble and shift. The acne practically fell from your face, while your big nose and braced teeth started to shift. Your nose shrunk, but broadened sligtly. Meanwhile your braces started to break off your teeth, revealing a perfect white grin. You parted your now plump lips and a massive thick tongue slithered out. Hugh grinned as he leaned forward, dick still in your ass, and started to make out with you, your tongue quickly asserting dominance in his mouth. Your dark brown eyes shifted to a cold grey. Your brows fixed themselves, thickening somewhat and grooming themselves to perfection. Your hair ruffled itself, a short but slightly messy style, a stark opposite of the usually slicked back style you had. A slight tingle in your arm made you part lips with Hugh , just in time to see your new tattoo take shape. As a final touch your milky white skin got blessed with a sunkissed tan, which fit your new more outgoing personality.

As you two layed there, revealing in the afterglow of another successful fuck session, Hugh climbed off of you, and smirked. "I fucking love you Theo... "

You chuckled. "I know ,mi amor, now hurry , you don't wanna be late for class"

Hugh grinned as he grabbed his tight T-shirt from the floor, the sweat pants that you had just worn , and some flipflops that were next to the bed. He quickly put them all on and grabbed a joint from his desk, which he promptly lit and blew a cloud of musk in your face.

"Alright T, I'll see you after class, don't smoke everything we got"

You stifled a laugh. "Wasn't it you who smoked all of our last supply'

You could see Hughs face turn red in the dim light of the room.

"Shaddup.." You let out a bellowing laugh, and you took the joint from between his fingers.

"Vamos, Hugh you're stalling, you're gonna be late"

Hugh smiles and blows you a kiss, before grabbing his back and making his way to the door. "Love you!"

"Te amo!"

You smiled as you took a long drag of the joint, your brain never turning on again in your dimly lit stoner sex den.

_________________________________________

Hugh rubbed his small pouch as he walked to class. He loved a quick fuck session with his boyfriend Theodore, especially before class. It gave him just enough focus to get through, even when buzzed on weed.

As he walked into the lecture hall, his phone buzzed. He saw a snap chat notification from Theo. As soon as he opened it all blood rushed to his dick. There he was. His boyfriends perfectly sculpted, columbian body, perfectly seated for a teasy thirsttrap.

"Fuckk..." Hugh covered his massive bulge as he quickly went to the back, ready for an in class jerk session.

I'm loving the stories! I'm heading to Mexico in a few weeks with work, but hoping to immerse myself in the culture a bit. Can you help me out?

You find yourself in front of your local Spanish-language association. You thought that taking a few classes in Spanish would help you recover some of the long forgotten classes you took in high school… though in all honesty, it won’t likely do much. You’re quite old, now, so it means that your brain cannot learn new languages as easily as it used to...

As you enter, you see the Mexican flag front and center, along with flags of many other Latin American countries, as well as that of Spain. You walk up to the receptionist, and she tells you, directly in Spanish :

“¡Bienvenidos! ¿Cuál es el motivo de usted venida? (Welcome ! What is the reason you came here ?) - Er…” You try to conjure some of the very old memories, and only manage a “Hola !” Before going back to English. “I’m sorry, I don’t really know Spanish… I’m here to take classes, in fact.”

The receptionist nods, and thinks a bit before taking out a timetable.

“Okay, well, you see, I have a... beginner’s course of Spanish in a few hours… It’s not perfect because they already started in January, but I think you can still catch up if you work hard enough.” She says, with a perfect American accent. She is visibly bilingual. - Oh, in a few hours ?”

You are quite interested, considering that you did want some beginner-level courses, but in a few hours… That’s too short to just go back home and come back later, but that’s also too long to just stay here and wait without getting bored !

The receptionist notices your embarrassment.

“You know, we are also a place where Spanish learners and native speakers can hang out. If you want, you can go to the hangout room while waiting ?” She offers sympathetically. - Well yeah, I could do that.” You nod. It may be geared towards more hard-core learners, but you can always try to immerse yourself…

You go to the room she waves you to. It isn’t loud, but there’s quite a lot of people in it, all speaking Spanish. You go and find somewhere to sit, when, on your way, someone hails you.

