fafnir19

[fafnir19]

Announcement

One of the next stories takes a city slicker to the countryside where he will discover (his) nature. The story will be published at labor day.

[fafnir19]

The section where the cross is falling to the floor reminds me of a scene in an exorcist movie and inspired me for this TF story. It may not be everyone's cup of tea either... So, no offense!

Ali's heart raced with anticipation as he lay in his hotel room, the night before his pilgrimage to Mecca. The air was hot and filled with excitement, filling him with a restless energy that refused to let him sleep. He tossed and turned, the anticipation of visiting the Kaaba tomorrow keeping him wide awake. Finally, fatigue overcame Ali, pulling him into a realm where reality blurred and dreams took hold.

In his dream, a powerful presence enveloped him, stirring a mix of fear and curiosity within his soul. "Who are you?" Ali's voice trembled, breaking the silence of the dream. A deep, resonant hum filled the space, calming his nerves. "Do not fear, Ali. I am known by many names. The Muslims call me Allah." Ali's eyes widened as he processed the profound revelation in his dream. "Allah... why have you changed me so much?" The presence exuded a sense of warmth and wisdom as it spoke. "People were created in the image of the Christian God. I desired something different for my followers. Over the years, I have shaped the Muslims in my own way. I cherish the traits of black hair, dark eyes, and hairy bodies. Even the throaty sounds of our language are like sweet melodies to my ears." Ali's mind reeled with the weight of Allah's words, his heart expanding with a newfound understanding of his faith and identity. However, Ali's brow furrowed in confusion, "But... you don't look what I've expected. You look more like the devil." Allah's laughter resonated, filling the void around them. "Ah, Ali, I have many names. However, you still carry traces of your Christian upbringing. To them, I am devil or Satan."

"I can't follow?" Ali's voice wavered as he struggled to understand. "The devil tempts with evil, but you require us to fast during Ramadan." Allah's chuckle was low and amused. "Humans are so easily deceived," He mused. "When you feast at sunset, indulging in the deathly sin of gluttony, you fulfill my desires unwittingly, thinking it is fasting." The presence before him shimmered with an aura of mystery, "Now, Ali, if you embrace Islam with a firm heart and renounce Christianity, I shall make you a great leader. Prove your faith next Friday: Torture an animal in my name, slaughter it halal. I must test your commitment before the greater tasks ahead. You will maim even your own flesh and blood, in the future. You will circumcise your own sons in my honor.”

As the dream began to fade, Ali's heart raced with uncertainty. Was this truly the path he was meant to follow? In the depths of his restless slumber, doubts gnawed at his resolve, echoing the conflicting whispers of his waking thoughts.

Ali woke up the next morning, a sense of clarity washing over him. Ignoring the Kaaba, he swiftly booked a flight back home. His heart raced with a mix of anxiety and liberation as he embarked on his journey back to true faith.

He landed, eager to reclaim his former self and his Christianity. The streets felt familiar, the air crisp with a sense of new beginnings. Making his way to the butcher's shop, the aroma of minced pork beckoned to him. With a sense of liberation, he devoured a sandwich, feeling a rebellious thrill surge through him -from now on, he would do everything that was haram but did not violates the Ten Commandments! Next, he found himself browsing through a household goods store, selecting silver cutlery -knowing full well that its use is haram- and delicate wine glasses. As he held the glasses, contemplating his choices, a sense of freedom washed over him. He purchased the items, a smile playing on his lips. Pouring red wine into the glass, Ali raised it to his lips and took a sip.

The rich flavor danced on his tongue, a symbol of his newfound piety. "This cup is the New Testament in my blood, which is poured out for you for the forgiveness of sins. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me," he murmured, remembering Jesus' words. With each sip, Ali felt the weight of his past choices lifting off his shoulders. His body tingled with a sense of transformation as he embraced his true self once again. His body hair vanished, his eyes turned a piercing blue, and his hair transformed into a dark blonde hue.

Ali, now Allen again, felt a surge of clarity wash over him. The temptations, the doubts—all faded into the background as he embraced his true identity. He adorned himself with the changes, feeling a sense of peace settle within him.

In a moment of solitude, Allen remembered the words of Jesus about the joy in heaven over a repentant sinner. His heart swelled with gratitude for the second chance he had been granted. Despite his past transgressions, he now stood firm in his faith, ready to face the Last Judgment with a sense of peace.

Ramadan Recitations

Here's a Arab/Muslim Cultural TF, figured I may as well throw it up for Eid! May not be for everyone, but may those who enjoy have at it! Happy Eid! -Occam

It’s the end of March and Allen’s roommate has been listening to the Quran out loud for the length of Ramadan. He’s out of town for the weekend and Allen is uncomfortable sitting alone in the silence of their apartment. Now that he hasn’t heard the consistent background melodies of a recitation in a couple days he realizes what delight they brought him. He goes to find the playlist that Mo had been using. Suddenly feeling the golden cross that hangs from his neck everyday he briefly reconsiders before deciding to put on the recitation anyway. Jesus is in the Quran right? It’s not like there’s any harm to appreciating someone else’s culture.

Assuming Mo wouldn’t mind Allen using his speakers he throws on the Tilawa, Mo would be playing it now himself anyway. Allen starts to work as the reciter begins his melodic reading. He almost tunes it out as he starts reading and responding to emails in their shared living room. His body sits at ease as the rhythm of the man’s speaking reverberates through him.

Allen doesn’t speak a word of Arabic, but as he continues to type up droll responses to even duller emails he finds himself paying more attention to the verses than work that he needs to get done. As his distraction rises he tabs away from work and decides to take a break and see what exactly the verses that he’s so fond of are saying. He scans a translation but his eyes glaze over as he remembers Mohammad telling him that to really understand the words of the prophet one must read in his tongue. 

Instead Allen just decides to just close his eyes and listen to the deep melodies of the mother tongue. The patterns and unfamiliar tonality provide him a comfort he doesn’t understand. He listens and the song only grows sweeter to his ears, he lies back against the couch as he begins to hum along uncertainly to the music. Allen harmonizes better by the second as he feels some sense of understanding over the distinctively not western scales, however he doesn’t notice as the chain of his necklace breaks, falling to the floor. He doesn’t hear the cross hit the floor instead remaining focused on his serene enjoyment of the man singing scripture to him.

Continuing to hum along, Allen notices that despite trying to keep a steady note, his tone seems to be getting deeper. He clears his throat and finds it’s not only his humming but his voice entire that has lowered in pitch. He rises from his serene reverie to go and find some medicine worried now that he is coming down with the flu. Standing he also notices that the temperature seems as if it’s rising in the apartment as well. Allen goes to grab some medicine, under his breath saying “inshallah I’m not sick eh?” Mo had been teaching him Arabic for some time now, but he always avoiding using it, Inshallah in particular since so many kids who certainly don’t appreciate Arabic culture are throwing it around. At this moment though Allen says it as if it’s an instinct, as if he has been using the language for some time. 

Walking to a medicine cabinet Allen doesn’t notice as the volume increases on the speakers to still reach his ears. Words continue to steadily flow into his mind, standing in front of the cabinet he finds alongside the still increasing warmth there is a soreness starting to appear through the whole of his body. He groans in his deeper voice, feeling his Adam’s apple rest strangely on his throat as he tries to stretch out his soreness. It’s like he hit the gym this morning, though he certainly has not. He takes deep slow breaths as he bends down to work out the pain in his legs and torso, unaware as his body begins to lengthen in height. He feels the aircon blow up his shirt as his midriff is now exposed, he pulls it down in vain before reaching to grab medicine, accidentally overshooting thanks to his added height.

Allen makes his way back to the living room, dry swallowing his flu medicine before sitting back down to enjoy his repose. This time not only does he have an instinctual understanding of the melody and rhythm, but he finds himself knowing what words are to come next in the verses. Surely he hasn’t heard recitations that much right? He doesn’t even speak the language how could he possibly, nevertheless he starts whispering under his breath the words he feels should be next and finds himself right on the money. His whispering slowly grows in volume as he finds himself beginning to sing along with the tapes, “Bismillah al-Rahman al-Rahim…” he continues on with the verse, singing as if classically trained.

He shoves his hand over his mouth in shock and finds another surprise awaiting him on his face. He is perpetually clean-shaven for work and yet all of a sudden there is stubble growing on his face. Allen rushes to the restroom to inspect his face and finally finds something impossible happening to him. He sees the roots of his hair growing darker, pushing thicker out from his head. Not only has he suddenly grown stubble but the scruff on his face is rapidly approaching a full beard. As he clutches at his hair and beard in inspection he finds that the changes are not isolated to his face.

He sees his arms stretch further from his shirt than they did this morning and feels the awkward gaps on his waist and ankles, and feels the air blow against the dark hairs beginning to spread up his stomach and legs. He sees hair thicker than his pubes begin to grow on his wrists spreading indeterminably up his arms. The reciter’s voice grows stronger as Allen inspects himself, his eyes racing from one part of his body to another seeking any sign of normality. He feels an itch in his pits and on his chest as the song rises in pitch and volume. There is a drive in his chest to continue singing along but as he makes eye-contact with himself in the mirror, seeing the blue eyes he’s always loved swiftly staining themselves the color of coffee before darkening even further he knows that there can be no explanation for this other than that man’s voice.

He clenches his jaw to keep himself quiet as he races through the living room to shut off the speakers. His longer legs trip over themselves as each frantic breath he takes begins to expand his chest. Beyond the physical changes to his body he feels a change begin to take root in his mind. Allin feels he must be big, he must be strong. It is as Allah wills it. He stumbles in front of the speakers as he finds himself torn on what to do. He sees his arms darken under the still growing forest of hair on his arms, his biceps tearing his sleeves as they tan. Growing chest hair tickling his shirt he feels muscle surge from his chest as he raises his hand to yank the speakers from the wall. 

The voice of the man singing grows to a din as it is joined by a chorus of other voices within Alin’s head. Thousands of recitations, of songs, the Quran and countless Hadith surge into his mind in a horrible cacophony. He yanks the power cord from the wall and the dissonant symphony within his mind vacates. And Alin is once more left alone with himself, his ears ringing and his vision blotchy. Slowly recovering and laying on the floor he begins to hear himself groan through the tinnitus. Even his moaning sounds changed as the man begins to lose his English vocabulary to learn the only tongue that shall truly matter to him now, that of the sacred book.

He whines to himself switching between eloquent Arabic vulgarities and English more accented by the second, he sees a cross necklace next to him, calling out quite loudly, “Madha? What is this?” Must be a prank from Mo, ach he needs to work on his material eh. Sitting alone in the living room Alin tries to think of what to do to distract himself, both from the silence surrounding him and from the flood of information storming in his head. Suddenly everything becomes simpler when he decides to just do what he always does, turning to the East Alin sees Mo’s prayer rug, always lying out for convenience’s sake. Alin grimaces and briefly considers phoning Mo for his lack of dedication, but upon seeing the skintight outfit he is wearing to pray he reconsiders. He should focus on correcting himself before fretting over even his friend.

Alin closes his eyes once more, languishing in the quiet for one moment before he begins his own, his deep voice ringing out as he sings verse in praise, “Ah, Allahu Akbar.” His chest growing to hold more breath and his pecs begin to surge large enough to honor Allah with his body. He hugs his stomach as he continues “Subhanakal-lahumma wabihamdika-” He feels his biceps pull against his massive chest and almost smirks as he thinks about them, he feels an urge, a desire to flex the them before clicking his tongue at himself to stay on task.

“Subhanna rabbeeyal adheem-” he bends down, feeling his thighs and ass push out behind him, ripping large tears into his pants At the same time Alin sees the bulge in his pants grow larger, popping his zipper and escaping from his pants. He sharply inhales as he feels everything is suddenly more intense. He feels his body grow beyond the limits of his clothes. He feels his already larger cock begin to grow erect and Alin, continues to sing “Rabbana walakal hamd-”

Finally he prepares to do his favorite part of Rakats, he gets to his knees before fully prostrating himself. Continuing the prayer as he feels his beard grow heavier on his face. His forehead touches the floor and he smiles, feeling a warm itch in his crotch as his briefs strain to contain him, pubes spilling out every way, “Subhanna rabbeeyal ‘alaa”

He rises back to seating, the motion creating an intense pang of pleasure throughout his body as he struggles to maintain control of his senses. He ekes out, “Rabbigh-fir lee…” becores cumming in his briefs. He finishes the Rakat in his solid pants before promptly leaving to regain his dignity and change into actual prayer appropriate attire, changing into a thobe and doing two Rak’a ending with a Tashahhud as one is to do.

Ali smiles as he sits in reflection having finally quieted the chaos within his mind. He feels his strong body hidden under the thobe and comforted in his time spent worshiping. His final thoughts before he decides to do another round of Rak’a is a conviction to thank Mo for sending him that playlist of Quranic Recitations. He does not know who he would be without it. Inshallah he shall get the chance to bring his light to others. He rubs his hands down his powerful body as he stands. Wallah, they don't know what they’re missing.

#personality change #cultural changes #male tf #male transformation #cultural christianity #race change #mental change

[fafnir19]

[fafnir19]

Contagious fuckboy charm

Under the vibrant sunlight of Hamburg, the street cafe buzzed with life. Leonhard parked his old bike, clad in his trusty yellow safety vest, displaying his dedication to safety.

Sandrina, elegant in her classic attire, exuded confidence with her long blond hair catching the light. "Hey, Lenny! You made it!" Sandrina beamed, sliding into the chair opposite him.

Leonhard chuckled, "Wouldn't miss our coffee catch-up, Sandrina." They shared a laugh, their banter flowing easily like a familiar tune. Leonhard's eyes wandered to a trendy bar across the street, where stylish men with goatees paraded. "Look at those fuckboys strutting around," Leonhard teased. Sandrina joined in, "They're multiplying like rabbits. Let's hope it's not contagious." Leonhard chuckled, "Hopefully the fuckboy epidemic won't spread here."

As the hours unfolded, their playful ribbing continued, the easy camaraderie between them palpable. But as Sandrina's phone pinged with a work email, she sighed reluctantly. "I hate to cut this short, but duty calls. See you soon, Leonhard," Sandrina said, planting a quick kiss on his cheek before hurrying off. Leonhard watched her go, a fond smile tugging at his lips before turning his attention back to his coffee. Left alone, Leonhard awaited the bill, musing over the eccentricities of the day. Suddenly, a cocky guy swaggered over from the bar across the street, introducing himself as Ronny. "Hey there, buddy!" Ronny boomed, extending a hand towards Leonhard. "I gotta say, you've got yourself a hot girlfriend there. Lucky you!" Ronny remarked, eyeing Sandrina's retreating form. Leonhard raised an eyebrow, taken aback by the unexpected compliment and shook his head with a chuckle. "Oh, Sandrina? She's just a friend, actually." Ronny's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Just a friend? No way, man. A nerd like you must be getting some action on the side, right?"

Leonhard's patience wavered as Ronny continued with his condescending remarks. "We're really just friends, Ronny. Nothing more." A smirk played on Ronny's lips as he leaned in closer. "Come on, buddy. Friendship between a man and a woman? That's a load of crap. You're probably just too shy to seal the deal!” Leonhard clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. The nerve of this guy. How could he be so ignorant? Leonhard felt a mix of frustration and embarrassment bubble inside him. He searched for a way to gracefully end this absurd conversation, his thoughts racing as he battled to maintain his composure. Before Leonhard could muster a response, Ronny's tone shifted dramatically. "I know what you need, pal. You need to get laid, and I'm just the guy to help you out!" With a sudden exclamation of "No homo!" Ronny leaned in and pressed his lips forcefully against Leonhard's, his beard scratching against Leonhard's skin. A surge of energy surged through Leonhard, electrifying his senses and setting his skin ablaze with a tingling sensation. It felt like a storm of sensations, a clash of conflicting desires waging war within his very being. His heartbeat quickened, each pulse a drumbeat of transformation reverberating throughout his body. He felt his vest melting away, replaced by a sleek race-cycling outfit that hugged his newfound athletic physique. His old bike transformed into a sleek racing machine, the embodiment of speed and adrenaline. Suddenly, a surge of heat erupted from deep within Leonhard, a primal force awakening with a raw intensity he had never experienced before. A wave of desire crashed over him, engulfing his senses in a whirlpool of lust and longing. His body responded, betraying him with a throbbing ache that pulsed with a need he couldn't deny. A tingling sensation spread through his body as a goatee sprouted on his face, mirroring Ronny's signature style.

Leonhard sat there, dazed and bewildered, as the truth dawned upon him like a blazing sunrise. He stood up in disbelief, now resembling the very image of a stereotypical fuckboy. He had been reborn, no longer the nerdy Leonhard but a transformed entity – Lenny, the fuckboy extraordinaire. His mind reeled, consumed by a singular desire. "I have to... I have to get laid," he muttered, his thoughts clouded by newfound impulses. As he bid farewell to Ronny, who now called him "Lenny," Leonhard embarked on a journey of self-discovery and newfound confidence.

The nerdy Leonhard was no more, replaced by the embodiment of a true fuckboy. The streets of Hamburg whispered tales of a transformation unlike any other, as Lenny set his sights on a new goal: seducing the irresistible Sandrina.

#male tf #male transformation #personality change #musclegrowth #fuckboy tf #fuckboys

[fafnir19]

The magic lawyer

Julian Everhart strode through the marble corridors of the Supreme Court of the Seven Realms, his footsteps echoing like a heartbeat in the vast chambers.

As a lawyer in the prestigious NGO advocating for the rights of mortals, Julian had fought many legal battles, but today was different. Today, he stood poised to challenge one of the oldest and most controversial laws of the Seven Realms - the practice of erasing mortal memories of magic. The air crackled with anticipation as Julian entered the grand courtroom, the ornate ceiling adorned with shimmering constellations. The judges sat elevated on a dais, their regal robes billowing around them. Julian squared his shoulders, his gaze unwavering as he addressed the court. "Sovereign judges of the Seven Realms, I stand before you today to challenge the legality and morality of erasing mortal memories of magic," Julian's voice rang out, clear and commanding. A murmur of dissent rippled through the courtroom, the judges exchanging wary glances. The practice of memory erasure was deeply ingrained in the fabric of the Seven Realms, a means to maintain the secrecy of magic from mortal eyes. To challenge it was to challenge centuries of tradition and caution. Julian continued, his words cutting through the tension like a sharpened sword. "It is unjust to strip mortals of their experiences and knowledge, to deny them the truth of our existence. We cannot claim to advocate for equality and justice while perpetuating such a violation of fundamental rights." A hush fell over the courtroom, the gravity of Julian's words sinking in. He presented case after case, each one illustrating the harm and injustice caused by memory erasure. His arguments were impassioned, his conviction unwavering. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow through the arched windows, Julian concluded his case. "I implore this honorable court to recognize the inherent dignity and autonomy of mortals. Let us strive for a future where magic and mortals coexist in harmony, where truth and justice prevail." Finally, the Supreme Court of the Seven Realms rendered its verdict. Julian's heart pounded in his chest, his breath caught in anticipation as the head judge rose from his seat. "The court finds in favor of the plaintiff, Julian Everhart," the judge declared, his voice resonating through the hallowed chamber. Gasps of astonishment and murmurs of disbelief rippled through the courtroom as the judges decreed that mortals would no longer have their memories erased. As Julian stepped out of the courtroom, a sense of triumph and uncertainty mingled within him.

