sjw-publishings

[sjw-publishings]

Hey Everyone,

I don’t tend to write these kinds of posts on my tumblr page, however I feel this is necessary.

In the event you are not aware, Dumb and Jocked, the main person I do collabs with, and also who is someone who most people might consider to be one of the backbones of the Tumblr TF community, has deactivated his account and left us last week.

Most of the people and I do not know exactly why or how this happened, but it's the reality of the situation unless he somehow does return in the future.

Some tumblrs might still have some of his stories reblogged, including mine, however some of which cannot be accessed as they are stuck at the ‘read more’ page. Notably his longer stories ‘Branded’ and both parts of the major collaboration we did together in ‘Narrow residences’.

If anyone has any of these stories saved somewhere, it would be great if you could either link it to me or post it on Tumblr.

Below will be my farewell to him, in the event he ever does somehow read it. This probably is not the best farewell letter, but it's the best I could do in such short notice and also posting it publicly. —————————————————————

Hey Dumb and Jocked,

Thanks for reading this, and I'm sad to see you go.

We’ve worked on various collabs together and it was fun throughout the years discussing various ideas here and there with you.

Unfortunately, after you left, it just feels really upsetting looking at the stuff you wrote. Even those that were saved from reblogs and reposts from other blogs. While I do want to keep them for memories and also because I did collaborate on some of them, it just feels much sadder trying to indulge in your stories or continue in sequels of it.

I was shocked that you would leave us out of the blue, however a part of me anticipated this.

I'm mostly speculating, but this is a hobby that can be rather controversial and you contributed a massive ton, likely without any compensation. You were quite private in general and talked about stories and bounced off my ideas now and then.

You sort of have a clean gateway if you decide to ever leave for good, as you probably are not really close to anyone here other than writing TF stories.

Some of us hoped that you might return, and speculated maybe it's tumblr accidentally banning you and you would get your account back, but as the days went by, it only reaffirmed that my anticipation was likely correct.

I myself mostly continued on tumblr for you, and I'm not sure if I would continue now that the main reason and person I stuck around for has left without letting any of us know. It is something I will have to decide for myself in the future.

If you ever do return to Tumblr or decide to message me privately to talk about things, that would be great. I do hope you return, even if you don’t write stories that frequently or even at all, so we could talk for a bit.

However I know that I won’t wait forever.

That’s all I will write in this letter. It was fun writing and discussing TF stories with you while it lasted.

-Sjw Publishings

[sjw-publishings]

Radical! Yeehaw! And FATHER!

Totally Normal

The things @sjw-publishings brings out of me

“Welcome back to Totally Normal, the online show where we narrow down the one thing that makes us all meet that standard!”

The host then hit a button on his laptop, releasing an audio for an uproarious round of applause. With his entire audience streaming in live, he had to make due with tracks. He didn’t mind it though; he could always predict what his viewers were thinking. It was like they shared the same mind.

“My name’s DJ, and before you ask, yes I have a side gig in music.” A laugh track obnoxiously inserted itself. “I don’t dabble in the typical jazz; I remix these men back to the tunes they oughta be singing.”

Another fake round of applause. The host smirked before continuing forward with the rules.

“The point of the game is simple: Figure out that one thing that makes someone totally normal. Through a series of questions, I’m going to chisel away at our contestants until we get to the base. For every wrong answer, a vibration will be sent out to their device until they head back on the right track. We want to find out that one thing that solidifies them as an average joe, but we don't exactly know what that thing is."

The host then took a scripted pause. "Well, I know what that thing is.”

Another laugh track entered before the host silenced his imaginary audience. “So, let’s get down to it. We have our men here, but ARE THEY NORMAL?”

The last three words were all enunciated with the typical gameshow pazazz. The host even had an accompanying audio that made it seem like there was an audience chanting it with him. 

On cue, the livestream booted up a panel of the three contestants. The first was a shy young man, who by his age looked to be in college but by his height possibly younger. The second was the typical corporate homosexual, the breed who was already happily married and wore tight, designer clothing. And last but not least, the third looked just a little older than the first with an office that displayed the inner workings of a minor start-up.

“Help me welcome our first contestant, coming from the cool waves of Cali, here comes Cody!”

Corey opened his mouth to kindly correct the host, but was immediately silenced by the massive track of applause. A small and nervous 20-year-old, Corey was an academically-fine student at a state school. He worked as an IT intern, helping others work through their issues in a manner where he didn’t have to fully engage. Yet he knew he would probably have to work through this introvert problem if he ever truly wanted to make a loyal boyfriend from the crop of surfers across the street.

“Up next is our cowboy-tootin’, bullet-firin’ family man, Norman!”

Nolan made a face of disgust, but he too didn’t stand a chance against the fake cheers. He’d settled down with his husband just about 10 years ago in the suburbs. Working for a Fortune 500 company, he had everything a man of his caliber could want. Great company, great style, great pets instead of real children. Nolan loved his little metropolitan life.

“And finally, the privileged heir to the corporate throne, it’s Asher!” 

Aaron rolled his eyes as the artificial eruption burst through his speakers. He assumed that this narcissistic jock host had gotten all of the contestants names wrong. Aaron had built his own business up from the ground, an independent hard-worker with no one tying him down. It wasn’t that Aaron didn’t want a boyfriend, he just needed to focus on himself. That’s why he was keeping it casual, hooking up with boys a little younger and less responsible. He absentmindedly pawed at his crotch a little as the douchebag DJ started the game.

“Now,” the host cracked his knuckles dramatically. “Let’s start off with some easy questions, just to make sure those devices are working after all. Cody, you’re looking comfortable out on that beach!”

Corey looked around the library he was sitting in confusedly, neither comfortable nor on a beach.

“I think you’re mistaking me for the surfers across the street,” Corey tried to joke, but his feeble demeanor spoiled the comeback.

“Men…you all ought to be where all the other guys of your kind are at.”

All three of them put on bewildered faces.

“Cody, what’s holding you back from embracing that Cali life?” the host asked.

“I…I mean there’s the obvious fact that they aren’t keen on ga-”

BZZT

“Ah!” Corey ripped his hand away, the "vibration" more of a literal sting.

“Cody, what’s holding you back?” the host asked again.

“Dude,” Corey uncharacteristically responded. “I don’t know if they will accept me, man.”

“Bro, what’s there NOT to accept?” the host chuckled. “You fit right in!”

Corey looked over his short frame, his pale skin, his shrimpy figure. He appeared better fit for the library than the bea-

BZZT

“You’re right DJ! I'm a gnarly guy like them brahs! They’ll totally accept me!”

Corey looked over his tall frame, his tanned skin, his toned figure. He appeared better fit for the beach than the library–that’s why he was on the beach after all!

“Alright alright,” the host nodded with approval. “Now Norman, let’s talk about your life in the countryside.”

“‘Countryside’?” Nolan interjected. “Do you consider Houston-”

BZZT

Nolan flung his hand back, “HOWARDWICK the countryside? You bet! Population 402, the two being me and my husband.”

“And what massive land you got behind you, I’m assuming you and your male fling built that together.”

“My what?” Nolan peered behind him, noticing his garden he’d built with his hus-

BZZT

-the ranch he’d built with his hustle. Well, not technically–this land had been managed through the traditional good ole ways of his parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents. He’d just been fixing it up here and there.

Nolan stretched his thickening fingers, hoping to desensitize them from the pain. “W…What in tarnation is goin' on ‘ere?”

The host continued on, mocking the Southern accent he’d implanted onto the second contestant. “A place fittin' for a cowpoke like y’all’s self! Ain’t no city folk allowed; you don’t want nothin’ queer intrudin' your property, right?”

“Queer?!” Nolan spat back. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with bein’-“

BZZT

“Darn tootin’ straight! Ain’t nothin’ strange gonna be happenin’ on this ‘ere land.”

With the second contestant’s location rightfully reoriented, the host moved onto the third.

“And onto our Ivy League, let’s discuss ascension…I mean, ‘climbing the corporate ladder’.”

Aaron shot the host a dirty look through the screen. “You don’t think I worked hard to earn this position?”

“Well, you certainly didn’t do it all yourself.”

Aaron held his breath. He was a decently attractive man with his slim figure and responsible will, and even his anger made him appear wiser than his years. But Aaron's best feature was his independence, and he wasn’t going to let anyone taint his name over that.

“What, do you think my current boyfri-”

BZZT

“-my dating his-”

BZZT

“-my friends with benefits were involved?”

Aaron’s fingers tingled with energy. His body tingled with fury.

“Well,” the host snickered. “If by benefits, you mean…”

“What’s all this!” Aaron flipped. “This is simply…p…preposterous!”

“What are you talking about?” the host egged on. “It's simply normal for a man with your caliber to have such an ‘inheritance’.”

The other two contestants watched on with intrigue.

“I…I may have a b…benefactor,” Aaron suddenly revealed, as if something had just been placed upon his chest. But he was still independent, right? “But that has nothing to do with it!”

“Benefactor? Do you mean your DADDY?”

The fake audience suddenly burst into a chorus of shocked “Ooooohhhh”s. Aaron’s usual calm nature was flatlining, being replaced by a more quickly-agitated behavior.

“We may be really closely acquainted!” Aaron backpedaled. “But it’s nothing of that kind of sort!”

The other two contestants smirked as the growingly-pompous bastard was taken down a peg.

“Sounds pretty queer to me, man,” Corey interjected confidently, scratching at his defining abs.

“Yeah, Ah reckon that fellas a little less normal than us folks,” Nolan added, adjusting the large hat that had secured itself upon his head.

“SHUT UP SWINE!” Aaron spat, his face gaining back a little of his baby fat as he absorbed more child-like aggression. “I'm perfectly normal!”

The two men laughed alongside an obnoxious laughter track.

“He’s right folks, we men are on the right side of history.” The host knew he needed to move on, the show only had so much time of course, but he was having fun. “Surely that father-figure is just some kind of…relative?”

“Just a relative, brah?” Corey asked as his trim cut bloomed out into luscious blond waves.

“Seems closer than that, partner.” Nolan quipped as a graying stubble crawled upon his widening jaw.

“A….A relative?” Aaron stammered, a higher youthful pitch lightening his tenor as this benefactor became clearer in his head. “He’s…he’s someone who I f-“

BZZT

“Father! He’s my father: Asher Osvald the Third!” Aaron screamed, his blond locks gelling up into a refined style that didn’t match his own personality. “And you all better remember it when you see our company in the headlines!”

Both Corey and Nolan took their respectful back-offs, but the host could only smirk with pride. After a moment of self-congratulation, he noticed some slight hesitation from the first candidate.

“Dude…” Corey started. “Can’t you just see he’s messin’ with us, man? Don’t you guys feel kinda strange-“

“Aren’t you supposed to chill, dude?” The host immediately cut him off.

Corey’s mouth went flat, his chin taking the opportunity to curve out a little further. “How can I chill with-“

BZZT

“Without the support from my brosettes across the screen, duuuuude!”

The host watched on with glee as the female portion of the livestream burst into a flurry. Lots of hearts and kisses and even some eggplant emojis were flooding the chat. And the comments were getting suggestive too. One chick wanted to know why he was wearing a dorky button-up, and she was soon exposed to his lean bod and treasure trail. Another suggested he should flex for the camera, and Corey was happy to oblige, each of his muscles pumping larger as he did so.

“Now, Cody,” the host coyly asked. “I’m sure the fans would like to know what you do for work.”

“I uh…I work with coding.”

“You are studying IT?” the host replied, incredulous. “Sounds complicated man.”

Corey beamed at the compliment, an excited fever entering his voice. “Yeah, but I sort of have a gift for-“

BZZT

“IT...like as in ‘it’ man...not ‘eye-tee’ or whatever.”

“But it has something to do with a code, right?”

“Well…yeah man…” Corey’s lifeless vocal fry responded. “But it's not that nerdy crap…something more…uhhh…”

The host graciously provided the answer, “Manly?”

“Yeah man….’it’ is the uh…bro-code brah.” Corey fiddled with the cross necklace that had materialized around his neck, trying to structure his thoughts. Corey felt like his head was spinning in a light vertigo, but not out of stress. Rather, a pleasurable confusion. Cali dudes don’t think that much right? They just go with the flow, so why shouldn’t he man? Wasn’t that what was normal?

While Corey processed his internal dilemma, the host reconnected with the second contestant, noticing he too was becoming a little self-aware.

“Hey Norman, you’re really rocking that fit.”

Nolan was honestly surprised at the comment. He knew he looked good in his tight, patterned three-piece, but he didn’t think the ultra-straight host would notice that too.

“Those shoes must be great for the ranch.”

Nolan laughed. “These ole’ things? They’re Prada from last season-“

BZZT

“Uhh…Ah mean these boots are from that one brand-”

BZZT

“Ah’ve had these kickers for years, fella!”

The host observed quietly as the rest of the second contestant’s clothes altered. The suit jacket and vest disappeared completely. The pants grew out into a straight pair of jeans that had been worn continuously for many seasons. The shirt rolled it sleeves and loosened some buttons, darkening to a dusty black that was meant for hauling hay rather than implying gay. But as the outfit masculinized, there was one item that stubbornly fought back, unlike the man who wore it.

“And that belt, how long have you had that?”

Nolan evaluated the expensive snake leather. “Oh yeah, this ‘ere was a gift-“

BZZT

“What in TARNATION was that for?!” Nolan yelled, the vibration noticeably more painful than the previous blasts. The material of his belt quickly grew cheaper, a massive longhorn buckle blooming forth above his blooming pouch.

“S…Sorry y’all,” Nolan collected himself. “Ah don’t know what’s gotten ovah me, or why Ah’m speakin’ so-“

“Enough apologies,” the host gagged. “You are a man, are you not?”

“Yessiree, but that doesn’t mean we men ain’t got to be sens-”

BZZT

“Ah reckon yer right there, partner!” Nolan puffed out his chest, carrying his emerging muscle gut with him. “We men oughta be tough! The MAN of the household.”

The host snickered, his eyes meandering around the second contestant’s body as additional muscle and bulk was piled onto his frame. “And men like you ought to have a body like that, don’t they?”

The cowboy huffed, his torso heavy with Southern pride. Nolan had worked his muscular frame up over all these long years, from sunrise to sundown. At 6’4, his big hearty body was always devouring meat to stretch out everything from his big strong biceps to his huge Size 15 clompers!

With the first and second contestants almost there, it was time for the host to catch his third man up to speed. He had already advanced mighty far, his skin having cleared up a bit and a few arrogant gold trophies having appeared in the office background, but the host had some additional notches yet to secure before the final round.

“Now Asher, let’s get real here.” The host put on his classic douchebag smile for the audience. “Any ladies tickling that fancy lately?”

“What?” Aaron scoffed. “Are you dense? I'm into g-”

BZZT

“Girls…no…wait what?” Aaron felt strange. Why did the host ask if he liked…girls? And why was the thought of girls suddenly something he…liked?

“Listen ere’, partner,” Nolan suddenly interjected. “Yer talkin’ 'bout women like they’re nothin’!”

The host, displeased, fought back. “Aren’t you married to one, partner?”

Nolan couldn’t believe the disrespect. “Me? Married to a woman? Yeah right-”

BZZT

“-Ah am! Ah’ve been married to my lovely wife for darn straight twenty years! Ain’t nothing QUEER happenin' on this ‘ere normal ranch. I got youngins to raise after all!”

As Nolan became bombarded by memories of his new flock of children, the satisfied host switched back to his third contestant.

“Look, I think we should respect women.” Aaron tried his best to sound mature, now finding it extremely difficult to maintain. “In fact, I think we should respect all others appropriately-“

BZZT

“And by appropriately, I am referring to overlooking these swines of colleagues who cannot afford a top notch education adjacent to my own.”

The host queued up a laugh track for his next one-liner. “They weren’t kidding when they said someone with your prestige had everything handed down to you, including bad manners.”

Aaron felt his anger rising once again, it easily filling his shortening body as he squared out to an average 5’9.

“Well excuseeee me! I am my own person with-“

BZZT

“My father is a reputable man who would wish to-”

BZZT

“DADDY!”

Aaron stomped his foot, bewildered at this idiocracy. Why was he continuously interrupted? Why was he not given the required recognition? He was captain of the country club’s golf team, rowing team, youth league, and the youngest member on the executive board for Christ’s sake! He studied at an Ivy League! He was everything!

As Aaron tried to understand why none of these other men appreciated the absolute honors of his merit–which he refused to ever admit weren’t even his own–a small alarm went off from the host’s computer.

“Like what was that, mannnn?” Corey’s face furrowed into an all-too-natural look of dumbfoundment.

“Yeah,” Nolan reared. “What's y'all gonna do next?”

“I demand to know it this instant!” The host was surprised at the third contestant jumping in, but he assumed it was just his way of trying to maintain his (nonexisting) position on top. “Or else I’ll tell my father about this-!”

An insane uproar of artificial laughter echoed throughout their ears, startling and silencing them.

“Alright folks, you know what that sound means!” the host grinned. “It’s almost time to wrap up our show, and because our contestants still haven’t figured out what makes them 'Totally Normal', we’re going to have to speed things up!”

“But can’t there only be one winner?” Aaron whined.

“Technically, no,” the host responded honestly. “All of you can be winners if you find out what makes you totally normal.”

For the first time since the game had started, all three of the contestants fell silent.

“I mean, let’s look at our surfer stud Cody,” the host started. “You are almost there, but you gotta loosen that one thing that’s still pent-up, man.”

“Brah…” Corey complained. “What else is there?”

As if by some subconscious command from the host, Corey began dumbly palming himself, a light drool dripping from the edge of his lips. The constant cycle of tits and feminine bits in his mind bombarding all over thoughts.

“A totally gnarly surfer focuses on working out, banging chicks, and chillin’ dude.”

Corey guffawed with a stupid relaxed expression, casually groping as the host moved on.

“And Norman, you’ve worked hard for your position in life, haven’t you?”

The Texan father nodded in cold agreement.

“So what would pride a totally traditional cowboy more than his ranch, his woman, and his legacy?”

Nolan groaned as he instantly unbuckled the massive lock hiding his mighty steed. Huffing loudly, the Southern Baptist’s lil’ pony was wrangled into a full-fledged stallion, the kind that was built to produce offspring. And the kind that got worked up over anything that could threaten the generational uniformity his family, religion, and nation he swore to protect.

“And you, Asher,” the host swiped over to the final contestant. “What’s stopping you from becoming the total Harvard bastard?”

Asher’s face went red and his cock went hard.

“I’m talking complete corruption, pure privilege, Daddy’s little-”

The host was suddenly cut off by a loud holler, the exclaim like the crashing waves of the ocean. Immediately, the comment section blew up as the host, players, and audience watched the surfer jock release a blast of his sea salt spray.

But before the host could congratulate the first winner, the southern father turned around the corner. With one hand whipping his meat and the other held tightly onto his hat, it was only mere moments until the inevitable:

“YEEHAW!”

Once again, the audience burst into merriment over the propagating blast. It was then that Aaron’s anger truly took the best of him. He couldn’t be beaten by two no-names! He was the top of his class, an heir to a Fortune 500 company, and a totally normal man for Christ’s sake! Gripping his pecker and shining it furiously, Aaron accepted his heterosexual rage and vowed that he would win and please his…please his…!

“F…FAAAAATHERR!”

A loud, pretentious yell echoed out of the Harvard student, an endless splurge of funds dumping out of his mighty account. It was just one of the many things his heritage’s estate had granted him.

The host didn’t try to hide his devious sneer as the viewers erupted once more. He’d loved his job because everyone won every time. And now, seeing all the new stereotypical straights he’d created, the host couldn’t help but feel his own massive sausage chub. But he laughed the feeling off, knowing beating off over these other men wouldn’t have been “totally normal.”

“And it looks like with just a minute left on the clock, all three of our contestants will be going home as winners today!” The host then added his artificial rounds of applause. “So, did you three ever figure out what makes you ‘Totally Normal’?”

“Isn’t it obvious, brah?” Cody replied, the typical airhead more sure of himself now than when he had dropped out of high school. “It’s that we’re straight, mannnn…”

“He’s right, partner!” Norman added, his fatherly conviction always strong and steady. “Ain’t none of us are them faggots. If Ah do say so myself, we are all what the mighty Lord named men.”

“Well, if that is what common plebians such as yourself are called, then you shall address me as ‘I-V’,” Asher Osvald IV’s voice was doused in entitlement and a lack of understanding for anyone but himself. A pair of offscreen hands adjusted his tie just to prove his privilege. “After all, I do attend Harvard. I guess you could say I was destined for greatness since birth.”

“Yes, Asher, everyone here knows you are a prick.” The host immediately followed up his quip with a laugh track. “But that’s all we have for today’s show. Signing off, this is Host DJ!”

“Hang ten and surfs up, dudes!”

“The biggest rodeo’s the family and kids y’all!”

“I’m probably way richer than you vagrants, so don’t bother.”

“And don’t forget to ask yourself,” the host winked before adding in the final audio. “ARE YOU NORMAL?”

#gay to straight #dumber #bottomtotop #nerdtojock #preppification #mental change #surfer tf #cowboy tf #prep tf #toptobottom #totally normal #gameshow tf #reality change tf #g2s #dumb and jocked tfs

[sjw-publishings]

Just two bros giving the other a Bro-Job ;)

Bro-Job

This lovely piece was brought on by the equally lovely @sjw-publishings

BRRRRRRING!

Rodney paced awkwardly in front of the door, two voices in his head battling viscously for control. The first, which begged the question “Why am I here?!” over and over was the more persistent. A 5’5 skinny gay psych major on Greek Row? Yeah, that voice was definitely winning. The other however, the one prompting the single response of “Money.”, was enough to make Rodney stay.

“Hello?” Rodney called out, his bright tenor a little too nasally. He had come in response to a job offer put up on campus. He didn’t actually know what the job was, but it promised “All dudes welcome, free food and drinks.” The free amenities would certainly help pay for his student housing.

After still hearing nothing, Rodney decided to investigate. Someone had to be home, it wasn’t like all the frat boys would already be out and about town. Actually, that possibility didn’t seem too far-fetched. With a huff, Rodney marched his way around the massive frat house, following the driveway to the backyard. Three frat boys were parked by the detached garage, their muscly forms on full display.

“Uh,” Rodney started out. “Excuse me?”

The three men, in a heated argument over big tits or big butts, turned to face the boy half their size. Two of them wore a face of disgust, but the third popped a smile of delight.

“What can we do for you, little man?” the third greeted with two Natty Lights in one massive mitt.

Rodney gulped, noting the major size difference between him and them. “I’m uh…here for the job opening?”

The other two frat boys smirked at that response.

“Hey Chet, looks like someone finally replied,” the first chuckled.

“Cheers to that, broski!” the second, who would make any excuse for a celebratory swig, cheered.

The third, Chet, couldn’t help but chuckle. “Alright little man, let’s head in the frat house and get this interview started.”

Rodney nodded, surprised at how simple this whole ordeal was. The much larger jock tossed a bulky arm around the gay nerd and led him to the mansion. Rodney tried to hide his blush at the physical touch, praying that the frat boys wouldn’t see his small, but very present boner.

“First things first bro,” Chet started, tossing Rodney a beer. “We gotta get you a little more comfortable.”

“'Comfortable'?”

“Well sure dude,” Chet laughed, falling back into a crusty couch behind him. “I’m already four deep, so we gotta catch you up.”

Confused, but desperate enough for a job, Rodney cracked open the cold one. He took a timid sip, much to the disapproval of the frat boy.