“¡Hola! ¿Cómo te llamas? (Hello ! (...) ?)”

Your long-buried memories start churning, as you recognize the second sentence as meaning something like “What’s your name ?”. You think a while, and then, flash of brilliance.

“Me llamo Charlie.” You answer, giving out your name in the most American of accents.

Your conversation partner smiles, and speaks quite slowly to let you understand what he means.

“¿Cuántos años tiene?” You understand the sentence to mean ‘How old are you ?’ - Er… Soy… cuarenta y dos… años ?” You try, but he shakes his head. - No, ¡es ‘Tengo ventidós’ o ‘Tengo ventidós años’!”

You blush of embarrassment as he corrects you. Yes, you now remember that to mean “I am x years old” you say “Tengo x (años)”… you even remember the worksheets from way back when… Huh, it seems like it was less far of a memory than you thought.

“Lo siento…” You excuse yourself with sentence that came back strangely fast. - ¡Jajaja!” He laughs. “¡No te preocupes! ¡Hablar español es difícil! (Don’t worry ! Speaking Spanish is difficult !)”

You are surprised how easy it is to understand him. Visibly, you had more memories than you expected ! Then, that guy continues.

“¿De dónde es? (Where are you from ?) - Soy de… Mexico… Nuevo Mexico. (I’m from… Mexico… New Mexico.)”

You almost stumbled on yourself. There seems to be something wrong with that statement. You know you’re American, but something seems wrong…

“Ah, de... ¿Nuevo México? Pero tu acento no suena asi… (Ah, from… New Mexico ? But your accent doesn’t seem like it comes from there...) - Si, es verdad… (Yes, it’s true...)” You’re about to tell him that it’s because you’re American, but then you say : “La gente dice que tengo un acento de la Ciudad de Mexico. Sabes, Mexihco Hueyaltepetl. (People say that I have an accent from Mexico City. You know, Mexihco Hueyaltepetl (?).)”

Wait, why do people say that ? You never went to Mexico City ! Okay, yes, you did go there for the holidays, after all, your father lives there… Wait, your parents aren’t separated !

You get more and more confused as multiple versions of your history start competing with each other.

“¡Ah, tenía razón! Puedo verlo en tu cara que eres… eh… ¿mexiqueño? (Ah, I was right ! I can see by your face that you are… er… from Mexico City ?) - ¡Jajaja!” You laugh. “¡No se dice ‘mexiqueño’! ¡Se dice capitalino, o chilango si estás familiarizado! (You don’t say “Mexiqueño” ! You say “Capitalino”, or “Chilango” if you’re familiar !)” You don’t quite know where this knowledge comes from. It seems like something only locals would know… - Perdón, soy chileno, no lo sabía… (Sorry, I’m Chilean, I didn’t know...)”

You smile at him. Of course, he couldn’t know that, you’re familiar with these terms because you’re a Chilango through and through ! Born in the city, lived in the city ! Yet you furrow your brows, as something still feels off.

Somehow, you’re convinced that you’re American, even though it seems to be a more and more distant fact. Well, when you look down and see those tan arms, you know that you aren’t, like, a total gringo, you’re at least part Latino…

“¿Cómo es la vida allá? (How is life there ?)” The Chilean guy asks you, a torrent of memories coming back (?) to you. - ¡Es complicado de describir! Pero México es muy dinámico, ¡entonces siempre es interesante! (It’s difficult to describe ! But Mexico is very dynamic, so it’s always interesting !)” You think back to how frantic life is over there… and how much you love that. “Especialmente comparado con aquí, parece que esta citudad está muerta… ¡En México siempre hay un xochitzin con el que te puedes topar! (Especially when compared to here, this city seems dead… In Mexico, there’s always an xochitzin (?) you can run into !)”