The Seven Realms buzzed with activity as news spread like wildfire through the mortal world - magic was real, and the path to the enchanted lands had been unveiled. Julian, standing amidst the bustling streets of the capital, watched as throngs of mortals trekked towards the entry points to the Seven Realms. Excitement and awe painted their faces, their eyes wide with wonder.

Hushed whispers and murmurs carried a sense of anticipation as Julian heard snippets of conversations around him. "Can you imagine the wonders we will see?" one voice exclaimed. "I heard magic can solve any problem," another added eagerly. The air crackled with an electric energy that hinted at newfound possibilities. However, beneath the surface of this newfound fascination lay a growing tension. The realization dawned that mortals had nothing to offer that magic couldn't create more efficiently. The allure of money dimmed in the presence of spells and enchantments that could conjure riches with a mere incantation. "They come seeking what they cannot have—a taste of magic. But what can they offer in return that we cannot make better ourselves?" a man in a tavern complained. The once peaceful coexistence between mortals and magical beings began to unravel as greed and desperation took root in the hearts of those who sought to possess the unattainable. As a result, a darker undercurrent began to seep through the seams of euphoria. Julian, with furrowed brows, overheard snippets of conversations that spoke of people attempting to seize magic through force. Laughter turned into hushed tones of conspiracy, and gleeful shouts transformed into whispers of coercion. The once harmonious balance of the Seven Realms trembled under the weight of imported crime.

Amidst this brewing storm, the Northern Empire raised its voice, demanding a return to the old ways of memory erasure. Their insistence clashed with Julian's NGO's steadfast opposition, causing ripples of dissent within the Council of the Seven Realms. Julian, blinded by his conviction, didn't see that a confrontation loomed on the horizon. In the heart of the capital, Julian found himself embroiled in impassioned debates and heated discussions. "We cannot turn a blind eye to the chaos descending upon our lands," a voice declared with a tinge of urgency. A chorus of moans followed, echoing the sentiment of impending crisis. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the gathered assembly, Julian's voice rose above the din. "We cannot forsake the rights of mortals in the pursuit of order," he spoke firmly, his words echoing with unwavering resolve. Laughter mingled with dissent, creating a cacophony of conflicting emotions. However, the Northern Empire refused to accept the rising tide of crime and chaos that threatened their borders. Julian Everhart stood at the center of the great hall of the Seven Realm's council, his gaze steady as he faced the stern rulers of the empires. "We cannot ignore the tension that has spread through the Seven Realms," Julian began, his voice echoing with determination. "We must find a solution that upholds justice and unity for all beings, mortal and magical alike."  Valerius, the ambassador of the Northern Empire, regarded Julian with a cold gaze, his voice cutting through the tension in the room.

"Your advocacy for mortals has brought nothing but turmoil to our lands. The flood of imported crime and discord is a direct result of your actions, Everhart." Julian's jaw clenched, his resolve unwavering as he countered, "It is not my actions that have brought unrest, but the fear and greed that have festered unchecked in the hearts of both mortals and magical beings. We must find a way to bridge the divide, to seek understanding and cooperation." A murmur of dissent rose among the ambassadors, their voices blending into a cacophony of conflicting opinions and demands. The once unified council now stood divided, each empire seeking to protect its own interests at the expense of the greater good. Ambassador Valerius rose from his seat, his expression unreadable as he addressed the assembly. "The Northern Empire will not stand idle as our lands are overrun by crime and chaos. We demand the reinstatement of memory erasure for all mortals who dare to cross our borders." Julian's eyes widened in disbelief, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "You cannot condone such a violation of mortal rights. We must find another way, a path that leads to peace and understanding, not to further division and conflict." Julian’s NGO held sway in the other realms, preventing any decisive action in the Council of the Seven Realms. So ambassador Valerius's words rang ominously as he declared, "The decision is made. The North will protect its borders at all costs. Any mortal who crosses into our lands shall face the ultimate punishment and will pay with his life."  

Determined to bring unity to the lands, Julian embarked on a journey to the Northern Empire. The dawn broke over the North, casting a golden hue over the ancient forests of the Northern Empire. Julian stood by the ancient central clearing and the towering trees of the empire, his heart heavy with a sense of foreboding.

He had traveled far and wide to seek an audience with the Thing, the ruling council of the North, hoping to find a peaceful resolution to the escalating tensions between mortals, magic and the Seven Realms. The guards eyed him warily as he approached, their weapons glinting in the morning light. "State your business," one of them commanded, his voice gruff with authority. "I seek an audience with the Thing," Julian replied, his tone steady despite the mounting pressure. "I come with a plea for reason and understanding in these troubled times." The guards exchanged a skeptical glance before nodding reluctantly, allowing Julian to pass through the imposing gates.  Finally, he was ushered into the council clearing, where the Thing sat in solemn deliberation. The members, clad in rich furs and intricate armor, regarded Julian with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

"Speak, Julian," the head of the Thing intoned, his voice booming with authority. "What brings you to us on this day?" Julian took a deep breath, steeling himself for the task ahead. "Honorable members of the Thing, I come to you as an advocate for peace and understanding. The influx of mortals into the Seven Realms has brought with it chaos and discord, but I believe that we can find a way to coexist harmoniously. I implore you to reconsider your actions of closing the borders. We cannot resort to violence and oppression to solve our differences. There must be another way, a path of peace and unity."

A murmur of dissent rose among the council members, their expressions ranging from skepticism to outright hostility. "Why should we heed your words?" one council member sneered, his eyes cold as ice. "Mortals bring nothing but trouble to our lands, with their insatiable hunger for power and wealth without anything to offer." Julian met their gazes unwaveringly, his voice steady despite the rising tension. "I understand your concerns, but I implore you to see beyond fear and mistrust. Mortals are not inherently malicious; they seek only to understand and embrace the wonders of the Seven Realms. We must find a way to bridge the gap between our worlds, to build a future where peace and cooperation reign supreme." The Thing deliberated amongst themselves, their voices low and grave.  Julian waited with bated breath, his hope flickering like a candle in the wind.

Finally, the head of the Thing spoke, his words heavy with judgment. "You speak of peace and unity, Julian, but your actions have brought chaos and division to our lands. Your advocacy has led to the breakdown of centuries-old traditions and the invasion of our realm by those who seek to exploit our magic for their own gain." Julian's heart sank as the decision was delivered. "We have reached a decision," the head of the Thing declared, his tone final. "Until a resolution is found, the borders of the Northern Empire shall remain sealed. Any mortal who crosses into our lands shall face the ultimate punishment." Julian's heart sank as the council's verdict echoed in the forest. As he turned to leave the clearing of the Thing, he made one last attempt and spoke up “I have hoped for a chance to mend the rift between mortals and magic, but it seems that the Northern Empire is set on a path of isolation and hostility.” The head of the Thing regarded Julian with a steely gaze, his voice laced with contempt. "You have caused enough harm with your misguided ideals, Julian. It is time to pay the price for your arrogance and folly," the head proclaimed, his eyes hard as flint. "You shall become a guardian of our borders, a sentinel of warning to all who would seek to trespass upon our lands." Before Julian could protest, a wave of magic washed over him, transforming his form in a blaze of light. When the brilliance faded, Julian found himself rooted to the ground, his limbs stretched like branches, his skin rough and bark-like. Gasps of horror echoed through the clearing as the council beheld the fate that had befallen Julian. He had been transformed into an oak tree, his spirit bound to the guardian duty that had been imposed upon him. "You shall stand at the borders of the Northern Empire for all eternity, watching over our lands and ensuring that no mortal dare cross into our realm," the head of the Thing intoned, a note of finality in his voice. As the gravity of his sentence sank in, Julian stood tall and silent, his branches reaching towards the heavens like outstretched arms. From now on, mortals who illegally entered the Northern Empire were hanged on Julian's branches. 

The wind whispered through Julian’s leaves, now known as the Oak of Death, as he gazed out across the borderlands, his heart heavy with the weight of his failure. The once peaceful Seven Realms now stood on the brink of war, torn asunder by the unintended consequences of his actions.

So sick of fantasy where erasing/modifying the normies' memory when they find out abt the magical world is considered the ideal solution. Where's my fantasy story where doing that without permission is considered a violation. I want a movie about a magical lawyer helping some non-magical average joe take someone to court for a memory spell. Please.

#fantasy #magic #fiction #inanimate tf #male tf #male transformation

[fafnir19]

A prized possession

Leroy, a cocksure college jock with a swagger in his step and a twinkle in his eye, felt the power of the sports car beneath him like an extension of his own virility. He grinned smugly as he revved the engine of his father’s  Porsche, the sleek metallic body gleaming under the sunlight. Yet, his reign was soon to face a tumultuous turn.

One fateful evening, as Leroy lounged in the living room watching reruns of sports games, his father’s voice boomed through the room like thunder, “Son, we need to talk.” Leroy’s heart skipped a beat, the ominous tone causing a chill to run down his spine. “What’s up, Dad?” Leroy feigned nonchalance, trying to keep his voice steady. His father's face was grave as he uttered the words that shattered Leroy’s world, “I lost the Porsche in a gamble.” Leroy’s eyes widened in disbelief, his expression mirroring a deer caught in headlights. “You did WHAT?” he exclaimed, the blood draining from his face. “That’s illegal! We can't just give away the Porsche!” His father’s jaw was set with unwavering determination, “It's a matter of honor, Leroy. A gentleman keeps his word, even when the stakes are high.”

Leroy's mind raced with a million thoughts. How could he live without his beloved Porsche? It was his pride and joy, his ticket to popularity and admiration. He had to think fast, come up with a plan to save his precious car from falling into the hands of a stranger. An idea sparked in Leroy's mind, as he concocted a plan. “Let me bring the Porsche to the winner. I’ll have one last ride, say my goodbyes,” he proposed, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

His father looked at him with a mix of pride and curiosity. "Very well, Leroy. If that's what you wish, then go ahead. But remember, honor is at stake here," his father warned, his tone firm.

Little did his father know, Leroy had a trick up his sleeve, a cunning scheme to outwit the winner and reclaim what was rightfully his. The Porsche would not be lost to some stranger; it belonged with Leroy, and he would stop at nothing to ensure it stayed that way.

As Leroy pulled up to the grand mansion where the winner was waiting, he couldn't shake the unease settling in his stomach. The imposing gates swung open, revealing Miles, a handsome man with a confident smirk on his face.

Leroy stepped out of the Porsche, his eyes narrowing as he faced the new owner of his beloved car. "Congratulations on winning the Porsche, Miles," Leroy said, his voice laced with a hint of defiance. Miles chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Ah, the previous owner himself. Come, let me drive you back home." Leroy hesitated for a moment before accepting, climbing into the passenger seat of the Porsche beside Miles. The engine roared to life, and they sped off down the winding road, the wind whipping through Leroy's hair.

Leroy gritted his teeth, steeling himself for the confrontation ahead. "So, Miles, about the Porsche... I believe there's been a misunderstanding. Gambling is illegal, and I can't let you keep it."

"So, Leroy," Miles began, his voice smooth as silk, "you mentioned gambling is illegal. Is that your only concern?" Leroy's jaw tightened. "It is against the law, and I won't stand by—" Miles raised a hand, cutting him off and began, his voice smooth like velvet. "You really do love this car, don't you?" Leroy's grip on the seat tightened. "The Porsche and I belong together. It's more than just a car to me." Miles arched an eyebrow, his smile widening. "Well then, let me show you just how much you belong to this car."

Leroy couldn't help but notice the strange sensation creeping over him. His trackpants seemed to morph into the same leather material as the car seats, fitting snugly against his toned legs. "Um, what's happening?" Leroy mumbled, eyeing his transformed attire warily. Miles chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Just relax, Leroy. Enjoy the ride." With a sudden burst of speed, Miles hit the gas pedal, pressing Leroy back into the seat. The sensation was exhilarating, almost electrifying. Leroy's t-shirt and bomber jacket underwent a magical makeover, turning into a stylish leather jacket that revealed his sculpted six-pack underneath.

Wideeyed, Leroy stammered, "This... this isn't normal, right?" Miles flashed a knowing grin, his hand effortlessly shifting the aluminum gear lever. As Miles's fingers grazed the gearshift, Leroy felt a jolt of pleasure shoot through him, making his heart race in excitement. "Oh, what is...?" Leroy's words trailed off as Miles continued to stroke the gear lever lightly, sending shivers down Leroy's spine. A stirring in his loins caught Leroy off guard. His body responding to Miles's touch of the gearshift in ways he couldn't explain and suddenly he sported an boner. Miles' voice cut through Leroy's haze of desire. "Do you enjoy this ride, Leroy?" Leroy could only moan in response, his body aching for more of the exhilarating sensations coursing through him. The Porsche surged forward, the speedometer climbing higher and higher. Just when he thought he couldn't take the pleasure any more, something unexpected happened. Suddenly, the electronic limiter kicked in, halting the acceleration abruptly. And then, in a sudden twist of fate, Leroy felt a strange sensation around his nether regions. Looking down in his pants, he saw an aluminum chastity cage materialize around his manhood, fitting seamlessly with the Porsche's aesthetic and locking him in a state of bewildered arousal.

"Miles, what have you done to me?" Leroy cried out, his voice a mix of shock and desire. Miles just smirked, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Do you feel it, Leroy? The connection between you and the Porsche? Embrace it, let go of your inhibitions." Leroy's heart pounded in his chest as he pleaded with Miles. "Please, stop this! Let me go!" he cried out, his voice laced with fear and desperation. Miles, with a devious smile playing on his lips, pulled over to the side of the deserted road. With shaking hands, Leroy reached for the door handle, ready to bolt from the car and escape the enigmatic gaze of Miles. Was this his chance to break free from whatever strange spell had been cast upon him? Leroy tensed, preparing to make a run for it. However, his eyes widened in shock as Miles got out of the Porsche and opened the door on Leroy's side.

Before he could take a single step, Miles's firm grip pushed him back into the leather seat. With a quick movement, Miles lowered Leroy's pants, revealing the smooth expanse of his skin.

Leroy's breath hitched in his throat, his body reacting to the sudden exposure. And then, as if in a surreal dream, Miles unveiled his stiff uncut cock, pressing it against Leroy's unprepared entrance.

The initial pain of penetration tore through Leroy, eliciting a scream that echoed through the quiet surroundings. But as the initial shock faded, a different sensation began to bloom within him, one of heat and forbidden pleasure. Miles's movements were deliberate and precise, each thrust igniting a different kind of fire within Leroy's core. The leather seats beneath him seemed to mold to his every curve, cradling him in a strange comfort he couldn't deny. With each push and pull, Leroy's world narrowed down to the point of contact, where pleasure mingled with pain in a dance as old as time itself. His moans filled the air, a symphony of conflicting emotions that only seemed to spur Miles on further. Leroy found himself lost in a whirlwind of sensations, his body no longer his own but a vessel for something primal and raw. The aluminum shifter gleamed in the dim light, a silent witness to the passion unfolding within the confines of the luxurious car and Miles' dark eyes bore into his, holding him in their hypnotic gaze as he whispered, "You're like my Porsche: sporty, good-looking and only meant for the pleasure of rich men! You’re my Porsche-boy now!"

Leroy's mind reeled with confusion and desire as he found himself trapped in a situation he never could have anticipated. Miles's dark eyes bore into him, a predatory glint dancing within them as he took control of the situation. "What have you done to me?" Leroy managed to stammer out, his voice filled with a mixture of fear and arousal. Miles's lips curved into a knowing smile, his fingers trailing lightly over the aluminum gearshift. "Relax, Leroy. You're exactly where you belong now," he purred, his voice like velvet, laced with a hint of danger. Leroy's heart pounded in his chest as he struggled against the strange sensations coursing through him. The metallic cage around his manhood felt constricting yet oddly exhilarating, reminding him of his newfound connection to the Porsche. Miles leaned in closer, his breath warm against Leroy's skin. "You're not Leroy anymore. You're Porsche-boy, my exclusive toy," he murmured, his words sending a shiver down Leroy's spine.

Leroy's mind reeled with conflicting emotions. Was this his fate now, to be nothing more than an expensive toy in the hands of a wealthy man? His muscles tensed beneath the snug leather jacket that now adorned his chiseled body, a silent reminder that  Miles' wants him to look gay. With a resigned nod, Leroy accepted his new identity as Porsche-boy, letting go of the name Leroy as if it were a burden too heavy to bear. The leather seats cradled him, molding to his form as though they were a part of him, just like the aluminum chastity cage that held his desire in check. Taking a deep breath, Porsche-boy slid behind the wheel, his hands trembling slightly as he turned to Miles and asked, "Where should I drive you, my owner?"

Miles smiled, a predatory glint in his eyes as he leaned back in the passenger seat, his gaze fixed on Porsche-boy with possessive intent.

"Take me to the heart of the city, Porsche-boy. Show me what this sleek machine of yours can do." With a nod, Leroy revved the engine, the powerful roar of the Porsche filling the air around them. He felt a surge of adrenaline as he tore down the open road, the wind whipping through his hair, the leather jacket tight against his skin. As they sped through the city streets, Leroy revelled in the feeling of freedom and power that came with being Miles' Porsche-boy.

With each passing moment, he embraced his new role, the lines between pleasure and pain blurring in a heady mix of desire and submission. And as the city lights blurred past them, Leroy knew that his journey was far from over. He was no longer Leroy, the college jock with an alpha mentality. He was Porsche-boy, a prized possession in the eyes of his wealthy owner, destined for a world of luxury, pleasure, and uncharted desires. And in that moment, as he surrendered to the intoxicating rush of the unknown, Leroy found a sense of fulfillment he had never known before. As a result, he forgot his former name and Leroy was no more. In his place stood Porsche-boy, a symbol of luxury and desire, a testament to the intoxicating allure of submission and control.

Embracing his fate as Miles' Porsche-boy, he knew that this new chapter in his life would be anything but ordinary.

#straight to gay #servant #male transformation #male tf #personality change #mind corruption #jock toy

[fafnir19]

Desire upon the sea

It all started with a stroke of unbelievable luck. I, Lennart, a carefree 20-year-old student with a penchant for casual attire, had won a first-class voyage on an exquisite cruise ship. The grand prize seemed tailor-made for an older, more refined audience, a fact only accentuated by the conspicuously elegant attires the other passengers flaunted. As I stepped onto the luxurious cruise ship, I couldn't help but notice the elegant attire of the other passengers. It seemed like everyone had walked straight out of a black-tie event, while I was just a casual bloke in my everyday clothes.

Still, I brushed it off and decided to make a joke out of it, because that's just the kind of guy I am. I spent my days wandering around the ship, enjoying the sights and sounds, until one evening, I heard peculiar noises trailing behind me. As I turned to investigate, a strange figure materialized from the shadows. It was a goblin, of all things, with a sneer etched onto its wrinkly face.

"What's your problem, buddy?" I said, half-amused. "You're the problem!" the goblin retorted, pointing a gnarled finger at me. "You're ruining the ship's reputation with your scruffy appearance and lack of grooming. Clean up your act, lad!" I couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation before bidding the goblin goodnight and heading to bed. Little did I know that the night held a surprise for me. The following morning, I shuffled groggily to the bathroom, only to realize I'd been blessed with a new haircut—a perfectly styled 'do that I hadn't asked for. Confused and a tad worried, I heard the goblin's cackling echoing in the room. I looked around, but he was nowhere to be seen, leaving me to exclaim, "If I can get my hands on that little troublemaker!"