“Nah bro, don’t be a fairy about it.” Chet shook his head as he patted for the nerd to sit behind him. Trying his best to ignore the previous comment, Rodney placed himself beside the jock. Immediately, Chet grabbed the can and lined it up to Rodney’s mouth, forcing the smaller boy to chug the rest of the beer.

“What the…!” Rodney sputtered, catching his breath. “What was that for?!”

Chet handed the kid another beer. “That’s how you smash, bro! Alright, next one.”

Rodney hated this situation, but he knew he would more despise a situation with no money. After some slight hesitation, Rodney pounded the second beer. Chet made him move through one more, joining the nerd with his own can, tacking their totals to three and five.

“Ahhh…” Chet moaned, patting the stacked eight abs underneath his sweaty tank. He then belched proudly, letting the alcohol take its course. Rodney could only watch on in amazement and an embarrassing amount of arousal.

“Now,” Chet tossed his meaty arm back around the nerd. It took Rodney a second to realize the warm, wet liquid coating his shoulder was sweat from the frat boy’s jungly armpit. “So the job-”

“Oh yeahhh...” Rodney followed with a short giggle. He guessed the alcohol was beginning to assimilate into his system.

“That’s what you’re here for!” Chet exclaimed. “It’s so easy, there’s really only so much you have to know and do.”

Rodney took a swig of his fourth beer, copying the movement Chet had displayed with his sixth can. “Well, what’s to know?”

“There’s that confidence, bro!” Chet took the arm wrapped around the nerd and gave him a playful noogie, the tangled mess cropping up into a neater bro cut. “I was wondering how long it would take for that beer pressure to start hitting you!”

Rodney wanted to correct the jock’s expression, but instead he let out a solitary hiccup. That was followed by a second swig as he watched Chet open into a grand explanation of the job’s responsibilities. 

There was a lot to take in, more than Rodney had thought there would be. The exercise standards, the room-and-board requirements, the daily bonding with bros. And while Rodney listened to everything Chet said, he didn’t realize he was also paying attention to the frat boy’s mannerisms. Rodney was so entranced at every movement of the broadcast. Every scratch, every subtle flex, the way the Adam’s apple bounced with every chug. Even Chet’s dazed-out dumbness and increasing amount of slurring was absorbed by the nerd.

What Rodney didn’t realize however was that each time he picked up on one of these moments, he mimicked it as well. The behavior was being digested into his psyche, the frat boy’s macho ideology sinking down into his core with each new swig of beer. 

While Chet discussed the height requirement, Rodney’s frame shifted underneath the jock’s grasp to notch him up to a proper 6’3. When Chet mentioned the necessary sizes of the biceps, triceps, and quadriceps, Rodney failed to notice his own arms and legs bloating out to gigantic muscular portions. And with each and every swig of beer Chet took, Rodney copied and pasted.

BUUUUUUURRRRRP!

“Ah yeahhhhh!” Chet proclaimed, dropping his seventh empty can. “Let’s see what you’ve got in there, bro.”

With a hearty swat, the frat boy smacked Rodney’s small gut. His torso immediately deflated under Chet’s touch, sharpening out into eight stacked abs that fit perfectly underneath his cushy pectorals.

Buh-UUURRRP!

“Huhuhuh,” Rodney chuckled, not noticing his voice was morphing into Chet’s silky-smooth baritone with every syllable. “Like…that felt sooo gooood.”

“Of course it did, bro!” Chet obnoxiously replied. “That’s how frat life always is!”

Rodney watched as Chet groped himself with his free hand. Although it was more than that really: tugging at his massive cock and balls. Rodney then noticed the swath of pubes spilling out over the waistband of Chet’s tiny shorts, realizing the frat boy was going commando.

This typically would’ve excited him, almost to the point of bursting right there, but Rodney's meager dick had surprisingly gone dormant. Rodney rationed it was the alcohol, noting that he’d already started his sixth can. And he was thankful for the lack of attention anyway. If Chet would’ve seen him get hard over another dude, that would’ve been awkward. Yet Rodney couldn't exactly figure out why...

With one hand still handling his boys, Chet suddenly grew quiet and leaned in close to Rodney. His breath was warm and laced with alcohol, each tickling Rodney’s neck before climbing down his shirt, the shirt that had removed its buttons, expensive material, and sleeves.

Rodney watched as Chet got his hand out of his shorts and began feeling up Rodney, piece by piece.

“These arms, brochacho…” Chet murmured, wiping his ball sweat across Rodney’s thick, tanned canvas. Small hairs poked up in Chet’s wake. Chet then lifted one of Rodney’s arms and took a sniff, as if inspecting for quality. Sure enough, a rotten smell emerged from the chestnut groves that had erupted within Rodney’s pits, yet that was the fresh quality Chet had been looking for.

After a quick swig, which was repeated on Rodney’s part, Chet’s massive hand swooped down towards Rodney’s legs, evaluating the meat. Rodney only watched on with a lazy smile, propping his legs out into a typical, bro-ish manspread to accommodate. Without warning, Chet’s hand then launched underneath Rodney’s buttocks, giving one of his cheeks a sharp pinch.

“Hey! Watch it, homo!” Rodney shouted, not catching the slur or the fact that his exclamation had come out with complete clarity.”

“Woah woah, broooo…” Chet slowly pulled his hands back. “I’m just checkin’ if we’re sealed shut dude, wouldn’t want the fairies intruding.”

Sinking immediately back into his drunken haze, Rodney nodded along pleasantly. He thanked his bro for watching out for him, his hole silently shutting tight in response.

Chet let another belch loose before continuing, “Minddd if I tell you a secret, brooo?”

Chet got closer to Rodney, even going as far as to place his sweaty, socked, Size 14 feet on top of Rodney’s.

“Yyyyyeeah dude…” Rodney slurred back.

“Huhuhuh,” Chet started. “See the sorority…rity next door brah?”

Rodney shifted a bit in his seat, slightly turning his own sweaty, socked, Size 14 feet.

“I just banged like…” Chet had to take a second to count. “Ten…eleven…eleven…twelve of those chicks last week. I set…like…a completely new record brochacho!”

The pair burst out into a massive drunken laugh fest, tossing their heads back in an exaggerated manner. Rodney chugged the rest of his beer messily, some droplets splashing onto the bushy mustache crawling over his upper lip like a caterpillar. They both tossed their sixth and eighth behind them.

“Nowwwww…” Chet slowly started again. “We’ve discussed the bro-knows, but now we oughta get to the bro-dos of the Bro-Job.”

“Brahhhh…” Rodney echoed. “The way you’re sayin…sounds kinda gay man…”

Rodney didn’t even consider why this could be a problem.

Chet moved on, “Brah, how I handle my initiations…it's gotta be personal.”

“Init…inuiti…initiations?” Rodney tried to ask, struggling on the word.

“These Bro-Jobs dude…” Chet tried again, screwing off his backwards cap before fixing it onto Rodney’s head. “They're serious busy-nesss….”

Rodney snickered at the odd pronunciation, his jaw and browline growing more pronounced after each chuckle. He then tossed back the rest of his beer, crushing it in one of his massive paws.

“Brah…I need more beeeeerrrr, stat.” 

“Heh, don’t we all bro,” Chet crushed his own empty can before adding it to the disarray of the messy house. “But you gotta pass the initiation man! Your next beer can is your own!”

The frat boy said it in a way where even though the statement made no sense, in their drunken comradery it held like a secret code. 

“Wha…bro…arrrrre you sayin’-?”

“No homo man” Chet immediately quelled the alarm that had been arising in Rodney’s system. “It’s just a part of the Bro-Job…gotta…gotta add more of that frat sauce to the brew or somethin’...”

Both of them stuck their hands down into each other’s packages through their tiny shorts, which Rodney didn’t remember his own had been long slacks before. Or that he had been wearing underwear before. But what did strike Rodney as odd was the manner of this exchange. It still felt off.

“But…” Rodney tried to find the clarity he needed through his drunken incoherent mass of thoughts. “Kinda...gay brah?”

The not-so homosexual man flinched, his lingering sexuality slowly succumbing with the strangely tough pulls that enlarged his precious tap forcefully. It wasn’t long until Rodney’s pride and joy were surging with the same potent and propagating brew of the frat boy who was pumping him. His manhood was now a giant spout, with his swollen balls filled with the pure, raw hormones that ensured his kegs were always juicing.

“Dude…” Chet chuckled. “It’s not gay if you’re thinkin’ of all the chicks that will be beggin’ to ride this thing.”

After a hefty amount of thought, Rodney realized Chet was right. He wasn’t thinking about dudes or bros or nothing. None of the homo crap was even in his mind. In fact, the very idea of being a faggot disgusted him. All Rodney could think about was chicks. Tits and pussies and breeding them one by one with his vaccination shots. Except these shots weren't protecting these babies from anything. Rather, he was contaminating them. And that made Rodney feel good. Absolutely frat-tastically good.

“Ahhhh….brooooo…!” Rodney moaned. “I think I’m gonna blow!”

“Then do it, dude!” Chet replied.

“NO HOMO BROOOO!!!” The frat boys shouted in unison, their gigantic splooges pouring out into their bro’s hand. After the ecstasy had released, they both removed themselves from the other’s shorts and returned the babymatter to their owners, wiping each other’s work on the other’s tank top.

“God dude,” Chet replied. “Nothin’ beats THAT part of the Bro-Job.”

The newly-minted frat boy could only guffaw. His dreams, aspirations, and uniquities were completely gone, let alone his intelligence deteriorated down to the bare minimum. He was now only gifted with the simple desires of a sexually-overdrived culturally-accepted delinquent.

“I never got your name by the way,” Chet laughed. “I’m gonna need it for the prez so he can register you for the frat.”

“Hot Rod,” Rodney replied, the nickname coming out as if it was a programmed response.

Chet gave Hot Rod a brotherly swat before lifting him up off the couch. “'Hot Rod', huh? I think that will suit the other bros well once you finish the last part of the job.”

“There’s more, dude?” Hot Rod asked, following the other frat boy out to the front yard. “We both know I’m perfect for the frat life!”

“Well of course!” Chet then grabbed a computer and handed it over to Hot Rod. After looking for a little too long, Hot Rod eventually realized it was an online job board.

“I gotta get a job, bro?” Hot Rod asked, somehow making the dull timbre of his tone sound even dumber.

“No, dude!” Chet rolled his eyes. “The last part of the Bro-Job is recruiting the next member.”

Hot Rod’s empty expression signaled his lack of understanding.

“I just completed the Bro-Job,” Chet explained. “Now it’s your turn.”

Again, after a little too long of a pause, the pieces finally managed to place themselves together in Hot Rod’s head. With a thick guffaw, he made the job opening available once more before closing the laptop. He then placed the device behind him and took a seat at the end of the driveway, twisting his cap and assuming a cocky pose.

“What are you doing, bro?” Chet laughed.

“Sittin’ pretty, brah,” Hot Rod shot back. “Wanna make it easier for the next fag that rolls around.”

#nerdtojock #gay to straight #dumber #jock #bottomtotop #fratification #mental change #g2s #dumb and jocked tfs

[sjw-publishings]

Lit Gud Streamin

With much encouragement from @dumb-and-jocked

>First Time Streamin’ bro?

The house husband blushed at the first comment coming to respond to him.

Carson Green was anxious…he’d heard of streaming but never tried it until some pestering from his Gaymer group as of late.

The stay at home husband wanted to help with the finances, hence why he even considered it in the first place. Sure it was nice being a homemaker, and definitely had a flair in cooking, but he wanted to do something different.

“Y…Yeah, it’s my first time.”

>LOL K

He was relatively unsure of this, but he had known and spoken to several of the guys a week ago, and though he could have sworn they talked about a different topic entirely, he recalled about many of them bragging about ‘raking in the dough’ for gaming.

True enough, many of them are not only being paid handsomely in royalties for streaming, but they have a surprisingly large fanbase!

Admittedly, he was sort of shocked…and sort of jealousy that many of them are quite popular online, almost like they reached stardom within a week or less.

But regardless, his group also promised that they will help out with ‘assimilating’ him into the platform and moderate his stream. So surely he would reach a certain level of success with their guidance.

Though he’s still unsure how exactly will do they so.

“W…What games will we be playing?”

>Dis the game dude

>Ur in it, brought in da Boiz to watch the stream.

With that, the number count rose exponentially, from single digits, to doubles.

The house husband blushed, twiddling his thumbs at being watched by wide audience. Is it like a reality show game? Or is it something different entirely?

Granted, there weren’t any instructions or briefings given about it. Maybe it is a more on the spot, spontaneous kind of thing?

“D…Do I need to do anything in particular?”

>Just be yourself , LOL

>You gotta impress us Noob.

He…kind of doesn’t like being called a noob, but he is new to streaming after all. So he ought to listen to them, no matter how they are like.

>Dude, ur Tagline?

Tagline…?

Oh yeah! All the cool streamers he watched had one.

Wait? Since when did he watch…well he is a gamer after all, so it’s only natural that he DID watch streams, at least some of em by proxy. He is rather connected to the other guys.

“Ummm…ok LOL, what kind of tagline. Do you all have any suggestions, dudes?”

>Just Lit Gud man.

>Yeah RAT

He thought maybe it’s tough love or something…though it really feels extremely rude. Almost draining even, like yeah it was exhausting trying to keep up with his group’s gaming shenanigans, but even in their streamin’ advice?

C’mon Man!

Plus he’s just got married not a while ago! They could’ve at least be NICE to him since he’s now tied down! Like don’t get me wrong, he loves his husbro, but when all is said and done, he does miss the glory days of being with the rest of the guys.

“Look, I-D-K if Lit Gud Noobs is such a nice tagline?”

Desperate for a win here. Yeah, he may be getting quite aggro. But it’s justified! Bro.

“And who you callin’ Rat, RATZ!”

His mouth slurred at that remark, a very sleazy…immature slur as he quickly covered his mouth in that regard.

Though admittedly, he kinda liked that.

After all, if he was the rat, then these noobs are his goons. And while he usually isn’t the dominant one in his relationships, admittedly he kinda liked roleplaying as one of the typical bros, even if he wasn’t THAT asian compared to them.

>RAT BOD

>You lift Bro?

“My body…its not that well off-“

>Get lit or get Shyt on

He’s gotta get LIT.

Watching as his weight sizzle away down, melting away the bubbling tummy fat into a faint trail of a six pack, straining loosely on the shirt being his college grad pectorals.

Gotta show off after all. Specially during the bachelor’s party!

His diet consisted of pizza, soda and chips. And so ducking what? Body trim as DUCK, that’s how he lived and how his rats loved it. Some people said it was his GENE-tics or some shit that he had this bod, but you know what he says to em’?

Get lit or get Shyt on!

But even so, da shyt? Why did these bastards gotta treat him like that? Weren’t they all buds or somethin’?

“You RATZ are always so rude.”

>We rude? KAPPA

>Haha Noob!

With every interaction and vocabulary pollution, hunching lazily towards the screen, eyes entranced by the masses of comments.

LIGHTING and EMPHASIZIN’ random words, like an obnoxious mixture tainting his patience. Persistent name calling and being on the receiving end of the relationship kinda pisses him off.

>LOL K, How’s the stream?

But admittedly, a growing part of him is really getting pumped, while irritated, a small part of him liked broadcasting to these gamers.

If only they had some MAN-NERS, sheesh!

“How the streamin’ goin? Dude IDK, just a Jerkin’ stream today, nothin but insults.”

> Git Gud

> Just Git Gud

> Noob

Chat, filled with your run of the mill, cloned responses. Your typical mocks and insults, passive threading onto aggressive, a fine balance of being slightly very aggro but chill, producing RUDE DUCKIN’ INSULTS.

Each one after another, a shytposting blend that makes the stupid obnoxiousness rise higher and higher. Calves toning out from jumping upwards in sports as his body shrunk downward, making sure he sees eye to eye with dem BOIZ.

One liner aggressiveness alongside swarms of memes and complete nonsense. Idiotic behaviour, fitting a ‘RatChat’. Blending in with the other dudes, speakin’ their language, participating campus exercises and roughing around with the other bros!

Like a game, course, they are gamers after all. They know the COMBO, dissecting their streamer bud like it’s nothin’! Insults kicking right from the beginning!

He wanted to beat them at their own game!

Be hetter-BETTER! Calson Greo wanted to be a PRO.

“Alright RATZ, What’ll make me less of a noob and g-”

>Git Gud Noob

“GIT GUD?”

His voice slurred, eyebrows raised as he slumped back in his gaming chair. Like a simple command burning into his skull.

He just gotta GIT GUD! No instructions needed, except you gotta be IN DA LOOP. At TOP! As his buttocks clenched at the refusal of being BOT! Cheeks meant for exercise and gamin’.

He had to GIT GUD! And that’s being on top of his game always!

>You gotta be LIT Fam

“LIT?”

A delicious fuming rage erupted from his screen, as a multitude of laughing frogs and emojis filled his entire chat.

Igniting a fire within, his skin tanning till its just RIGHT. Made for a BOI who spends time gamin’ both online and in sports. Just like every other of his classmates back on campus.

>Stop being such a QUEER

“QUEER? Da SHYT?”

SHYT, these men tryin’ to get under his skin. Really making him all pent and rock solid. NO HOMO!

Wait WUT?

DUDE! LIEK…man he’s really even sounding immature in his thoughts? Wasn’t he some sort of QUEER? DA FK? He was g…a…guy, A GUY! YEAH! He was a guy like em!

“Thought you all stand for GUY RIGHTS?”

HE ALWAYS TOPS! Yeah so maybe he had a PHAG, but it was clear they are ‘sabotaging’ his GAY STREAM and tryin’ makin’ it the way it ought to be!

Full of SHYT-talkin’, assholes are dragging him down to THEIR level. A more rodent, nastier bunch instead of friendly GHEYS! But alright! If these idiots want to game, then they gonna-

>Look PHAG, if you want to WIN you gotta stop sucking

“SUK DEEZ NUTS!”

GOTTEM

An obnoxious Tenor bursted out from the man, retaliating like an immature douchebag as he finally sunk to their level. Height stooping at an average 5ft 9, GPA scores barely scrapping by the median. A fellow backslider like the crowd.

And HE was going to let these DOUCHEBOIS get it HARD!

>Just Chillax Gay Boi

“I AM CHILLAX!”

He sneered, as his voice rose into a stupidly obnoxious loud tenor, allowing that youthful tone engulf him in an asian tan like his peers, makin’ sure he is part of the Hivemind that is Snitch culture.

“No Sweats allowed…Just CHILLAX man…”

Feeling his mind sinking into the mass rebellious conformity that is his gamin’ community, his voice cooled slightly, gifted the flexibility to yell when he WANTS to BOIIII!

His buttoned down fused, as the simple white tee clung over his frame with slackened glee, bluntly accentuating his pectorals, as a typical print was plastered over like another typical meshed up shirt that the zoomers would wear.

He was NO SWEAT, Trousers shortening up to his thighs, lightening up into a more mesh, flexible material. Hanging loose L-sized on his waist are his flaming red basketball shorts, stickin’ out like a sore thumb whenever the dude stands up or goes for a bathroom breaks.

>Yo streamer, you a player?

“Am I a play-yer?”

The young man slurred, smirking as he acknowledged that remark, teasing those thirsty PHAGS and RATZ like he always does.

ResidentSnorer and various funny frogs spammed the chat box like no other, skyrocketing his view count to the thousands.

The young Boi loved every minute of it. He was getting the fame, boi.

“Course I am, ain’t easy being this good…”

>u dating someone?

“DAY-TING?”

Slippers took a hit in their quality, soft material becoming a pair of stretchable basketball shoes. Made for the kind of guy who keeps his options open.

Both in da basketball court, and in da bed. And yeah, it was technically his home. Well, he and his GAY fiancé’s. But it’s mostly a BRO thing! Roommates with benefits!

“Boiz, I have a fiancé , but..”

>Sounds Sus

>you gay or what?

His eyes widened, SHYT, he wasn’t supposed to say that. Not that he minded the older man…except when he was being GHEY-but weren’t they a couple…of MEN.

But aren’t they together? Da SHYT! He was a playah! BUT what about that time when they cuddled-BRUH that’s GHEY! BUT WHAT ABOUT-YOU GHEY BROSKI? BRO? B-

“BUTT-FK! I mean…I MEAN my BOI-FRIEND!”

>MEGAFAG

Fiddling the ring, the band stretched beyond the size of his palm, turning into pure eleastic as it slid down his right wrist, loosely fitting like its part of some showoffy trend.

As the chat continues to spam various emotes, including a distinct rainbow head, don’t these douchebags know he’s single and ready to mingle? Why are they thinkin’ he’s gonna be bangin’ it with some dude?

“Who you noobs calling GAY? It’s just ONE night!”

> QUEER ALERT!

> GAY GAY GAY

One hand palming below, the other one flippin the stream. Colson Groh’s darkened hair flicked down the side, his new asian ethnicity fully taking hold without remorse, blending in with the group of bullies pickin’ on him and his-FAG!

“One night of PRANKIN FAGS!”

Picking on em hard, he wasn’t one of em, but man is it HOT setting them STRAIGHT! The twenty two year college dude smirked, as PHAGS couldn’t resist starin’ at his clean-shaven slack-jaw and risen cheekbones till they get completely RAT PRANKED.

GGEZ

>Ayyy LIT

>Lets go BOI

>AFKin’ RAT!

“Bet you all can’t get ladies to your doorstep.”

>Check GayPay

GayPay my arse, StraightCoin’s the deal bro.

Though speakin’ of ladies. Hot damn…is he THAT dry? Cause he’s having that fantasy every straight, gamin’ charged college guy’s has.

Surrounded by hot ladies.

Then again, he’s always THIRSTIN’. Course, a guy like him can get a bunch of women in a flash. But he totally can jerk like a maiden-less douchebag like a bunch of the idiots watchin’ him.

Makes him relatable to his RATZ, yeah? Sides, nothin’ wrong with a lil jerkin’ on cam, nothing GHEY bout it!

>Yo RAT, check out your numbers

>BRO past 7k

>NO CAP

LIT_GUD: +7k subs

“Nggh!”

Rapidly vibrating his 7 inch joystick, brows raised as they thinned out. The last bit of hesitation melting away, making way for youthful gamin’ bravado as a seedy wide grin beamed in the stream.

“How to LIT GUD getting chicks?”

>PRO-DUCTION BRO!

>GIT LIT STREAM!

>YEEEEAAAAH BOI!

Comments flooding all over his stream, a mass mindset and mentality calling all to pump. PUMP! Pumping his POG-O STICK to the MAX! The Go-To-Game for men of his kind.

The HIGH score, as his eyes narrowed in utmost dumb simplicity, tilting his head upward to the ceiling as he grinned wildly as he thought bout’ that simple fantasy!

All da LADIES comin’ at him. YAAA BOIII!

“JUST LIT GUD BOIIIIIIIIIIIIII!”

Colton Goh no scoped all over his boxers, slumping back as drops of youthful rebellion spluttered all over, mucking it with obnoxious bully testosterone like he always does.

Feels so LIT! Being able to climax whenever the heck he wants, why abstain when he can just LIT GUD MAN! All those goody two shoe brethren back at campus grounds are really missin’ out.

But of course, he’ll scoop the remaining wads of mayo to his jerk off bottle later. He may be a backslider, but he gotta be up in his production game, beat his last record and all that shiz.

Speakin’ of which.

“E….Z….”

7k’s still just rookie numbers for a guy like him, but considering he got it all in a bunch of hours, he’s as good as the pros like the rest of em’!