As the Chilean nods, you keep getting quite confused. You know you’re from Mexico City, you know you’re American, yet somehow there is like… a piece of the puzzle missing. You keep on thinking strange words like “Mexihco Hueyaltepetl” or “ihni”, and you know it’s not Spanish, nor English – not that you would know too much of that language.

You continue thinking as your body starts feeling strange, as you feel it shifting. You put your hand on your forehead and sense your wrinkles relaxing. You feel quite queasy…

“¿Estás bien? (Are you alright ?) - Me siento un poco mareada… (I feel a bit dizzy…) - Sólo tienes que ir al baño. ¿Quieres que te ayude? (Just go to the toilets. You want me to help ?) - No, estará bien. Tlazohcamati. (No, it’s gonna be alright. (???)) - Okay… eh... ¿Eres indígenas? (Okay… er… Are you a Native American ?)”

You don’t answer the Chilean, only giving him a small wave to thank him. You find your way to the toilets, still queasy, and look at yourself.

You’ve got your usual short black hair, your nascent beard that doesn’t want to come along, your brownish tint, as well as your light muscles. Nothing looks out of place, yet something seems wrong.

Is it the fact that you are so youthful ? You know you’re quite twinky. Is it the fact that your skin looks weird ? You know that it’s clearer than the other’s because your mother is gringo.

You feel even more queasy, as you feel your entire body tensing. Memories come back of your time in the gym, but also of the time with all your xochitzmeh (bros)… Yes, you now remember how you’re the son of an American linguist and a Nahua man. How you grew up speaking Nahuatl along with the other kids from around Mexico City. How you started going to the gym to prove that gays aren’t cuiltemeh (sissies/fags). How you now cringe to that line of thought, yet continue doing it to attract guys.

As the pieces of your life go back together, your queasiness dissipates, and you feel better. You drink a bit of water, and then you go back to the hangout room. As you go in there, the Chilean hails you once again.

“¡Charlie! ¿Esta mejor? (Charlie ! Doing better ?)”

Laughable, “Charlie” is only the nickname your grandparents use when you’re at their house… Why does that guy even know it ?

“¡Mi nombre no es Charlie, es Carlos! ¡Carlos Zopiyactle! (My name isn’t Charlie, it’s Carlos ! Carlos Zopiyactle !)” You say in a very matter-of-fact fashion. - Lo siento, pensé que te llamabas Charlie… (Sorry, I thought that you were named Charlie...) - No es nada. (It’s nothing.)” You answer with a very Mexican accent, aspirating your ‘s’. “Pero, tengo que irme ahora. ¡Adiós! (However, I need to go now. Goodbye !) - ¡Adiós, Carlos! (Goodbye, Carlos !)”

You leave the room, go past the receptionist who smiles at you a bit weirdly, and make your way back to your grandparent’s home. You don’t really like going there, because you’re not very good in English, but eh. Pleasing your mom is a good enough reason.

Suddenly, you hear a very familiar-sounding sound from your phone. You open it, seeing a notification, smile, and answer it before calling your mother.

“¡Cualli teotlaltzintli! ¡Amo niyaz tlacualpan! (Good evening ! I’m not going to be there for dinner !) - Pff… ¡Aic timotlamahzehua nanmonahuac! (Pff… You never come eat with us !) - Nomati, pero tengo cosas que hacer. (I know, but I have things to do.)” You say, switching back a bit to Spanish. - ¿Zannima tihual mocuepaz? (You will come back soon ?) - Quema. Nantli, nimitz nequi. (Yes. Mom, I love you.) - Ohuihqui nimitz nequi. (I love you too.)”

You finish the call and smile. She doesn’t have to know that you’re missing the family dinners to be pounded. Those jocks on Grindr don’t know what your pseudonym “Moiztactlaca” means, but it sounds foreign, and they love it.

Soon, you’re going back home to Mexico City, but it doesn’t mean that you can’t take advantage of all the hot guys here in the meantime !