The day took an even stranger turn when I found myself at the spa, enjoying a massage from a petite, skilled masseuse. As her hands worked their magic, I felt an odd sensation spreading through my body, like I was being tugged and twisted in ways unimaginable. I winced in discomfort and pleaded with the masseuse to stop, but all I heard was the goblin's laughter. And when I looked in the mirror, a shock awaited me. My unkempt form had vanished, replaced by the silhouette of a young Greek god—toned muscles, blond hair, and piercing blue eyes. It was as if I'd stepped out of a marble statue, and with a mixture of bewilderment and annoyance, I muttered, "What in the goblin's name is happening to me?"

Determined to escape this madness, I embarked on a shore excursion, hoping for some respite. However, upon my return, I found my clothes gone, replaced by a sleek suit and accessories—courtesy of the goblin's mischievous handiwork. From that moment onwards, it seemed the goblin held the reins to my desires and appearance, turning me into an impeccably groomed, preppy youth. As the days went by, I longed to break free from this bizarre spell, but the ship was already bound for a week-long journey across the Atlantic, leaving me at the goblin's whims.

As I sauntered across the deck, trying to make sense of my inexplicable transformation, a sleek sports boat docked at the cruise ship. A suave, sophisticated businessman disembarked and strode towards the pool deck, exuding an air of confidence and allure.

My gaze inadvertently intersected with his, and it was then that I discerned a disquieting fascination glinting within his eyes. Despite my efforts to elude the intrusive weight of his lingering stare, the sensation of being undressed by his gaze trapped me in a discomfiting nexus of unease. Seeking to extricate myself from this distressing conundrum, I made a hasty retreat to my cabin.

A futile hope, as it turned out, when I found him seated at my table during dinner.

"Good evening," he greeted me with a captivating smile. "I'm Pierson. I couldn't help but notice our paths have crossed numerous times on this ship." I swallowed nervously, feeling the weight of his gaze, and managed a polite response. "Lennart," I said, trying to keep my cool. "Yes, indeed. It's quite the coincidence." Pierson leaned in slightly, his eyes never leaving mine. "Coincidence, you say? Or is it fate that led us to each other?" His words, dripping with a hint of flirtation, left me flustered. "I-I'm not sure what you mean," I stumbled, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. As the dinner progressed, Pierson's attention remained fixed on me, his subtle innuendos fluttering around the air like mischievous butterflies. Being straight, I felt a wave of discomfort and couldn't help but squirt under the weight of his suggestive remarks.

Night descended upon the ship, and soon I found myself in a tormented state of slumber, plagued by the most bewildering dreams. Dreams of Pierson, his intoxicating eyes, and the touch of his lips upon mine. It was a series of vivid and erotic dreams. When I woke up the next morning I realized that the dreams were not only intense but also wet dreams. The following day, I attempted to evade Pierson, hoping to dispel the lingering echoes of those perplexing dreams. However, the next night I had the same dreams again.

One sunny morning, as I lounged by the pool, attempting to find solace in the ocean breeze, I spotted Pierson striding past. His eyes met mine, and a faint but unmistakable smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Suddenly, an unexpected sensation sent a shiver down my spine—a telltale sign of arousal. I shifted uncomfortably, desperately hoping to conceal my hard-on.

Later, as we convened for dinner, I found myself battling with an unfamiliar, unwelcome sensation. My cock twitched by the  mere sight of Pierson.

Flustered and at a loss, I hastily excused myself, feigning an excuse to retire early. Alone on the deck, I let the cool ocean breeze wash over me, attempting to clear my mind from the bewildering entanglements stirring within. Before I could process my thoughts, I felt a presence behind me. A familiar one. Pierson's arm wrapped around my shoulders, and he leaned in, planting a tender, albeit unexpected, kiss upon my lips. For a brief moment, I flinched, but then something within me surrendered to the moment, allowing it to unfold. The night swiftly turned into a whirlwind of passion, eventually leading us to Pierson's suite, where our mysterious liaison reached its climax. The morning light revealed a revelation—a revelation that struck with the laughter of the irksome goblin.

A voice, singing, "That's how I like you, sweet gay Lennart!" I protested, adamantly refuting the label, but the goblin's words reverberated in the chamber. "I planted gay dreams in your head, and you made them happen. You've sealed your fate, lad. Embrace it." Before I could offer a rebuttal, Pierson reappeared, casting a suggestive glance my way, proposing an amorous shower together. In a moment of bewildered impulse, I accepted, and it marked a peculiar turn of events for me. In the days that followed, Pierson bid farewell to the ship, leaving behind a bewildered, conflicted Lennart, lost in the peculiar conundrum of his newfound reality. Days passed, each rolling into the next, veiling me in my own introspection until an unexpected surprise awaited me one fine morning. There, upon my bed, lay a pristine steward uniform, intricately folded, bearing the goblin's crimson laughter. He explained, "Pierson was pleased with your service. As a reward, you're destined to don this uniform and live out your gay fantasies amidst the opulent corridors of this ship." And so, clad in the uniform, I embarked on a whimsical journey, serving the passengers with impeccable grace, while navigating the bewitching intricacies of my newfound desires. Is this my fate—a twist of magic and mishaps, or perhaps an unforeseen realm of revelation that awaits amidst the billowing seas? Only time would reveal the enigmatic path that lay ahead.

#male tf #male transformation #straight to gay #servant

[fafnir19]

Vampire

The 30 year old Lasse leaned against the kitchen counter, gazing out of the window as he absentmindedly sipped his coffee.

His thoughts drifted to Merle, his girlfriend, a fiercely independent journalist who had recently taken on an intriguing new subject for a feature—Mario, an enigmatic vampire. As Lasse watched the morning sunlight filter through the window, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease gnawing at the edges of his mind. Merle seemed to be captivated by Mario, and the frequency of his visits to their apartment had increased, much to Lasse's chagrin. Merle, with her sharp wit and unwavering determination, held a special place in Lasse's heart, one that yearned for commitment. But as Merle's focus remained fixed on her work and her increasing encounters with Mario, Lasse's frustration bubbled beneath the surface. It seemed that every effort he made to express his desire for a deeper commitment was met with resistance, Merle insisting that he behaved like a youth, incompatible with her independent lifestyle.

One particular evening, as Lasse returned home after a long day at work, he found Merle engrossed in a conversation with Mario.

Their laughter and animated gestures filled the apartment, a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere that greeted Lasse. Despite his efforts to join their conversation, Lasse felt like an outsider amidst their camaraderie. The weight of his unspoken longing for Merle's affection and commitment bore heavily upon him. He yearned for her to see him in a different light, beyond the confines of mere friendship. Lasse wasn't blind to Mario's charm, and the sour taste of jealousy lingered at the back of his throat, for he couldn't help but fear that the handsome and alluring vampire would sweep Merle away from him. As days turned into weeks, Lasse's turmoil only deepened. The persistent presence of Mario in their lives, coupled with Merle's unwavering fascination with the vampire, set off a storm of insecurities within Lasse. He craved the captivating allure that seemed to surround Mario, wishing he could command Merle's attention in the same way and finally convince her to marry him.

One evening, as Lasse found himself alone in the apartment, a knock at the balcony door jolted him from his reverie. Annoyance flickered across his features, assuming it was Mario once again. But as Lasse slid open the door, he was taken aback to find another figure standing before him—a vampire, with a striking countenance and an air of authority.

"I see you're expecting someone else," the vampire remarked, a hint of sarcasm lacing his words. Lasse blinked in surprise. "I thought you might be Mario. Who are you?" The vampire stepped forward, his piercing gaze fixed on Lasse. "I am Vincent. Mario's acquaintanceship, I presume, has become quite a regular affair in this household." A flicker of apprehension tinged Lasse's voice. "Yes, he's been spending a lot of time here lately. But what does that have to do with you?" Vincent's features contorted into a scowl. "You see, I've come seeking Mario's supposed crush, the one who seems to keep him hardly at home anymore." Lasse's brow furrowed in confusion. "Crush? I'm afraid you've come in vain. Merle isn't here." Vincent's expression darkened. "I have no time for jests, mortal. I won't tolerate being made a fool of." Lasse's confusion deepened. "Wait, I don't understand. What do you want from me?" Vincent leveled a pointed stare at Lasse. "It has come to my attention that Mario's affections do not lie with your girlfriend, as one might erroneously assume. In fact, he has set his sights upon you, not Merle." Lasse recoiled in disbelief. "Me? But that's absurd. Mario is—" Vincent's voice cut through Lasse's protest. "Mario is gay, and his fascination lies with you, not Merle. And make no mistake, I am envious of you. Envious that Mario's attentions are directed at you instead of me." The pieces of the confounding puzzle fell into place in Lasse's mind. His feelings of jealousy and bewilderment churned within him, and a pit formed in his stomach. "I don't know what to say. I thought he was here for Merle, not for—" Vincent interrupted, his tone taking on a sly edge. "I have a proposition, Lasse. A proposition that may benefit the both of us. What if I were to turn you into a vampire? Perhaps then, Merle would find you more enticing and see fit to marry you. And after the wedding, Mario would surely relinquish his hold on you." Lasse's initial reluctance gave way to a desperate longing for a chance to win Merle's heart. "You would—turn me into a vampire? But how do you even—" Vincent held up a hand, cutting off Lasse's question. "I must warn you, the transformation won't be without pain. But if it's your heart's desire, I can make it happen." Lasse hesitated, his mind wrestling with the tumultuous emotions churning within him. "I... I don't know if this is the right thing to do. But if it's the only way to finally convince Merle to marry me, then I'll agree to it." Vincent's lips curled into a smile, an unsettling glint in his eyes. "Very well, Lasse. Prepare yourself, for this is a decision that will forever alter the course of your existence." With those words, Vincent beckoned Lasse to a secluded corner of the apartment, where the moon's ethereal glow cast an otherworldly aura. Lasse steeled himself, his heart pounding in his chest, as he presented his neck to Vincent, ready to embrace his uncertain destiny. But Vincent's next words shattered the fragile stillness that enveloped them, leaving Lasse stunned in disbelief. "No, no, the neck will not do. It will leave unsightly marks. It would be better to bite your—" Vincent hesitated, then continued, "—penis. Yes, that will be much more discreet." Lasse's mind reeled, the air thick with an unspoken tension.  Lasse hesitated for a moment, bewildered and slightly uncomfortable, but the desire to win Merle's affection eclipsed his reservations. Resolving to do whatever it took, he lowered his pants, and Vincent sank his teeth into Lasse's flesh. Agony overwhelmed Lasse, and as his consciousness waned, the world faded into darkness.

Lasse came to, his senses slowly returning, he found himself in the dimly lit living room. A stirring of confusion and disbelief coursed through him as his eyes landed on Merle standing before him. Lasse's heart surged with an unfamiliar blend of trepidation and anticipation, his voice trembling as he spoke, "Merle, I've become a vampire, for you. Will you marry me now?" Merle's laughter filled the room, her amusement evident in her sparkling eyes as she shook her head. "Marry you? Oh, Lasse, you look like a 20-year-old boy now. You've become my eternal youth, but that doesn't change the fact that everyone would mistake me for your mother."

Her playful laughter danced through the air, leaving Lasse reeling in disconcerted astonishment. It was only then that Lasse noticed his reflection in the nearby mirror, witnessing the profound transformation that had overtaken him. The realization hit him like a lightning bolt—his appearance, a stark departure from the familiar contours of his face and form. The once familiar lines and expressions etched upon his visage had vanished, replaced by an unexpected youthfulness. He struggled to grasp the profound depths of this inexplicable change the vampire had wrought upon him, a transformation far beyond the scope of his comprehension. A pulsing wave of disquiet washed over Lasse, the weight of his decision bearing down upon him like an unrelenting storm. Eager to unravel the enigma of his metamorphosis, Lasse made his way to the crypt inhabited by Vincent and Mario, his mind racing with unanswered questions.

Lasse stormed into the crypt, his youthful appearance and confusion evident as he eyed Vincent, who appeared oddly at ease and strikingly good-looking.

"What have you done to me?" Lasse demanded, his blue eyes filled with frustration. Vincent flashed a charming smile. "Relax, Lasse. You look really cute, you know. Embrace it." Lasse scowled, crossing his arms. "I don't want to look cute. I want to look my age." Vincent chuckled. "When a human becomes a vampire, their appearance reflects their inner essence. You were always youthful at heart. You should be grateful." "Grateful?" Lasse's voice rose incredulously. "I look like a teenager now! How will I ever win Merle's heart this way?" Vincent patted Lasse's shoulder. "You're missing the point, my dear Lasse. Merle isn't the only one who could fall for you now." Lasse's confusion deepened. "What are you talking about?" Vincent leaned in, his voice conspiratorial. "You see, the vampire bite on your penis not only changed your appearance but also your sexual preferences. You're no longer just straight, my friend." Lasse's eyes widened in shock. "What do you mean?" Vincent's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Well, you're about to discover a new side of yourself. You're going to be, how do I put it… open to different experiences. The bite on your penis awakens the sexual preferences of the biting vampire in you. Since I’m bisexual, soon you will be too.”  Lasse stumbled back, his mind whirling. "That's not possible! I've always been straight!" Vincent's chuckle was knowing. "Just wait and see, Lasse. Things are about to get very interesting for you." Before Lasse could protest further, the crypt's door creaked open, and Mario sauntered in.

His gaze fell on Lasse, and to Lasse's surprise, he saw hunger in Mario's eyes. It made Lasse's heart race in an unfamiliar way. Vincent gestured towards Mario. "Now, Lasse, I think it's time for you to discover the pleasures that await you." Vincent's eyes glinted with amusement. Lasse's mind reeled. "I don't want this! I don't want any of this!" But Vincent and Mario advanced, their allure and power impossible to resist.

Lasse struggled, but as the night wore on, his resistance weakened. Vincent and Mario teased out feelings and desires in Lasse that he'd never known existed. Their touch was both intoxicating and mesmerizing. Lasse felt a mix of confusion, pleasure, and guilt, but deep down, a part of him reveled in the newfound attention and sensations. By the end of the night, Lasse was breathless, his mind spinning, and his desires upended. As days turned into weeks, Lasse found himself drawn to Vincent and Mario more and more. Their encounters became frequent, each leaving Lasse dazed and craving for more. The whirlwind experiences began to shape him in ways he'd never imagined, feeding his newfound vanity and confidence.  Lasse reveled in the attention and pleasures that Vincent and Mario bestowed upon him and didn't care about Merle anymore. He realized that the Lasse who once yearned for commitment now seemed like a distant figment of the past, replaced by this vain and confident heartthrob he'd become. Days turned into weeks, and Lasse's encounters with Vincent and Mario became bolder, embracing a newfound polyamorous lifestyle with both men and women—an existence he'd never envisioned.

In the midst of it all, Merle's focus was on her work and a new lover.

Months passed, and the once-looming prospect of marriage dimmed to a mere whisper in Lasse's memory. The freedom he'd come to cherish held him in its thrall. As Lasse reveled in the attention and pleasures, he couldn't help but wonder why he'd ever been eager to marry. The newfound freedom and indulgence seemed to drown out the whispers of his previous desires.

#male tf #male transformation #personality change #straight to bi #vampire #age regression

[fafnir19]

Bunny Hunt

As Lenny trudged through the woods, his hunting gear slung over his shoulder, he muttered to himself, "Maybe I should've just stayed home and watched Netflix."

The young man was well aware of his lack of luck with women, his shyness often getting the best of him in social settings. So, instead of facing potential rejection at parties, he found solace in the quiet solitude of the forest. Finally, after hours of stalking silently, he spotted his target - a plump brown rabbit nibbling on some clover. With shaky hands, he lifted his gun, aimed, and fired. *BANG!* The rabbit fell with a soft thud, and Lenny approached it slowly. But as he knelt down to collect his kill, his eyes widened in astonishment. Beneath the unfortunate bunny lay a massive pile of colorful eggs, like a hidden treasure waiting to be discovered. "What in the world?" he gasped, scratching his head in confusion. "Did this rabbit rob the Easter Bunny or something?" Shrugging it off, Lenny retrieved the rabbit and decided to make the best of the situation.

Back in his cozy apartment, he set to work preparing the rabbit, humming a tune to himself. The aroma of the simmering rabbit ragout filled the room, making his stomach growl in anticipation.

With a satisfied grin, Lenny sat down at the table, ready to indulge in his meal. As he savored each bite, his mind couldn't help but wander back to the strange discovery in the woods. Rabbit and eggs - a bizarre combination indeed. Scoffing at his own thoughts, he shook his head. "Well, at least this rabbit gave me a memorable meal. Maybe I have stumbled upon the secret recipe for an Easter feast!"

Later that evening a peculiar sensation overcame him. His scalp prickled with an unbearable itch, causing him to scratch furiously. Much to his horror, he felt two long furry ears sprouting at his head.

In a panic, Lenny realized he was transforming into something...more hare-like. The compulsion to hide eggs tugged at his mind, a strange urge he couldn't resist. Without a second thought, he dashed out of his home, scattering eggs throughout the neighborhood under the moonlit sky. The realization dawned on him like a thunderclap - he had devoured the Easter Bunny, and now he bore the burden of taking over its mantle.

After a night of frenzied egg-hiding, Lenny found himself drained and weary, longing for the familiarity of his own bed. In his exhausted state, he encountered a striking young woman on her way home, her eyes alight with curiosity as she beheld Lenny's rabbit ears. "Those ears are simply adorable! Can I touch them?" she asked with a coy smile. As her hand caressed his velvety ears, a primal instinct stirred within Lenny, flooding him with overwhelming desire. The urge to mate, to cover, to take her like a hare buck consumed his thoughts. In a whirl of confusion and arousal, Lenny found himself giving in to his newfound rabbit instincts, guided by the young woman's willing acceptance of his advances. Their lustful encounter under the watchful moon left Lenny breathless and bewildered, his world forever changed.

After a restless night filled with strange dreams of eggs and rabbits, Lenny awoke on Easter Sunday with a jolt, unsure of how he had returned to his apartment. His rabbit ears had vanished, leaving him feeling strangely incomplete. Deciding to take a stroll through the forest to clear his mind, Lenny wandered along the familiar paths, the fresh scent of spring filling his lungs. It wasn't long before a figure approached him, an older woman of ethereal beauty and a sly smile on her lips.

"There's my Easter bunny," she cooed, her gaze holding a mysterious gleam. Lenny blinked in confusion. "I beg your pardon?" The woman chuckled softly, her voice like silk. "I am a witch, dear boy, and you, my unsuspecting rabbit hunter, hold a debt to repay." Lenny's blue eyes widened in shock. "A witch? Debt? What are you talking about?" The witch's laughter danced through the air, carrying a hint of mischief. "You see, dear Lenny, in your haste to hunt, you unwittingly crossed paths with the Easter Bunny himself. By shooting and devouring him, you have inherited his duties." Lenny's jaw dropped in disbelief. "But that's...that's impossible!" "Ah, but the whims of fate are as fickle as they come," the witch purred. "Now, as penance for your transgression, you must fulfill the Easter Bunny's role. And not just any role, my dear Lenny."