“Yo…and that’s how you dudes get the ladies, man.”

>AYYYOOOO

>MY STREAMER!

>YA BOIIIIII

“Boiz, if you see any gays going all homo on ya. You gotta give em the LIT GUD!”

Normally he would collab with his streaming buds, but he really oughta help his Bromies out by teachin em.

Especially ratting out GHEYS until they turn into a couple of rats like he is. And what better way than to create his own Streamin’ channel? All he got to do was be himself bro.

Brings in the subs, and sides, hot chicks dig him, and fags thirstin’ over him get weeded out until they are a bunch of rats like he and his gamer crew.

‘[TOP] Gay Dude Joined the stream’

Speaking of fags…

“Ayy, a new fag joined the stream, sweet.”

Not sure how did ‘Gay Dude’ squirmed into his ‘TOP’ friends list, but he must’ve added him during that stupid RNG game he tried last night while he drank Heteroade with the bois.

But honestly, heh, he doesn’t give a Rats arse bout em’. After all, he needed someone to dunk on to celebrate his 7k Subs, so why not make sure the fag gets the whole RatChat streamin’ experience?

Heh, this will be hot.

“Give em a couple of Lit Guds in the chat, noobs.”

#Lit Gud Streamin #Lit Gud Streaming #gay to straight #mental change #g2s #racialchange #camp christening #christian #age regression tf #zoomer tf

[sjw-publishings]

Driven to Serum-Production ;)

Simply-Driven

Part 2

Thanks to the splendid @sjw-publishings

Find Part 1 here!

Obviously, sharing a meal with his roommate and all the neighborhood dads had been a mistake. Actually, if Mickey Hockley fully considered it, coming to this festival had been a mistake. He didn’t fit in at all with anyone in the neighborhood. All identical to one another in their painfully average, simply-driven ways. In fact, Mickey couldn’t even explain how he had ended up rooming with the walking-Asian-American-dad stereotype in the first place. But there was one thing for certain: he was regretting it.

Luckily, the festival had finally come to an end and all the fathers were heading back to their quaint, stepford neighborhood. It took a bit for Mickey to drag Joel Huang out of a conversation around sports and jorts (a favorite among these men), but eventually they had hopped into the sedan and were on their way home. Once Mickey got back, he planned on hiding in his room for the rest of the night, maybe even bagging a twink if he was lucky.

“You’re awfully quiet back there, kiddo,” Joel chuckled from the front. Ever since Mickey had moved in, Joel and his wife had always referred to him as “their kid”. Mickey took it offensively every time.

“Tired, I guess,” Mickey blew off, feeling a little angst.

Joel looked through the rearview mirror and tried to meet eyes with the younger man. “Son, you should get a haircut.”

Mickey frowned, meeting the older man’s eyes. Why did Joel suddenly have an opinion on his brown wolf cut? He’d had it for a few years now after all. 

“No Joel, I like my hair this way.”

A slight breeze went across the back of Mickey’s neck, causing him to shiver a bit.

“Well, Asian-American men look nicer with shorter hair.”

“I…umm…” Mickey was at a loss for words, deviant of his usual quick nature. He rubbed a hand behind his head subconsciously, feeling the short follicles tickle his fingertips like a cheap rug.

Joel’s tone grew a little more stern. “It needs to be short.”

“It is short, mister!” Mickey shot back, surprised to hear himself add a title.

“Short as your good ol’ man’s?”

Mickey rolled his eyes. That was another thing, Joel always wanted Mickey to follow in his footsteps. His plain, unremarkable, heterosexual footsteps. Sure, his hair might have been the same length, just fluffed differently in the front, but that was about as much in common that the two men shared.

“You need to drop that complicated attire too. You don’t need to be dressed weird to get my attention.”

Mickey wanted to make a more progressive point, but for some reason a more immature answer came out. “Guys can dress well too if they want!”

“Not a boy of mine, so drop it.”

Mickey could practically feel his clothes shifting to a blank black tank top underneath his d...the older man’s direction. Rolled up to his thighs were a pair of mesh red athletic shorts like many in his closet, and down below were his trusty pair of well-worn sneakers. Mickey kind of understood Joel’s point…it felt easier just blending in, nothing too complicated. Plus, it was simpler buying clothes like these seeing as how his favorite department had plain and simple men’s clothes. Maybe men didn’t have to stand out anyway?

“But Joel-”

“No butts son, or else intruders will enter your behind.”

Mickey flinched, the blatant homophobia always caused him to react as such. But the thought of his behind being pierced did unnerve him. He was the one who liked to do the penetrating after all, so underneath it all Joel did make a point.

Seeing he had won that battle, Joel moved onto something a little more cheery: “Now sport, did you see my friend invite on Humblr?”

“Humblr?” Mickey questioned. “W…what’s that d…mister?”

A flash of embarrassment crossed Mickey’s face, but luckily he had been able to catch himself before he actually said what had almost come out.

“Haha!” Mr. Huang heartily laughed from the front. “Good one son! Everyone knows Asian Americans your age use Humblr!”

“W...What? But I'm not an…”

But the words from Mickey’s mouth stopped as he spotted his reflection in the rear view mirror. His fair, yet distinctly Eastern hue shone forth, alongside the dark, Asian-genetically coded bangs like every other man of his kind. He had the almond-shaped eyes, the deep raven hair, the soft boyish looks. Mickey guessed he could be considered Asian-American.

The more Mickey thought about it, the more it made sense technically. Technically, regardless of how different they were, he and Mr. Huang were related biologically, although he couldn’t exactly recall how. That was the only plausible reason as to why he would even be living in the same house with this man, right? For some reason, the thought of living in that neighborhood seemed foreign and yet still, like home?

Though then again, were the two really that different? Checking his phone, Mickey noticed the boring yet essential Humblr app plastered at the top right of his screen. It was one of the most essential apps after all, beside his online Bible, his school portal, and a calculator. Wait…a school portal? Wasn’t he in his late twenties? Why did he have a school portal?

Suddenly, a bright red notification popped onto the screen. Mickey’s thumb instinctively pressed the app and, forgetting his previous train of thought, accepted Mr. Huang’s family request. On cue, Mickey’s feed launched into action, displaying family photographs, Bible verses, and the “Dad Joke of the Day”.

“How was soccer practice yesterday with your friends?” Mr. Huang asked, bringing Mickey out of his concentration.

“Soccer practice?” Mickey questioned. “My friends don’t play soccer.”

“Stop pulling my leg, kiddo!” Mr. Huang reach back and patted Mickey’s leg to emphasize his point. With each contact, the fatherly hand strengthened Mickey’s thighs and calves. “Asian-American sons always play soccer, which also happens to be all of your friends!”

Mickey scoffed. He could’ve sworn he had a larger variety of friends. But as he imagined all of their faces, he realized it was like looking right into a mirror. A crew of Asian-Americans with no particular member having characteristics that could be differentiable from the rest. Everything was normal as Mr. Huang has said. 

Mickey began to wonder why he was questioning Mr. Huang so much. The older male obviously knew what he was speaking about, and he was the one who had put him on that team anyway. His relative had wanted him to be with the same kinds of men he was exposed to on a regular basis; in the house, in the streets, and at school.

“Well,” Mickey began, the practice suddenly coming to him crystal clear. “it was nothing special. Our team scored a couple of goal, but nothing as strong as our goal to get straight As!”

Mickey clasped his mouth, the lame pun unlike anything that had ever come out of his usual collected, witty being. Yet, he could barely hide his grin at the awfully weak remark he had made. For some reason, Mickey felt an immense elation in mimicking Mr. Huang and his horrible, clean and catchy humor.

All Mr. Huang could do was throw his head back and laugh. “Haha! Good one son!”

This accomplishment had Mickey feeling as if a major weight had been taken off his shoulders, both in progressive maturity and in independence. But hey, who cares man? He just turned 19 this year! Mickey still had a whole life ahead of him, so it was appropriate that he needed to chill out more. To emphasize that point, he spread his athletic legs apart and sat back in his seat, taking up far more space than needed. Mickey was related to this guy after all, so it was appropriate that he would take after him. 

Mr. Huang was practically a father-figure. He was stern at times, but he meant well. And as long as he kept up his grades, he didn’t have to worry about a social life. He already had enough like-minded peers, so Mickey didn’t need anything stressful or complicated. That’s what his Mr. Huang said at least; “Stick to the straight and narrow!”

“Any girls interesting?” 

“W..What! No I uh…”

Mr. Huang’s question popped Mickey’s bubble. For some reason, he wanted to protest. Something about that statement felt incredibly wrong. Yet at the same time, Mr. Huang was always on to something. Mickey just had to trust him with what he thought was the truth, right?

“I’m ga…g…a gu-?”

“Son…” Mr. Huang’s tone immediately switched. No more was the amiable nice guy. Now, it was only the firm discipline of a father. “Do we need to have this talk again?”

Mickey didn’t know what to do but blindly listened.

“You are not gay, just confused.”

Mickey sputtered a rebuke, but struggled. “But dad…! I’m…uh…?”

“Where did you learn that word again?”

“I…” It was like the word in question evaporated from his vocabulary. “Not sure man…but it does feel kinda wrong.”

“That’s good, kiddo,” Mr. Huang affirmed. “You don’t have to worry about it because you are into girls!”

“R…Really?” Mickey replied. A slight surge of energy pulsed through his meager package in response. Hadn’t it been larger, much larger? “I…I’m not sure. I guess some of them are cute though-”

“Precisely! You can’t stop talking about your girlfriend!”

Everything felt hazy. It was like Mickey couldn’t remember anything until the father confirmed it. With a smooth swerve, the family sedan was pulled into the driveway. Once the vehicle was parked and turned off, Mr. Huang turned to face the young man behind him.

“Do I need to teach you how to aim straight again, kiddo?”

Mr. Huang gripped Mickey’s pouch firmly. The warm, fatherly touch just about sent him over the edge. Mickey’s eyes slumped back as he became completely obedient to the father’s words.

“Now, I'm going to need you to repeat after me, kiddo.”

Mr. Huang kneaded Mickey’s pouch, garnering a groan of confirmation.

“‘I'm not gay, I'm just confused’.”

Mickey took an exaggerated breath of air before repeating.

“‘I'm into ladies, just like the other boys in school’.”

Mickey practically moaned on the word “ladies” and felt a wave of normality pass with “like the other boys”. Both him and Mr. Huang were surprised when he said the next phrase all on his own.

“...I have a girlfriend.”

“Yes kiddo!” Mr. Huang cheered, giving his son a congratulatory squeeze. “And how does it make you feel knowing you are ready to take the next step?”

Mickey could feel his breath quickening. “‘The next step’?”

“Well sure son,” Mr. Huang confirmed with a fatherly smile. “You’re going to propose.”

And with that sweeping realization came a rush of pure, unadulterated bliss. Although the rush itself was fairly meager, it still carried a massive wave of enlightenment.

“Now that looked like a big production!" the father congratulated from the front seat, causing the young man to blush.

“Thank the Lord it won’t show,” Micah Huang smiled. The Lord had a strange way of distributing his gifts. Micah was unfortunately blessed with muscles a little larger than his companions, a noticeable fault when regarding all the other 5’6-5’8 men. Fortunately however, he was blessed in his more private regions with extremely modest bearings, those of which were already perking up at the thought of his upcoming proposal.

“Are you ready, son?” his father asked out front as they entered the house. The smell of food cooking meant Micah’s mother was in the kitchen.

“Yes, but when do I propose to her dad?” Micah pleaded.

“Just let your instincts lead you son,” his father replied with a sharp spank.

Micah didn’t respond with anything fancy, just a polite nod before saying, “Ok dad.” In moments, he was already in his room and bashfully video chatting with his girlfriend. 

“Hey Jessie…” Micah was so anxious that he felt like he could explode. “I’ve got something to propose to you during service tomorrow…”

#gay to straight #racialchange #age regression tf #toptobottom #christian #camp christening #mental change #g2s #dumb and jocked tfs

[sjw-publishings]

What a Dad-pendable Father ;)

Simply-Driven

Part 1

Thanks to the splendid @sjw-publishings

“Look, I’m gonna try and find the other guys, is that ok?”

“Sure babe, but don’t take too long.”

Jonathan and Mickey Hockley surely were not the favorite couple in the new neighborhood. When they had originally toured the place, they hadn’t asked much about the neighborhood. The president of the local association had said it was a great place to live, and they had taken the Asian-American dad’s word very seriously. What they hadn’t realized was that he had meant it was a great place to live for other simply-driven Asian-Americans. 

Jonathan and Mickey were the only white couple in the neighborhood, a surprise to the two who had primarily grown up without much minority exposure. They were excited for the opportunity to grow and learn though. They were also the only gay couple in the neighborhood, but that didn’t come as much of a shock. That being said, the backhanded comments and not-so-subtle homophobia were quite the displacement. None of the neighbors seemed to enjoy their company no matter how hard they tried. So when they were invited to the local festival in the neighborly newsletter, that was what shocked them most of all.

And now Jonathan and Mickey were here. Jonathan, the obvious physical top but once-you-got-to-know-him obvious bottom wasn’t able to see any of the neighborhood dads through the crowds even with his tall stature. If he was being honest though, most of the other men were of Asian-American descent. It was almost like a Comic Con for boringly average dads. Mickey, the obvious physical bottom but once-you-got-to-know-him obvious top needed to use the restroom badly. So the two split with Jonathan quickly finding all of the other neighborhood dads. They stood just outside of the festival by the food court, all in their matching patterned button-ups forming a line for a picture.

“Oi Brother!” one of them called.

Jonathan immediately recognized it to be Brian Wong, one of the younger fathers in the neighborhood. Self-consciously, Jonathan felt his heart flutter at the adamantly-normal-yet-unusually-attractive dad asking for him. “We need you for the neighborhood dads photograph, stat!”

The gay guy wanted to politely decline, but he had to admit, all the men–while seemingly carbon copies with slight variations in attire and features–were ever so hot. He knew his short-shorts and easy tank (and white skin) would make him stand out, yet he couldn’t help but feel drawn in. He just had to grab Mickey first. Before he could make a move however, a couple of dads paternally guided him over to his spot.

“But wait…” Jonathan protested. “What about my hus…hus…”

Brian patted him on the shoulder, helping him sink into the crowd.

“Dude, just think of me as your best man, bud. Everything will clear up in a moment.”

Jonathan shook his head, “What?”

Suddenly, Brian flashed his camera. The light disoriented Jonathan, causing him to forget what he had been talking about.

“Brotherly group hug, men!”

The neighborhood dads immediately slung their arms over one another’s shoulders. Jonathan could feel the body heat being transmitted throughout the connection to him. Gentle yet tight grips onto his shoulders, back widening to accommodate the fatherly mass placed upon him, shoulders rolled back at ease like another man of the crowd.

They were all side by side, and for some reason all this homoerotic heterosexual energy incredibly aroused the gay man. But he rationed it was nothing special. Returning the grip onto the men to the left and the right, sharing his own warmth with thicker digits and averagely-muscular arms.

“Think of a handsome pose any woman would like!”

The camera flashed, shortening the time Jonathan was allowed to be mad at the comment. His hair was also shortened, the blond bangs being carried up as they were slicked with gel on the top. The follicles darkened too, becoming an exact replica of the casual-yet-professional cut atop of Brian’s forehead.

The sleeves of Jonathan’s tank did the opposite of shortening however, growing outwards as his tank lost its skinny appeal. Buttons popped in along a split that formed down the middle, creating a summery shirt akin to what all the other men wore. It was practically their uniform anyway, and Jonathan did want to fit in.

“Alright now men!” Brian cheered from behind the camera. “You are proud fathers of society, built to run the neighborhood and take good care of the wives and children.”

All the men around Jonathan shifted their positions, straightening out their backs and puffing their chests out. Jonathan didn’t know what else to do but follow along.

“That’s it! Normal and nothing special.”

Once again the blinding light, this time hindering Jonathan’s sense of individuality. He had just wanted to fit in with these men, hadn’t he? Maybe the neighborhood would accept him if he just took to their ways, not exactly him and his partner conforming per say but-

Wait, where was his boy…friend? What was his name again…Mickey? Was it bad that he had momentarily forgotten his friend’s name? Or his friend entirely? Jonathan shook his head and asked himself the real question. Why was he worrying about another man? If he was to be like these neighborhood dads, then he ought to act like one. He shouldn’t be caring about another man when he was a man and a father himself. Hold on…’a father himself’?

“Now pose like the members of your favorite soccer team!”

Jonathan powerfully stretched his legs with the next picture, yet they didn’t extend as far as usual. When he stood flat again, he just about reached a solid 5’11 like the other dads. Jonathan didn’t want to STAND out in the crowd after all. Sure, most Asians are shorter, but his size was the Asian-American standard. Even though he only had a some Asian blood, right? But anyway, no more no less. Just enough to stand taller than the Asian-American standard for women…which Jonathan did not know why that mattered.

Brian peered behind the camera to do a quick check. With a hidden smile, he continued, “Pose like you’ve proud of your pants–bought during a clearance sale!”

Jonathan’s shorts became tackier and covered themselves with pockets. Their color washed out as if he had them for over years. Jonathan had bought them a while back when that store had a huge sale. Yeah they were still a bit big, but Jonathan knew whenever he’d get that dadbod like some of the older dads in the neighborhood that he’d grow into them. There was no point throwing away good clothes, especially if they were practical! How else was he supposed to hold all his knick-knacks?

“Now imagine you’ve scored a goal during father’s day!”

Jonathan kicked a leg up merrily like the rest of the neighborhood men, noticing his feet were a little bigger than the rest of them. Then again, it might just have been the shoes. His beaten-up New Balances were probably just a little chunkier because he had bought them years before the thinner material was in style. Looking again, he was proud to see his lemony legs and smaller foot matched all the others.

“Before we continue with the photographs,” Brian smirked. “Do remember that this is an ‘Exit-Only’ gentlemen's club.”

Jonathan cocked his head, not knowing what the other dad was referring to.

“Check if there are any intruders in the blind spot of your brethren!”

Jonathan leaped a bit as he felt a smack on his buttocks, sending a rigid spark across his body. The tight fatherly spank set him straight, the flash of the camera sealing the deal. For some reason, Jonathan thought this type of action would have excited him. But that didn’t make sense; he didn’t have any of that queerness in him! His roommate may be one of them, but Jonathan was a man of morals and principles.

Brian couldn’t help but take another glance at the progress before continuing. “Now imagine carrying your kiddos! Whatcha gonna need for that to happen?”

Jonathan and the men stretched their Asiatic muscles in unison. He gulped down as his vocal chords deepened with manhood. Jonathan’s jaw twitched and squared out with a manly aftershave that all these kinds of men used every morning. Yeah, it was one of the neighborhood dads who had gotten him hooked on this brand. Another one had Jonathan shopping at the same outlet malls for clothes. And, as Jonathan now remembered it, Brian Wong was the first to personally come over with his family to greet the new family.

Well, maybe “family” wasn’t the right word to describe Jonathan’s situation. Sure, he and his roommate had known each other for almost 20 years. They weren’t really that close however, not like brother to brother. No, Jonathan was older, enough so that he was practically an uncle. Or maybe even...a father?

“One last picture, brothers!” Brian called out. “Pose like you're producing with your wife!”

With a grunt and powerful thrust, all of the men drove their pelvises forward and released the tension that built up from the thought of their simply-driven heterosexual marriages. For the first time, Jonathan was able to do the same in full body and mind rather than mimic the other men. His serum splashed upon his boxer shorts as he finally became just another one of the neighborhood dads.

After a breath, the men began conversing with each other merrily. Sports, barbeque, church–the usuals.

“Whoa,” Joel Huang patted his average package, noting a certain dampness. “Must be missing the wifey more than I thought.”

Brian shuffled his way into the crowd of lookalikes and gave Joel a quick pat on the back. “Looks like the neighborhood get-togethers have influenced you quite well.”

Joel smiled excitedly as the pair led themselves over to the massive feast spread before them. “What can I say, Brian? It feels good to fit in."

As they took their seats, a shorter white male approached. A worried expression had fallen over his face, clearly lost. 

“Excuse me, have you seen a…” Mickey paused, the words having momentarily lost him. “A man that had walked in this direction?”

“‘A Man’?” Brian chuckled. “Of course! We have plenty, right brothers?”

All the Asian-American dads confirmed with a solid: “A-MEN!”

Joel couldn’t help but laugh with them at such a silly question. Of course they were all men, fathers even! This younger guy could be a man too, if he got rid of that queer vibe to him.

“But my hus…band…” Mickey once again struggled with his words, an anomaly to his usual confident demeanor. “He uh, walked over here?”

“I think the kiddo must be confused,” Brian tossed an arm over Mickey’s shoulder and led him to the seat across from Joel. A flash of disgust crossed the father’s face as Mickey sat, noticing the younger man’s package getting excited. Joel didn’t know what caused him more displeasure–the fact that his theory was true or that the younger man was abnormally large.

“Why don’t you take a seat and join us for our meal?” Brian persuaded. “I’m sure some food will help you calm down.”

Mickey frowned but decided to accept the offer. Free food wasn’t such a bad outcome, and neither was sitting across from the oddly-attractive-for-no-apparent-reason Asian-American dad. 

#gay to straight #racialchange #age progression tf #bottomtotop #cockshrink #lib to con #christian #camp christening #mental change #g2s #dumb and jocked tfs

[sjw-publishings]

Just another orientally average book-signing, eh? ;)

From Defiance to Disciples

You know 'em, you love 'em, the only @sjw-publishings

“Are you ready for this, Cesar?” Saul asked cautiously as they approached the last corner.

“Of course I am, baby,” Cesar smiled. “Just because this is my first protest doesn’t mean it will be my last.”

Cesar had never actually been on the front lines before, but he was excited to have his first go at it today. Saul had always been an avid defender of rights. Whether they regarded race, gender, sexuality, age, or even those relating to furrier friends, Saul was always there. And he wasn’t just a follower either; Saul was a force to be reckoned with. Physically, the 6’4 buff 24-year-old had muscular, Eastern European blood coursing through his veins. Mentally, he was an intelligent doctoral student dedicated towards fighting manipulative oppression.

“Well I’m glad,” Saul leaned in for a kiss before nodding in the direction of the bookstore. “because it looks like this may be one of my best works yet.”

Cesar followed his boyfriend’s gaze, shocked to see the massive crowd that was swarming around the entrance. People of all different colors and ages and sizes and identities were filing into the long queue, ready to protest the newly-released book Loving God By Traditionalism. The tagline of “Wholesome Life, Happy Wife” was enough to make the book’s intended purpose clear. It was a part of a new-age Christian wave that was spreading rapidly, shoving traditional, outdated ideals down innocent peoples’ throats. Although this was the infamous Pastor John’s first book, this was certainly not his first attempt at spreading his gospel. Nor would it be his last.

LGBT’s message of “Straightening Out Men’s Lives” alone was enough to get Cesar on board for Saul’s protest. At 6 feet even, he too was a man of impressive stature. With his olive skin from his father’s Italian heritage and sharp bone structure from his mother’s French, he was often mistaken for a model. And although not as muscular as his boyfriend, Cesar was just as intelligent in his own arenas. His scholarly article criticizing the cowardice of sticking to past ethics garnered him much media attention and a few nominations for research-related awards.

Saul was the first to enter the building, dressed plainly in a pair of black jeans and a white tee with the words “Fighting Subjectation” in red and blue letters across the chest. Cesar had a similar message, following behind in cargo shorts with a cardboard sign taped to his blue shirt screaming “No One Listens to John!” Standing before them were many people of similar angered demeanors, walking past the picture booth to approach the signing table at the end. 