The Drifter

Every now and again, when things just weren’t going your way, a brisk hike through the woods always helped to clear your mind. The rustling leaves, chirping of birds, the gravel trail beneath your shoes... it just seemed to help all the troubles and struggles of the day melt away. Today, however, something was off. You parked your car in the North Lot, and being so eager to decompress you left the lights on. Two hours later, you return to a lemon. The battery was dead, and with no one else in the parking lot, your only option was to run to the South Lot where the ranger station was. Thus, you sighed in exhaustion as you turned around and stumbled the long three mile trek to the South Lot.

The park was massive, and only had one main road for cars to pass from the entrance to the two parking lots. The winding gravel road was not particularly well maintained, and you thought to yourself on more than one occasion that the designer of the park must have had some bad Acid when he had routed it. Hard right turns, steep hills and filled with potholes the size of bowling balls. This was hardly the way you’d have preferred to get to the South Lot, but it was the most direct route and had the potential of a passing motorist saving your afternoon. Yet, a mile and a quarter in, not only had no one passed by you, but the sun was beginning to set beyond the canopy above. Surely a park ranger would have seen your car and gone looking before closing the gates?

Regardless of how long you had been walking, in your mind, you’d gone fifty miles. Just as the tree stump tumbled over on the side of the road looked awfully nice to take a quick nap on, a faint red light in the distance caught your eye. Just around the bend, on the other side of the ridge was a black car, and it was running. Relief! What modicums of energy you could expend, you did as you booked it down the gravel road, nearly tripping over your own feet three times enroute. Finally, the sound of a running motor brought such reassurance as you came up on the car. It was an old muscle car, a 1969 Mustang, not that you knew it. All you knew and cared about was the assistance from whomever the driver was. Walking up to the drivers side window, you sigh and prepare to thank the driver...

Empty. The car was running, windows down, The Weeknd blaring on the radio. You looked around the surrounding area for the owner, met only with empty woods at dusk.

“Hello?!” You cried out, now worried that you had stumbled upon a crime scene or a trap. No response. You turned around to glance at the car again, only to see the drivers side door was now ajar. You knew that you hadn’t opened it. You knew that there was no one inside the car, and after a peek under the car you knew there was no one around. It was an old car, perhaps it just didn’t shut properly? Ignoring the implausibility of that thought, you took a seat on the drivers seat, and tried to think of a plan. The sun was setting, you’re sitting in an abandoned car in the middle of the woods, and you’re still miles away from the ranger.

“Get in...” an ethereal voice whispered out of the radio, superimposed over the uninterrupted music. You turned to the old radio, second guessing your senses, not even realizing you had brought your legs inside of the car. The door slowly shut behind you as you examined the radio. The stick shifted into drive, and the car began to lurch forward. Panic set in, it was a trap of some sort. Kidnapping? You were poor no one would pay... Human Trafficking? Maybe, but this was awfully elaborate for that. A prank? A TV prank show was not out of the realm of possibility...

“Relax...” the voice cooed over the radio again, it’s soothing and velvety tone was certainly comforting. The car drove slowly, winding down the road toward the rangers station and the South Lot. Bruno Mars was now serenading on the radio, music that you were rather indifferent to before and yet in that moment it felt as if you knew every word and every verse. You allowed the music to relax you, to let you breathe.

“Smoke...” You looked down at the ashtray, a still smoking blunt sat waiting next to a metal lighter. It felt second nature to you to bring the blunt to your mouth, the dampness of its previous owners lips could still be tasted as you inhaled your first toke. You blew rings of delicate smoke as if you’d been smoking since you were a teenager. The haze of weed washed over you and you sank back into the seat, enjoying the vibes of the music, the smoke, and the drive.

“Let me in... Take the wheel...” You did as instructed. It felt so right to just fall, to just be, to just be driven. Your hands touched the worn leather steering wheel, and a shock ran up through your fingertips all the way to your toes. Your hands grasped the wheel confidently, and shifted gears effortlessly. Surges of energy hit you in waves, each one slowly washing you into a clean slate. Those woes and worries that had brought you into the woods in the first place seemed so far away now. Just the thought of snipping that life away, beginning anew as someone else. No cares, no worries, just the wide world and open road to wander.