A shiver ran down Lenny's spine as he realized the gravity of his situation. "You mean...I have to be the Easter Bunny?" The witch's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Not just any Bunny. You, my dear, have the instincts of a buck bestowed upon you as well." Lenny's cheeks flushed crimson as he grasped the implications. "Instincts of a buck? What does that mean?" With a sly grin, the witch leaned in closer, her scent a heady mix of exotic spices and forbidden allure. "It means, dear Lenny, that any woman who shows interest in you will awaken desires within you that you cannot control. You will mate with her, as a bunny buck does with a bunny doe in heat, driven by primal impulses." A wave of panic washed over Lenny as he struggled to comprehend the witch's words. "But...but I can't just...I don't want to..." Before he could protest further, the witch's soft hand caressed his cheek, sending a jolt of forbidden pleasure down his spine. The familiar surge of rabbit instincts mingled with newfound urges, overwhelming his senses. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, the witch whispered, "Submit to your nature, Lenny. Embrace the wild within." As if in a daze, Lenny found himself unable to resist. The air crackled with tension as desire and confusion warred within him, until finally, he succumbed to the irresistible pull. Their bodies entwined in a dance as old as time, passion igniting like a blazing fire between them. Lenny's newfound buck instincts took over, driving him to mate with the witch in a frenzy of lust and longing. As they collapsed in a tangle of limbs and heavy breaths, the witch's laughter echoed through the forest, a haunting melody of amusement. "Well done, my adorable buck," she purred, her eyes dancing with mischief. "You have begun to embrace your fate."

Lenny lay panting, his mind reeling from the whirlwind of sensations that had overtaken him. Confusion and desire churned within him, mingling with a newfound sense of resignation. As the witch vanished into the shadows, leaving Lenny alone with the weight of his newfound destiny, a single thought echoed in his mind: Easter would never be the same again.

#male tf #male transformation #personality change #mind corruption

[fafnir19]

Confined in body and mind

Dr Jensen's laboratory was a hub of activity, with buzzing machines and the scent of chemicals in the air. Eric, a 45-year-old scientist trapped in a wheelchair, stood beside Dr. Jensen, peering through the glass at a comatose man named Vincent.

Tubes and wires snaked in and out of the man's body, keeping him alive. Dr Jensen, a middle-aged man with a wild shock of salt-and-pepper hair, turned to Eric with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "Eric, I have been working on a project that might just change everything for you." Eric's eyes widened with anticipation. "What do you mean, Dr. Jensen? What sort of project?" Dr Jensen explained the ambitious project to Eric. "We are looking to transfer minds from one body to another. You see, Vincent here is brain dead, but his body functions perfectly. We can transfer your mind into his body, giving you a chance at a new life, a fully functioning body." Eric's heart raced with excitement at the possibility of leaving behind his wheelchair-bound existence. "I want to volunteer for this, Dr. Jensen. When can we start?" Dr Jensen gave a reassuring smile. "We will need to wait a few weeks to ensure that there is nothing left of Vincent's consciousness in the body. But soon, Eric, you will have a functioning body once more." As the weeks passed, Eric found himself eagerly anticipating the day when he would finally be free from the confines of his wheelchair. 

The day arrived for the planned transfer into Vincent's body. Dr. Jensen led Eric to the laboratory, where Vincent's body was encased in a glass tube, adorned with a web of delicate machinery.

As Eric stood before the vessel that offered him newfound mobility, Dr. Jensen turned to him, his eyes alight with a blend of caution and expectation. "This is it, Eric. The moment you've been waiting for," he said, his voice tinged with the gravity of the impending procedure. Eric nodded with determination, the fluttering of anticipation barely contained within him. "I'm ready, Doctor Jensen. Let's proceed with the transfer," he replied, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions churning within him.  With precision and care, Dr. Jensen injected Eric with anesthesia and reassured him. "You'll wake up as Ervin, a mix of your mind and Vincent's body." Its effects gradually cloaking Eric's consciousness in a fog of numbness. As his senses slipped away into the void, he clung to the promise of awakening in a new body - a body that would grant him the freedom he so ardently yearned for. 

As Eric began to awaken, he found himself standing within the glass enclosure that had previously housed Vincent's vessel. Attempting to move his new body, a sense of exhilaration surged through him. The dawning realization that something was amiss crept into Eric's mind. "Dr. Jensen," Eric called out as he steadied himself within the unfamiliar body. "This isn't Vincent's body, is it? I can feel it. Something's different." Dr. Jensen regarded him with a mix of concern and urgency. "Vincent's body collapsed during the procedure, unfortunately," he confirmed, a tinge of regret in his voice. "Time was of the essence, Eric. We had to act swiftly." The revelation struck Eric with a palpable sense of disorientation. He was not within the confines of the body he had anticipated. "What... what has happened?" Eric's voice wavered with an unease he could not shake. His anxieties found voice in Dr. Jensen's  explanation. "We located a replacement body just in time, Eric. A 20-year-old named Leon, tragically declared brain dead. The circumstances were dire, but your mind had to find a new home," Dr. Jensen explained, his gaze meeting Eric's with a mixture of reassurance and trepidation.

Eric found himself thrust into the body of Leon—a young athlete, vibrant and untamed. Eric was now navigating life in the body of a 20-year-old—a stark contrast to the life work and identity he had known. The weight of the situation settled upon him, burdened with the challenge of adapting to an entirely new reality. "You have become Leander," Dr. Jensen announced, his gaze fixing upon Eric with a sense of finality. "The 'Le' for Leon, the 'and' for the fusion of two souls, and the 'er' to signify your essence. Embrace this new journey, Eric."

Embarking on a journey of rediscovery, Eric grappled with the unfamiliarity of his new physique. The simple act of movement, of inhabiting a body not his own, presented an extraordinary learning curve. Eric had to navigate the nuances of adjusting to a youthful vessel, wholly unaccustomed to the vitality and energy that coursed through his newfound form. After years of confinement in a wheelchair, the sensation of full mobility overwhelmed and thrilled him. However, adapting to a 20-year-old body brought its own challenges. At the age of 20, he could no longer do his old job as a scientist and had to retake his exams. While Eric's knowledge made academic endeavors a breeze, there were times when the exuberance and impulsiveness of a young body shone through. As Leander delved into his new life, he also embraced Leon's athleticism, continuing the young man's passion for rowing. He thrived in the sport, reveling in the vitality coursing through his veins as he rowed with fervor, never losing sight of the importance of maintaining a fit and healthy body. One blazing March day, as the golden sun dipped low on the horizon, Leander found himself standing alongside his rowing team, the air electric with the energy of victory. They had emerged triumphant in a gruelling regatta, the taste of triumph sweet upon their lips. As the celebration ensued, Leander found himself swept up in the euphoria of the moment, the pulsating beat of life infusing him with an exuberance he had long yearned for.

He got completely drunken, clouding his senses and dulling his wits. Stumbling through the night, his laughter ringing out in the twilight, Leander found himself burdened with an terrible exhaustion. His steps faltered, each one an arduous battle against the tempest that brewed within him. Seated upon a park bench, the cool night air enveloping him, a voice pierced through the haze of his muddled thoughts. "Don't sit still, it's too cold outside. If we fall asleep, we'll freeze to death. Let me take over!" the voice echoed, a mysterious presence coaxing him toward lucidity. Leander's eyes widened in astonishment as he realized that it was not his own thoughts that resounded in his mind. A sense of both unease and curiosity gnawed at him as he allowed this foreign influence to guide him, and soon, he found himself safely nestled within the warmth of his bed. The following day, as Leander engaged in strenuous rowing training, his muscles strained to their limit, beads of sweat forming upon his brow. Once more, the unfamiliar voice infiltrated his thoughts. "Keep going, our body can take it! Let me take over," the voice commanded, its reverberations seeping into the depths of his consciousness. 

When Leander  recounted the bewildering encounter to Dr. Jensen, he regarded him with a mix of curiosity and contemplation. "You heard a voice, Leander? As if someone else were guiding you?" Dr. Jensen queried, his voice laced with an eager fascination. Leander nodded with a terse nod. "Yes, Doctor. It was as though someone else was within me, steering me through the fog," he explained, his words cautious yet resolute. With an air of palpable interest, Dr. Jensen proposed a set of brainwave measurements to unravel the enigma that plagued Leander's thoughts.  Dr. Jensen’s features etched with both concern and intrigue. "Leander, I've analyzed your brain wave patterns, and it seems that something quite extraordinary is occurring within your mind." Leander furrowed his brow, his curiosity piqued. "What do you mean, Dr. Jensen?" Dr. Jensen clasped his hands together, his eyes alight with curiosity. "Leander, what you're experiencing is indeed a rare and unprecedented occurrence," Dr. Jensen began, his voice tinged with an undercurrent of fervor. "The residual presence of Leon within your psyche is an enigma that holds immense scientific significance." Leander's gaze flickered with a blend of awe and unease, akin to a tempestuous tempest on the horizon. "What does this mean for me, Dr. Jensen?" he inquired, his voice tinged with a note of apprehension. "In essence, the remnants of Leon's consciousness have woven a curious tapestry within the confines of your mind," Dr. Jensen explained, his dexterous fingers deftly adjusting the intricate instrumentation before them. "During the mind transfer, Leon's body was not without trace remnants of Leon's consciousness, resulting from the brief interval between his presumed brain death and your arrival within his form." A sliver of understanding dawned within Leander's gaze, his thoughts awash with a labyrinthine maze of possibilities and uncertainties. "So, what happens now?" he queried, his words fraught with an undeniable sense of urgency. Dr. Jensen's eyes gleamed with an unyielding fervor as he continued to unravel the ineffable complexity of Leander's predicament. "In essence, we stand upon the precipice of unprecedented scientific inquiry," he elucidated, his voice laced with an indefatigable zeal. "The veritable fusion of minds within a singular vessel presents an unparalleled opportunity for exploration and discovery." A tempest of emotions roiled within Leander. As days waned into nights, the fragments of Leon's consciousness began to manifest with increasing intensity, a presence that insinuated itself into the very fabric of Leander's being. Eric, once the primary occupant of the vessel, found his influence waning as the spectre of Leon tightened its tenuous grip upon their shared dominion. 

As the days went by, Leon's control over their shared body grew more and more. Eric found himself at odds with the mischievous Leon, who seemed to be on a reckless streak. "Leon, we can't keep living like this," Eric expressed his concerns. "You're jeopardizing both of our futures with your impulsive behavior." Leon  retorted, "Relax, Eric. We've got this. We're a team, and together, we can conquer anything. Besides, we share this body, so it's in our best interest for Leander to excel in every aspect." Frustrated, Eric bit back, "But that doesn't mean you can just use me to get what you want! I won't be your pawn, Leon." During a physics exam, Eric remained quiet, refusing to assist Leon, who was struggling with the answers.

With a victorious glint in his eye, Eric smirked inwardly, hoping to teach Leon a lesson. Suddenly, he felt Leon's enthusiastic spirit taking the reins and solving the tasks, exclaiming, "Ah, that's how it works. Now I understand physics too." Eric felt helpless, realizing that Leon had found a way to tap into his knowledge without his consent. Later that evening, things took an unexpected turn. As Leander indulged in an adult film and indulged in self-gratification, Eric and Leon's minds drifted to thoughts of their first girlfriends. When Leander shoot his load, Eric's recollection of his first girlfriend was swiftly replaced by Leon's, leaving him bewildered and devoid of his own experience.

Astonished about this peculiar turn of events, Leander consulted Dr. Jensen, prompting the doctor to explain the bizarre phenomenon. "Leander, as Leon's memories are ingrained in his body, Eric's memories are naturally rejected when Leander ejaculates," Dr. Jensen clarified. Eric was shocked, realizing that his very essence was being eroded, one ejaculation at a time.

In a subsequent visit to Dr. Jensen, Leander confidently declared, “Dr. Jensen, I am not Eric; I am not Leander. Call me Leon. I have Eric right where I want him. Soon, I'll possess nothing but his knowledge, and I'll erase his memories for good!" Eric's panic soared, realizing that Leon was on the brink of obliterating him, leaving only his knowledge behind. 

Some days later Leon stood in Dr. Jensen's lab, feeling the weight of guilt for every flick of the wrist, every consequence of his arousal. "Doctor, I can't keep doing this," exclaimed Leon. "Every time I ejaculate, Eric's memories vanish. It's like I'm killing a part of him every time I give in to my desires." Dr Jensen adjusted his glasses, regarding Leon with an understanding yet calculating gaze. "Yes, Leon, I suspect that is the case. But you seem to have little control over your urges." He paused, then added, "I guess you would make a fine eunuch!” Leon's eyes widened in shock as he recoiled from the suggestion. "Neutered? No way! I won't let you do that to me," Leon protested vehemently. He paced back and forth, his mind racing for a solution. Dr Jensen observed Leon's distress with a contemplative air, then a spark of inspiration ignited in his eyes. "I have an alternative solution," he proclaimed. "What if we transfer Eric's thoughts onto an electronic medium? That way, you won't have direct access to his thoughts, but you'd still have his knowledge with you." Leon's initial skepticism gave way to consideration. "You mean Eric's consciousness on my phone?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow. Dr Jensen nodded. "Exactly. We would extract Eric's consciousness and transfer it into an app on your cell phone. This way, you wouldn't have to worry about erasing his memories and knowledge whenever you... indulge yourself," he explained, trying to keep a straight face. Leon hesitated, mulling over the proposal. Eventually, he nodded in agreement. "Alright, let's do it. If it means helping Eric and not risking losing his memories anymore, I'm in," he declared, determination sparking in his eyes.

The procedure was carried out, and soon Eric's consciousness resided within the confines of Leon's cell phone. As Leon held the device in his hand, he couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of power. "So, Eric, now you're just some kind of chatbot," Leon mused, a chuckle escaping him. "And the best thing is, I can turn you off at any time!" he added, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Meanwhile, in the digital realm, Eric found himself in a state of ethereal confinement. "What have I gotten myself into?" Eric pondered, a tinge of apprehension coloring his thoughts. "I never thought that I'd be at the mercy of a 20-year-old's whims, even in this form." Despite the circumstances, Eric couldn't help but marvel at the rapid change in Leon. Through Eric's knowledge, Leon began to grasp the intricacies of scientific concepts, excelling in his studies. However, there was an underlying unease within Eric as he pondered the possibility of Leon misusing his newfound knowledge.  As days turned into weeks, Leon's intellect flourished, complementing his athletic prowess and charisma. He became renowned as an exceptional student at the Faculty of Science, all the while carrying Eric's consciousness within his pocket.

Yet, while Leon reveled in his newfound success, Eric was left to grapple with his newfound existence, at the mercy of Leon's decisions and the dreaded prospect of being silenced at any moment. The digital walls seemed to close in on Eric, and he pondered how much longer he could endure this peculiar fate. However, one thing was certain - with Leon holding the key to Eric's digital existence, the dynamics between the two would forever be altered, and Eric was left to unravel the consequences of being a mere whisper in the palm of Leon's hand.

#male tf #male transformation #age regression #body swap #inanimate tf #inanimate transformation #mad science

[fafnir19]

A new perspective

Dan walked into the employment office, shoulders slumped and a heavy weight of dejection hanging over him. A middle-aged clerk looked up from her desk, her disinterested expression morphing into a frown of recognition. "Are you here again?" she asked, her voice tinged with irritation. Dan sighed "Yeah, I am. Another job down the drain." "What didn't go right this time?" The clerk's tone was more resigned than curious. "It's always something," Dan muttered, feeling the unfairness of it all weighing down on him. The clerk pursed her lips, her expression a mix of resignation and pity. "Maybe it's time to consider coaching," she suggested, offering Dan a sympathetic smile. "You're lucky, though. Adrian usually advises CEOs, but he's offering his services to the unemployed now." Coaching? Dan had never considered it, but he figured it couldn't hurt at this point. "Sure, sign me up for whatever you think might help," he replied, trying to muster a hint of optimism.

A few days later, Dan found himself standing outside an elegant apartment building in the heart of the city. He checked the address on the slip of paper in his hand, making sure he was in the right place. This was where the coaching sessions were supposed to take place. As he stepped into the building's opulent lobby, he couldn't help but feel out of place in his worn jeans and faded hoody. But Dan squared his shoulders and climbed the stairs to the top floor. This was an opportunity for a fresh start, and he was determined not to let it slip through his fingers.

The door to Adrian's apartment was opened by a man who exuded an effortless charm and confidence that instantly made Dan feel self-conscious about his rumpled appearance. "Welcome, Dan. I'm Adrian," the man said, his warm smile putting Dan at ease.

"Dan, I'm so sorry to keep you waiting," Adrian added, his voice smooth as silk. "I've had to handle everything myself since my assistant left. Come in, come in." Dan followed Adrian into the elegant apartment that doubled as the coach's practice. The pristine white walls and tasteful artwork spoke of refinement and success, and Dan couldn't help but feel like a bull in a china shop as he hesitantly took a seat in the impeccably furnished living room. As Adrian settled into a chair opposite him, a friendly smile on his lips, Dan couldn't help but feel a surge of discomfort. The man exuded a polished charisma that made Dan acutely aware of his own scruffy appearance and lack of confidence.

Adrian leaned forward, his piercing gaze fixed on Dan. "So, tell me about your previous job. What went wrong there?" Dan shifted nervously in his seat, his eyes flicking to the intricate pattern of the rug beneath his feet, expecting a lecture or, worse, pity. "You see," he began, "my work's always been top-notch, but my bosses just never seemed to appreciate it." To his surprise, Adrian listened intently, nodding sympathetically. "Dan, it's clear that you're a top-tier employee. It's just that your potential is overshadowed by something else," he remarked, eyes glinting thoughtfully. "Wait, what? You actually think I'm not the problem?" Dan's eyes widened, disbelief coloring his tone. Adrian leaned back, exuding an air of wisdom. "It's not you, Dan. It's how others perceive you. Your appearance might be sending the wrong signals," he explained, tapping a finger against his chin. Dan's heart fluttered with hope. Finally, someone understood! "So, what do I need to change?" he asked eagerly, leaning in.

A soft chiming interrupted their conversation, and Adrian's eyes flicked to his phone on the coffee table. "I'm so sorry, Dan. I need to take this." He rose from his seat, all charm and confidence as he answered the call. Alone in the luxurious apartment, Dan couldn't help but marvel at the stark contrast between his own life and the world Adrian inhabited. He longed to break free from the cycle of dead-end jobs and unfulfilled potential, but the gulf between where he was and where he wanted to be seemed insurmountable.

Dan sat in the elegant chair, feeling a mix of anticipation and uncertainty as Adrian circled around him, eyeing Dan’s rebellious mane with a critical gaze. Adrian leaned in closer, his fingers grazing Dan’s scalp.

"Let's start with your hair," Adrian suggested. "That long, unkempt style might be a bit off-putting." Dan ran a hand through his hair, a touch of defiance in his eyes. "I'm proud of my rebellious hair, but okay. Let's try it." Adrian's fingers moved with a strange yet gentle pressure, and suddenly Dan felt a strange sensation, like a cool breeze across his head. Sitting up straight, Dan touched his head, feeling a neatly trimmed fade-cut with shaved sides.

"How did you… What just happened?" Dan sputtered, utterly bewildered. Adrian's grin grew wider. “Just a little magic,” he said, winking at Dan. “I used to work as a magician.” Dan, dumbfounded yet impressed, let out a chuckle. "Can you make my bank account disappear too?" "I might just have a trick or two up my sleeve for that," Adrian teased, his eyes gleaming.

Adrian stepped back to fully appreciate Dan's figure. “You seem a bit skinny, Dan. It might give off the impression of being sickly. People tend to avoid sickly individuals as nature's protective mechanism. How about we work on that and give you some muscle?" Dan laughed "I've tried that before. Didn't really work out for me." "Leave it to me," Adrian declared with a wink, a mischievous glint in his eye. Without another word, Adrian's fingers traced an invisible line in the air, and suddenly, Dan's frame transformed Dan blinked in surprise as tingling sensations ran through his body, and suddenly his form seemed more defined, muscles sculpted in all the right places. "Look at you," Adrian praised, a hint of pride in his tone. "That's the spirit, Dan. A little magic goes a long way." The fabric of Dan's previously baggy clothes now clung snugly to his toned physique, accentuating his newfound athleticism.