Just barely able to peer through the crowd, Cesar tried to spot Pastor John. He couldn’t, but he did notice the lead organizer of their protest at the front. Cesar hadn’t actually ever met the lanky black guy before, but from Saul’s stories he apparently had quite the temper. Suddenly, the lead organizer disappeared.

“Wait babe…wasn’t that our head protester?” Cesar asked, pointing to the front. Saul looked towards where his boyfriend was pointing, waiting for that larger male to appear. Instead, it just appeared to be an average Asian church-goer; one of Pastor John’s followers.

“That guy, a pro-tester? Maybe he's a gamer?” Saul remarked with a pun, noting the bulky headphones around the specimen’s neck. He then saw a stack of LGBT copies beside them and grabbed two, handing one to his partner. They knew what the book was about, but they hadn’t actually read anything in it.

“Cesar, get this,” Saul laughed. “Pastor John has given a new definition for ‘diversity’.”

Cesar flipped to the page in question and began reading the excerpt.

Koreans are full of charm akin to movie stars, yet they somehow manage to fit and conform themselves super averagely as are part of the congregation.

Malaysians and Singaporeans are strikingly similar apart from one minor difference. Malaysians are a more relaxed variety, while Singaporeans adopt more sarcastic and blunt personalities.

Filipinos are surprisingly more outgoing, and depending on their tribe subtype they can appear more brash or along a charming boy-next-door line.

Chinese as a whole are perhaps the most diverse. China-Chinese are larger built than most, having been raised in the Mainland like true countrymen, while Hong Kongers and Taiwanese identify as a city Chinese, attempting to dress slightly more stylishly but failing to really stand out that much amongst their brethren.

All in all, these men are plain-fully obedient.

“This can’t be serious,” Cesar scoffed, moving forward with the line.

“Wait until you read about ‘serum production’,” Saul replied. 

Cesar flipped ahead, landing on a page identifying the “10 Steps for Ideal Serum Production”. The description and instructions were fairly vague at first, but eventually they became more detailed. And appallingly graphic.

“Imagine that one is holding a pencil like they do everyday in class…” the book started at one point. “...and imagine gripping it. Bringing it up and down….” Then, Cesar began recognizing the diagrams and the pictures that followed.

“Wait…” Cesar blinked, trying to get the words out of his mouth. “Is Pastor John showing his…?”

“Yeah man!” Saul laughed. “He’s advocating for the importance of j…juicing out for his cause!”

“Isn’t he just…?” Cesar thought his question was obvious, but for some reason he couldn’t say what he needed to.

“Yeah man…this is pretty g…” Saul then peered over the crowd. “-Ghey! Hey! We're halfway there dude!”

Cesar twisted his face a little, never having heard his boyfriend say something like “dude” before. But Saul was right, the crowd in front of them was shrinking. Cesar also noticed there appeared to be a larger number of Pastor John’s supporters too, creating a half-and-half mix in the filled bookstore. Looking ahead, he noticed a man about his height holding another copy of LGBT. Wearing a flashy Pride top with glittery short shorts, it was surely a sight to see with him reading Pastor John’s book.

“Pastor John demands that I look presentable always…” the guy mumbled to himself. “No margin for error, especially behind…”

Cesar watched on curiously. It was almost like the guy’s eyes were narrowing thinner as they focused in on the text.

“Pastor John demands only the best from me!” the man shouted excitedly with an accent Cesar must have not registered before. The shorter male then closed his book excitedly, a face of excitement apparent. Judging by the man’s attire, Cesar assumed he was here to actually get his book signed. The Asian male was dressed to meet his hero, not his enemy.

Cesar rotated his gaze to a different individual, following a flamboyant twink with a protest sign walking up Pastor John’s table. Cesar hoped to sneak a peek of Pastor John but was denied from doing so when the twink dropped his sign. He quickly bent over and picked up his leather suitcase, his body slowly ascending up as he did so.

“ExCUse me Pastor,” his voice cracked. “I have a thousand words to say to a homophobe like you!”

Although Cesar couldn’t see him, he assumed the enveloping bass voice that was barely audible from where he stood was the pastor himself.

“Shouldn’t you be working now? You wouldn’t want your boss to dock your pay, am I correct?”

Cesar watched as the man nervously adjusted the scarf around his neck, looking distressed as the material thinned into a monochrome strip and became identical to the ties other men wore in the workplace. 

“Yes sir, I'm currently on my lunch.” Cesar watched as the Japanese salaryman opened his suitcase and handed Pastor John his book.

“Tell the wife and kids I said hello,” Pastor John remarked, signing and returning it back to its owner. 

A boy a little younger than Cesar and Saul was up next. The kid’s chocolatey skin was absolutely red, so visibly mad that Cesar could see it from a distance. He was talking to another black male beside him when they approached.

“I swear…when I get my turn, I'm gonna give that homophobe a piece of my…”

“What do you intend on giving me?” Pastor John’s voice was innocent and polite.

“My honors sir!” the preppy Taiwanese male responded back. “You do great work!”

His meek friend, who honestly looked like a twin to the short Asian male, nodded furiously in agreement. After their books were signed, they hurried off to the photobooth. Cesar’s eyes followed them but stopped when he noticed an alarming sight.

“Is that Asian guy palming his pouch?” Cesar whispered to Saul. One of the older men at the bookstore, a fatherly Filipino man, had one hand in his pocket noticeably jingling its contents. But it wasn’t a phone, keys, spare change, or some other knick-knacks one would expect to see.

“Y…Yeah,” Saul responded, a little dazed. “Must be thinking about his wife?”

The answer caught Cesar a little off guard due to its specificity, but he went with it. “Yeah, sure I guess that could make sense, but don’t you think that’s kind of stereotyping?”

“W…well, he is clearly a conservative, one of those who fight for uh…” Saul moaned a little. “...the right.”

“Do you mean 'rights'?” Cesar then turned to his boyfriend, his eyes glazed over slightly and his mouth hanging open. He then lowered his eyes to where the other man was kneading his own package.

“Saul!” Cesar elbowed his partner as they moved up in line. “What are you doing.”

“Whaaaattt…” Saul slurred. “There’s nothin’ GAY about it…”

Cesar took a step away. “B…Babe, did you just-?”

“It…It’s my first time man!” Saul cried, taking the defensive. “Give me a break!”

Cesar simply looked at the other male in shock. He wasn’t recognizing Saul anymore. No, literally. Saul’s skin had adopted an odder tint of tan that Cesar wasn’t familiar with, and his buzzcut had grown out on top and been fluffed to the side. And it was the opposite of blond. In fact, all of the body hair Cesar could visibly see was black, which wasn’t as much as he was expecting to see.

“Uh, don’t worry about it man…” Cesar ran a hand through his curly hair, oblivious to the fact that as he did so it gelled itself straight back and hardened into a more old-fashioned, traditional cut. They took another step forward, the distance between them and Pastor John shrinking even more. Cesar tried looking over the crowd again, but for some reason all of the people in front were now blocking him. It shouldn’t have surprised him however, being around the average at 5’9. He would ask Saul to look, but it wasn’t like the extra inch he had on him would make a difference. The pair were close enough though that Cesar was able to hear the conversations.

“Pastor John, what you are writing is unacceptable-” one man began with a voice so low it could shake glass.

“But I am a Pastor, correct?”

“Oh…yeah bud, you are the Pastor…”

“Then obviously I know what I am writing about.”

“Haha yeah! Thanks for setting us straight Pastor John!” A new, lighter tenor tone announced merrily, before being followed by another’s: “T…Thank you Pastor John!”

Cesar watched as the two men strolled towards the photobooth with their signed copies in hand. Both looked fresh from Sunday school with their path in life to only follow the straight and narrow. It was then Cesar realized he and Saul were up next in line. A surge of excitement blasted through his system as he watched the interaction unfold before him. The white male approaching the table was dressed exceptionally in a well-styled suit that to Cesar’s dismay covered Pastor John completely.

“Perhaps you could write something that doesn’t promote your glorified agenda of normativity.” The guy was confident and gave an air of being well-educated in this arena.

“Could you elaborate a bit more?” Pastor John prompted.

“Bruh, this is just homophobic man…”

“And what do you not like about it?”

“DUDE! What do I not like about it?” The man in front of Cesar was getting loud, his attitude almost immature. “What’s there TO like about it? Your stories are not diverse man!”

“Incorrect, I have included Chinese, Taiwanese, and many other types of Asian men in my examples.”

“Yeah bro, but…”

“What’s your name?”

The young man was taken aback. Casey could see the sweat beginning to bleed through his workout tank. “Uh…Cassey Tim…I think…?”

Cesar could hear the pen scribbling as Pastor John signed a copy of his book.

“Here you go, Cameron Tang.”

The Asian jock's perked up, “WHOA! Thanks Pastor! A-MEN!” He then ran off to the side, his little nub peeking forward in his pants. Finally, it was Saul and Cesar’s turn to step forward. Finally, Cesar was presented with the man he’d been wanting to meet all this time. Sitting before them was the most handsome, confident, rigidly-masculine man Cesar had ever laid his eyes on. It felt wrong to admit this, but not because Cesar knew who the man was and what he represented. No, it felt wrong because viewing another man as attractive felt wrong.

“What do we have here?” The Asian man asked with an air of maturity and wisdom beyond his years. Cesar waited a moment, but after realizing Saul wasn’t planning on saying anything he took the lead.

“We are a couple-”

“-of A-MEN,” Pastor John interrupted.

“No dude, aren’t we boy…friends?” Cesar turned towards Saul for support, but was given none. The man stood there as if he were enchanted, ramrod straight in his black slacks and the brand new red and blue jacket he had bought just for this special occasion.

“Yeah dude…” Saul was finally able to manage out. “We are a 'ship...”

Cesar smiled, adding: “Yeah, nothing funny ‘bout it.” He held his ground defiantly, knowing that the other man was impressive. Heck, that’s why he’d dressed so swell today. His best pair of khakis and his blue button-up helped show that he was a professional guy. Except for that stupid piece of cardboard taped to his chest. Cesar ripped it off quickly and threw it behind him, not noticing it fly right onto his back and expand into a brown leather jacket that perfectly matched his belt and shoes. Yeah, he’d spent good money on this jacket when he found out he was going to meet the one-and-only Pastor John in person.

“You obviously mean ‘fellowship’, right boys?” Pastor John smirked.

Saul’s hand shot down to his pouch, having removed itself when they had stepped forward to the table. Cesar’s did the same to his own not long after.

“We are closer than that duuddee…ngggh!”

Cesar’s pouch was compacting, churning only the most necessary components. Nothing special, nothing out of the ordinary. Only the simple basics.

“I’m sure you are,” Pastor John agreed. “Brothers like the two of you have been together all your lives.”

Saul and Cesar both moaned as their skins adopted the same hue, their eyes the same shape, and their backgrounds the same heritage. Pastor John was right, or at least his conviction made it feel right. But they could trust him; he was a pastor after all.

“Who am I signing these for?” Pastor John asked as he grabbed the copies of his book from their free hands.

“Saul…”

“Cesar…”

The boys were captivated, their shrunken dicks waiting for release.

“To Paul and Peter,” Pastor John scribbled down. He then handed the books back to the men. “Now you're ready to be disciples.”

Both of the men rolled their eyes back as they shot out a load of serum into their pants. Their productions weren’t large enough to make a visible impact onto their clothing, but they just regarded it as one of the many perks of being blessed with such average endowments. Pastor John couldn’t help but chuckle to himself as he watched the pair of Thai brothers come back to their senses.

“Oh, thank you so much man!” Paul cheered. “You’re like my hero!”

“Yeah dude,” Peter affirmed. “An inspiration to all the men like us out there!”

Pastor John nodded politely and then pointed them off to get their picture taken. The brothers followed orders, excited to get their memento for the moment. After dropping their copies at their feet, they each swung and arm behind the others’ back. They then smiled with exuberant delight, hoping to remember this day for the rest of their lives.

[sjw-publishings]

Straight A-Tension

With much guidance from the lovely @dumb-and-jocked , and influence from his story: Over here ;)

“Hey babe, promise me that after this…we will enjoy our vacation together.”

“I…I promise love, I just have to do a few more errands just to make sure.”

That conversation happened at 9pm yesterday in evening.

12:14pm, Today. Keith Gaye was supposed to meet up with his boyfriend at this very spot a quarter past noon, outside the auditorium hours before the crowd gathers for an announcement later in the day.

Of course, this would be the first time he would be talking to his boyfriend for the day. Since his lover was out and about already before he was awake, serious in completing his mission in digging up info on camp.

But even so…generally William would text him frequently while doing his undercover work. Yet despite his warm wishes and greetings, the other man went radio silent throughout the day.

“Ugh…babe where are you?”

The 25 year old long haired, lean surfer rubbed his shoulders, pushing back his blonde locks as he eyed his phone for a message from his love.

He just wanted a relaxing vacation for him and his lover. Which was why the both of them agreed on the trip to the camp retreat. With supposedly no authoritarian figures, No sticky-hard rules, and just the soft cool breeze of relaxation.

Sure…some of it was mostly fluff with the forced curfews they have on everyone, and the oddly sudden influx of ‘Hyper-Heterosexuality charged Christian Asians’ as his boyfriend describes…but perhaps there is an organised field trip for this time of the month?

And besides, its rude to assume they are all straight, maybe those men are in the closet?

Yet despite his intentions of reassuring his boyfriend and telling him, William was really insistent on uncovering the truth behind possible propaganda and the disappearances of some gay folks and couples around campus…and with his unnaturally long silence today.

What if he was right?

BEEP!

Boy friend [12:15pm]: Completed my preparations my latest speech for later. Please let me know your thoughts. Regards.

A notification popped up at the top of his phone. Fingers immediately pressing on it without delay, opening up the unused social media app he had downloaded many days prior, transporting his screen to the message and communication between him and his boy friend, William Wagner.

…

Mr Wallace Wong, Professor at Christening University.

Shaking his head, as he blinked his eyes rapidly at the name at the top of the message list. Keith felt cold sweat forming on his sun-kissed tanned skin, floral shirt lining with light moisture from the heat as he stood crossed legged in his sandals and board shorts..

Mr Wallace Wong? S…Surely it must be some phone glitch, though its not surprising since as Humblr is still a relatively new app. Though it still felt odd that it appeared out of the blue very recently.

Not to mention how his older boy friend would prefer him to use other kinds of social media to communicate…no that’s not right. His older mentor would refuse to use those kinds of ‘strange applications’ due to them not promoting HIS diversity…No wait. It was the school’s motto of diversity, that was what it was all about with that teach!

“So not diverse….”

The surfer scowled, rolling his eyes as he remembered the old fashioned professor and his continual lectures towards him ever since he stepped foot on campus.

He wanted to set off and find a cute twink to date, but every time the teacher would stop his ‘FOOLING AROUND’ and drag the other man away to detention. All he wanted was just to relax with a cute guy ! He could’ve sworn he had one, but clearly with the professor sticking to him like glue…that proved otherwise.

Whatever, today was the last day that old fossil hounded him on his vacation. No more ‘youngsters and their social media apps!’ when he himself is using Humblr like his ‘Straight A sons’ as he so proudly boasts all day.

He might as well humour the older male for once, tapping on the video sent below the overly professional message.

[Video processing]

As the video began to load, he was greeted by a auto-generated Half-Body thumbnail of the Professor. Presumably seated on a low-rising chair with his hand clasped on a table in front. Blank White background behind him, removing any other distractions to someone else.

It looked like one of those adverts from VideoTube, where a stereotypical asian tries to sell him something, make a dad joke, or promote the ‘brand new family-oriented social media app, Humblr!’

Which was not surprising, considering the nature of the professor…though he had to admit, he hadn’t had a good look at the man. Especially without his suit jacket, an above average build…straining against his white plain buttoned down tee, but without his usual necktie.

Carbon copy to many other teachers and church-going students of his kind, yet with tight, strong…strapping strong muscles. With a fierce forceful jawline to accommodate his harsh, remorseless tactics.

Complimenting his neatly trimmed and gently gelled cut in every year book, alongside those professionally prescribed spectacles over his dangerously thin lenses, a visage of an authoritarian man in complete control.

Keith generally topped…but dude, for some reason his pouch is really disagreeing with his previous biases and hatred towards the married man, how did he not realise how good-looking this bastard was?

Drool escaping his lips, as he starred blankly at the thumbnail of the prof, the small buffering spiral of circles glueing him to the screen. Left hand holding the phone, the right began churning his not so relaxed pouch, as fainter, subtile sentences flashed across the screen.

Activating School’s Hetwork…

Turning On RedTooth signals…

Accepting Admin position…

Keith didn’t understood what any of that meant, neither did he notice a certain wall mounted, television monitor turning by itself.

Hovering above eye level in front of him, as it began to buffer the same screen on his phone, before his mobile device goes completely blank, except the following words.

[Please direct your attention to the monitor above]

“Straight”

A single word, echoing from the speakers.

Straight…looking straight into the monitor. The professor in a much larger screen. His back straight as ever, as if it refused to be hunched in order to maintain its clean-cut.

Just a single word…already causing Keith’s chill-rod to POKE violently. Such boring, unsexy nerdy tension…getting this surfer dude all fiery down below.

He had no idea how this professor has such a hold on him…how he keeps coming back to him…How he physically and subconsciously listens to his suggestions, rolling his shoulders back out of a hunch, straightening his back as much as a gay man.

A lot of ‘straight’ tension poking out, wanting to get in bed with him so badly, but he was just barely out of the closet…after all the teacher always demanded things straight out of him…

Wait a sec…Wasn’t he out of-

“A-TENSION!”

A heavy bark sounded all around him, drilling into his ears from the speakers above as like a proud military man on duty. Like a direct command, eyes instinctively darting to the television hovering above. Left hand was raised into a salute, immediately dropping his phone…which fell to the ground.

He didn’t know why he obeyed the order so suddenly, much less from the incredibly hot man that he hate-admired so much!

“Men, with your level of qualifications you have been selected to be a part of our disciplinarian program.”

Disciplinarian program?

Wait…! He didn’t sign up for this! Sure he may have had extremely conflicted feelings for the older male…ever since he saw him in college? But No…that was not right, what does a lean chill surfer like him have to do in college?

But then again, he hadn’t surfed in forever, his very faint tan. Sure he was much older than most folks at the age of 27. But he had to focus on his scholarship…Adjusting his light blue short-sleeved buttoned down below and beige khakis, shifting about in his loafers as he remembered getting that, scholarship, but only a single one!

He had still worked out, but with less time he had to be efficient and dive in his studies. Though oddly enough, he his muscles were generally far more relaxed than how tense they are now. Nice buildup though over the years.

Overall he tried to keep his cool despite everything, but he had to admit…he did appreciate the tough love from his teachers and pushed on, securing his spot, though just barely.

Perhaps that was why they eventually introduced him to Mr Wong? Who recommended that he should be part of the program?

“Life’s full of collaboration with our fellow brothers, but with a little competition to incite our nature to do better…”

He had to admit, it felt good overtaking his entire class without fail. Yes he might be ‘cool’ at times, but he was a complete monster at his studies.

He a scholarship to maintain, a single aka Uni one…wait Uni? Yeah he graduated from University after all! Aced his scholarship without fail, full on focused and graduated at the age of 29.

Though it did feel odd why he finished school so late, he did have the results to show for it. Especially on his arms which really looked good despite his plain white long-sleeved buttoned down.

His figure definitely looked good at the end of all of it. And if he could unravel the dark grey dress pants he was wearing, most certainly a bunch of bachelors would ogle him as a result…despite the rules on campus.

Campus…oh right. Camp Christening was incredibly strict in its rules towards their students, though most of it are written in between the lines.

Perhaps this is why he wanted to participate in the program? He wanted to respect that, as dull tones of subordination rang from his polished dress shoes.

Especially with how the interview went with Mr Wong…and how much potential he saw from him despite still being a little…Queer in the edges.

Maybe it is out of familiarity…but how similar the discipline master was to the teachers’ who have changed his life is making him with to edge more!

He should felt rage the man for being overly homophobic and his jobs on how he was only a quarter Chinese…but for some reason, he doesn’t dislike the male…but rather-

“And while it is of the norm, ordinarily so to only best each other by a small margin, it nevertheless is the driving force to ensure we always remain on TOP!”

He wanted to beat the man at his own game! The 32 year old studied overtime despite his education and work in order to ensure he would eventually overtake the male.

It was in his blood after all, he was half Chinese. With a darker hair colour, a naturally tanned ethnicity and thinner eyes, it was clear that he had other stuff in his blood.

Which was why he was raised overseas, in order to adopt the culture from his grandparents yeah…the Straight A mentality passed down from generations.

And he absolutely thrived in it.

Excelling in his grades without fail, little to no distractions as he simply focused on being the TOP of his kind. Raised in such a competitive yet thriving environment, it wasn’t surprising that a man such as himself eventually followed and adopted the behaviours and culture of the men around him.

Their deceptively casual yet serious lingo, their various festivals and rules to abide by. Being a permanent resident, it was a necessity to do so, to behave like them! And especially the physical trainings of some men, and their utmost dedication to serve their country…HIS country.

“Of course, for the lucky few of you, you will join our ranks as someone of authority, just like the rest of us.”

Mr Keith smirked. Having an incredible sense of pride in his dark grey suit jacket, having succeeded in his application in becoming an educator in Camp Christening despite being a foreigner in the country.

But with how inclusive they are to asians as a whole, it was no surprise that he had succeeded in the interview. Sure the school had some policies that were a little more straight-laced, but it was nothing compared to how much it made him feel at home.

“The camp so good ah…amen.”

Though speaking of camps, it did not make sense why he had such long hair. Having serviced in his country’s military for a couple of years meant he would have to CUT it short, which is why he had shorter hair way above his neck…and having these long hair extensions on his buttoned down

Though that being said, why were they there, it felt really inappropriate for a 33 year old man such as himself. While still churning below with his right, Mr Keith released his left hand momentarily from the salute.

Being part of the teachers disciplining community meant that he had to know when to take responsibility for something out of line. As he adjusted the dark strands underneath his thicker collar, pulling it without remorse as they firmly settled into a simple sleek tie.

Likewise, he gave a few quick tugs on the area around his trim waist, before giving his rump a big-

SMACK!

As the traditional leather belt solidified around his waist. Tightening alongside his exit, for he remained on TOP and not the bottom…even during moments where he bent over and received due discipline…

It felt good, an Asian man looking like a traditional husband of the family. Sure it was quite a ‘backwards mentality’ to have all that pride and arrogance over some old fashioned values from the early past…

That people dont appreciate because they feel like its not worth appreciating. Yeah, the younger generations just simply try to force their values on traditionalists such as himself!

What utter disrespect!

They’ve simply been brainwashed by society! They are the backwards ones! Not understanding the values of going to church, being A MAN, a good self-DISCIPLINE to set an example for others.

And yes, they pointed out he might be a little taller, which might be a burden…but its nothing he can’t handle-

“Regardless, all of you will conform to our camp values and not stand out…”

Mr Keith absolutely hated how tall he was at 6ft 2, no wonder Wallace picked on him so much! But then again, it must be those new shoes he wore, he definitely was just only a few centimetres above the professor..wait no, actually he was just tip-toeing trying to scold a couple of backsliding idiots just beyond the a fence!

In reality, he was just barely a 5ft 11!