“Just drive...” the voice now echoed inside your head, entirely separate from the radio. Zayn now crooned his sultry tones over the speakers, your personal favorite. He reminded you a bit of who you wanted to be: laid back, unbothered, stoic, effortlessly cool... that attitude of ‘I don’t give a fuck’ just gets under your skin and takes control. In fact, you wanted it to. You wanted that attitude, that vibe, that life inside of you. And as it began to flow into you from your hands gripping the wheel, you welcomed the change.

It started with pinpricks, as if your arms had fallen asleep. Yet, as they moved independently of you, grabbing the blunt, taking a toke, shifting into 2nd... it became a different sensation entirely. It was as if water was flowing into you, the swishing and sloshing of liquid within you, flooding from your fingertips downward. Your palms grew sweaty and calloused, doubling in size as they continued driving the car. Little scars and knicks from bygone bar room scuffles adorned your knuckles, drifting free spirits aren’t always welcomed in roadside haunts- so you had learned to handle yourself early on.

Your forearms were growing as well, the viscous sensation flowed upward into your arms, large biceps began to expand your shirtsleeves until your grey shirt had ripped. Poke and stick tattoos sprawled up your tanning skin, an outlet for your creativity and frustrations when you are bored at your Midwest rest stops or refueling at the lonely desert gas stations. Thick tufts of hair sprouted from your pits as the liquid flowed into your broadening shoulders, the remains of your poor shirt falling in shreds around you. A subtle musk started to emanate from your pits, peppery and sharp... one of your favorite scents.

Your chest expanded, two pierced Nipples perked brightly on your glistening, sticky pecs; the droplets of sweat rolled down to your navel, lean abs popping up as they passed by. You feel your posture adjust as your ass rounded out, two firm globes had you spreading your growing legs wide and leaning back into the worn leather seats.

One hand on the wheel, you grab your swelling bulge. The constraints of your pants and underwear was mounting rapidly, and in just moments you’d unzipped your fly, and released your throbbing uncut 10 incher. You groped your balls, cupping them as the grew and dropped like two golf balls in a sac. Just the slightest touch of your coarse, calloused hand on the sensitive tip of your head gave you an involuntary gasp. Pre flowed out like a faucet slipping under your musky foreskin, making every movement and jolt of the car an incredible barrage of ecstasy.

Your thighs ballooned out, and your calves hardened after years of hard work doing short stints in mechanic shops across the country. A couple hours per week, just enough to fix up the car, and keep going to the next place. Your slick, ripe size 13 feet were never going to be tied down to any one place. The world was your playground. You love your freedom, you love your independence, you love yourself, and you’re ready to roam the roads carefree from now until infinity.

Your face was the last to adjust, your eyes turning into a bright minty green, with a healthy scruffy beard sprouting up from your eternally youthful skin. As the liquid flowed up your throat, your Adam’s apple protruded even further, as the pressure kept mounting. By the time it had rushed into your head, luscious blonde locks curled out of your scalp, and earrings popped out as a final cherry on top.

You turned around, grabbing your bag from the backseat, happy to put on your favorite jeans, cleanest tank top, and well worn and loved leather jacket. Your car pulled up to a halt at the ranger station just as you were pulling on your rank harness boots. Musk, weed, and leather smells poured from the open windows as the ranger walked up to the car.

“Hey there’s an abandoned car in the North Lot. Been there for a few hours.” Your velvety baritone voice instantly charmed the man, and combined with the wafting smells from your Mustang he replied,

“Uh... yeah, yeah. Thank you sir... I’ll take a... a... a look...” the ranger stared at the sexy drifter before him, his pants began to tent. You of course took notice, reaching out for a quick grope. He gasped and moaned at your confident grasp. With one single wink, a sticky spot quickly formed in his pants.

“Ay, hurry up and we can go take a drive, whaddya say?”

I enjoyed writing this. Commissioners, your pieces are coming.