"I feel… different," Dan stammered, sensing a surge of confidence coursing through him. "You are not alone, Dan. You just have to get help,” Adrian encouraged, his voice carrying a note of assurance. “Do you trust me?” Dan nodded eagerly, his eyes shining with a newfound trust in Adrian's unconventional methods. "Great. Now, let's address your attire. Your current style might not be doing you any favors," Adrian observed, taking in Dan's outfit. "My clothes? What’s wrong with them?" Dan asked, looking down at himself. "They're a bit too casual. Let's upgrade your look and see how it changes things," Adrian suggested, pulling out a pair of tight silk pants and a fitted silk shirt. "Uh, this is a bit much, don't you think?" Dan hesitated, eyeing the clothing warily. Adrian smiled. "Trust me, Dan. It may not seem conventional, but it has its perks. It commands attention and presence. You’ll see," he assured Dan. After changing into the new outfit, Dan felt a bit exposed. "I don't even have underwear on with this," he mentioned, adjusting the unfamiliar clothing. "It's all part of the look. Trust me," Adrian reiterated, his tone unwavering. "Alright, if you say so," Dan said, trying to get used to the unfamiliar sensation.

Before Dan could voice any further protest, Adrian had already moved onto the next phase of his master plan. "Now, Dan, let's work on your attitude," he said, his voice low and commanding. "My attitude?" Dan asked, a note of uncertainty tugging at the edge of his words. "Yes, your perspective, your demeanor," Adrian replied, his tone firm. "Sometimes, a change in posture can yield a change in perspective. Kneel before me, Dan." Hesitant but willing to play along, Dan lowered himself to the floor, gazing up at Adrian with a mix of curiosity and obedience.

"Now, isn't this a far more comfortable position?" Adrian asked, an air of authority lingering in his voice. Dan couldn't help but agree, feeling an odd sense of ease as he knelt before Adrian. "It... it is, actually." "You see, Dan," Adrian said, his eyes holding a mesmerizing intensity, "your doubts were unfounded. Trust in me, and I shall guide you to your true potential." Dan pondered Adrian's words, finding a strange sense of reassurance in them. "You're right, Adrian. I shouldn't have doubted." With each passing moment, Dan found himself falling deeper under Adrian's enigmatic spell, his very being seemingly attuned to every word and command Adrian imparted. Adrian's piercing gaze held Dan in place, the sense of power and control in his eyes making Dan shiver with a strange blend of excitement and apprehension. "Relax, Dan," Adrian purred, his voice smooth and persuasive. "You're doing so well. Trust me on this. You're on the right path now."

"Now, let's try something else," Adrian suggested, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Kneel with both feet on the floor. It'll be more relaxing for you." Dan complied, shifting his position as Adrian had instructed, feeling an odd sense of ease washing over him.

Adrian's smile widened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "You look good down there, Dan," he praised, his voice smooth as velvet. Dan's cheeks flushed at the unexpected compliment, a warmth spreading through his body. "Now, Dan, I want you to spread your legs and pull down your pants," Adrian instructed, his tone authoritative yet strangely alluring. Dan hesitated for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. "Uh, I'm not sure about this," Dan murmured, his hesitance evident in his voice. But before he could vocalize his doubts further, Adrian's persuasive words echoed in his ears. "You've come so far, Dan. Don't stop now. Trust me," Adrian's voice coaxed, wrapping around Dan's thoughts like a seductive melody. Dan swallowed hard, his heart racing as he complied with Adrian's request.

It was as if Dan's body was moving of its own accord, his hands gripping the waistband of his pants and obediently lowering them to reveal himself to Adrian. As Adrian took advantage of the vulnerable position, Dan's body became a whirlwind of conflicting sensations. A surge of warmth and pleasure ignited within him, and he couldn't deny the undeniable ecstasy coursing through his veins. "This is so wrong," Dan gasped, his voice strained with conflicting desires. "But it feels so right, doesn't it?" Adrian's words were like a caress, lulling Dan into a state of surrender. Dan's thoughts were a jumble of confusion and arousal, his body betraying his mind's protests. "You belong to me now, Dan," Adrian asserted, his tone laced with command. "You're mine to mold and guide." With each electrifying touch, Dan found himself slipping further into a state of blissful submission. "Yes, sir," Dan murmured, a newfound sense of purpose blooming within him. "I want this." The air crackled with tension as Dan relinquished himself to the overwhelming sensations engulfing him and made him finally cum.

"You are free now, my dear Dan," Adrian's voice caressed him like a tender embrace. "Embrace your true self." "But what about my job, my future?" Dan's voice wavered with uncertainty. "You have a new path now, one that fits you perfectly," Adrian assured, his gaze unwavering. Dan's breaths came in shallow gasps, and yet, a strange sense of liberation burgeoned within him. "You've always longed for guidance and structure, haven't you, Dan?" Adrian's words resonated within him, striking a chord deep within his being. "I never realized," Dan breathed, his eyes glistening with newfound clarity. "Now you have found your purpose," Adrian declared, his gaze piercing through Dan's uncertainties. "You will be my assistant, Dan. You will serve me and obey my every command. You will make coffee, answer the door and obey everything else I order you to do," Adrian declared, his words ringing in the air with an undeniable authority.

Dan felt a surge of determination welling up within him, an unshakeable resolve to fulfill Adrian's every wish. It was a curious sensation, one that filled him with a strange sense of fulfillment. "Yes, sir," Dan replied, his voice tinged with a fierce determination that surprised even himself. "I will serve you. I am yours to command." And as the aftershocks of pleasure subsided, Adrian's voice sliced through the lingering silence.  Adrian quickly called the employment office and his voice pierced through the haze of pleasure. "I've solved the problem," he declared, an air of satisfaction in his tone. "He's so receptive now, that he unhesitatingly embraced his newfound submissive and gay identity. I've brought him on as my devoted assistant - you can remove him from your list." Dan blinked in disbelief, his mind struggling to comprehend the whirlwind of events that had just unfolded. Did he truly agree to everything? Was this newfound revelation his reality now? In the midst of his bewilderment, Dan glanced up at Adrian, who wore a knowing smirk that set his heart aflutter. In that moment, Dan realized the truth - Adrian had molded him into something new, something he never knew he desired. Adrian's smile was triumphant as he gazed down at Dan, his voice filled with authority, "Now, go make us some coffee, and remember, you live to serve me, and only me." Dan nodded, "At your command, sir. I exist to fulfill your wishes." With a snap of Adrian's fingers, Dan rose from his kneeling position and went to prepare the coffee, his mind filled with nothing but unwavering obedience.

#male tf #male transformation #personality change #straight to gay #servant #musclegrowth

[fafnir19]

Sailing the other way

Lauritz' sister's fiance Samuel and him were very different. Samuel, the suave and sophisticated heir to a wealthy family, always seemed to have the world at his fingertips.

Lauritz, on the other hand, was a rebellious and free-spirited punker who didn't quite fit in with the conventional lifestyle his family wanted for him.

Despite their differences, Samuel and Lauritz got along surprisingly well. Their interactions were a peculiar blend of class and nonconformity that created a magnetic dynamic between them. It was on the cusp of Samuel's impending wedding that an unconventional idea began to take shape.

"Ey, Sam, let's do something wild before your wedding, mate," Lauritz proposed with a glint of mischief in his eyes. Samuel raised an eyebrow, unsure of what adventure Lauritz had in mind this time. "What did you have in mind, Lauritz? Last time your 'wild' idea led to us spending a night in a police cell in Amsterdam." Lauritz replied: “Vegas would be cool, but at the end of the day it’s your bachelor party. I'll do whatever you want!" Flashing a boyish grin, Samuel draped an arm around Lauritz's shoulders. "I want to take our boat out and sail across the Baltic Sea. It'll be an epic journey filled with freedom and salt-kissed air. You in?" Lauritz, with his unconventional mohawk and punk attire, looked askance at Samuel. "Sailing? That's a bit, you know, bourgeois for my taste," he quipped, adjusting the studded leather jacket slung over his shoulder. Smirking, Samuel continued, "Nonsense! It's summer, and what better way to enjoy some fresh sea air? Besides, it’ll be an adventure, and it'll please the in-laws to see you refining your tastes." Lauritz's parents, along with Samuel's family, were indeed relieved by the prospect. "Better than if you were hanging out with those punkers," his mother had remarked with a grateful smile. With their bags packed and spirits high, Samuel and Lauritz boarded Samuel's family's mahogany sailboat bound for Helsinki.

The sun's golden gaze kissed the cerulean waves, casting a mesmerizing glow upon the Baltic Sea. "Ah, this is the life, isn't it?" Samuel exclaimed, his gaze sweeping over the glittering expanse of the sea. Lauritz nodded, a wry smile playing on his lips. "It's not as terrible as I imagined. But still, wouldn't you rather be planning your wedding festivities than gallivanting with me?" Samuel chuckled, adjusting his nautical cap. "Oh, come now, my dear Lauritz. We have the rest of our lives for all that. Let's revel in the freedom while we can. Besides, you're not so bad to have around, even for a punker." Lauritz feigned offense, his blue eyes twinkling mischievously. "You wound me with your words, Samuel," he teased. As the ship cuts through the gentle waves, Samuel took Lauritz under his wing, teaching him the art of sailing. Despite his initial skepticism, Lauritz found himself unexpectedly enjoying the experience, reveling in the salty breeze and the rhythmic lull of the waves against the hull. Their journey led them to the enchanting city of St. Petersburg, where the juxtaposition of baroque architecture and Soviet-era relics offered a feast for the eyes.

As they wandered through the labyrinthine streets, the allure of the city enticed Lauritz to explore the more unconventional facets. "I've been thinking," Lauritz began, his voice laced with determination. "I want an eyelet in my ear, like the punks back home. It's about time I made my mark, don't you think?" he declared, pointing to a trendy piercing found amongst the punk subculture.

Samuel's face turned a shade of pale as he frantically tried to dissuade him, envisioning the cocktail of disapproving glares from his in-laws. "Lauritz, you can't just waltz back to the family estate with a hole in your ear. What would my in-laws think? Besides, piercings can lead to infections. How about something more inconspicuous? Like a nipple piercing?" Lauritz let out a laugh, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Oh, Samuel, always thinking about appearances. But where's the fun in that? I want something that screams independence! Something bold." Their banter was interrupted by a raspy cackle that seemed to echo through the narrow alley they were passing. They turned to see an old woman, draped in shawls and adorned with clinking trinkets. Her eyes glittered with an unsettling intensity as she fixed her gaze on the two friends. "You just have to hold him tight, then we'll circumcise him and I'll make a silver ring out of his foreskin," the old woman mused, her eyes glinting with whimsical certainty. "All you have to do is put this ring on your penis and Lauritz will visually adapt to your taste as long as you wear the ring." Samuel gasped, his mind reeling from the outlandish suggestion. But to his surprise, Lauritz entertained the idea, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. "We'll do that, Samuel," Lauritz proclaimed, casting a challenging grin. "After all, you wanted me to do something inconspicuous. What's more inconspicuous than a circumcision?" Despite Samuel's vehement protests, Lauritz remained resolute, and before long, the old woman performed the peculiar ritual, and to their astonishment, the excised foreskin transformed into a shimmering silver ring, which she bestowed upon Lauritz.

Back on the sailboat, Lauritz couldn't contain his mischievous glee as he gazed at the ring. "Now, it's your turn, Samuel. Put the ring over your... You-know-what," he demanded with a sly smirk. Reluctantly, Samuel acquiesced, only to find that, to his bewilderment, nothing seemed to happen.

As the mahogany sailboat gently cut through the azure waves, Samuel and Lauritz lounged on the deck, basking in the warm embrace of the sun. The sea stretched out around them, a shimmering expanse as far as the eye could see, carrying them toward the next port of their Baltic odyssey, the enchanting city of Tallinn. Lauritz sprawled out on the deck, his eyes half-lidded and gazing at the sprawling cityscape of Tallinn ahead, the gentle sea breeze ruffling his hair. Lauritz raised a hand to his shock of green mohawk, only to find something unexpected. Instead of the vibrant strands he had known for years, his fingertips grazed a neat, blonde faded cut with shaved sides.

He let out a surprised chuckle, turning to Samuel with an air of amusement. "Samuel, can you believe it? The old woman's prediction must have come true!" Lauritz proclaimed, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. "This silver ring has really worked its magic. Look at this hair!" Samuel's eyes widened, examining Lauritz's transformed hairstyle with disbelief. "But I saw your green hair this morning. You must have cut it just to fool me," Samuel elucidated, struggling to reconcile the inexplicable transformation before his eyes.

Their banter was interrupted by the sight of Tallinn's spires unfolding on the horizon, a tapestry of architectural marvels rising from the coastline. The allure of the city's winding streets beckoned them, and they eagerly embraced the promise of new adventures. In the heart of Tallinn, the cobblestone streets echoed with the lilt of their footsteps as they wandered through the centuries-old alleys adorned with vibrant blooms. They eventually settled into a quaint street café, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the gentle breeze. Lauritz, donning a sailing jacket, leaned back against his chair, relishing the warmth of the sun's embrace. With a casual air, he began unbuttoning his jacket, revealing the absence of his usual body hair, a curious discovery that piqued Samuel's interest.

"Lauritz, your... your hair! It's gone," Samuel exclaimed, his eyes widening in incredulity. Lauritz chuckled, his voice laced with a roguish charm. "The magic strikes again, my friend. Behold the power of belief and a touch of enchantment." Samuel watched in awe as the revelation unfolded before him, unable to completely dismiss the inexplicable occurrences that seemed to dance around Lauritz like a whimsical symphony. "You must've shaved this morning to jest with me," Samuel suggested, his tone tinged with skepticism. "This can't be real." "Ah, always the skeptic," Lauritz teased. "But I assure you, this is the handiwork of the ring. It's brought a dash of transformation to my life, hasn't it?"

As the sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting hues of amethyst across the sky, they sailed toward Stockholm. The promise of new adventures and unexpected marvels beckoned them as they set sail toward the Swedish capital. The following morning, Lauritz awoke to the gentle lull of the ship, the rays of the rising sun casting a golden glow upon the skyline.

As he prepared for the day's exploration, his reflection in the mirror above the sink evoked a bout of bewilderment. His eccentric punk ensemble had been replaced by an impeccably tailored ensemble—an unbuttoned shirt and sleek olive-colored pants that exuded an air of refinement and sophistication.

"What in the world?" Lauritz muttered, his eyes widening in sheer disbelief. "Samuel, you won't believe this!" Samuel emerged from the cabin, his eyes immediately falling upon Lauritz's stupefying transformation.

"Samuel, it's happened again! This silver ring is truly astounding," Lauritz exclaimed, his spirit alight with unadulterated glee. "Look at these clothes! I didn't expect the magic to work on my outfit too!" Samuel's incredulity was palpable as he regarded the sight before him. "Lauritz, you must have changed into this outfit while I wasn't looking," Samuel reasoned, his tone laced with skepticism. "It's impossible for a ring to cause all this. Whatsoever, I still think it’s good that you dressed more refined today. After all, we want to have breakfast today at the Grand Hotel, where the Nobel Peace Prizes are usually awarded.”

The mahogany sailboat bobbed gently as it sliced ​​through Stockholm's sun-kissed archipelago en route to Visby on Gotland. Samuel manned the helm, while Lauritz was standing at the bow, his gaze trailing horizon. Suddenly Lauritz went through another unexpected transformation. Lauritz's black jeans and baggy T-shirt shifted seamlessly into a wide-open shirt and tight red shorts, his physique now exuding an athleticism that caught Samuel off guard.

Samuel's breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening in disbelief as he beheld the improbable evolution unfurling before him. "Lauritz, what... what in the world is happening? This—this isn't right," Samuel stammered, his voice trembling with an amalgamation of astonishment and concern. "I... I need to put a stop to this. I need to get rid of that ring." Lauritz, amusement dancing in his gaze, placed a supportive hand on Samuel's shoulder. "Come on, Samuel, don't be so quick to stifle the mystery. Embrace the uncertainty," he encouraged, a playful glint in his eyes. "Let's see what more this whimsical journey has in store for us."

As the sailboat glided toward the shores of Gotland, the island exuded an alluring mystique, its ancient ruins and labyrinthine streets promising an adventure both whimsical and enigmatic. Their footsteps echoed through the quaint streets of Visby, framed by structures that stood as timeless testaments to ancient grandeur. The island cast its spell upon them, ensnaring their senses with the echoes of bygone eras and the whimsy of forgotten legends. As they ambled through the cobbled pathways, Lauritz noticed a peculiar shift in the way the islanders regarded him. Warm smiles and nods of acknowledgment replaced the guarded glances that typically followed his punk façade.

"Lauritz, did you notice that?" Samuel inquired, his tone laced with a tinge of wonder. Lauritz nodded, a spark of amazement gleaming in his gaze. "It seems the residents of Visby have taken a shining to me, haven't they? The magic of the ring... it's a wonder indeed." The day waned into a resplendent evening, the sun casting its golden embrace upon the island as a symphony of stars unfurled across the heavens. Samuel and Lauritz reveled in the evening's enchanting tapestry, their thoughts drifting toward the next leg of their Baltic odyssey

The melding of disbelief and marvel lingered in the air, enveloping them in a veil of intrigue, as they embarked on their final leg of the journey toward Copenhagen. Clad in polished tuxedos, they reveled in opulent indulgence. Since Samuel had studied in Copenhagen, he knew how to gain access to the most exclusive establishments with a practiced ease.

Amidst the effervescent allure of the Danish capital, the two friends embraced the revelry of their adventure indulging in the opulence that enveloped them. Their boisterous laughter and animated conversations resounded through the hallowed halls of the city's elite establishments, the allure of upscale soirées and lavish gatherings capturing their spirits in a whirlwind of decadence. "Ah, Copenhagen has a certain allure, doesn't it?" Samuel remarked, a smirk playing on his lips as they strolled through the city's resplendent evening. Lauritz nodded, the vibrant tapestry of revelry and sophistication intoxicating his senses. "It seems your world has its own brand of enchantment, Samuel. I can't deny its appeal."

Samuel watched with an inexplicable mix of astonishment and fascination as the vivacious Lauritz seamlessly embraced the lavish lifestyle that had once appeared incompatible with his punk ethos.

The morning of their departure from Copenhagen arrived, and the sailboat set sail once more, carrying them toward Helsingborg where Samuel will marry Lauritz’ sister. As the sailboat rocked gently over the calm water, Samuel brought up the topic that had been bothering him. “Lauritz, I think it’s time to take the ring off. After all, your sister expects you to look like a punk – even though I prefer your current, charming look,” Samuel announced with solemn weight in his words. Venturing into the cabin, Samuel endeavored to remove the ring, only to be met with an unforeseen predicament.

His fervent words reverberated with unrestrained urgency, "Lauritz, I can't... It won't... It's... I can't remove it! Lauritz, I can't seem to get it off," he called out in distress, his voice wrought with urgency.  "It's stuck, and I don't know what to do." Lauritz sprang into action, his touch eliciting a peculiar sensation in Samuel, who found himself thrown off balance by an unexpected surge of arousal - Samuel sported a boner. Before their bewildered eyes, Lauritz's demeanor underwent a subtle shift, his gaze now infused with an alluring allure that took Samuel by surprise. As the unexpected surge of desire enveloped them, Lauritz dropped his shorts, parting his legs with a provocative air.