His height may be considered much taller compared to most asians. But he is within the world’s average! Besides, between him and Wallace, it is clear which of the two of them is more grounded…even if there’s a slight margin of difference between them.

“Stand up STRAIGHT!”

Speaking of differences, they were rather similar weren’t they? They were both STRAIGHT-laced authoritative men after all!

Even that student Percy Sim remarked on that and called him Mr Wong once…oh lordy, was his rump covered in red hand prints from his disciplinary spanks.

“Its Mr Kei…ang! I look like Wallace to you isit?”

Comments such as… ‘But you two share so many of the same ideas!’ And ‘Yeah Prof, you guys are basically a match made in heaven!’ Was that man trying to fail his class?!

Unacceptable!

Just because Mr. Wong and himself share similar traits, values, ideas, viewpoints, traditions, disciplines, and structures does not mean they are at all alike!

He ought to have a word with his father later…the man ought to instil more DISCIPLINE in the his son!

“Men really need not to fool around in this day and age! I swear-!”

In the HEAT of the moment thinking about discipline, one upping the other asians and potential fatherhood, he SLAMMED his fist down on the table, the force knocking over the bottles.

“OI BEHAVE!”

Can’t let distractions distract him from his duty, not when his mentor is watching him!

Matured, responsible hands hurriedly scooping up the bottles that fell on the ground. Bending over, bigger and thicker thighs rubbing against the everyday clean-cut fabric of his pants, sending the engaged man over the edge.

Doubling down his sense of duty as aged authoritarian palms SLAMMED each bottle in order on the banquet table.

All except one, gripping it tighter than ever.

“Quench your thirst, brothers…”

“Wah…stop teasing me-testing me sio!”

He had to muster his courage…muster his…master…Masters in discipline! It was simply part of the program and regimen!

Churning his compact, father-hood now with his right as he unzipped his package below. Holding the bottle on the left while he fished out his prized rifle down below.

To know when to abstain…and when to multiply.

Cupping his long weapon, compacting it with a firm fatherly GRIP! Mandarin oranges below swelled in experience, complimenting his rod of average length yet prominent girth. Their prominent hardness tells him only one thing.

This is when he has to multiply…

“With thoughts of your lovely wife.”

“Walao Ehh!!!”

Lovely wife? A husband? HIM? Wasn’t he g…GHEY? HEY! NO WAY! He was straight! No wonder he followed those rules flawless, he was one of them! One with his kind!

Shoulders APART! His broad chest and back filling out his suit like a real Patriarch. Thick and prominent neck built for loud shouts and disciplinary commands across campus!

It was the way it was expected from a traditional man like him! Which was no surprise that equally conservative women liked it! A Man that can produce REAL discipline, especially in the bedroom.

But that being said, that didn’t mean the 38 year old Mr Kei-ang was married! Sure he was looking for a g…J…Janet, and loved that random chi…his lovely girlfriend. He wanted to BE a husband. HER HUSBAND! Which is why he had a ring on his ring digit!

LIKE HIS WIFE’S!

He…HE IS A HUSBAND! Her husband! Marrying her with her all those years back! It was a big deal for the whole family! A fellow patriarch and matriarch getting together in holy matrimony, and not to mention the incredible time they had in bed…full of disciplinary action…especially towards him.

“Ohhh lordy…”

“Remember our logo, brethren…as you complete your fellowship.”

“A…A-MEN!”

His nostrils flared, yet properly angular as his ordinarily good-looks remained unscarred. Unpierced smaller, average sized ear-lobes cause What? He gay isit? Only women do that! Refusing any semblance of understanding as to why would some men do that!

He understands Asian-diversity…but It contradicts his traditional beliefs! With that, retreating back to his skull were lengths and lengths of overly long hair, leaving the sides and back shaved and the top a simple side cut like his fellow educators. Simple, strict and orderly! The way he always presented himself, the way the board of education demands of him, the way him and his wife likes it!

Eyes barely widening, glued to his narrow minded views as he stuck to the broadcast with proper arrogance..licking his thin lips, rising to a malevolent surrounded by aftershave of a manly jaw. Reserved for scolding of asian-kind…and the kissing of his dear ol wife.

Taking a deep breath alongside the recording of Wallace, ready to HUFF N PUFF AND-

“SHOUT OUR SLOGAN MEN, STRAIGHT-.”

“A-TENSION!”

Mr Gareth Kang, the Singaporean disciplinary master came at full force, firing his throbbing rifle without restraint, setting loose thick wads of goo deep into the empty bottle without reservation.

Giving a few quick whacks to his fatherhood, he stuffed his shorter, thicker member back in suit pants and zipped it up. Dusting his jacket as glared around suspiciously, giving his bottle a good firm SHAKE! Before sliding in his bottle with the rest of the unfinished batch.

He’d make a gentle reminder to his juniors to fill up the rest of the ‘non-bubbling’ ones, as he smirkingly eyed his noble prized solution hidden within the batch, looking forward to meeting the lucky fellow that joins his fellow disciplinary masters in due time.

But for now…he has a very special, yet short meetup with his supervisor, as the slightly older man arrived on the dot of the hour.

“Wah…good speech Wallace.”

“Hmph don’t patronise me Gareth, you know its simply a textbook order for our future recruits to behave.”

And indeed it was, clean-cut and straight to the point, the kind of standard the 41 year old lives and breathes by.

They needed to hire people whose both an expert enforcers in disciplinary measures, yet knows how to live by those standards he himself sets. Which was no surprise Mr Gareth Kang, former army sergeant and 10 year disciplinarian, became part of the team.

With completely no-nonsense approach, feared and respected by colleagues and students alike. It was all part of his training, to discipline others the way he would like to be disciplined.

Even towards his superior, who expected nothing less from him.

“Sure sure Wallace, almost Late, video sent 12:15pm.”

“Incorrect, I have already sent you a copy of my preliminary speech, an hour earlier.”

Wallace pointed to the mobile device on the ground.

While Gareth did use a laptop, he saw no point in having a modern phone when his Brick one had been fine for centuries. It was such a waste of money! His older model could be thrown without cracking!

He only had this new phone due to the school’s insistence of giving him one. It was supposedly an older model, but still felt too new for his tastes. Not to mention how easily its screen cracked after a single throw at a rebellious student…

Sliding open the phone, now clearly seeing the red notification in his email, next to the Humblr and Calculator App. Strange, He could’ve sworn some fool downloaded many more useless applications prior, clouding the entire screen.

He just might have to question his sons about it…but regardless, as Mr Wong mentioned opening the app, was the video.

“As your supervisor, I thought you might have wanted to inspect it much sooner…being my RIGHT-hand man.”

Mr Gareth Kang smirked.

Indeed, they might have a heated rivalry, but they were both men. Brothers in arms and in the church. Colleagues who are extremely close and identical in terms of methods, teachings and background.

Which was no surprise that they easily figured out what makes the other reach maximum productivity, as they continued to aid one another through the most simplest of gestures.

Even a no-nonsense man like him felt that it was endearing.

“Wah, so kind of you!”

“Respect your elders, Gareth, a considerable distance in public.”

“Of Course, Wallace.”

Moving away from his superior. They were only a year apart, but he understood and respected the fella despite their un-spoken rivalry.

That being said, a man like him definitely knows how to subtly skirt the rules to his advantage, just like how he got with his wife.

Knowing how to get under the everyone’s skin! Both literally and figuratively. Every member of the Kang family had their expertise, and discipline was his. That was his calling, and why people kept calling him for his duties.

“Thought you sent it to a different Mr Kang...”

“Hmph…A Man like me wouldn’t be so careless to leak out confidential information!”

Bickering, comparing their fruitful endeavours throughout the morning with utter aggression mixed with respect. It was another routine between the two men, as their heated discussion trailed onto their commitments, their utmost dedication to their students, sunday gatherings, and how great their wives and family are.

Neither of them would admit it, but the two of them were essentially the same.

Knowing how to really appreciate the most ordinary of things while enforcing strict discipline in maintaining the generational tradition.

Indeed, which is why they always riled the other up, keeping the other scoffing beneath their attire without mercy as they selfishly withheld their A-MEN card in every topic, threading between the thin lines of respect and competition.

Arguing despite seeing eye to eye with the other, just so they will have a private game of pure straights…

“Mahjong, this Saturday weekend, in the teacher’s lounge.”

“Make it evening, Janet and the kids are visiting the grandparents in the morning.”

The two men shake hands vigorously, professional…yet with utmost fire as they smirked at each other cunningly, seeing eye to eye in their respective mirrors. Ready to one up the other without fault.

Unlike some of his more outgoing colleagues of other tribes, Mr Kang intends on pulling no stops to his fiercest rival in the workplace, something…while silent, is simply what both of them desire from the other.

A fierce authoritarian battle, between two asian men.

Releasing their firm handshake, they parted their ways, walking in opposite directions. They have their own respective tasks before the announcement later, being the main two authorities in charge of it.

There is much more discipline to be done, a bunch of students to be yelled at and ordered to be in attendance at the auditorium, and many more bottles to be prepared.

Why were there so little bottles prepared ah? He ought to cane the fella who he put in charge of this…give him a good whack behind…wait! Whacking! Wah…He almost forgot!

“Oi!”

Calling out to his authoritarian in crime, he had remembered that he had left the most important thing back in their previous venue!

Punishment for insubordination in losing the mahjong game…and a necessary tool in order to ensure maximum production and discipline for their cause.

Whipping men into shape, something neither got tired off regardless of whether they are on the giving, or receiving end. In which both Mr Gareth Kang and Mr Wallace Wong would be more than happy to give at a moment’s notice.

After all, a man can only enforce as much as he receives…

“Bring the belts Ah!”

#gay to straight #mental change #g2s #personality change #racial change #lib to cons #jock #dumber #christian #camp christening #Straight A-tension #age progression tf

[sjw-publishings]

A couple of A-Rivals indeed

Brotherly Rivals

With the miraculous @sjw-publishings

“Babe, can you believe we have to download this app for our classes?” Nico looked over the Humblr description, surprised that his liberal school would allow such an application to be used in the classroom. “And that this Mr. Wong is having us attend an extra seminar the day before?”

“Apparently this is all a part of the new ‘diversity’ initiative,” Hudson rolled his eyes. “Ever since they started hiring those new teachers, there has been a lot more emphasis on promoting a certain image.”

The two nerds knew actually what image that was: an ultra-Christian, hetero-normative, Asian-appreciative image. And unfortunately, neither of the two fit into that picture. Nico was on the shorter side at 5’8, his Latino body small and slim. His skinny frame and geekier sense of style always left him as a target for bullying. And Hudson, the 5'11 Brit with a bit of pudge on his frame, was easily prey too. Going to classes like “18th Century Depictions of Homosexuality Through Classical Music” definitely put him on the wrong list. But this school had treated the gay couple well in the past. This new school year just presented an opportunity for something different.

“Oh look hon,” Hudson showed Nico his phone. “Apparently there are different plans couples can join to achieve their ‘Most Wholesome Selves’.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” Nico laughed. He opened Humblr on his own device and navigated to the page Hudson had shown him. There were multiple different options for pairs to follow, all of which seemed outlandishly stereotypical.

“Should we try the ‘Devout Studies’ route?” Hudson grinned. “Or maybe you’d like to engage in the more mature ‘Heavenly Father’.”

“You aren’t actually considering these are you, baby?” Nico questioned.

“Why not, it could be funny!” Hudson joked. “Plus, each plan is only five days long. Classes don’t start until Monday, so if we started now we would have it completed before any homework rolled in.”

Nico was surprised that his boyfriend was actually buying into this crap. He felt a little skeptical about the whole ordeal.

“Tell you what, if you want to fight about it, then I got just the idea.” Hudson then swiped Nico’s phone and activated a plan. Hudson did the same on his own device and, after they synced together, handed Nico’s back. The words “Brotherly Rivals” flashed upon his screen.

“‘Brotherly Rivals’? Really?”

“What?” Hudson shrugged. “We can see who follows this stupid app's absurd guidelines the best now. A cutie like you probably can’t beat the system.”

“And a hottie like you couldn’t either.”

They both laughed at that, but were stopped midway when their phones each violently shook with a bold message flashing their screens.

MAN UP!

Nico blinked, “Woah, that was bright.”

“Too much for your sorry eyes?”

Nico was caught off guard by his boyfriend. “What?”

“Can’t you take a joke, darling?” Hudson scoffed. “Anyway, we already got our first tasks, and if I’m gonna be your rival then I oughta start now!”

Hudson rushed off to their shared bedroom, leaving Nico alone in the extra office space. Peering down at his phone, Nico realized his boyfriend had been right. Humblr was already notifying him of the first steps he’d have to accomplish to get started on his plan. Just some basic introductory videos and articles–nothing he couldn’t handle. And with nothing else to do, he didn’t mind sitting back and playing through his whole “Brotherly Rivals" plan. Even if some of the people in the videos made their very narrow mindsets clear, or if the articles were written for a particular audience. Nevertheless, Nico was invested, so much so that he didn’t realize what time it was when all of his prompts for Day 1 were completed.

“It’s already time to go to bed?” Nico cried, scanning the clock a second time. After cleaning himself up, he jumped into bed beside his lover. Usually they’d engage in some form of cuddling, but Nico wasn’t really feeling it today. And apparently, neither was Hudson, sleeping soundly with his back faced to him. 

— —

With a yawn, Nico rolled out of bed and started his morning off with a bowl of cereal. His boyfriend didn’t wait to follow, entering the kitchen not long after.

“Someone’s up early,” Nico commented, knowing Hudson only woke before nine in the morning if he had to.

“And someone’s already falling behind,” Hudson grinned, grabbing two bananas and peeling them both quickly.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve already accomplished the first task of the day.” In moments, both of the bananas were down Hudson’s throat. “And now I’m off to the second, slowpoke.”

Nico choked on his cereal. He was already behind! Immediately, he opened his Humblr app to see what Day 2 of the plan entailed.

“50 pushups?” Nico frowned. He hated exercise, and so did Hudson. There was no way Hudson could’ve completed that many so fast either. Working out was one of the worst-

MAN UP!

Nico’s eyesight readjusted itself. 50 pushups? That was barely a challenge! No wonder Hudson was already ahead of him. But it wouldn’t be that way for much longer. In seconds, Nico’s slim frame was on the ground and lifting up and down, up and down. In no time, the number “50” was escaping his lips and Humblr was presenting him with the next prompt.

“Gotta lift some weights, huh?” Nico huffed, a little out of breath. He brought himself into the office space, surprised to see Hudson beside a rack of weights.

“When did we get those?” Nico asked.

“What, these?” Hudson taunted. “A real man like me needs these.” Nico scrunched his face, noting his boyfriend’s bare, sweaty torso. He was surprised to see it wasn’t covered in the brownish hair it usually was. Nico shook his head–he couldn’t be distracted! He had weights to lift! Nico was pumping moments later, and after that he was onto the next task. And the next. And what Humblr gave him after. All morning, Humblr had the boys working out, something they would’ve never done before if the app hadn’t told them to do it. Eventually, the tasks began to dwindle down into more mindset-related items. The first of which was a quiz, questioning the pair on what kind of behavior “Brotherly Rivals” engaged in.

“I don’t know dude,” Hudson moaned. “How am I supposed to know what ‘best antagonizes the rival’?”

“Maybe if you actually tried thinking for once,” Nico quipped. Hudson shot him a nasty look, and then, as if an idea had popped into his head, furiously typed an answer into his phone. With an audible vibration and flash from his phone, he excitedly moved onto the next question.

“What!” Nico was shocked. “What’s the answer?”

“When you egged me on, I thought of the first thing I wanted to shout back at you.”

“And that was?”

Hudson sneered happily. “GAAAAAY!”

Nico grimaced, not expecting his partner to use a slur, let alone a homophobic one. He didn’t know what made him more uncomfortable; Hudson’s ability to use it so freely or his own fingers typing in the answer. 

MAN UP!

But then again, Nico had to consider that it may have been an appropriate word for their competition. They had to play out the roles of the “Brotherly Rivals” that Humblr wanted them to be. And after all, being that they both liked guys, it was probably allowable to toss out the word like that for the time being.

Moving forward, Nico continued his tasks beside Hudson. He answered questions regarding goals and values. He was prompted about the necessity of competitive sports and aggression. He even watched informational videos of what Humblr identified as “Brotherly Rivals,” either short snippets of real-life interactions between these men or interviews identifying all their traits. By the end of it all, Nico was exhausted. He was actually relieved it was already time to hit the hay.

“Looking at these?” Hudson smirked, flexing his arms. Nico was impressed to see the beginnings of biceps–but he’d never admit it.

“No, too busy admiring my own work.” Nico then displayed his brown calves, noting that not only did they look to have a little more muscle, but had a soft glow to them as well.

“I bet you are, homo,” Hudson joked before coming up behind Nico. He began to playfully air-hump his partner, and Nico joined in on the roleplay.

“Too bad you’re too jealous of me to admit that you like it,” Nico shot back, grinding up against Hudson’s frame. But the other man pulled away soon after.

“Where are you going?”

“To bed, loser,” Hudson called back. “Day 2 of the plan is over. Gotta rest up before Day 3.”

Nico knew Hudson was right. Ignoring his visible boner–which being above-average had so graciously gifted him with–Nico stripped down and hopped into bed. He made sure to lie as far away from Hudson as possible, not wanting to give his “Brotherly Rival” any unnecessary attention.

— —

Nico woke up earlier than before for Day 3, pushing his hair back and noting that he was due for a haircut. Hudson was already one step ahead of him however. Hopping out of bed, Nico followed the sounds of deep grunting to the living room, finding his brofriend already putting in his morning exercises. There was a lot of basic gym equipment in the space now, and it was starting to get a little unkempt too. But Nico was too hypnotized by the other male to take proper notice. Instead, he was inspecting the new muscles covering Hudson’s frame, and the surprising tan too.

“Eyein’ up the new meat, gayboi?” Hudson taunted.

“Yeah, I am…” Nico started as he lifted up his phone.

MAN UP!

“...seeing what faggy competition I’m gonna beat!” Nico finished, a growing urge to compete and one up the other male brimming to his surface.

“Oh yeah?” Hudson stepped forward, right into Nico’s face. “The only competition you’re gonna beat are deez nuts!”

Hudson then grabbed Nico’s free hand and made them cup Hudson’s pouch. Nico fondled the package, but in a more analytical than romantic manner. He could’ve sworn that Hudson should’ve been bigger than this, but why would he know that? Why would he care about the size of his brofriend’s brohood?

“Dude!” Nico shouted. “Not gay man!”

He swiped his hand away, giving a dark glare before sneering.

“Uh…well uh neither am I!”

The two friends laughed obnoxiously at their own camaraderie. They were just roleplaying...right? ‘Sides, they were already starting to sound straight, heck why not go along with it. Nico was having fun with this whole competitive Brotherly Rivals thing, and he was beginning to enjoy Humblr a lot more than he cared to admit. Plus, all their gay banter was bound to attract some twinks. Men like Nico needed release from time to time. Though, weren’t Hudson and him…

“Weren’t we date…dat-…?” Nico tried to ask.

“Date?” Hudson immediately snatched his phone. “Oh frick man–we got stuff to do for the plan!”

Hudson was right. Nico started right away on the large list of different tasks Humblr had given him for today. He pumped his muscles with some iron, pumped his vocabulary full of important rival-esque lingo, and even pumped his brain with lots of information regarding the types of people Brotherly Rivals typically went for. 

“‘Finding a Suitable Partner’,” Nico read aloud.

“That will be impossi…imposs…you won’t find one dude,” Hudson announced proudly.

“Yeah right, queer,” Nico shot back. They both opened the inquiry pool, a variety of options uploading unto each of their devices.

“Man, shouldn’t we pick each other?”

“Bro, we are rivals!” Hudson heavily alluded to the last word. “That would be totally gay!”

Nico nodded. He would pick his man over here, but they were brofriends and competition to each other. Plus, Hudson made a good point–that would be pretty gay. Nico picked his first match, but much to his confusion, an access denied prompt appeared from the app, not allowing him to select the man he wished to.

MAN UP!

“Dude! That guy is such a fag! Why him?”

Nico jeered: “Shut up Man! As if you could score any better!”

Hudson clicked his own selection, only to receive the same flash of the screen. The two boys continued, selecting one after another only to be met only to be met with the same prompt from Humblr. It was almost like every man brought about the same result.

MAN UP!

MAN UP!

MAN UP!

Eventually, Nico was presented with an option for a female. His age, Asian-American, and conservatively dressed. She didn’t seem that out of the ordinary, but something in Nico felt…stirred. Curiously, he tapped the match button. Humblr threw out confetti and balloons in response, clearly joyous with his decision.

“Dude!” Hudson yelled. “She’s mine!” Hudson then showed Nico his screen, showing that he had just matched with the same girl.

“Shut up bro, she’s mine!”

“A fag like you could never date her!”

“And a queer like you could never even kiss her!”

The two boys glared at each other menacingly before storming off to their separate bedrooms. Nico made sure to slam his door extra hard, showing his brofriend just how divided they’d become. Although a part of Nico believed there was still some aspect of roleplay, a growing part of him believed that this was a competition. He just couldn’t stop thinking about how strongly Hudson was adapting into this Brotherly Rival character. He couldn’t stop thinking about how he was going to one up his brofriend and show him who’s boss. Couldn’t stop thinking about wooing that chick they both selected…thinking about that average, wholesome, splendid girl Humblr had presented him with…

MAN UP!

The blast of light brought Nico out of his haze. When he had entered the room there had still been some sunlight outside, but it was now undeniably night. And when he had gotten into bed? Or been tossing and turning in the sheets, humping the bed as he thought about the picture of that woman they both chose? Simply passing it off as strange, Nico placed his phone aside and fell asleep.

— —

When Nico arose the next day, he was surprised to see that his roommate was already out of the apartment. He was waking up earlier and earlier everyday, but Hudson always seemed to have a tiny bit of a headstart on him. Nico didn’t care though–there were definitely some things he was better at than the other male. Like he had bigger muscles, and was certainly more attuned to the boy-next-door look Humblr had been advising him towards. His brown skin had a much more amber sheen now, and his black hair was softer and straighter had started forming into those perfect bangs and-

MAN UP!

“Oh frick dude!” Nico shouted, checking to see what his first assignment was. Humblr was reminding him that he had that Sunday class starting soon. And Nico knew if he could run fast enough, he could beat that faggy roommate of his. Tossing on some clothes, Nico dashed out the door and flew to the university building. He rampaged right through the door as Hudson entered.

“HERE FIRST!” Hudson laughed

“NU-UH, FIRST!” Nico retorted, a little out of breath.

“I was in the door first, FAG!”

“Sounds pretty GHEY to me!”

The two tackled each other to the ground, fighting and forcefully grabbing at each other. Nico got a good grip of Hudson’s thick black hair, but not before Hudson’s tanned hand ripped off Nico’s Size 8 shoe. Hudson was able to yank back Nico’s shirt and expose his lemony, bare torso, but Nico quickly did the same with the man’s own identical set of abs. Finally, Hudson was able to pin Nico down and bring his face real close to Nico’s own. Nico watched as his roommate descended towards him, a lingering sense of fear growing within him.

“MWAH!” Hudson mocked as he planted a fake kiss on the other man.

“STOP IT DUDE!” Nico flipped, tossing his roommate off of him.

“HAH! You blushed, FAG!”

A small crowd of men had begun to form around the pair, each nodding and impressed.

“Wah! These two fags fight good, dude!”

“So manly indeed man!”

“Are you men fooling around?!” Shouted the large instructor above them all. Immediately, the two boys on the floor rolled up and stood at attention for the imposing Asian teacher.

“No Sir!”

“Not us, Mr. Wong.”

“Take your seats then, boys,” Mr. Wong growled. “Apart from each other.”

And so they did, separating as far apart as possible inside of the lecture hall. Soon, the whole place was brimming with men, the majority of whom appeared to be somewhere on an Asiatic-scale. It was funny too how so many of them could've matched with the different plans Nico had scrolled through on Humblr. There was a whole crew of “Devout Students” at the front, and throughout the hall he could see many “Humble Servants”. Even the kid sitting beside him, a Kennedy Rang by the labeling on his notebook, looked to be more than halfway through what was outlined in the “Modernized Tradition” plan.

The Sunday class itself was long, encompassing the entirety of the day without breaks. Mr. Wong talked through the primary points of the semester, the reshaping of their ideologies if they have not already begun, and the best ways to live a wholesome life. He outlined the importance of similarity, normalization, and the appreciation of the average. Mr. Wong even went over the most precise details of serum production by providing a demonstration to the class. 

All throughout the period however Nico and his roommate eyed one another from across the hall aggressively. Every time Hudson taunted him with a hand gesture, stuck his tongue out, or mouthed out the letters of “G-H-E-Y” or “Q-U-E-E-R,” Nico immediately responded back with something just as crude. And with every provoking action, Nico would palm his package underneath the desk he was seated at. He was too heated to realize this however, or that his manhood was not only harder than usual, but smaller too.

“-and that is why tradition always wins. Nothing can hinder the value of a conservative outlook,” Mr. Wong stated, full of pride. “Class dismissed.”

With a grin, Nico got up and immediately rushed out of the classroom. Hudson was out the door at the same time, both of them having received the same message from Humblr. They each only had one more task to complete, and both of them were beyond excited for it.

“You gonna JERK...-” Hudson started. “-PRODUCE to my gal, FAG?”

Nico slammed the front door behind them. “She’s MINE, GHEY!”

Within moments, each of the roommates were in their own bedrooms and began doing what Humblr had advised them to do. They simultaneously began kneading their pouches, moaning and groaning while antagonizing each other through the shared wall.

“You like that, QUEER?”

“Producing to MY girl? I sure do, GAYBOI!”

Each of them grabbed an empty bottle and took out their meager boyhoods, lesser than they had been before this had all begun. Filled with rage and competitive aggression, they pumped their babymakers furiously, each only able to get a few fingers around their producers. Meanwhile, their devices began flashing repeatedly. Like strobe lights, instilling any last crucial messages.

MAN UP!

Hudson’s height shrunk down to 5’6 and a half, but he’d always claim he had an extra half inch.

MAN UP!

Nico’s jaw softened into a more immature, boyish shape.

MAN UP!

Hudson’s British accent was traded for a stronger Malaysian one.

MAN UP!

The last leg of Nico’s Latin heritage was wiped out in order to make room for a more unrelenting Korean lineage.

MAN UP!

MAN UP!

MAN UP!

The pair both seized up, imagining the same girl as their phone’s flashed one more time.

MAN UP!

And as the clock struck midnight, the fifth day of the plan had been reached. Slumping back into their beds, the brotherly rivals contentedly screwed the caps onto their bottles and passed out, snoring the night away.

— —

Later that morning, the two boys were up early and out the door fast. The new app that they were required to download before school began, Humblr, luckily included daily schedules. This meant that both of them were at mandatory soccer practice before anyone else, trying to see who could get there first.

“First one here gets the girl!”

“Good thing I ain’t slow, FAGGOT!”

“Yeah you are DUDE!”

“No BRO-“

“SHUT UP!”

“YOU SHUT UP!”

“GHEY!”

“FAG!”

“Howard Low, Nathaniel Hei…” the coach snarled, knowing these two would never stop bickering if he didn’t end it. Everything was a competition between these two; from workouts to school work and even to massages in the sauna. Anything to one up the other, especially because they always seemed to be crushing on the same girl.

“You better not be at it again. You two fight like an old married couple.”

“Hehe, No Mr. Kang,” Howard laughed. “We are 100% STRAIGHT and not fighting, right bro?”

“Uh uh…yeah!” Nathaniel added, taking a second to form his argument. “Totally straight and into WOMEN!”

“Good,” Mr. Kang rolled his eyes. “Now get in line for team pictures.”

Howard and Nathaniel followed orders, changing into their uniforms and standing behind all the other straight, Christian, Asian men.

“I look hetter in red,” the cocky Malaysian jock commented.

“Nu-uh, I look hetter in red!” the dimwitted Korean jock shot back.

When it was finally their turn, the pair stepped forward and smiled. They may have posed like the best of friends in the picture, but everyone knew they were the embodiment of brotherly rivals.

#gay to straight #racialchange #nerdtojock #dumber #bottomtotop #cockshrink #christian #camp christening #mental change #g2s #dumb and jocked tfs

[sjw-publishings]

“Same thoughts buddy, same mind” ;)

Variations of the Same Structure

For my muse, the lovely @sjw-publishings

Avery and Maurice walked into the building, finding the classroom almost immediately. They honestly didn’t know what they were getting into. The couple had been together for almost two years, falling madly in love after their first few dates. It was a classic gay love story: Avery, the polite city boy from Australia and Maurice, the country-grown brute from the Midwest. The 5’5 platinum blond twig and 6’3 brunette corn-fed bull were a classic match for each other. His endearing personality connected to his protecting aura. His bubble butt reeled in his massive package. It was basically a modern fairytale.

Well, at least until a few months ago. Things had been rocky for a bit, and they honestly couldn’t figure out why. It was nothing the two of them were doing as a couple, just personal problems that needed to be solved in order for them to keep working on their relationship. Avery was struggling in college, and Maurice was juggling an unstable career. These issues just created further problems that disoriented the pair. So when Maurice found an opening online for a class the upcoming weekend, the couple decided to put their best feet forward and try it out.

“Are you sure about this?” Maurice asked, his furry palm entwined in his partner’s delicate one. He wore a pair of ripped jeans and a polo his boyfriend had gifted him.

“Are you thinking of backing out?” Avery questioned. He was decked out in designer trousers and a thick turtleneck.

“No,” Maurice replied honestly. “I just don’t want you to feel like you are being forced into anything.”

“Good, because I want us to work again, no matter the cost.”

The two walked into the room, their hands still holding each other’s. The classroom itself was practically empty, holding barely anything besides a circle of mismatched chairs. All of the other seats were already taken by men of all different forms. Black, Arabian, Latino. Some smaller than Avery, some larger than Maurice. The ages varied too, from a college freshman to man definitely over 40. The only thing that really brought them all together was their sexuality; each of their gaydars flying off the handle due to the mass concentration in the room. Well, all except for the one Asian in attendance.

“Hello gentleman,” the one obviously straight male started. By his attire and the way he was sitting in the chair, he was reeking of the “church youth pastor who thinks he’s cool” vibes. “Welcome to ”Straighten Out!”, a class focused on restructuring lives.”

The teacher then stood up and made his way to a whiteboard on the wall–the only thing on the wall actually.

“My name is Mr. Hollivan. By the end of this period, our goal is that each one of you will walk out of here with a new purpose, a new strategy on how to orient your life. They may all be different paths, but each of you will leave here with the same general structure.”

Avery exchanged a glance with Maurice. He gave a nod that stated, “This guy sounds good.” Maurice shrugged and communicated back, “Let’s just hope this works.”

“Now, our first activity is going to be about introductions. Each one of you will come up to the whiteboard here and write a statement introducing yourself. We will start with you there.”

Mr. Hollivan pointed to the man two seats left of Avery, the first being where the Asian man was previously seated. The guy had a skin tone that suggested something similar to the Mediterranean and appeared to be around Maurice’s age. A little bit on the heavier side, he stood up slowly and made his way to the board, writing down a little bit about himself.

Hi everyone. I’m Derry, a gay guy from New Jersey and a dad to one cat.

“Good,” Mr. Hollivan then took the marker back from Derry and finished his explanation. “Once the current volunteer writes up their introduction, the previous person will come up and erase parts they believe are harmful or unnecessary. Anything that they believe is damaging towards a wholesome identity.”

Derry returned to his seat, lounging back after being told his half of the job was done.

“Now, because I am in the seat before our current volunteer, I will edit out the parts I deem as destructive and replace them with things I believe will benefit Derry based on my personal ideology.”

The men in the room watched as Mr. Hollivan erased his first word and replaced it with another. Immediately, Avery felt a familiar sinking feeling in his gut. It turned out this class wasn’t the best idea. The teacher had erased the word “gay” and replaced it with what many had tried to do in the past.

“What?” Derry’s response came immediately. “Excuse me, I’m most certainly g…g…g-!”

But the next word couldn’t leave his mouth. It was almost like Derry couldn’t even say what they all knew he was supposed to.

“I’m g…I’m g…!” Until finally Derry was able to get out a word. “I’m…guy!”

“Precisely, a straight guy,” Mr. Hollivan affirmed. He then proceeded to edit parts of the rest of the statement. All the men watched on, all of them in awe besides Avery.

Hi everyone. I’m Darius, a straight guy from New Jersey and a dad to one kid.

Avery didn’t know how to react. Mr. Hollivan had completely rewritten Darius’ introduction. Crucial parts of the statement were altered that Darius could not change. It seemed improbable. Like Darius being straight–yeah, he was obviously straight! That old flannel, the ripped jeans. That rigid side part that no gay man would be caught dead with. It was obvious that the Japanese-American dad was straight. And a dad too! He hadn’t stopped jingling the keys in his pocket since they had entered the room.

“You got me, pal!” Darius remarked, giving that classic, fatherly hearty chuckle. “Just stoppin' by and swingin’ in to see how the kiddo is doin’!”

Avery had no idea what “kiddo” was referring to, unless they were adopted, but the activity carried on. Next was a boy even smaller than Avery, wearing clothes that were certainly not from a men’s section of a store. 

Hello everybody! My name’s Tommy and I’m an escort and femboy from Brooklyn.

Avery couldn’t help but applaud this guy’s confidence at his exciting career choice. Darius made his way up to the board and after receiving the marker got to work. With a confident huff, the older male sat back down in his seat, his back straight and his face showcasing pride.

Hello everybody! My name’s Thomas and I’m an accountant and into females from Brooklyn.

In just three words, Darius had shifted Thomas’ unique lifestyle into the most vanilla. Being an accountant probably didn’t provide any thrills to Thomas’ life. In fact, the only kind of men Avery knew who went to school for accounting were there because of its bland stability. And Thomas definitely looked the part in his dull gray suit. Even his features looked conformed to predictably, the black hair arranged naturally and his amber-hued figure showcasing he just worked out to stay slim. Thomas was definitely a Thai man who appreciated things to be simple and standard. The ornate golden band on his finger affirmed it.

Next up was an equally flamboyant case. Rainbow attire, dyed hair, glitter makeup. This guy screamed “homosexual”. Any by his taller, lanky build, he definitely gave off some vers energy too. He began writing in a cursive-like script, but after a bit Mr. Hollivan stopped him. He explained that it was just introductions, not a life story. 

Hello everyone, I'm Isaac and I really like roller skating, dancing, and singing! Not to mention, I'm also super homosexual and really into hot, hairy, muscled men like-

The words caught off after that. Isaac returned to his seat, a little frustrated as Thomas approached the board. Rather than editing, he erased the majority of Isaac’s introduction. He was a plain man and appeared to act as such too. When he was done, it was very obvious what Thomas believed would restructure Isaac’s life.

Hello everyone, I’m Ian and I really like women.

Avery couldn’t understand how people had the audacity to try and sum up a person’s life in just one statement. Ian was probably so much more than just a straight man! Just looking at the young man of Korean heritage, Avery could tell he was definitely Christian! The Bible on his lap, the traditional clothing, the clean-cut image. And Ian was certainly a polite young man. He carried himself with dignity and a particular aura that established that he knew what he wanted. Sure, Ian may “really like women,” yet he must have had other interests. But even Avery wasn’t convinced of his own argument, seeing how he couldn’t identify anything else about the polite male seated directly across from him.

Past Avery and Maurice were the only other two men in the room who didn’t seem like they were a part of this straight, Christian, Asian supergroup. The couple appeared to be inseparable: the two couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. The man farther from Avery and Maurice had a darker, rich skin tone, dressing his athlete’s build in designer clothes that appeared to be from the same brand Avery was wearing. His partner was a complete opposite, his own brown muscular build covered by an impressive thrifted outfit.

Although they had different styles, the two couldn’t have had more similar personalities. They were the kind of gay couple that constantly flirted with each other and other men, seeking out any opportunity for additional fun. They even went up together, expecting to write their introduction as a couple. However, Mr. Hollivan stopped them immediately, explaining that it was not an activity to be completed by two men together. This triggered the pair, so much so that even the instructor’s attractiveness couldn’t stop them from the addressing obvious elephant in the room.

“This all seems incredibly homophobic.”

“Yeah, we do everything together, and there shouldn’t be anything wrong with two guys who love each other doing so!”

Mr. Hollivan appeared unphased. “Names, gentlemen?”

The two of them stared blankly.

“Kurt…”

“Lenny…”

Mr. Hollivan smiled, “You two can both go up together but write separate statements. Know that Ian will be editing both of your structures to his personal beliefs and experiences. That also means you two will work with our next volunteer.”

The couple exchanged glances with each other, then with Ian, and finally after a nod wrote their statements. Ian got up shortly after, muttering to himself about how the pair kind of reminded him of guys he’d played online with before, just missing their lingo. When the couple finished, they turned to the crowd with faces of triumph.

Hey everyone, I'm Kurt and I find this to be incredibly homophobic.

Hi everybody! I'm Lenny, and next to me is my boyfriend–we are a couple.

Kurt and Lenny left the whiteboard, talking to themselves in such a manner that it was obvious everyone was supposed to tune into their conversation. Meanwhile, Ian got to his work quietly.

“Babe, that was great.”

“Anything for you my sweet.”

“He may be a dick, but oh man Mr. Hollivan is so hot.”

“He sure is, broski.”

“I wish I could get in his CHURCH pants and BEAT HIS BUTT.”

“Oh really, gay boy?”

“I’m gay? I’m STRAIGHT dude!”

“Sure you are…FAG!”

Ian left the marker and eraser by the whiteboard and took his seat without making any noise.

Hey everyone, I'm Ken, and I find this to be incredibly LIT!

Hi everybody! I'm Leon, and next to me is my E-Boi friend–we are a couple of A-MEN!

Avery was impressed. Ian was right on point with these two idiots. They were almost identical, the Chinese-Americans Zoomers with their youthful arrogance and obnoxious behavior. Not only that, but they looked like twins too. Same raven hair shaped into those boyband bangs, same athletic style that did not compliment their skinny bodies. Avery even guessed they were both 5’6. In fact, it felt like almost EVERYONE in this room was somehow related. The diversity in the room was just different stereotypes of typical Asian men. It was really only Avery and Maurice that stood out, and the two E-Bois weren’t afraid to make that fact known.

“Yo! Got any ladies there, FAGS?”

“Guess you could say they’re checking out ‘deez NUTZ Amung Os’!”

They both began crudely laughing, their insults continuing as Maurice stood up for his turn at the whiteboard.

“Just BING CHILLIN’ with my gamer here.” Ken then gave a fake kiss on the cheek to his partner-in-crime.

“That was LIT!” Leon shouted. “Nothin’ special or QUEER ‘bout that!”

After finishing, Maurice returned to his seat beside Avery and grabbed his hand. With his legs crossed and forward hunched over, it was obvious to Avery that Maurice was regretting their decision to come to this class. Avery tried to reassure his boyfriend, feeling a little warmth as he read over Maurice’s introduction.

Hello everyone, I'm Maurice and I like to eat out, party galore, and spend time with my boyfriend.

Avery was proud of his boyfriend for standing up like that, watching the two E-Bois snicker as they meandered up to the board. Yeah, Maurice was a strong, confident, GAY man. Avery just wanted to shove that fact into all their smug, ignorant faces. Maurice was GHEY! And if they didn’t listen to him–well, that would only encourage him to be louder. He’d show them that his friend was gonna remain GHEY…GHEY…HEY! Do you know what Maurice is? Avery would pummel the question at them. And he knew what they’d respond with: He is HET!

Hello everyone, I'm Moses and I like to work out, praise the Lord, and spend time with my girlfriend.

Ken and Leon may have been the dumbest, rudest, most aggravating pair Avery had ever come across. No, they definitely were. So it pained him to admit that they were right with the Vietnamese-American jock manspreading beside him. The 5’8 tanned hunk definitely hit the gym. It was apparent by his sweaty musk that had a slight hint of the spices often found in Phở. The narcissism, constant fondling of his average-sized pouch, and the giant cross splayed across his athletic tee confirmed the rest. Moses was just a variation of the same structure all the men in the room seemed to be bound by.

“Hey bro,” Moses caught Avery’s attention. “Mind letting go of me? Prayer Time isn’t until the end of class, remember?”

Avery blinked, registering what the Asian jock was referring to. Immediately, he pulled his hand out of the grasp. Why was he holding hands with this guy anyway? Wasn’t he holding hands with his boyfriend? Didn’t he have a boyfriend? 

“Something’s wrong,” Avery started. “This guy…he wasn’t…I had…have…a boyfriend!...I'm looking for a…my…boyfriend!”

The scattered plea went out into the room, falling on united ears. Well, all united against the one unwholesome entity in the room.

“So unprofessional,” Thomas commented.

“Not sticking to the regimen like a good Christian, Asian man would,” Darius agreed.

Mr. Hollivan simply shook his head in disappointment. “Looks like someone’s mistaking an exit to be an entrance.” The others in the circle laughed tremendously at that, their voices harmonizing like a men’s chorus. Avery didn’t get the joke, but by the way each of the men were at some point looking at their own bottoms, he assumed it to be homophobic.

“Not to worry, our last volunteer is prepared to edit the statement.”

Avery hadn’t noticed that Mr. Hollivan had waltzed his way to the whiteboard as his joke was being processed around the room, already writing out an introduction for him.

Hello everyone, I’m Avery, and I'm looking for my man.

“The dude’s name Avery?” Leon scoffed.

“No way man…that name is GAY!” Ken hollered. As the two buffoons kept at their cackling, Moses approached the board. Mr. Hollivan handed him the marker before returning to his seat. Avery’s eyes focused on Moses, following along as the man popped off the cap and put in a simple edit. A simple edit for a simple man. But the two letters were monumental.

Hello everyone, I'm Aaron, and I'm looking for my woman!

“Amen I am!”

The men in the room all cheered at that. Even the instructor joined in the celebration. Aaron couldn’t help but always be thinking about his woman. Heck, that’s why the Indonesian jock had sculpted his 5’8 body so meticulously. His golden biceps were meant to woo her, his lemony calves to show he didn’t back down. His black hair was always pushed up STRAIGHT to show her just the kind of man he was. And that cross necklace his best bro Moses had gifted him currently sat underneath his tank to display his commitment to...commitment. 

Speaking of which, he’d have to thank Moses for finding this incredible class. He couldn’t believe that although these men were slightly different each in their own ways, they were all so alike. Almost as if they were all built off the same structure.

A little vibration went off in Aaron’s pocket, hopefully providing him with the answer he needed.

“Hey Teach, mind if I take this one?” Aaron asked, snatching his phone quickly from his shorts. “My future wife’s texting me on Humblr.”

“By all means,” Mr. Hollivan chuckled. “When it comes to pursuing a woman, I’ll never stop you.”

The other men all cheered once more as Aaron left the room before joining hands. Aaron hated that he had to miss out on Prayer Time. His average-sized pouch hated it too, perking up at the thought of being able to produce some serum. But, duty calls! And that duty was to his woman!

Aaron rushed out the front doors of the building and texted his woman back, telling her he’d be there as fast as possible. He didn’t plan on having her wait.

#gay to straight #racialchange #dumber #toptobottom #bottomtotop #nerdtojock #jocktonerd #jocktoprep #age progression tf #age regression tf #dumb and jocked tfs

[sjw-publishings]

Simon really CAME out of his shell didn’t he? ;)

Picture-Perfect

A treat for @sjw-publishings

Scott Sherman walked around the party aimlessly, not really knowing what to do next. His best friend had invited him to be her “date” for a coworker’s bachelor/bachelorette party; a double event where everyone celebrated the soon-to-be bride and groom. Scott had never heard of such a thing, being the whole point of such parties was to blow off some final pre-marital steam, but apparently the couple in question wanted to "stay faithful up until the day of wed”. At least, that’s how his friend put it, begging him to attend this mega-Christian fest. The cocky gay otter had agreed on one condition; she didn’t leave his side.

But she had. Within moments, his fake partner had been whisked away by some other girls adorned in rather traditional attire. Clothes Scott would see those stuck-up religious folks dress up in for a Sunday service. And now he was all alone. It didn’t help that he appeared fairly intimidating as well. Large Slavik musculature, a little over 6 foot, and a fairly hairy body. It made him stick out from the rest of the invited crowd, most of whom looked to be of Asian descent. His stereotypical masculine figure was strikingly different from the mix of Eastern bodies. This didn’t make Scott afraid however. Quite the opposite actually; he was bored and wanted to look for some fun. He bet himself he could find at least one closeted gay by the end of the night to hook up with.

The first guy he approached was a total Malaysian dilf. Rugged features, warm eyes–everything Scott could easily fall for. The interaction didn’t go quite as planned though.

“Hey bud,” the now-obviously fully-hetero daddy had started. “As much as I would love to be your youth leader for tonight, I’ve got my wife waiting for me to get her a drink.”

Scott frowned, watching the man leave without him actually realizing what Scott had been hinting at. The second guy seemed a little boring, but he’d still do. Some executive at a social media company a little older than the 27-year-old. Emmanuel seemed fairly flat, but Scott wasn’t looking for a relationship here. Apparently, neither was he.

“Dude, you wouldn’t believe how absolutely amazing my fiancée is.” Emmanuel went on and on, never giving Scott a chance to escape from a topic so lifeless that he didn’t think it could get worse. That was, until Emmanuel started discussing the audience reach at his company and offered to help Scott install the app on his phone.

"Ohhhh!" Scott drew out the word in fake enthusiasm. "Let’s talk about that when I get back from the bathroom.”

He rushed off, no intention to return to that conversation or that man. Attempt number three was none other than the party’s photographer. What Scott assumed to be a man fresh from college and of Japanese heritage, he couldn’t help but take in the simple, clean-cut handsomeness of the photographer. He was determined to get this guy in bed.

Approaching confidently, Scott aligned himself right in the photographer’s shot.

“Hey cutie, are you a photographer?” Scott cracked his bulky knuckles with a wink. 

The photographer was not amused. In fact, he seemed more confused by Scott’s gesture than anything. “Dude, mind straightening out a little? This is a party man–shouldn’t you have a girlfriend or something?”

Scott pushed full steam ahead. “How could I want anyone else when you’ve captured my heart?”

“Hmm…'captured my heart'?” The photographer was bewildered. Why was this man interacting with him in such a manner? Then, a lightbulb lit up in his head. A misguided, wrongly-intentioned lightbulb, but a lightbulb nonetheless. The man was trying to impress him…to get to someone else.

“But my sister wouldn’t like this kind of bold, upfront man,” the photographer mumbled to himself.

“What did you say, sexy?” Scott purred. He assumed the photographer was considering his attraction. Scott couldn’t wait to shove his thick python up that shorter man’s perky little behind.