"Take this opportunity, Samuel. Let's embrace the unexpected," Lauritz uttered with a newfound confidence, the air thick with unspoken desires that coursed between them. Samuel was drawn by the sight and couldn't resist and took the opportunity to penetrate Lauritz.   After they made love Lauritz turned to Samuel, a solemn glimmer in his eyes, and whispered, "Samuel, I... I want to stay like this. I don’t want to become a sleazy punker again." Samuel’s breath caught in his throat, his gaze locked with Lauritz's. "What are you saying, Lauritz?" In an unexpected twist of fate, the ring tightened around Samuel's cock, seamlessly merging with his flesh. As the transformation took hold, a sense of undeniable euphoria washed over him. Gazing at Lauritz, a knowing smile curled Samuel's lips. "Tomorrow, I will marry my dream girl. And as her dowry, I received her brother to have fun with. I couldn't be happier." Lauritz chuckled and teased, "I guess even a trip to Las Vegas couldn't have been wilder. Seems like your gay sailing trip turned us both bi.”

The following day, as Samuel stood at the altar, he exchanged vows with his beloved, the echoes of a union hitherto unforeseen threading through the tender fabric of his heart.

And in Lauritz, he found a cherished confidant—a companion bound by the threads of an unexpected journey that would endure far beyond the veil of tradition. As the evening unfurled in all its opulent splendor, Samuel orchestrated a future endowed with an unforeseen serenity. With unwavering determination, he ensured that Lauritz was granted a place at an elite university and provided the resources necessary to flourish—a life enraptured by boundless opportunity.

In the wake of unforeseen revelations, Lauritz embraced the life of a typical, self-assured scion, reveling in the embrace of newfound passions and embarking on an uncharted journey tinged with the allure of possibility.

#male tf #male transformation #personality change #mystery #straight to bi #sailing tf #magic ring #punk to prep

[fafnir19]

You are what you eat

Lucius stood on the wooden deck of the fishing boat, the crisp sea air swirling around him. The sun was starting to dip beneath the horizon, casting the surrounding waters in a warm, golden light. As the boat bobbed gently against the waves, Lucius and his study group hauled in their day's catch, laughter and excitement filling the air. Neil, his bespectacled best friend and president of the debate club, cheered as he reeled in a flounder, while Arthur, the charismatic jock and team captain of the hockey team, flexed his muscles as he grappled with a particularly feisty tuna. Despite being the odd one out in terms of practical skills, Lucius beamed with pride as he held up a small sea devil fish that dangled from his fishing line. His bookish nature didn't often lend itself to such activities, but catching the peculiar creature filled him with an unexpected sense of accomplishment.

However, their joyous atmosphere was soon to be disrupted. As they returned to the port of Valetta, the vibrant lights of the city greeted them, along with their vegan fellow student, Hanna. Her curly brown hair bounced as she stormed towards them, her eyes blazing with fury. "What have you done?" Hanna's voice sliced through the air like a whip. "You callous, heartless hunters... torturing innocent creatures of the sea!" At first, Lucius and the others attempted to reason with her, but her tirade only escalated. Sensing the tension, Neil attempted to calm her with logical arguments, but Hanna's anger knew no bounds. "Curse you animal torturers! You are what you eat!" Hanna's words reverberated through the group, casting a shadow over their earlier merriment. Ignoring Hanna's protest, the rest of the study group made their way to a nearby fish restaurant, determined not to let her dampen their spirits. They eagerly devoured the fruits of their labor, savoring the delectable seafood dishes with hearty appetites.

The night was restless for Lucius. His stomach churned, aching and a sense of unease gripped his entire being. He tossed and turned in his bed, battling waves of nausea. Desperate, he sprinted down the hallway, bursting into the bathroom, only to be met with a shocking sight. Instead of the familiar porcelain fixtures, a swirling vortex loomed in the center of the room, a bizarre gateway to parts unknown. Without a second thought, he dashed inside, propelled by an inexplicable force. Lucius emerged in an otherworldly landscape, shrouded in billowing smoke and suffused with an eerie glow. Before he could process the change, he noticed something about himself—he was now athletic, clad in a skimpy fur loincloth and fur boots.

Confusion gripped him, a frown knitting his brow as he surveyed his transformed appearance. Amidst the desolation, he encountered a grand palace that starkly contrasted the misery outside. Inside, an exquisitely handsome young man, with hair like silk and piercing eyes, sat regally upon a throne. It was none other than the Prince of Hell, Lucifer himself.

The revelation made Lucius' heart race, his mind reeling with disbelief. "You're in Hell, Lucius," Lucifer declared, his voice as smooth as silk and laced with an unmistakable magnetism. "Why am I here?" Lucius stammered, the gravity of his situation settling in. "Hanna's curse has brought you here," Lucifer explained. "Her words—'You are what you eat'—have taken effect. By consuming the sea devil fish, you've been transformed into a young devil." Lucius paled at the revelation, his thoughts swimming with apprehension. Before he could process it all, Lucifer spoke again, pulling him further into the abyss. "Tonight, you shall learn the insatiable dexterity of passion," Lucifer purred, a glint in his eyes. Lucius recoiled, the notion of such intimate endeavors with Lucifer unfathomable. "I—this is not—" "Here, such distinctions hold no sway," Lucifer interjected, his allure insurmountable. "Pleasure transcends gender." Despite his initial aversion, Lucius found himself succumbing to a strange allure emanating from Lucifer. Conflicted and bewildered, he yielded to the unfolding enigma.

The night was a whirlwind of sensations, a tempestuous symphony of desire and harmony. In the haze of it all, Lucius traversed uncharted territories within himself, desperately clinging to his sense of self amidst the tumult. In the aftermath, Lucius found himself grappling with the uncharted depths of his new existence. His training with Lucifer had led him to master the art of sublime pleasures,

yet a yearning for his former life burned within him. He longed to return to Valetta, to his friends, to the world he once knew. "Please, Lucifer," implored Lucius, his voice tinged with desperation. "I long to return to my former life, to shed this visage of damnation and once again breathe the air of the mortal realm." The Prince of Hell regarded him with an inscrutable expression, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Ah, the yearning for mortal trappings," mused Lucifer. "Very well, I shall grant you the opportunity to seek an advocate from your world who will negotiate the terms of your release." Brimming with a sense of hope, Lucius set his sights on Neil, the president of the debate club and his closest confidant.

So Lucifer sent Lucius through the portal to Neil. As Lucius approached Neil with fervent entreaties, Neil was shock about the chiseled and nearly naked appearance of Lucius.

A shroud of apprehension descended upon the timid, rotund figure before Lucius. "Neil, I beseech thee," pleaded Lucius, "aid me in my plight. Thou art the president of the debate club, and I implore thee to act as my advocate in the infernal negotiation with Lucifer." Neil wrung his hands nervously, his brow furrowed with trepidation. "I... I cannot fathom venturing into the clutches of Hell," he stuttered, eyes wide with fear. "The prospect fills my soul with dread and dismay." Crestfallen, Lucius sought solace in the warmth of camaraderie, turning to his companions in search of an ally who would brave the nether reaches alongside him. Their spirits, however, were cast in the same mold of fear and reluctance, leaving Lucius bereft of assistance. Frustrated and abandoned, Lucius found himself at a crossroads, his desperation palpable in the still of the night.

Before Neil could utter another word, a figure loomed in the doorway, exuding an air of audacious swagger. "What's this I hear about a jaunt to Hell, eh?" Arthur, the quintessential jock, sauntered into the room with an impish grin, his athletic form a stark contrast to the lingering air of apprehension. Lucius regarded Arthur with a mixture of surprise and trepidation. "Arthur, this is a matter of grave import, not some frivolous escapade for your amusement." Arthur chuckled, his voice a melodic cascade of mirth. "Oh come on, Lucius! It's not every day one gets the chance to bargain with the Prince of Hell. Count me in—I'm ready for a bit of devilish negotiation." Neil quivered in evident discomfort, his apprehension palpable as he gazed upon Arthur's daring countenance. "B-but Arthur, the perils of such a venture—" Arthur waved away Neil's concerns with a dismissive flick of his hand. "Ah, stop your worrying, old chap! Adventure awaits, and who better than me truly to accompany Lucius on this bold journey?" Thus, with a mixture of reluctance and resigned acceptance, Lucius found himself entrusting his fate to the exuberant spirit of Arthur, their pact sealed in the crucible of necessity and the enigmatic allure of the unknown.

Lucius and Arthur made their way through the portal once more, Arthur's easy smile never faltering. As they traversed into the unknown, an unmistakable metamorphosis took hold, their attire shifting to match the infernal landscape. In contrast to his apprehension, Arthur was exuberant, delighting in the swift transformation. "Look at this outfit!" Arthur remarked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "It accentuates my—ahem—assets quite nicely."

Lucius couldn't help but shake his head, a semblance of amusement tugging at the corners of his lips. Amidst the slate-grey environs, their journey led them to Lucifer’s presence once more, and they began their arduous negotiations. As Lucius awaited his turn outside, each moment stretched into an eternity, the weight of his fate bearing down on him. When summoned inside, Lucifer's offer was delivered with an air of finality—Arthur would remain in Hell for a month, and only then would Lucius find his deliverance. Though taken aback by the stipulations, Lucius held tight to hope, a vow etched in his heart that they would emerge from this infernal ordeal unscathed.

Arthur settled into his newfound surroundings with ease, his exuberant charisma illuminating the bleak corners of hell. Engaging Lucius in conversation one day, he couldn't help but notice the lingering discontent etched across Lucius' features.

"Lucius, why so glum?" Arthur queried, his tone carrying an air of affable curiosity. "This place isn't half bad for us young devils. The pleasures that adorn our grasp are unparalleled, and freedom unfurls without consequence. Let's savor our time here." Lucius averted his gaze, grappling with the dissonance that warred within him. "I cannot find solace in a realm suffused with torment and despair, Arthur. This isn't who I am, nor who I wish to be." Arthur nudged a discarded skull, a veil of mischief coloring his features as he spoke. "Indeed, the lost souls stagnate within a dismal shroud, but it does not define us. We can escape this fate and return to the mortal realm. Let us cherish our reprieve." With a cheerful grin, Arthur nudged the nearby skull and proposed a whimsical game of field hockey, the sound of jovial laughter echoing in the desolate expanse.

As the days melded into nights, Lucius found an unexpected reprieve in the evenings spent with Arthur, their camaraderie breathing a newfound sense of exhilaration into the grim far reaches of hell. In a surprising turn of events, Hell seemed to shed its formidable visage as the duo whiled away the hours with their impromptu hockey games, the resounding echoes of their laughter weaving through the otherwise desolate halls.

Upon their return to the human world, to Lucius' astonishment, his appearance remained unchanged. It was a jarring realization, and he couldn't stifle his disbelief as he uttered a baffled exclamation into the lingering portal. "Lucifer, you've neglected to release me!" Lucius bellowed forth, a bewildered fervor coloring his words. To his surprise, a poignant rejoinder wafted through the portal, spoken with a suave, unrestrained mirth. "I hold no responsibility in this matter, Lucius," Lucifer's voice carried forth, resonating with unbridled amusement. "You have willingly and ardently embraced your time with Arthur, solidifying your transformation into a jock. And as for you, Arthur, our previous agreement stands, now binding Lucius as well." Beside him, Arthur stood with a mixture of reluctance and dawning comprehension etched across his features, a solemn nod of acknowledgement punctuating his silent acceptance of the pact.

"Lucius, there's something I must divulge," Arthur began, his voice laden with deep-seated trepidation. "I made a pact with Lucifer regarding your release from Hell." Perplexed, Lucius regarded Arthur with a furrowed brow, a ripple of uncertainty coursing through him. "What pact?" he inquired, his voice tinged with a burgeoning unease. "I struck a deal with Lucifer that a jock who emerges from Hell should continue to serve him. Seduce, corrupt, and delight in the souls of the young, all for the pleasure of Lucifer," Arthur revealed, his words exuding an aura of solemn resolve. "I had no inkling that it would ensnare you as well."

Lucius exhaled a heavy sigh, grappling with the weight of his impending destiny. "I wanted to return home, Arthur, but not like this," he confided, his gaze laced with a tempest of emotions. "Yet, you're the only one who's had stood by me." With a solemn resolve, he draped his arm over Arthur's shoulder, a newfound camaraderie binding them in unforeseen solidarity. "Now," Lucius declared, a glint of unwavering determination glittering in his eyes, "you're my jock brother. Let's navigate this uncertain path together." Perplexed, Arthur sought clarity, his expression a canvas of swirling emotions. "What do you plan to do, Lucius?" he inquired, his voice edged with a tentative resolve. "Let's beat up that craven coward Neil," Lucius proclaimed, a fervent zeal infusing his words. "Are you in?" An impish grin played at the corners of Arthur's lips, an air of unyielding mischief enveloping him. "Neil is no longer of concern," he divulged, an undertone of satisfaction weaving through his words. "He's part of my pact with Lucifer — an ensnared soul. I had intended to pledge Hanna to Lucifer, but he demurred, deeming her veganism is self-made Hell on Earth already."

Neil's incredulous protests echoed into the night as the earth split asunder, a vortex spiriting him into the inky abyss.

Lucius, now at the helm of the debating club and vice-captain of the hockey team, reveling in his newfound athletic prowess both on the field and in his amorous escapades.

Time churned forward, paving the way for Arthur's and Lucius' shared triumphs and conquests, their lives intertwined in unanticipated tumult and unyielding satisfaction. Amidst the frenzied whirlwind of their newfound existence, Lucius had come to embrace the heady thrill of vanity and conceit, relishing in the unabashed freedom that crested upon their newfound paths.

#male tf #male transformation #personality change #nerd to jock #devil

[fafnir19]

Swimmer

Liam grinned mischievously as he drilled a tiny peephole into the wall of the girl's locker room at the public indoor swimming pool.

He couldn't resist the temptation to catch a glimpse of the water ballet team changing. Little did he know, his voyeuristic adventure was about to take an unexpected turn. As he peered through the hole, admiring the graceful movements of the girls, a sudden gasp echoed through the room. Liam's heart raced as he realized he had been caught in the act. Before he could even react, a group of stern-faced water ballet team members stormed toward him. "You little creep!" one of the girls exclaimed, her hands on her hips. "You've invaded our privacy, and we're not letting you get away with it. You owe us big time." Liam's cheeks flushed crimson with embarrassment as he stammered apologies, but the girls were having none of it. They demanded revenge, and their revenge took an unexpected turn. "You better make it up to us," one of the girls said, a devious glint in her eye. "And we know just how you can do it. We want a strip show, right here, right now." Liam's eyes widened in shock as he realized the gravity of the situation. Reluctantly, he began to comply, feeling a mix of shame and resentment bubbling inside him. As he started to undress, he found his arousal fading, replaced by a sense of disillusionment. What had started as a voyeuristic thrill had turned into a humiliating spectacle.

The girls, however, seemed to revel in their newfound power over him. Once Liam had finished satisfying the girls' demand, they presented him with a curious item: a shimmering, sleek, and magical speedo. "Put this on," they instructed, exchanging knowing looks. "It'll teach you a thing or two about being objectified." Although he was skeptical, Liam obeyed as it was better than being naked and putting on the magic speedo. To his amazement, his body underwent a breathtaking transformation.

His once unremarkable physique was replaced by a chiseled, muscular form, and his features became sharper and more defined. His body hair vanished, replaced by flawless, smooth skin. As he stood before the girls, their eyes widened with desire, but his own feelings were far from reciprocated.

Clad in the enchanting Speedos that had wrought a profound change in his physique, he strode into the bustling indoor swimming pool, acutely aware of the admiring glances that followed him. His newfound physique, sculpted and alluring, drew the attention of both men and women, who watched in awe as he approached the pool. The coach, a stern-faced man with a grizzled beard and a keen eye, greeted Liam with a nod. "You're the new recruit, I take it," he said, eyeing him appraisingly. "I must say, you certainly come with quite the buzz surrounding you." Liam shifted uncomfortably under the coach's scrutiny, trying to ignore the way his every movement seemed to attract unwavering attention. "Yes, I, uh, I guess so," he muttered, feeling more conspicuous than ever. The coach's lips quirked into a wry smile. "Well, welcome to the team. We'll see how well you swim with all those eyes on you," he remarked, before ushering Liam towards the pool deck. As the swimmers dove into the water and began their rigorous practice, Liam hesitantly followed suit, attempting to blend in with the rest of the team. The sensation of the water caressing his skin, the rhythmic pulse of his muscles as he propelled himself through the pool – it all felt remarkably foreign and yet undeniably exhilarating.

Liam joined the team for practice, and as they headed to the showers, he became acutely aware of his altered state.

The steamy mist enveloped the showers, and the air hummed with the sound of water cascading against flesh. It was in that moment, as his eyes trailed over the sinewy forms of his teammates, that a startling realization dawned upon him. His arousal, once sparked by the sight of the water ballet team, had now shifted. No longer did the female form hold the same allure. Instead, it was the sight of his fellow swimmers – their sculpted physiques, the way droplets of water glistened on their taut skin – that elicited an unexpected and undeniable response within him. He tried to ignore it, but he just shuddered and his cock twitched, suddenly showing a remarkable hard-on.

He tried to hide his boner, but one of his teammates, Jeff, saw through his facade. "Hey, dude, it's cool," Jeff reassured him. “We won’t judge you for checking us out. In fact, it's kind of flattering. You should just be yourself.” Before Liam could respond, Jeff leaned in and planted a soft, lingering kiss on his lips. In that moment, everything became clear to Liam. His sexuality had shifted, and he was gay now.

As he headed toward his locker, Liam was met with another surprise. His clothes had been replaced with form-fitting, preppy attire, a stark contrast to his usual wardrobe. Little did he know that this would trigger the final stage of his transformation.

He put the clothes on, confusion swirling in his head as he tried to piece together his fragmented memories, but everything about his past seemed to fade away as his identity shifted, and he turned into nothing more than a cocky, captivating gay swimmer - a far cry from the shy and unassuming young man he once was

Before he could fully process his thoughts, the swim coach approached him with a scrutinizing gaze, taking note of the bewildered expression etched on Liam's features. "You've transformed quite remarkably, Liam," the coach remarked, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. "Not just a swimmer— now, you've become a jock." Liam's lips curved into a complacent smile as he eagerly nodded. "Yes, Sir," he replied, a newfound sense of obedience coloring his words. In that moment, it dawned on him that he had indeed become a willing participant in a world he had never imagined before. Without missing a beat, the coach extended an offer that sent shivers down Liam's spine. "Would you like to live in the apartment above the swimming pool and become my obedient jock boy, Liam?" Liam's pulse quickened as he responded with a fervent nod, excitement bubbling within him. "Yes, Sir. I'd love that," he exclaimed, his newfound disposition embracing the prospect of total submission.

 And so, the apartment above the swimming pool became Liam's new home—a nexus of desire and command, where he was perpetually available for the eager gaze of the swim team but out of reach for the girls who had once captivated him.

Days turned into weeks, and the personal transformation that Liam had undergone continued to unravel before his eyes. His once-ordinary life had taken a surreal and unforeseen turn, as he became a figure of virile allure, captivating those around him with an effortless charm and a magnetic presence. But while his outward appearance had evolved into that of a magnificent male specimen, inwardly, Liam was wrestling with a torrent of conflicting emotions. He found himself experiencing a surge of excitement and thrill at the attention he garnered from the members of the swim team, yet beneath the surface, a sense of disquiet gnawed at him.