The photographer had another plan in mind, knowing what he had to do to help Scott accomplish what he thought was his goal. It was about time the photographer’s sister started seeing someone, and his sister had always remarked that she had wanted a guy just like her brother. And the chance was practically being presented to him, the opportunity to set up his sister with the right kind of a man. 

“Come with me,” the photographer said, grabbing Scott’s hand and pulling him along. Scott cheered inwardly to himself, finally having landed a score. The smaller male brought him to an empty part of the house where they could be alone. The kitchen area was compact, but Scott could still get the job done. Immediately, Scott began unbuttoning his designer shirt.

“Woah, buddy!” the photographer shouted. “Hold your horses!”

Scott blinked awkwardly. He hadn’t even been able to lower his tight matching shorts for the real show. “What?”

“Just hold still, dude,” the photographer directed, placing himself along the opposite wall. “Gotta make some adjustments first.”

Scott didn’t know what to say, but if the photographer wanted to get some pictures of him, he’d surely oblige. Maybe it would be a game, removing a piece of clothing with every set. Scott would play along, letting the other man take charge before pouncing and tackling him to the ground to show him why he was always on top.

“Alright.” The photographer began taking some pictures, the flash blinding Scott. Each miniature explosion of light pulsated throughout his body, sending ripples and disorienting him. 

“How are you feeling?” the photographer asked.

“I’m uh…” Scott mumbled. His thoughts were a little fuzzy. “Are we gonna…gonna…”

“Let me just…” the photographer took a couple of more pictures, both freezing the otter a little more.

“You…hot…” Scott’s brain felt like moldable clay. Raw, unfiltered, and needing to regain some shape. Any shape.

“Hmmm, ‘hot’?” The photographer seemed displeased. “Man, I’m not too sure my sister would be into you–too cocky and forward.”

“No…” Scott tried to correct the photographer's mistake, but everything felt so slow. “...I mean…”

“Just stay still, I’ll make this quick dude.”

The photographer snapped some more shots. Scott felt oddly heavy, having to steady himself on the counter.

“Focus on my lens…obedience to my words…”

The otter blushed fervently in his position, unable to resist the soft tenor voice and the way his crush remained in control. For some reason, Scott also seemed unable to move, his body not making any commotion as the photographer approached him and adjusted his clothes and his noticeably hefty pouch.

“D…dude!” Scott staggered out. “Are you…feeling my balls…?”

“My dad’s a urologist, man.” The photographer continued to cup Scott’s tremendous package. “Checking if your grapes are straight.”

Scott didn’t know how to react, not understanding what sexual game this photographer was playing. But he wasn’t protesting. Scott took an immense amount of pride in his massive offerings, and he couldn’t admit that he wasn’t turned on. “Oh…!”

The photographer eventually stepped back, now knowing what he was working with. He couldn’t completely get this man to be the picture-perfect boyfriend, but the photographer would do his best with what he was given. He snapped a few pictures right away.

Scott just watched on and the photographer got to work, his thoughts a flat zone. He simply existed, following whatever the photographer did and said. Like when he asked Scott how old he was, in which Scott was proud to assert his older age. Especially after the photographer mentioned the importance of respecting elders. That made his top-hood twitch. And then the photographer kindly reminded him that he was a month older than Scott. He was born in February, and this man was born in January! 

“Sit up Straight.”

The quick shift of a command jolted the young jock with immediate force, startled as his older crush spoke with much force and demand. It explained why the photographer was so assertive, being only a month older. But of course, Scott was a month younger, meaning the other 23-year-old simply knew better. He was definitely the guy-next-door type…but he had a more firm approach than most men Scott had been attracted to.

Speaking of which, Scott had never really been attracted to an Asian-ish guy before. He’d always preferred more masculine men that he could submerge into their secret submissive behaviors. It was something he found easy in European men. Not that Asian alphas didn’t have that quality–just that Scott hadn’t found one. He liked hooking up with men that looked like him. Bulky, furry, brutally masculine. And with each click of the camera, Scott affirmed this criteria. Yeah, he typically only slept with the guys who appeared like him. This hot photographer definitely did. That ethnically-inherent tan, those black locks and smooth limbs. The facial structures that are undeniably of the East, and their smaller, better-crafted features.

“Alright bud, you gotta get a GRIP on yourself if you want to impress your crush.”

Scott tried to get his face to frown. Wasn’t the photographer his crush? He tried to grab a hold of himself with his softer, daintier hands, fondling his gigantic-

*Click*

-fondling his modest groin. Despite the strength of his fingers, he felt his pouch being squashed like a firm rebuke: hard-on squeezing down a size underneath his compact fist. Scott didn’t understand why this felt so…difficult! Even though he had jerke-...produced before, his package wasn’t responding like Scott believed it should have.

“Gentler dude…” the photographer cooed. “She’ll want it gentler.”

“No…dude…” Scott centered all his strength to speak. “I want…youuu?”

The photographer released a burst of flashes, each wavelength absorbing into Scott’s being. Scott could feel a burgeoning question arising through the muck of his head. Wasn’t what he just said…really gay?

“I mean your sister…” The words left his mouth with complete clarity before Scott could even consider what he’d say. “...Wait! I…I mean-”

The photographer cut him off, rushing forward and fondling Scott’s pouch with him, forcing the younger man’s palm to clamp down.

“This is not a hand job…” the photographer corrected Scott’s thought before it even happened. “I am simply giving you a hand.”

The photographer then adjusted his camera lens with his free hand, putting the scope into a more direct focus to completely center in.

“Alright, just a few more pics and you’ll get the job done.”

“...but I…I already do?”

The photographer ignored him. “Just have to remove that presumptuousness.”

Scott wanted to protest, not knowing exactly what he was protesting but do so nonetheless. But every click of the camera was like a neutralizing barrage of light. Each flash directly in his face. 

“Now imagine your girlfriend complimenting you, dude!”

“Hey…cut it out! I like…g…guys!” Scott needed to stop this madness and fight back. 

“Think about holding her umbrella and serving her tea like a respectable man!”

“Nooo…stop!” He wanted to address the situation and tell the photographer to stop. But a blush was suddenly adorning his cheeks.

“What if she wants a kiss, dude.”

“A KISS…well uh…I would…oh Lordy…” 

Scott gulped, wishing to say something to his superior and hoping to make a change. But the pinkish hue was spreading fast across his yellowy cheeks. He didn't even realize the photographer's hand had moved away–only his hand was left kneading his bottom-on.

“And what will happen when you get married to her?”

“Oh man…oh MAN!”

Scott went red, a shy and nervous demeanor devouring him as he became overwhelmingly flustered. A spurt of serum released into the bottle the photographer had conveniently lined up moments before. Satisfied, the photographer then stepped back to admire his work.

“Man, you look a little off,” the photographer prompted. “Are you still worried about it?”

“About…?” the man blinked, the haze slowly lifting from his mind.

“About asking my sister out!” the photographer shouted excitedly.

“I couldn’t…” Simon Sari meekly protested. “I'm not so sure if that is a good idea…I like her but…”

“Nonsense dude. You’re her match!”

“Don't…don’t tease me like that!” Simon huffed, ruffling a hand through his traditionally-cut black hair. “You’re torturing me over here, man.”

“You’re just her type,” the photographer shook his head. “She wants a guy just like her older brother.”

“I guess man…”

Simon couldn’t help but agree that he did resemble the photographer very well. Sure, he was a little shorter than the other man at 5’6, but he did have some musculature. He was also a little bigger down there, giving a soft pat to his slightly above average member. He always hated having a more prominent pouch than his peers though; it made the meek, humble, good Christian guy stick out when he really wished to hide within the congregation. Speaking of which, his unorthodox outfit was doing him no favors.

“That outfit? Yeah dude, stick to the typical stuff,” the photographer affirmed, referring to button-ups and khaki’s lacking any character.

“Why are you…helping me, by the way?” Simon questioned. 

“Well, you are going to be dating my sister, and putting the ring on it very soon after.” This made Simon seize up into the color of an overripe tomato. “We’re already brothers, and soon-to-be brothers-in-law. Plus, I’ve seen how you get when you speak about her.”

And just like that, the shy Simon immediately perked up, his introverted personality disappearing at the opportunity to speak about the photographer’s sister. His whole demeanor changed in an instant, proudly boasting about how much he cared for the one particular female. 

“Oh boy, don't get me started! I would hold all her handbags when she shop...I would pay for her dinner…and and and take her to every church club…and oh…Oh! I would...”

The photographer couldn’t help but take a picture of the wholesome instance–a man coming out of his shell to preach about his love for a woman.

#gay to straight #racialchange #toptobottom #cockshrink #age regression tf #jock #christian #camp christening #mental change #g2s #dumb and jocked tfs

[sjw-publishings]

‘There’s no right or wrong way…only the Wong way.’

Perfect Educator

Aided once again by the one and only @sjw-publishings  

“And just like that, William Wagner has entered the building.”

The infiltrator slowly closed the door behind him, thankful for once that Camp Christening was so old fashioned. Their ideologies, beliefs, and views on his own homosexuality made Will’s life extremely difficult. But their lack of modern technology–like difficult-to-disarm alarms–did help him enter the building in the early morning without any disturbances. He only had an hour before staff would begin to show up, and not long after would the camp be flooded with those straight, Christian, Asian freaks. Will had accidentally slept through his alarm, having planned on coming earlier in the night, but the little time he had left would have to do.

Will didn’t know how Camp Christening was pulling it all off. How they got so much willing support and how they were able to lure the entire LGBTQ+ community into their trap. He didn’t understand where the fluorescent twinks and chubby bears went after they entered, or how there was suddenly a surplus of carbon-copy, heterosexually-charged, Christianized Asians. Even his boyfriend didn’t seem fazed by any of this madness. It was like Will was the only one who could sense something was happening. That meant he was the one who had to find out the truth, who had to save his friends and chosen families.

Crawling through one of the dark hallways, the dressed-in-all-black intruder turned into the first classroom he saw. He was happy about his 5’6 weakling body (maybe for the first time ever), making it easy for him to slip and slide like a serpent around the room until he found what he’d been looking for. The laptop looked a little old, maybe 10 years at least, but it was still something he could work with. The 22-year-old hairless twink pulled out a small hard drive and plugged it in, bypassing the passcode and entering the system. He cracked his white knuckles proudly, emulating the classic cinematic hackers.

“Now let’s see just what these freaks are up to.”

But Will couldn’t find anything. Literally jack squat. It was almost like the laptop truly had nothing besides the curriculum material. Sure, Will could search the files regarding topics such as “Christianity and Compliance” and assignments like “Understanding the Myth of Homosexuality”, but he knew these wouldn’t contain any incriminating evidence. A certain section on reproduction grossed him out, the thought of having children able to induce vomit. Even slideshows regarding “The 3 A’s: Average, Abstinent, and Asian” probably didn’t give any evidence as to what was happening at the camp. But it was then Will found what might give him a clue.

“‘Assignments to be Graded’?” Will said aloud, clicking the folder. His curiosity and desperation made him believe that if he could find how the students were reacting to the material taught, he could maybe understand the conversion process. Will wondered if it was a combination of intense conditioning and brainwashing, but even that wouldn’t explain the physical changes.

The first set of assignments was titled “Discovering Your True Self”. It asked the students to write down a review of what they had learned over the class’s slotted period about who they really were, not the reality that had been forced upon them. A boy named Percy Sim was the first essay.

“I just gotta rediscover myself, man!” he started before going on about all the lies he’d been fed by society. He spoke of his commitment to the Lord, his connection to an Asian heritage Will assumed hadn’t existed before, and the last line was the most shocking of all. “Thanks Teach! When I get back I’m gonna tell my boy friend that I’m into girls! I wonder if it’s possible to save him too?”

Two things were strange about that last statement. First, everyone Will had encountered hadn’t remembered their lives before Camp Christening, so it was peculiar that this Percy did. Maybe these essays were more of a progress report rather than a final test? Secondly, when Will tried to delete the added space between “boy” and “friend,” the computer wouldn’t allow him. It was almost like it was banned for another male to refer to his male partner as such.

Another student named Raymond Yamada had similar sympathy’s about what he’d learned. “I can’t believe my entire life has been spent trying to excel! Why would I want to stick out when I could simply fit in? It’s so much better to be just like all of my peers here at camp.”

Kennedy Rang’s essay was noticeably shorter, only talking about how suddenly turned on he was by the thought of straight marriage. “Teach, you are so right dude! The whole Man and Woman thing is just so LIT!”

Will’s face scrunched at that. The 27-year-old hated to admit that youth slang had left him. He was at an age where it just felt more appropriate to use direct language. Will stretched his muscles back as he moved to the next folder of ungraded assignments, something telling him he wasn’t going to find what he’d been looking for in the previous area. He hoped that these “What Makes the Perfect Educator?” reviews would give him the incriminating material he was looking for.

“There was no flamboyance and sweetness to Mr. Wong, leaving a middle aged teacher whose strict attitude sent shivers down the spines of his students.” Will read the statement again, confused as to what this assignment was supposed to be about. Then he noticed the name Budiman at the bottom, hypothesizing that this student may be giving a performance review of sorts.

Another anonymous tip noted this Mr. Wong’s demeanor: “Good teacher, very strict though.”

“These kids don’t understand,” Will rolled his eyes. “After a while you simply have to be straightforward in order to get the job done.”

This Mr. Wong must’ve been just trying to get his message across in any means necessary. Will however hadn’t recognized what that particular message was.

“Very stern,” one began by a student named Terrance. “but got straight As so not complaining.”

Something about that made Will’s back lurch up in his seat, no longer hunched over. The 32-year-old felt his modestly-sized dick twitch, the certain traditional rigidity in his posture providing a form of stimulation. Will couldn’t believe how disrespectful these students were acting to their elders.

“W..What! He’s not stern…” Will pondered on this. “Though he may be rather fierce sometimes. He must display his authority.”

An anonymous tip went in a little bit of a different direction. “Dude is built! And I’m not just talking about his firm spiritual foundation and stable homelife. No, I’m talking about that MUSCULATURE. I’m not queer or smth, but that guy’s got a solid build underneath those polished suits.”

“These students find him handsome, huh?” Will chuckled to himself. Maybe they’d get a kick out of his frame too. Sturdy arms, well-crafted legs. Firm pectorals and lower stomach from all that commitment to having a well-rounded figure. And being one too. Will wanted to be admired, to be looked up to. Almost like a mentor of sorts.

“From his age, the way he dresses, his mannerisms,” the pupil Bartholomew wrote. “The wedding band on his finger and dedication to his wife and family–it all shows his commitment to what he stands for and teaches.”

“This young man understands,” Will agreed proudly, fiddling with something that was wrapped around his finger. When he looked down, he was surprised to see a weathered silver band. He didn’t understand why it was there. Wasn’t he dating….

Dates? Of course there had to be dates on these student’s assignments! Name, classroom, and date! All the stories he had had with his spouse over the years about youngsters and their carelessness of forgetting about this important info. Without it, how was he supposed to tell the difference between an A student…and a straight A student? 

“Professor really helped straighten out my perspective in life!” Will appreciated the first half of this student’s feedback, but the later end was alarming at first glance. “Especially with how firm he spanked my bottom!”

“Is that even legal?” Will questioned. But not out of disbelief, more out of excited curiosity. If students needed discipline, then there was only one way to lay it upon them. Literally. Will supported this kind of action, and he was finding himself agreeing with the teacher’s perspective more than he thought.

“Heh, they think that’s firm?” Will chuckled to himself. “They don’t know how strict I am with my sons.”

The man smirked as his rear sealed up with a good ole SPANK! His pride leapt at the thought of the couple of sons he had. The 37-year-old had raised them to be strong, strapping men just like their father. But even though he’d nurtured them with past traditions, it was also nice to have four guiding hands through the modernizing world. Like the social media device Humblr…this old fossil needed his zoomer sons to teach him how to use that thing. 

“Teacher is so strict, it seems like he will always double down on what’s necessary.”

Will nodded furiously in agreement. Of course he would double down on what’s necessary. DOUBLE DOWN ON DISCIPLINE!

“These students better not fool around, especially with other men on campus!”

Will didn’t catch the double entendre before continuing with the reviews.

“When he yells across the hallway, it reminds me of my dad…”

“O…Oiiii!”

The middle aged man grunted, all the while palming his crotch deep underneath his navy blue sacks, which complimented his white button-up and the suit jacket he’d placed on a hook by the door. For some reason, all this talk about fatherhood was enticing to Will. This student’s description of how this man’s jaw was squared out with the manly aftershave that older men typically use every morning; how his hair had a neatly-combed, stereotypical cut with real dark brown hair to match the weather eyes–it all intrigued him, tantalizing him even. 

The student detailed everything that he adored about the teacher. His manly gait, his work-oriented demeanor, his commitment to instilling only the right message into his students. The teacher had to be completely devoted to the camp’s message and ideology. The teacher had to believe that Camp Christening was only doing what was best–no, correct for the students. And this student in particular said the best part about the teacher was that he would never accept another perspective. He wouldn’t even allow an option of exit. “There was no ‘his way or the highway’,” another student remarked. “only His way.”

A boy named Francis had the final review. It was just a sentence long, but it was everything Will needed to hear.

“A role model for those who stay on the straight and narrow.”

“YUSH!” the 42-year-old male bellowed as a blast of his robust reproduction sprayed into the bottle he’d somehow known to orient in front of his exposed, girthy cock. With a hearty, satisfied sigh, the teacher concealed his manhood once more and closed up the bottle, securing another production.

“Mr. Wong!” A young, Asian-appearing boy entered the classroom, eyes wide. “I’m sorry if I came too early, I was just wondering if you could help me.”

Wallace wore a flat face, displaying no emotion. “Percy Sim. I advise all students to only visit during office hours. No exceptions.”

“I understand Mr. Wong but…” the student shifted nervously. Wallace took the moment to take a quick progress check of the young male. His hair had already adapted to a simpler side part. And his facial features now bore a heritage more similar to Wallace’s then the one Percy had come in with.

“Spit it out, child,” Wallace pushed. “I have my first class starting soon.”

“Well…” Percy mumbled. “I was wondering if you could help me with the dilemma I had addressed in my paper.”

Wallace made no sign that he knew what the boy was talking about. He was particularly strict about time, and as one of the more surprisingly taller and muscular Asians at the camp, the 6’0 teacher came off as very intimidating.

“‘Discovering Your True Self’?” Percy timidly added.

“Ah, I see,” Mr. Wong nodded, rising from his seat. He then handed the filled bottle to the student, the serum bubbling furiously inside its prison. “I thought about it earlier this morning when I was grading assignments. Give this to your…boy friend.” He dramatically emphasized the the space between the words. “It should solve the problem.”

“Sweet! Thanks Mr. Wong!” Percy exclaimed. He ran up to the desk and took the bottle from the middle-aged male. With a quick handshake to display gratitude, the boy ran off. Mr. Wong watched, adjusting his glasses to better evaluate the boy’s duller, more conservative sense of style. 

Pastor Marriagenota was expecting another child soon, meaning the camp was going to begin looking for a temporary employee. Now Percy would be finishing his assignment while completing Wallace’s own. Wallace could only hope the new hire would share his own fatherly attributes, Asian heritage, and traditionally-guided perspective. Something told him the new hire would.

#gay to straight #racialchange #age progression tf #bottomtotop #lib to con #daddy #christian #camp christening #mental change #g2s #dumb and jocked tfs

[sjw-publishings]

A-MEN BROTHA!

Factory ReHet

Created with the wonderful advisement of @sjw-publishings

Emil couldn’t believe that two of his best friends had created such an abomination of an app. He’d known the Sampsons since high school, the three of them immediately connecting over their experiences having to hide in the closet. The pair had already been steadily dating by the time Emil had met them, but they welcomed him in like their firstborn. They promoted so many diverse, progressive ideals that when Emil had downloaded Humblr, he would’ve never assumed for it to have been the monstrosity it was.

The app was littered with everything the Sampsons had worked so strongly against. Being tied down to tradition, denying forward movement and thinking, ignoring progress through the use of simplistic humor and ignorance. It also promoted the destruction of unique identities, trying to create some form of normalcy for all to abide by. The app the Sampsons had built was even against their own existence, emphasizing the importance of traditional marriage and undermining the harmfulness of homophobic ideals. It drove Emil up a wall. How could the individualistic, progressive, out-of-the-box Sampson husbands create such a simple-minded, outdated, square product?

Sitting at home, after a little over a minute of investigating the app, Emil closed out of Humblr and immediately deleted the nuisance. However, after hitting the removal button on his phone multiple times, the stupid application did not disappear. Instead, his whole screen went black, popping up with only a single message in white letters.

Factory ReHet Activated

“Are you kidding me?” Emil groaned, his freckled cheeks flushing so red he didn’t notice the spelling anomaly. He had had enough of this crap. He knew he wasn’t far from where Humblr was headquartered. The Sampsons had told him to come and visit anytime, and now was better than ever. 

He grabbed his things and rushed over to the mirror, making sure he didn’t look too out of place. Ripped baggy jeans, rainbow-flagged tee from Pride this year, colorful sneakers. Not a strand of his curly, copper hair was out of place, and his quick makeup actually looked good. Dare he say he looked hot? His 4-inch cock chubbed up just a bit, surprising as Emil had never really considered himself attractive. But it must have been the confidence oozing from him: he wanted to scream “QUEER” when he stormed into that building. And luckily the 5’10 man already looked the part.

Emil stepped out of his building and locked the door behind him. He checked his phone to see if the message had disappeared, but instead something new had replaced it.

ReHet Has Begun: MANdatory Workplace Account Created

“This has to be some sort of joke,” Emil rationalized. His pace was fast and flashy as he walked down the street in the direction of the Humblr offices. Although he was ok with the typical gayish gait to his walk, it did not help him come off as intimidating. But after a few moments, the flamboyant sway of his hips shifted into a more clean cut march. It was more controlled, more mass-produced. His back shot up straighter while his rump flatted in. It gave Emil a more confident air; he was someone who knew what he believed in and where he was going.

Reconfiguring Workplace Employee.exe

Emil regarded the change of words on his phone, shuffling his shoulders to readjust the backpack hanging limp behind him. It was filled with educational materials promoting multiculturalism, sexual identity sensitivity, and individual achievement–everything that the Sampsons had shared with him before. Yet the backpack slowly slid off his right side and slung down into his toughening left palm, the fabric polishing into a leather briefcase filled with documents and stationary. Emil didn’t notice the change in weight displacement however, as his hands had hardened into sturdier mitts. They were roughened by the typical outside-of-work activities he was involved in. The average stuff corporate Asian men play: soccer, tennis and golf, maybe cricket every now and then.

“Wait, what?” Emil went over what had just gone through his head, but immediately forgot it when he noticed the update on the screen in his right hand.

Installing Conformity.wav

Emil opened his mouth to say something, but instead shut it and continued walking forward. He did not need to vocalize all his thoughts out loud. In fact, he didn’t even need to make a statement in the workplace. Instead, Emil would simply hand out the materials he’d brought and file a private complaint to the CEOs, urging them to reconsider the app they’ve created and find a way to undo the damage they’ve already done. But of course, he’d be polite about the time with the two bosses. After all, they were busy men who were working very difficult jobs. And Emil would make sure to appreciate that fact with respect and dignity. He just hoped the suit he wore was enough to show just how much this meeting meant to him. Emil had even chosen a striped tie to display just how special this occasion was to him.