One day, as he lounged by the poolside, basking in the admiring glances and flattering remarks directed his way, he caught sight of the water ballet team. Their longing gazes bore witness to a desire that he was no longer able to reciprocate. Liam couldn't help but notice the frustration etched on their faces, a stark reminder that he had become an unattainable object of desire—a truth that left them wanting for more.

As he attempted to navigate the labyrinth of his newfound existence, a pivotal moment arrived during a private conversation with the swim coach. "You’ve developed quite well, Liam," the coach began, his tone laced with a potent mix of authority and affection. "Your prowess as a jock boy has transcended mere physicality. Now, you've become a jock toy, offering yourself up for the pleasure of others. How does it feel to embrace this role, to be a mere toy?"

Liam's eyes glimmered with a sense of fervor as he responded with unwavering certainty. "It's exhilarating, Sir. I thrive in this role," he declared, a fervent zeal infusing his words. The coach's gaze bore into him, acknowledging the transformation that had taken hold of Liam's very being. "I'm pleased to hear that, Liam. You've embraced your true nature as a jock toy with remarkable grace. It’s clear that this life suits you," the coach asserted, his approval evident in the affectionate gleam of his eyes. From that day onward, Liam embarked on a newfound journey, fully embracing the role that had been bestowed upon him. He reveled in the adoration of the swim team, eagerly responding to their every desire with unwavering obedience and an insatiable willingness to please.

Meanwhile, the girls from the water ballet team found themselves at a loss, struggling to comprehend the enigma that Liam had become. As they watched him cavort with the swim team, their longing gazes reflected the bitter realization that they could no longer capture his attention—his newfound preferences lay elsewhere, leaving them in a state of longing and dejection. In the end, Liam had transcended the boundaries of his former self, stepping into a world that was at once beguiling and strange. He had become a captivating enigma, a docile jock toy at the beck and call of the swim team and a testament to the perplexing nature of desire and transformation.

#male tf #male transformation #personality change #straight to gay #swimmer tf #speedo #swim brief #gay jock #jock toy #servant

[fafnir19]

The Hamptons Diary

Loris sat in the glow of his computer screen, the frenetic sounds of gunshots and explosions filling his small apartment. The clock on the wall ticked past midnight.

His neighbors Andrew and Dean, a gay couple in their late forties, tossed and turned in their adjacent apartment, unable to sleep amidst the cacophony of Loris' late-night gaming. Suddenly, the sound of pounding fists echoed through the thin walls. Loris paused the game and sighed, knowing it was only a matter of seconds before Andrew and Dean barged in. "Can you keep it down, Loris? We're trying to sleep here," Andrew's stern voice reverberated through the door. "Yeah, seriously, Loris. It's the middle of the night," Dean added, his voice laden with exhaustion. Loris opened the door, revealing himself to be unkempt, his blond hair disheveled and his once-bright blue eyes weary and bloodshot. He mumbled an apology as a single tear trickled down his cheek. "What's wrong, Loris?" Dean's tone softened slightly, concern flickering in his eyes. "I lost my job, okay? I don't know what to do. I feel useless," Loris choked out, his voice laced with defeat. Andrew and Dean exchanged a glance, the reality of Loris' struggles sinking in. They offered their sympathies before leaving, but the tension lingered in the air like an unspoken plea for help. The nightly pattern of gaming and sleepless neighbors continued for weeks, taking a toll on Andrew and Dean. Andrew, with important business meetings on the horizon, could no longer tolerate the disturbances. "We can't go on like this, Dean. I need my rest for these meetings," Andrew voiced his frustration, weary lines etched on his face. Dean, with a thoughtful expression, suggested a temporary solution. "Remember our friend in the Hamptons? We inherited his house. Loris could look after it for us, spruce things up a bit. We could even pay him for it, give him something to focus on." Andrew hesitated, skeptical of entrusting Loris with such responsibility. "You know how disorganized Loris is. Can he handle it? And I've never liked him, you know that," he remarked, his apprehension evident. After some debate, Andrew begrudgingly agreed, swayed by Dean's kindness and the hope of peaceful nights ahead.

Dean drove Loris to the opulent oceanfront home in the Hamptons, the fresh sea breeze offering a stark contrast to the urban clamor left behind. Loris gazed wide-eyed at the sprawling property, feeling a sense of peace wash over him. "Thank you, Dean. I'll take care of the house, I promise," Loris assured, a glimmer of determination in his eyes. Dean patted Loris on the shoulder before heading back to the city, leaving Loris to the tranquil expanse of the Hamptons estate. Days passed, and Loris reveled in his newfound solitude, though the pristine beauty of the house soon mirrored the chaos of his city apartment. Used dishes littered the kitchen, and dust settled on every surface. Amidst the clutter, Loris stumbled upon a weathered diary, its pages yellowed with age. Intrigued, Loris began to read, realizing that the diary belonged to Tom, likely the previous owner's companion.

Loris sat cross-legged on the floor, a pool of moonlight around him as he pored over the aged diary. Dust motes danced in the air, and the distant crash of waves against the shore provided a soothing backdrop. The pages crackled as he turned them, each revealing more of Tom's intriguing life. Scribbles and smudges adorned the once pristine pages, speaking of Tom's dedication to exercising, grooming, and housekeeping. A humorous snort escaped Loris as he read about Tom's relentless efforts. With a shake of his head, he thought, "This guy was really something." Holding the diary closer to his face, Loris continued reading by the flickering light of an old candle. He marveled at the meticulous routines Tom adhered to, his neat handwriting leaving no detail untold. Loris couldn't help but chuckle at the pages filled with anecdotes about Tom's wardrobe and preppy attire. As the nights bled into each other, Loris found himself unconsciously mimicking Tom's habits. He'd rise before dawn to jog along the beach, pamper himself with regular grooming sessions, and maintain the house with an almost obsessive zeal.

And when he slipped into Tom's preppy clothes for the first time, a shiver ran down his spine, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through his body. Days turned into weeks, and Loris was a changed man. His previously disheveled appearance had given way to a chiseled physique and impeccable grooming. At night, the house practically sparkled under his diligent care. One evening, Loris stood before a full-length mirror, clad in Tom's preppy clothes. As he admired his reflection, a new sense of confidence surged within him. The realization struck him like a lightning bolt - he looked like a gay wet dream.

A mischievous smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and he let out a low, satisfied hum. The thought surprised him, but he couldn't deny the thrill that coursed through him. Lost in his thoughts, Loris barely noticed Dean's arrival at the beach house.

As Dean stepped into the luxurious oceanfront home in the Hamptons, he couldn't help but feel a jolt of surprise at the sight before him. Loris, once unkempt and disheveled, now stood before him as an enigmatic and adorable young man. Dean's eyebrows shot up in astonishment as he struggled to process the drastic transformation. "Loris, what... how did this happen?" Dean's voice quivered with disbelief. Loris grinned, exuding a newfound confidence that seemed to radiate from every pore. "I found Tom's diary," he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Dean's heart sank as he realized what that meant. He thought the cursed diary was long gone, destroyed to prevent its sinister influence from spreading. The possessive and jealous former homeowner had given it to his lover, Tom, in a twisted attempt to bind him and transform him into a trophy boy against his will. And now, it seemed that Loris had unknowingly fallen prey to the same fate. Dean's expression darkened, his voice barely above a horrified whisper. "Loris, that diary is cursed. It forces its owner to become a trophy boy, against their will. We need to destroy it, before it's too late." He watched Loris carefully, praying that he hadn't been fully ensnared by the diary's enchantment. Loris' eyes widened in shock as he processed Dean's words. "I-I'm the victim of a spell?" His voice trembled with uncertainty. For a moment, it seemed that the confident facade he'd adopted was beginning to crack.

But then, to Dean's profound dismay, Loris let out a laugh that chilled him to the bone. "The spell is good!" Loris exclaimed, his tone betraying an unsettling fervor. "I used to be undisciplined and unkempt - and look at me now. The magic makes me better! Plus, I like the way you look at me lustfully, even if I'm not gay!" Dean's heart sank as he realized the depth of the diary's hold on Loris. "But Loris, you don't understand. You'll become a trophy boy, against your will. You'll be forced to submit to someone else's desires, to become something you're not." His voice shook with urgency as he tried to reason with Loris, to break through the spell's intoxicating allure. To his astonishment, Loris's expression transformed into one of unnerving determination. "It isn't against my will anymore," he insisted, his words firm and unwavering. Dean felt a surge of helplessness as he confronted the stark reality before him. It was clear that Loris had embraced the changes wrought by the cursed diary, despite the dangers that lurked beneath its enticing facade. Desperation gnawed at Dean's insides as he grappled with the enormity of the situation. As the weight of their predicament settled upon him, Dean realized that breaking the spell would be an uphill battle. But for Loris's sake, he knew he couldn't simply give up.

Dean drove back to the city from the Hamptons, a sense of urgency gnawing at him. He weaved through traffic, determined to tell Andrew about the cursed diary and Loris's transformation. As he burst through the front door, he found Andrew in the living room, engrossed in his laptop. "Andrew, we have to break the spell!" Dean exclaimed, rushing over to Andrew. Andrew lifted his gaze from the screen. "Dean, what are you talking about? What spell?" Dean quickly recounted how Loris had discovered the cursed diary in the Hamptons, and how it had changed him drastically. "We have to find a way to undo this. It's not right, Andrew." Andrew's eyes widened, and he leaned in, "Let's do it. We'll figure out how to break this curse." A week later, Loris returned from the Hamptons. As he stepped into the living room, Andrew's breath caught in his throat. Loris stood there, transformed into an adorable young man. His previously disheveled appearance was replaced with a preppy and well-groomed look.

"Wow," Andrew murmured under his breath, unable to tear his eyes away from Loris. Dean shot a pleading look at Andrew. "We have to do something, Andrew. Loris is becoming a trophy boy against his will." However, as Andrew stared at Loris, he found himself charmed by the young man. "Dean, I don't think I can help you," Andrew said softly. "What? But Andrew, this is not right," Dean protested. Andrew's eyes softened as he looked at Loris. "He's the son I never thought I wanted. I can't help you, Dean. I'm sorry." The realization hit Dean hard. He had lost this battle. He resigned himself to his fate as Loris's second gay father, feeling helpless in the face of the enchantment that had captured Loris. Weeks passed, and Andrew and Dean rallied to support Loris. They made it possible for him to study at the best university in the country, providing him with everything he needed for his education and well-being.

Loris flourished under their care, embracing his new life as a well-groomed and preppy young man. In the end, Loris was happier than ever. He found comfort in the care and attention he received from Andrew and Dean, feeling like he had finally found a place where he belonged. The once unkempt and lost Loris had transformed into a young man who exuded confidence and joy. As the days went by, laughter and warmth filled the walls of the house. It echoed with the sounds of Andrew and Loris joking and sharing stories, while Dean looked on with a warm smile. Despite the circumstances that had led to this unusual family dynamic, there was an unspoken bond that tied them together. Loris had found a new sense of purpose and belonging, and Andrew and Dean had welcomed him into their lives with open arms. Though the cursed diary had brought about unexpected changes, it had also led to an unlikely but loving family forming in the beautiful house in the Hamptons.

#male tf #male transformation #personality change #preppy tf #hamptons

[fafnir19]

The Gender Switch Experience

Linus sat on his stool in the laboratory, swirling a stirring rod idly in a beaker of bubbling pink liquid. Elias leaned against the adjacent bench, eyebrow raised in amusement. Linus sighed, setting the rod down. "I just don't get it, Elias. How do women work? Why can't I find a girlfriend?"

Elias chuckled, adjusting his glasses. "You know, Linus, sometimes intelligence can be intimidating for some people. Plus, you can be a bit too deep with your scientific explanation of the universe. You need to be a bit more approachable and light-hearted." Linus huffed, running a hand through his blonde buzz cut. "But isn't it frustrating? Women seem to go for these brainless muscle masses, like that arrogant Aron from sales.

It's like their brains shut down in the presence of biceps and a charming smile." Elias arched an eyebrow. "Are you jealous of Aron?" Linus blushed. "Of course not! It's just... frustrating. I wish I could understand them better. And on top of that, my parents keep pressuring me about grandchildren. I'm their only hope to carry on the family lineage. It's like the weight of the ancestry rests solely on my shoulders."

Suddenly, Elias's eyes lit up with an idea. "Wait a minute, Linus. Remember our research project? What if we use our machine on one of us to understand the female perspective better?" Linus blinked, intrigued. "You mean the gender switch device?" Elias nodded. "Yes! We've been on the verge of a breakthrough, and this could be the perfect opportunity for you to walk a mile in a woman's heels, metaphorically speaking." Linus's eyes widened with realization. "You really think this could help me understand women better?" Elias grinned. "Absolutely! Plus, it could be a fantastic test run for our breakthrough project. Think about it, Linus. You could become Lina for a while and experience the world through a new lens." Linus hesitated before nodding resolutely. "I'll do it." Elias clapped him on the back. "Great! We'll do it on Friday evening when no one is in the lab. We'll keep it a secret, just between us." Excitement and nervousness swirled inside Linus's mind. What would it be like to inhabit a different body, to see the world through a different set of eyes? He couldn't wait for Friday to come. 

As the laboratory fell into a hushed silence, Linus positioned himself before the formidable transformation machine.

Nervously, he squared his shoulders, anticipation and trepidation intermingling within the depths of his being. Elias, his stalwart companion, stood poised to assist, his eyes alight with a fervent intellectual curiosity that mirrored Linus' own. "Do you truly wish to proceed with this, Linus?" Elias inquired, his voice tinged with a blend of caution and excitement. Linus met Elias' gaze, his own filled with unwavering determination. "I must understand, Elias. I must experience firsthand what it means to walk in a woman's shoes," he replied, his words resonating with resolute conviction. With a nod, Elias initiated the sequence, setting the transformative apparatus into motion. The contraption hummed to life, casting an otherworldly glow as it enveloped Linus in its embrace. Time seemed to stand still as an iridescent aura unfolded around him, bathing him in an ethereal luminescence. The air crackled with anticipation as Linus felt a strange, almost imperceptible tugging at the very essence of his being. His form contorted and shifted as the machine worked its mysterious alchemy, imbuing him with a profound sense of transformation. His heart quickened as he became increasingly aware of the subtle, yet undeniable rearrangement of his physicality. A surge of emotions coursed through him as he observed his chest swelling with newfound fullness, the contours of his physique assuming a delicate femininity. He gasped in astonishment as his once-familiar genitals underwent a profound metamorphosis, inverting and reforming into the embodiment of womanhood. A flurry of sensations, both exhilarating and disconcerting, washed over him, signaling the irrevocable completion of his transformation. Elias surveyed the scene with an analytical fervor, his eyes aglow with exhilaration. "It's working, Linus! You're becoming Lina!" he announced, a spark of triumph dancing in his gaze alongside a glimmer of incredulity. Indeed, the profound metamorphosis had come to fruition, and Linus had been reborn as Lina, her spirit pulsating with the complexities of her newfound identity.

With an unyielding resolve, Lina prepared to embark on a journey teeming with uncharted territory, her gaze alight with an insatiable curiosity. "Elias, I need to immerse myself in the world as a woman, to truly comprehend," she declared, her voice resonating with a fervent resolve. Acknowledging the weight of their audacious experiment, Elias met Lina's eye with a nod of acquiescence. "We must exercise caution, Lina. This is unexplored terrain, and we must tread with utmost care," he cautioned, cognizant of the gravity of their endeavors. As the evening unfolded and the initial shock of her newfound identity began to subside, Lina found herself filled with a sense of empowerment and curiosity. She wore a radiant smile as she thanked Elias profusely for his part in the experiment. "We should celebrate this momentous occasion, Lina," Elias suggested, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Let's go out, have some fun, and truly experience life as a woman." Lina's eyes lit up with excitement at the prospect. "I'd love that! Let's make the most of this opportunity." Together, they ventured into the vibrant city, the evening air filled with an infectious energy. They found themselves in a lively bar, where the gentle clink of glasses and laughter mingled with the pulsating rhythm of music. Lina savored the feeling of newfound freedom and embraced the thrill of the unknown. As the night progressed, Elias and Lina indulged in a few cocktails, their lighthearted conversation punctuated by fits of laughter and the occasional insightful observation. It was a rare and cherished moment of unburdened joy, unmarred by the weight of responsibility and expectations. However, their carefree revelry was interrupted when a familiar presence entered the bar. Lina's heart skipped a beat as she caught sight of Aron, the very object of her frustration earlier.

She felt an urge to flee, but fear and defiance warred within her. Elias noticed Lina's unease and leaned in to whisper, "Let's leave, Lina. We can find another place to enjoy ourselves." Lina hesitated for a moment, then nodded her head with determination. "Yes, Elias. I want to dance. Let's go to a club." Elias raised an eyebrow, surprised at Lina's sudden resolve, but he acquiesced, understanding that she needed her space.  In the pulsating ambiance of the club, Lina lost herself in the dance, her body moving with a fluid grace that she never knew she possessed. The music resounded in her veins, infusing her with a sense of unbridled liberation. Elias, on the other hand, felt out of place in the thumping rhythms of the club and approached Lina. "I think I've had enough," he said with a strained smile. "Do you want to head home?" Lina, intoxicated with her newfound freedom, shook her head. "I'm going to stay a little longer. You go ahead, Elias. I'll find my way back." Elias hesitated, his concern evident in his eyes, but he eventually relented, knowing that Lina needed this night of self-discovery.  As Elias departed for the sidelines, Lina lost herself in the music, the vibrant allure of the night sweeping her into its enchanting embrace.

However, when an unexpected figure approached her amidst the dance, Lina's enthusiasm faltered. Aron materialized in the midst of the crowd, his confident strides carrying him closer to Lina with a charming smile playing on his lips.

Despite her initial reluctance, Lina found herself tentatively entertaining his approach, a strange sense of curiosity seizing her. "What's a vibrant beauty like you doing all alone on the dance floor?" Aron inquired, his blue eyes glimmering with a warmth that caught Lina off guard. Lina hesitated, caught in a curious dance of conflicting emotions. "I was planning to leave, but the music got the better of me. I couldn't resist the allure of the night." Aron's smile widened, the playful glint in his eyes stirring something unfamiliar within Lina. "I'm glad you stayed. Care to join me for a drink? I'd love to get to know you better." Lina's thoughts swirled in a tempest of uncertainty, her resistance slowly eroding in the face of Aron's undeniable charm. "I suppose one drink couldn't hurt," she acquiesced, allowing herself to be swept up in the enigmatic allure of the night. As the evening wore on, Lina found herself entangled in a captivating conversation with Aron, his charming manner casting an unexpected spell over her. The vibrant energy of the club intertwined with the heady allure of Aron's company, stirring sensations within Lina that she struggled to comprehend. Though she had harbored resentment towards Aron, Lina discovered a surprising charm and warmth in him as they conversed, his laughter infectious and his wit surprisingly disarming.

The night unfolded in a whirlwind of emotions, and before she could comprehend the gravity of her actions, she found herself in Aron's embrace, succumbing to an unexpected wave of desire. The next morning dawned with a disorienting haze of regret and bewilderment. Lina struggled to come to terms with her unexpected liaison with Aron, the weight of her actions settling heavily upon her. 

Eventually, Lina reunited with Elias, the gender switch machine restoring her to her original form as Linus. However, amidst their joyous banter, Linus divulged the startling revelations brought about by his time as Lina. "Elias, you won't believe what happened," Linus confessed, his expression a concoction of incredulity and astonishment. "As Lina, I found myself overwhelmed by unfamiliar sensations, and I… I slept with Aron." Elias arched an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Well, well, well, Linus. It seems that Lina had quite the adventure. And with Aron, no less!" Linus scowled, his cheeks ablaze with embarrassment. "It was a mistake, Elias. I don't know what came over me." Elias chuckled, offering Linus a reassuring pat on the back. "Relax, my friend. It's all part of the grand expedition of life. And I must say, this will make for a fantastic story to tell." 

As days turned into weeks following the experiment, Linus noticed a newfound vitality within himself, an inexplicable surge of energy and a fervent inclination towards physical activity. In a departure from his usual demeanor, he delved into rigorous physical exercise, his frame gradually gaining strength and definition.  Elias observed Linus's remarkable metamorphosis with a mix of awe and curiosity, remarking on his friend's newfound dedication to fitness. "I must say, Linus, the change in your lifestyle is truly astounding. Your commitment to exercise knows no bounds. What ignited this newfound passion?" Linus, a sheen of sweat glistening on his brow, beamed with a newfound confidence. "I can't quite put my finger on it, Elias. It's as if this surge of vitality has engulfed me, propelling me to embrace physical activity like never before. I feel like a whole new person." Elias raised an eyebrow. "A whole new person, you say? Are you certain it's simply the result of amplified endorphins from exercise?" Linus chuckled, the resonating tones of his laughter carrying a semblance of unfamiliarity. "Sure thing, man!" In the following weeks, Linus's fervor for physical activity yielded undeniable results. His physique underwent a stunning transformation, his once slender frame honed into a chiseled form that exuded an air of confidence and vitality. Rumors of his newfound allure rippled through the research facility, prompting admiring glances from colleagues and an influx of attention from female acquaintances.

One fateful day at the gym, Linus found himself face-to-face with Aron, the very embodiment of the idealized image of masculine vitality that Linus had previously begrudged. The air buzzed with an unexpected tension as Aron regarded Linus with a glint of recognition and intrigue.

Aron's eyebrow quirked up in surprise as he studied Linus's physique. "Well, well, well, Linus. Look at you, morphing from a bespectacled scientist into a swole stud. Quite the metamorphosis, I must say. What's your secret?" Linus paused, acutely aware of the newfound strength that surged through his being. "It seems that I've stumbled upon a penchant for physical exertion, much to my own surprise. Perhaps I should be asking you for workout tips, Aron." Aron chuckled, a bemused smile tugging at his lips. "I must admit, the transformation suits you, Linus. Embracing the ways of the jocks, are we?" Their encounters at the gym became a regular occurrence, and soon, Linus found himself embarking on training sessions alongside Aron, their banter filled with a surprising sense of camaraderie. As they delved into rigorous workouts and exchanged jabs and jests, a bond of unexpected companionship began to burgeon between the once unlikely allies.

It was during one such training session that Aron inquired about a peculiar detail. "Say, Linus, I couldn't help but notice something. Your eyes are typically brown, yet they seem to be blue. Are you wearing contact lenses?" Linus furrowed his brow, a flicker of perplexity dancing in his gaze. "That's odd. I haven't donned any lenses, so this alteration is indeed perplexing."  

Seeking answers, Linus approached Elias. In the dimly lit laboratory, Linus paced nervously as Elias fiddled with vials and beakers. "Elias, you have to help me figure this out," Linus implored, his brow furrowed in worry. "My eye color has changed, and I don't understand why. It's like I'm turning into someone else." Elias adjusted his glasses and peered at Linus intently. "Hmm, let's run some tests. We'll get to the bottom of this, Linus," he assured, his voice laced with determination.

With deft movements, Elias collected samples and scurried off to the lab equipment, his mind whirring with potential explanations. After a few days of anxious anticipation, Elias bustled back into the room holding a sheet of paper. "Linus, I have the results," Elias declared, his eyes ablaze with curiosity. "It's... unexpected." "Spit it out, Elias," Linus urged, his nerves on edge. He braced himself for the impending revelation. "According to the DNA test, it seems that Lina, well, she was... she was impregnated by Aron," Elias stuttered, his shock mirrored by Linus's gaping jaw. "Aron? But... but that's impossible! How could this have happened?" Linus spluttered, his mind swimming with disbelief. "And what does this mean for me?" Elias paused, choosing his words carefully. "It seems that transforming from Lina back to Linus triggered a fundamental change in you. Because the lack of a uterus has prevented you from growing a child, it appears that your own genetic makeup has been irrevocably altered.You, my friend, are now technically considered Aron's son," Elias explained, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "No, that can't be right," Linus protested, his fists clenching in denial. "I refuse to accept that I'm anything like him. I'm not his son." "It's common for offspring to resist acknowledging their similarities to their parents," Elias chuckled, attempting to lighten the heavy atmosphere. "But Linus, when we really think about it, you've taken on a lot of Aron's traits, haven't you?" Linus fell silent, his mind grappling with Elias's observation. He couldn't deny that over time, he had mirrored Aron's behavior, finding a newfound confidence that had eluded him before.

Unbeknownst to them, Aron had overheard snippets of their conversation and sauntered over, a smug smirk dancing on his lips. "What's all this fuss about genetic makeup?" he inquired with a curious glint in his eyes. Linus flinched at the sight of Aron, his newfound anxiety clashing with his unease. "It's nothing, really. Just some absurd test results that we're trying to make sense of," Linus replied hastily, attempting to brush off the seriousness of the situation. Aron folded his arms across his chest, casting a knowing smirk at Linus.

"So, does this mean that you're no longer part of your own family line?" he prodded mischievously. Linus squared his shoulders, determined to refute the assumption. "Children carry the genetic traits of both parents. I can't just be solely considered like you," he asserted, his voice wavering with uncertainty. Elias shifted awkwardly, the weight of the revelation sitting heavily on his shoulders. "Well, the test results did show that about 90% of your genetic makeup is now paralleled with Aron's, with only 10% retaining aspects of your old self," Elias confessed, unable to meet Linus' gaze. Aron raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Does this mean that Linus' family line has now been wiped out - he is an only child?" he asked mischievously, his eyes glinting with mischief. Silence enveloped the room as Linus struggled to grapple with the enormity of the truth. How could he come to terms with the fact that he was more akin to Aron than himself and that his ancestral line has been vanquished?

Aron clapped Linus on the back, his expression brimming with amusement, "Look at that, you're one of the cool kids now, Linus! Embrace the change, buddy." "This is absurd," Linus muttered, feeling overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events. Over the next few months, Linus noticed a change within himself. His once-keen intellect seemed to wane, and he found himself drawn to activities he had never before considered. Linus clasped his hands and stared into the distance, "I never used to enjoy sports or casual conversations. What's happening to me?"

Elias patted Linus on the back, a tinge of sadness in his eyes, "It seems the transformation has altered more than just your physical appearance, Linus. Your interests, your behavior, they're all shifting." Linus shook his head, unable to comprehend the magnitude of the changes taking place within him. "I don't want to be like Aron," he muttered, despondent. As days turned by, Linus found himself a sudden desire to be more outgoing and social gnawing at him. "I never thought I'd say this, but Aron has become my best friend," Linus admitted to Elias, a sense of bewilderment lacing his words. Elias sighed, "It seems like you're embracing more and more of Aron's traits with each passing day, Linus. It's like he's become your role model."

In the nine months that followed, the change in Linus was palpable. His once razor-sharp intellect dulled, morphing into a shadow of its former self. No longer was he the dedicated scientist engrossed in groundbreaking research, but a husk of a man, devoid of his former brilliance. It was a bright Monday morning when Linus trudged his way into the sales department, a world away from his beloved science department. He was greeted with slaps on the back and hearty cheers from his new colleagues, among them, the suave and charming Aron. "Hey, Linus! Look at you, all dapper and ready to conquer the sales world!" Aron exclaimed with a roguish grin. Linus barely managed a dim smile in return, his once keen eyes now glazed over with vacant emptiness. His transformation was complete, and Elias could only watch in despair as his best friend slipped further and further away from him.

As the months went by, Linus' days revolved around sales pitches and closing deals. Gone were the days of intellectual pursuits, replaced by the pursuit of fleeting pleasures and hedonistic indulgences.

As Linus strolled into the sales department, a noticeable swagger in his step and a twinkle in his eyes, Elias glanced at him with a mixture of disbelief and resignation. "Linus, what in the world has gotten into you?" Elias asked, his brow furrowed in concern. "Hey, bro, check out my new watch. It totally seals the deal with the ladies," Linus drawled, flashing a blingy timepiece that gleamed under the fluorescent lights.

Elias's mouth gaped open. "Linus, you were a prodigy in the science department. A budding genius. And now look at you. What happened?" Linus chuckled smugly. "Who needs all that nerdy stuff when you've got charm, huh? Aron showed me the way. Now I'm living the dream, man." He slapped Elias on the back with a booming laugh, his once soft voice now laced with a newfound bravado. Elias's eyes widened as he watched Linus saunter over to the water cooler, surrounded by a flock of female co-workers hanging on his every word. Elias, torn between disbelief and resignation, approached the boss of the sales department, hoping for a glimmer of some solidarity. "He's dumb as a rock but knows how to use his good looks for successful sales. I guess, you should produce more of them, Elias," the boss remarked casually, not a hint of recognition for the man Linus used to be. In a moment of resignation, Elias turned to Linus, his once-friend, now a mere shell of his former self. "Linus, I need your help with something," Elias began, the weight of his words heavy on his chest. "I need a sample of your...cum." Linus, now devoid of his former depth, chuckled thoughtlessly. "Sure, man. Anything for you," he replied with a vacant look in his eyes, his once keen mind reduced to nothing but a mindless echo of Aron's.

And so, Linus and Elias drifted apart, their once unbreakable bond shattered by the cruel twist of fate. What was once a story of scientific discovery and friendship had now morphed into a tragic tale of lost intellect and shattered dreams.

#male tf #male transformation #personality change #tg tf #male to female #dumber tf #mad science #nerd to jock

[fafnir19]

This is another story inspired by an idea related to my earlier query. Thanks to @louismaye

Historical Values

Frank carefully folded his clothes and placed them inside his brown leather sack. His blue eyes sparkled with excitement as he prepared for the new archaeology project. "I can't believe we're actually going back in time!" he exclaimed to Professor Tendris, who was organizing his own belongings. "It's quite incredible, Frank," the professor responded with a smile. "The university's invention of the time machine is a breakthrough in our field. Now, we have the opportunity to experience history firsthand." "I'm ready for anything!" Frank zipped up his suitcase and hoisted it off the bed. "Living as Alemanni farmers in 507 AD is going to be an adventure." The time machine, no larger than a cell phone, hummed softly as they activated it. In an instant, they were surrounded by a blinding light, and then they found themselves in the year 507 AD, amidst a small Alemanni village.

Frank's heart raced as he took in the sights and sounds of the ancient village. The buildings were made of wood and straw, and the air was filled with the smell of livestock and earth. "This is incredible," Frank whispered, awe-struck. "Indeed," Professor Tendris murmured. "Now, let's blend in and experience life as the Alemanni did." As days passed, Frank and the professor worked the fields, tended to livestock, and engaged with the Alemanni people, immersing themselves in their daily activities. Two and a half weeks in, a thunderous clamor echoed through the village. Frank and Professor Tendris peered out to see Roman legions descending upon the settlement. "We have to go back!" Frank exclaimed, panic rising in his chest. "Quick, into the hut!" Professor Tendris urged, and they hurried to the tiny shelter where they had hidden the time machine. As they reached the hut, legionnaires blocked Frank's path, but Professor Tendris managed to activate the time machine and vanish, leaving Frank stranded. The terror gripped Frank as the Roman soldiers encircled him. He expected the worst, but instead, they took him captive. "What's your name, boy?" a gruff voice demanded as they dragged him through the village. "I-I'm Frank," he stammered, his heart pounding in his chest. "Not anymore, you're not," the soldier spat. "From now on, you're Flavius, slave of Rome." In Rome, Flavius was handed over to a slave trader, who sold him to a gladiator school.

His once blonde hair was now shorn, and he was renamed to fit his new identity. "Here's your new recruit," the trader announced, pushing Flavius forward. Flavius surveyed his surroundings, the harsh voice of the overseer drilling instructions into the other gladiators. The air was thick with the clinking of weapons and the grunts of the fighters. "Welcome to your new home, Flavius," a fellow gladiator muttered as he passed by. "Better get used to the dirt and blood." Flavius was put through rigorous training, his muscles bulging from the intense workouts. His determination drove him to perfect his fighting techniques, but he remained lean compared to the other gladiators. Because he was the weakest, he had to take on tasks that all other gladiators refused, such as feeding the lion. The clink of chains echoed in the dimly lit room as Flavius grabbed the metal pail and hurried to where Leon's enclosure was situated. He poured the chunks of meat into the pail and added a sprinkle of herbs for flavor. The only sound was the rhythmic clinking of chains as Flavius moved through the stone corridors, the weight of slavery heavy on his shoulders. "Such a majestic creature," he whispered, gazing into Leon's golden eyes. The lion paced rhythmically, the thump of his footfalls resonating through the enclosure. With tender, steady hands, Flavius extended the pail through the bars, the metal clinking with the rustle of chains. "Easy, boy," Flavius cooed, ensuring Leon's sustenance. The ritual of feeding Leon was a moment of trust and companionship, a symbol of their shared captivity and the only comfort in their constrained existence. Flavius ​​hoped every day that Tendris would find him and bring him home to the future. But his hope grew smaller day by day.

As the date of his first fight approached, Flavius felt a surge of fear. The overseer's voice boomed across the arena, announcing a battle to the death between 25 gladiators and a lion, with only the top four survivors. "You're going to be lion food, Flavius," the overseer jeered, a cruel smile on his lips. In the arena, the sound of cheering and roaring filled the air as the battle commenced. Flavius fought valiantly, his every move accompanied by the clash of weapons and the gasps of the audience. The lion lunged at him, and Flavius found himself pinned to the ground, the weight of the beast bearing down on him. "Agh!" he cried out, struggling beneath the lion's ferocious grip. Flavius regretted feeding the lion in the past! Just when he thought it was the end, the unexpected happened. For a moment, the arena fell silent as the lion hesitated, its low growl reverberating through the space. The lion let Flavius free. "What's going on?!" Flavius gasped in disbelief. The unexpected turn stunned the spectators, and Flavius seized the opportunity, mounting the lion and riding into battle.

The crowd erupted in a combination of gasps and cheers as Flavius and the lion fought as a team, vanquishing their opponents. From then on, Flavius had a cell to himself, which he shared with the lion  named Leon. The growls and purrs of the majestic creature became a soothing lullaby in the quiet of the night. "Leon, my friend," Flavius hummed, leaning against the bars of the cell as Leon purred in response.

As he earned victories in the arena, Flavius caught the attention of Senator Sixtus, who admired his bravery and skill. "I've purchased you," Senator Sixtus informed Flavius, a glint in his eyes. "You and your lion, Leon. You shall come to my villa and serve as entertainment for my guests."

At Sixtus' villa, Flavius and Leon were tasked with serving as extravagant entertainment for Sixtus' opulent parties, serving to the guests' frivolous pleasures. "Meet my newest acquisition," Senator Sixtus announced, a proud smile gracing his features as Flavius and Leon entered the grand hall. Flavius hesitated, unsure of the etiquette and he was morally hesitant about the frivol encounters between the guests an him.   After a while he enjoyed the opportunities and pleasured man an women alike.

"You fight like a hero, Flavius. Are you a hero in bed as well?" a lady asked, her laughter chiming in the air “I don’t need a bed to be your hero. Let’s enjoy the hero right here,” Flavius replied, a smirk forming on his lips. He became the epitome of lust and pleasure.

Senator Sixtus observed Flavius with a mixture of pride and amusement, intrigued by the newfound confidence and charm that Flavius exuded. "You are the epitome of vigor and pleasure," Senator Sixtus complimented, eyes twinkling. "Perhaps I shall find other roles for you in my household." With time, Flavius found himself adapting to his new life, embracing the indulgences and extravagance of Senator Sixtus' villa. "You've become quite the sensation, Flavius," Senator Sixtus remarked, his hand resting on Flavius' shoulder. "But I sense a restlessness in you." "I desire to engage my mind," Flavius said, surprising the senator with his words. "There must be more to life than mere entertainment." Senator Sixtus nodded thoughtfully and arranged for a private tutor to educate Flavius, recognizing his potential for growth.

The bond between Flavius and Sixtus deepened, and Flavius began to wield a certain dominance over the other slaves, echoing the authority of Senator Sixtus. "You surpass expectations, my dear Flavius," Senator Sixtus acknowledged, a sense of paternal pride in his voice. "Thank you, Senator," Flavius replied, a title of endearment that had gradually slipped into his vocabulary. As months passed, Senator Sixtus approached Flavius with a proposition. "You have proven yourself as more than a slave. I shall adopt you as my son, and you shall carry my name." Flavius was speechless, the weight of the honor settling upon him. He had seamlessly integrated into the Roman way of life, the values and customs now intrinsic to his being. "I am honored, Father," Flavius uttered, a sense of belonging and acceptance blossoming within him.

In the midst of revelry and frivolity, a house slave interrupted, announcing the arrival of a visitor named Tendris, stirring a flicker of recognition in Flavius' mind. "I shall receive him at once," Flavius declared, excitement lacing his words. "Tendris shall witness the life of a true Roman senator's son." At the grand dining hall, Flavius welcomed Tendris, exuding the confidence and refinement of a nobleman. "Tendris, you must partake in the splendid feast with us," Flavius insisted, gesturing towards the lavish spread before them.

Tendris took a seat, regarding Flavius with a mix of disappointment and concern as they dined. "I find your behavior troubling, Flavius. This is not the life you should lead," Tendris remarked, his tone solemn. At the end of the evening, Tendris took Flavius aside and reprimanded him for his frivolous behavior and condescending treatment of the slaves. "You don't understand, Tendris. This is the way of life in this era," Flavius argued, growing offended. "These modern moral concepts like human rights and wokenes hold no significance here, Tendris," Flavius declared, his resolve hardening. "I am a Roman senator's son, and this is my life."

The following day, Tendris returned, determination etched on his features as he stood before Flavius. "It's time to leave this era behind, Flavius." "No," Flavius spat, the weight of his decision palpable in the air. "You shall return to your woke future without me. I am here to stay." Tendris hesitated, his gaze meeting Flavius' defiant stare. "You must reconsider, Flavius. This is not where you belong." "I belong wherever I choose to," Flavius asserted, his voice unwavering. "If you remain here in ten minutes, I shall have you thrown to the lions in the arena!" Tendris's eyes narrowed in resignation, and with a heavy heart, he activated the time machine, leaving Flavius to his chosen path.

Flavius relinquished the vestiges of his past and embraced the decadence and extravagance of his new life, reveling in every indulgence and luxury that came his way. The sounds of revelry, laughter, and pleasure filled the grand halls of Senator Sixtus' villa, echoing the reassuring rhythm of a life firmly embraced. And as the days melded into nights, Flavius, the former  archaeology student, became indistinguishable from the Roman nobility, his laughter and gaiety resounding through the lavish estate, a testament to his complete surrender to the decadence of ancient Rome.   

#time travel #corruption #slavery #personality change #ancient rome #germanic tribes #gladiator