Purifying Files…

The three dots bounced one by one across the screen, catching Emil’s eye as he turned a street corner. He didn’t know what files were being “purified”–or what “purified” meant for that matter–but he was already more than halfway to the Sampsons’ headquarters. In fact, he could see the building in the distance, a giant H lit up on the roof. Emil decided to take a quick break, catching his breath and readjusting his appearance in a shop window. He had to admit the standard-fit suit looked great on his slim, 5’7 body. The charcoal color highlighted the creamy lemony tan of his skin, and the black stripe of his tie matched the black of his classic side part and almond-shaped eyes. Heck, he was one good-looking Asian. And he was ready to stand up to his distant relatives. Huh? What distant relatives?

Deleting Individuality.png

Emil shook his head. It didn’t matter, he had a job to finish. He casually strolled the rest of the way towards the Humblr offices, opening the doors in a polite manner. A corporate paradise was laid before him. Grayscales, structured rigidity and uniformity, Asian and Asian-American men rushing to and fro. Everyone fit into the perfectly uniform puzzle. Emil couldn’t help but be impressed by it all; his distant relatives had done wonders to the place. But the gay Asian was here to protect his reputation. The Shang brothers were disgracing their family blood!

The first thing Emil had to do was share the materials he had brought to the workers. Luckily, looking identical to all the other men in the building, he slipped into the office areas easily. He respectfully gathered people up from the cubicles, the carbon-copies all following the newcomer like corporate drones. Once Emil decided he had crowded enough, he brought them to a conference room and opened his leather briefcase.

“We must stand for workplace rights!” Emil shouted, passing pamphlets and flyers through the crowd. It was as if he was participating in an election, coming off as an ordinary worker like the rest of them yet presenting what must have been radical ideas. And the workers received it well, reading over the materials and immediately smiling and following along. 

“A-MEN BROTHER!”

“PREACH IT!”

Emil was surprised that they were convinced so quickly. But then Emil regarded the pamphlets he had actually given out, opening one to reveal copious amounts of workplace propaganda. Boring cold-cut numbers and monochrome art styles. It wasn’t at all what Emil had meant to spread. Instead, he had just reaffirmed his family’s agenda.

“No wait, you don’t understand,” Emil backtracked, trying to correct his own mistake. “We must stand for workplace RIGHTS!” 

He had meant to emphasize the final word to relay his main point, but it had instead insinuated something more conservative. The workers rambunctiously cheered however, causing Emil to smile confusedly. He had made a point they liked, but he wasn’t exactly sure how. He still considered it a success however, and moved forward with the other half of his plan. Emil escaped the invigorated corporate crowds and entered an elevator. He pushed a button for the top floor, not understanding how he knew where his family was, and took a step back to mentally prepare.

Eradicating Homosexuality.html

A standard elevator tune began to play as he ascended, drilling itself into Emil’s mind. The boring melody and common note patterns did not interest Emil in the slightest. It was a droning noise in his head, something much simpler than the brash alternative sets he was accustomed to. But music aside, Emil had to keep his head high and stand up for his rights. Gays like him everywhere must have been infuriated by his close family’s antics. And not only gays, but anybody who was looking towards the future, not romanticizing the past! The emphasis these men had on tradition wasn’t correct.

But, Emil rationed, he couldn’t help but appreciate how the men were keeping a respectable distance from the women they were fond of. Despite being in the closet, Emil had to admit that he admired their commitment to how things had worked for centuries before. But even so, his family was taking a huge financial risk by closing out a notable portion of the market. Just because the Shang’s ideas and values for the company were respectable, it didn’t mean they were safe financial decisions.

Though Emil wasn’t exactly defending the LGBT community. Sure, he was bisexual, but he kept the bi part a secret in order to protect his close family’s name. But he didn’t really find men attractive by any means, just the types he had been raised around and had grown up to appreciate. That’s what it was: appreciating. Emil appreciated men’s conformity to set standards, their commitment to simple orders, and their willingness to follow the river rather than carve new streams. Some may consider it boring or plain, but like the elevator music, Emil admired the straightforward. And that’s what he was after all: Straight-Forward!

Final Removal of Superfluous Malware

The elevator doors opened, revealing a floor lit well by blinding fluorescents to help showcase the lackluster interior. Emil paced down the grand hallway to the final room, noticing a stirring in his crotch. All that recognition about how men like him, exactly like him, were just discussing their commitments to their respective wives and girlfriends got his senses heightened. Well, only one sense in particular. Shutting the doors behind him as he entered the large office, Emil immediately plopped onto a couch in the executive’s lounge and felt his mind dulling. It was almost like he was going into autopilot, not even registering how he had untucked and unbuttoned his shirt in order to make it easier to access what hid beneath his trousers’ zipper.

“Oh Lordy,” Emil moaned, kneading his manhood with his ring finger. He felt his seed churning within his trousers, incorporating it to multiply and become fruitful. There was something just so tantalizing about the way Humblr was organized. His immediate family had created a corporate utopia that drove him wild. It helped connect all the like-minded people Emil had been surrounded by since childhood, and the people he’d continued surrounding himself with since he’d graduated college. Their commitment to tradition made him only want to jerk o-… To jerku-…To jeduc-… To-

Assigning Mandatory Girlfriend.het

Produce! Emil undid his belt and lowered his waistband to reveal a throbbing 7-incher. Sure, it was a little above average which wasn’t the ideal, but he was an important man with responsibilities. And having a bigger job meant having to put in more work. An executive’s gotta remain top in production! That meant overtime, overtime, and overtime. Not that Emil was complaining by any means; he loved his company! And he had no problem producing when all he had to do was think of his girlfriend.

“Gosh…hope I remembered to restock!”

And luckily, he did. Emil pulled out an empty bottle from the side table beside him, his mind now completely focused on the task at hand. He was generally responsible and naturally intelligent, but an overwhelming dullness always took hold of him when he focused on the simple pleasures of compliance. Of respecting tradition and stability. Of Man and Woman.

Emil lined the empty bottle up to his dick, “I gotta…honor our family name!”

The serum burst into the bottle, a thick white wave rushing to fill the empty void. After securing the cap shut, he simply fell back into the couch, appreciating his hard work as a tame demeanor encompassed him.

“Hmm…the weather’s feeling rather…different lately,” Daniel Shang announced as he entered the room.

“You know what they say Danny!” David Shang replied, following in. “‘When the weather’s feelin’ queer, you tell it to stay RIGHT here’!”

The two both threw their heads back in fatherly unity, full stomach-bouncing laughter escaping their systems. It was then they noticed that they weren’t in the office alone.

“Look who we have here,” Daniel started. “Your son has been working overtime again.”

“What can I say, brother,” David answered proudly. “All Emmanuel knows is the corporate agenda and how his father raised him!”

Emmanuel couldn’t help but agree. Fixing himself up and placing the filled bottle on the table beside him, Emmanuel stood up to greet his beloved uncle and father properly. He gave them each a proper shake, building up the confidence to tell them why he had made the trek all the way here on his day off.

“Uncle, Father,” Emmanuel started. “I wanted to properly thank you for connecting me with my fiancée.” He then proceeded to showcase them the simple golden band on his left hand as if it was a business-related contract. That’s why he’d come all this way; Emmanuel had just successfully proposed to his girlfriend. The girlfriend his two role models had found for him. And after a long and stressful day (although the stress had been relieved only moments earlier), he was excited to share the news to the two men he looked up to the most.

“Now that looks like the hand of a man who was meant to one day run this joint!” Daniel nodded.

“I’ll say,” David affirmed. “In a few years my son will be head of the largest social media outlet in the world!”

It made sense the Shang brothers needed an heir close to home, literally. With Emmanuel’s two cousins being absolute zoomers, it was his responsibility to uphold the family name. He appreciated Daniel’s kids for helping push their wholesome agenda, but the company needed a more reliable, predictable leader. 

“Why don’t we call up the wives and all celebrate over dinner,” Daniel announced with a wink. “Wives and fiancées that is.”

“I’ll get our investor on board too,” David added. “He loves a good ‘ole traditional family feast.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Emmanuel confirmed. He checked his phone for the time, quickly reading over the notification from Humblr that his account had been reset. He didn’t mind though, it wasn’t like he’d decorate or embellish his profile anyway. The simple basic standard always worked best for him.

#gay to straight #racialchange #christian #preppification #camp christening #mental change #g2s #personality change #racial change #lib to cons #dumb and jocked tfs

[sjw-publishings]

ARRR COMING!

“Arrr you coming?”

A charismatic indian hunk smiled at the Gay leader, as his mind was stuck in a momentary daze as he tried to rationally recall what was supposed to be going on.

Sheldon Keats thought he was going to meet up with their shy host to help out with the preparations. Avion Moore said that he really wanted to give all of them a treat downtown, in the restaurant his boyfriend supposedly worked at.

And besides, fellow bottoms oughta help each other out.

But the more he tried recalling…that member. The more puzzling and shaky memories about the dude surfaced as he could picture the man getting more confident overtime…which was not wrong but…

His style also changed drastically. Dropping away the graphic tee for a simple laid back, yet stylish un-tucked dark sweater shirt. Fabric straining, accentuating the muscles that grew from their former beanpole stature.

Instead of sweatpants and sneakers were beige chinos and a pair dark brown bespoke dress shoes. A raven short and simple gelled cut sliced away the long blond mess he had previously.

Not saying his new style…wasn’t hot. He honestly looked really handsome in it. But that didn’t make it any less suspicious! Especially with how his skin somehow darkened overtime beyond a simple tan…well he’s asian yeah, but it still felt odd!

And besides most of the camp christening guys were outright straight, why would a confident guy like him take interest in his group…especially since he already had a…?

Did he have a boyfriend again?

Shaking his head, that was the question going about in his mind when this handsome hunk messaged him earlier. Telling him about how he looked forward to him coming over to help, and especially emphasising about how he hoped the rest of the group could ‘find release’ in this camp.

Man…he would go for him if he wasn’t so suspicious. The bible phrases he sent in the group daily didn’t do any favours either…But damn, was Adam…or should I say, Ahmik Kumore, such a good looking stud.

“Umm…I n…need to…”

He tried to preserve his dignity, maybe get away for a while to subside his intense emotions.

It felt incredibly strange why he caved in to Adam’s requests so easily, blushing amidst suspicion. He had dates before…but none as intense as this. Not saying this was a date! But maybe he could be overthinking things?

This southeast asian restaurant was also probably owned by Mr Kumore, who if Sheldon could remember correctly, was also a pastor as well. And after hearing some rumours of the camp staff as of late, it definitely rang…bells, not wedding bells but the bad kind!

But…maybe he could be overthinking things? Right? Surely this Indian hunk was different to the rest. Even if he wasn’t into him, they could be real authentic allies…right?

“No worries brotha, you can do it at the back.”

He wanted to be serious! But man…was Adam so…*gulp*, irresistible. His straight laced nudges sending him ripples as he gently patted him over, slinging his lean arm over his shoulder as they walked to the back.

Though he could’ve sworn there’s some kind of…deception in his words. But maybe he was just nervous and just hearing things…

“Give the door a firm knock when you’rrrre done arrr…”

Place a large bottle over on his soft and delicate left palm, his group leader cooed as he guided Sheldon’s right arm to the bottom’s own pair of dress shorts. Over at his mini bulge as the gay guy was literally head over hills being with his crush.

He was ecstatic, blushing feverishly as he kneading himself at the scent of intoxicating spices surrounding him.

SLAM!

“He’s actually not quite bad…mmm.”

Licking his lips, the man ignored the fact that he was still intoxicated with the thought of being with the man, despite his looks and appearance being average, handsomely average.

But if he’s that hot, imagine the others…

The intensity of the stench of curry and spices only flared as he leaned against the walls behind the kitchen. Vents releasing such smells as they induced a raw and overwhelming hypnotic spell for men that would get the first scent-taste of such delicacies.

“So good arrr….”

Like an oven-baked pastry, his chest rose at the heat swelling within him as he continued to churn below. Curry-Puffing out his chest, with hungry dots poking outward his bright pink sweater, straining against it as a confident bravado took hold and STRAIGHTENED his back.

He wouldn’t need to worry bout’ his physique and if it would attract men. It was like what Ahmik told him in their messages weeks prior. ‘Come Brotha and you’ll get whatchu want arr.’ Though fuzzy and still unsure whether his group leader had spoken that line, he certainly is irresistible enough to pull it off.

Especially with the emphasis on the word…‘Come’.

Tugging himself tighter, visualising memories of him and Adam spending time with each other playfully teasing one another…though mostly it was gay banter on his…both of their parts. Remarks on how ‘hot’ they both are, though more so out of comparison than attraction.

Specially when he was slightly taller and bigger than his friend. Not sure how and when as his feet stood their ground without tiptoeing. Not that he was into GAY stretches, but rather he had grown quite a decent size spending time with his Indian friend, darkening feet barely resting on the edges of his sandals.

Must be the food, smirking to himself, as a light ‘growl’ surfaced from his tightened abdominals. Belly fat diminishing despite having a bigger capacity, Quads and Glutes straining against his shorts as his calves were far apart, legs standing their ground as an overdose of masculinity surged within as he continued to whiff the scent of curry in the air.

And speaking of which…

“Smells rrrreally good….”

What was he saying? Of course he loved curry.

Sure he may not have been fully Indian, but he definitely had ancestors from there, which explains his more southeast asian appearance with a naturally tanned complexion and dark brown hair leaning towards his asian heritage.

It made sense! Which is why he loved Camp Christening!

Trapezoids widening as he could recall taking up a lot of workout classes from the more muscular tribes of the campgrounds. He was already fit prior, but it was as if a switch CLICKED when he spent time with the buff gym dudes.

Arms thickening, with every YOU LIFT BROs of encouragement from the other men chest rising in that swaggering gait all men of the tribe had, voice slurring deeper as testosterone boiled within his body.

Fellowship with his brethren was HOT! Oh…and his bro Ahmik was handsome too. But ARGH-!

“ARRRGH!…Must r…rresist!”

Comes a sharp jolt from behind, thrusting his JOCK! forward. He wasn’t the brightest guy of the bunch, but he could tell he needed to resist…something-SOMETHING GHEY!

Backside clenching, straining against his shorts as they mocked against those flamboyant shorts of his. Thick rump pushing out into solid behind that felt so out of place to his undersized-wear.

Bruh, probably cause of that GHEY group his bro Ahmik asked him to join.

“HUNGRRRRY ARRRRH!”

RIPPING OUT his sweater, pectorals blown out of proportion, jutting out arrogantly as they begged to be CAUGHT! and SQUEEZED!

A MAN LIKE HIM GOTTA EAT! Letting a loud rumble as belly fat was consumed in an instant, pounding away at the belly as muscle tightened into a gym-jocked eight pack without restraint.

So what? Bigger palms meant bigger CATCHES! Specially when it come to catching footballs, both American, Britain! Any MANLY sport, is a sport he EXCELLED IN.

Arms bulging harder than baseballs, solidifying their strength from vigorous workouts with his fellow coaches and brothas. Biceps big and meaty, strong and made to be flexed hard.

“COME AT ME BROTHAS!”

With that, the man ferociously pumped his pouch, laying back against the brick wall-pumping it off as his masculine testosterone coarsed through his manhood.

Back widening, filling out his hulking frame as he grabbed his hard chest. Thrrice the man as he howled loudly from behind, groaning in desire as his well-worn briefs were already begging to be soaked in testosterone.

His thighs spread wide apart, TOWERING over the competition at 6ft 3. Tight jean material surge downward as to prevent unwarranted eyes from eyeing his proud gains. Shoes sizing up into large dark green trainers like DA TRAINER he was, feet filling in without restraint at a musky size 15.

“Arrr gotta…GOTTA!”

Sharpening his jaw, letting the manly genetics consume him further as his delicate features roughened, chiselled jaw grinning without restraint.

The dumb hunk only cared about the moment. Diminishing intelligence comes with no restraint. Kneading his manhood as he thrusted, THRUSTED. It was the only way he dealt with his problems and ‘progressiveness’.

Bathing in his biological Indian hue, brotherly group conditioning, workouts, and tradition was all he knew. He was taught, taught to be a man.

“GOTTA…GOTTA PRRRODUCE! RRRIGHT NOW!”

Filling in the final touches, his free-hand rummaged through his hair, watching his long strands shrinking back from his thick digits back to his scalp. Buzzing fully behind as he hurriedly caught hold of whatever’s left on top.

At this point, he was not trying to hide anymore. If anything, this Indian hunk wanted to be found, and quick! Quick swipes to the front, formulated gel pushing his thick dark brown into a handsome swipe.

Extreme waves of confidence flooded the man, Beaming the widest, dopiest smile he could everrrr give. Facial hair grew around his lips and chin , before being reduced to stubble, a habit he developed from his modelling career.

But the hairrr always grow back quick, shows what kind of a MAN he is.

A MAN LIKE HIM CANNOT WAIT!

The jock churned his large 10 inches with urgent force, as an immediate pent-up euphoria melted his thoughts. Raising his trimmed-thick eyebrows, eyes revealing dull obsidian pupils.

A confused yet very fierce demeanour, proving to be the kind of man that always got the job done as he YANKED! The cap off from the bottle sandwiched in his armpit, before GRIPPING IT and bringing it down to his proud meat. Aiming at the center like a REAL MAN!

YEAH! HE was A MAN! And a man like him needed to…had to-HAD TO! Ah…ARRR-

“ARRR COMING!”

Like he just knocked down a dozen of pillars, Samson howled a proud warrior’s battle cry, letting loose of his thick 11 inches as it charged to the forefront like the alpha he was. Experiencing ‘release’ as thick loads squirted into the large, bulky bottle.

With Big footsteps, Samson, also known as Shamir Kumore, grinned as he made his way towards the kitchen backdoor. Swiping away his messages from that gay group earlier, with tons of entranced homos desperately wanting him badly.

And his brothas called HIM DUMB!

KNOCK! KNOCK!

Opening the backdoor of the kitchen, came out his fav cousin, and partner in crime. Who leaned on the side of the kitchen metallic door, a malevolent tone echoed from his lips.

“Did you prrroduce?”

“Courrrse.”

Samson proudly held up the bottle of gooey production, which bubbled like a boiling cauldron. A sure sign of the spicy origins through and through for the delicious curry his uncle is preparing.

He was abstaining it ROUGH this week, and was it HARD with all the intense workouts and chats about the neighbouring women which kept bringing a smile to his face and a solid bulge to his pants.

“Put some clothes on brother, you GAY or what?”

Shamir Kumore smirked, of courrse, his body was meant to show off WITH his bros and not to his bros. He caught the dark grey sports long sleeved his cousin gave him, zipping up like he always did for a gathering.

He didn’t know any fancy words and was far from the smartest man, but he always knew he had the presence to bring in others over to his side ASAP.

With his MUSCLES, DUH!

And although, he’d rather personally make them men in private gym sessions, his intelligent cousin always knew the best way to get the entire group inducted into their cause.

Adam always did all the planning in the youth group, he is the leader Not him! Besides, Coach Samson already had his schedule packed…especially with ‘rest day’ coming around in the corner with a couple of hot ladies…

“The others have arrived, shall we go meet them?”

Adam grinned, lowering his brows as he dropped that innocent gung-ho facade.

A true mastermind, cunning and devious, charming regardless of his attitude in public, and in private.

Ahmik did all the thinkin’, Shamir did all the flexin’. Raised and trained the Kumore family way as they fulfilled their roles effortlessly. A power family duo that even made Pastor Kumore jealous.

Heh, No Homo Brotha.

Smirking, Samson brought his biceps together, a dumb and proud, yet ever so sly smirk surfaced on his lips. Giving an affirmative nod to his cous’, as locked eyes on the group arriving around the corner.

Ready and pumped, these queers don’t know what’s coming.

“Amen Brotha.”

#ARRR COMING! #camp christening #gay to straight #mental change #g2s #personality change #racial change #indian tf #gay to straight tfs #asian tf #ARR COMING #dumbing down tf #dumbing down #jock tf #nerd to jock #nerd to bully tf #nerd to jock tf #muscle growth tf #muscle growth

[sjw-publishings]

JUST CHILLAX NOOB

———

1K Special, well almost 1K at this time. But I finished LOADING the story online and this impatient zoomin’ TF just can’t wait!

Do read the prequel A Shift in Attractions as well as Chastize Thy Son as it does tie into the Camp Christening series. Links underlined below.

A Shift in Attractions.

Chastize Thy Son

I would link more but there’s a whole bunch! Scroll down both @dumb-and-jocked and my pages for the rest of the series and tons of other exciting stuff!

———

“Wah…you’ll gonna love it brother…made it fresh and LIT!”

The businessman eyed at the Asian College student that walked up to counter of the ‘E- Cafe’. Holding a bottle of milky white substance as it bubbled impatiently like the go-getter Zoomer that held it.

The forty-five year old man couldn’t help but envy at the sight of a young, youthful guy fresh in college. Being able to dress so easily in just a simple tee and shorts is a leisure he didn’t really have for a long time, save at home when he wasn’t having a meeting or a date.

Which was kind of why he was here today, a sort of meeting/date with his fiancé, in order to set the record straight on finances, company-policies and what not, grown-up business stuff that has to be taken care of despite their love for one another.

He had lived long enough to know to always be careful as a wealthy businessman.

“Yeah, Dad was so proud of me, man!”

Of course…sometimes he wishes to that he could have just returned to that young adult naivety and relax.

Sure the college asian was far from the most spectacular looking guy, especially with those incredibly irresistible pastors he’d peeked online from the nearby camp, but the man at was still really handsome.

In his gamer-filled splendour, short simple cut and beady eyes, the engaged man wished it was already the bachelor’s party…so that he would have an excuse to be gushing over the mandarin E-Boi who walked up to him with a swagger.

An overwhelming cheekiness only further captured his heart, he didn’t even question why he felt so overly drawn to the guy, taking yet another whiff of that thick waft of sports cologne, invading his nostrils and his thoughts as he succumbed to its wearer.

“Eh Bro! You’ve gotta try this mocktail man…it’ll help you Hetfix and CHILL…!”

Sadly, despite being more than twice the size and weight of the other male, Jax Schmidt’s simply fell putty to the Asian E-boi’s recommendation, allowing the cheeky guy to usher him into the gamer bar.

Maybe he could get him interning at his company. Surely his partner wouldn’t mind some eye candy now and then.

All he had to do was find out his name…

“What’s the drink called?”

Of course, in his dazed stupor, he spotted the waiter bring over said drink in a cylindrical glass. Filled to the brim with translucent red liquid, and a huge milky settlement at the bottom, oddly bubbling and creamy flavouring.

At least he thought it was flavouring.

But its better to just find out himself, right? As the young man brought the drink to his palms, gently holding it, as he in turn placed his lips on the straw, finding out his destiny.

“Just Chillax, Noob…”

With such reassurance, the businessman suctioned in the liquid, tasting traces of raspberries and energy drinks alongside several other flavours that was mixed in the drink. However, there was one particular ingredient in which he absolutely adored.

The sweet and salty bubbling cream.

There wasn’t any alcohol in it…and yet he felt even more fogged up than one of his wine testing sessions. Like sweet and salty youthfulness combined into one, yet also exotic, oriental….and oddly familiar?

Almost as if he was drinking the zoomer’s se-

“Oh shyt…didn’t mix it well enough…”

Looking down at his drink, noticing he drink a considerable fifth or so of it. But notably being that the bubbling settlement being fully gone, leaving behind the raspberry soda energy drink as he placed it down on the table.

Laying back, an overwhelming dizziness surged within him like no other, as he struggled to glance at the asian man, who looked as sheepish as ever.

“Well…Have fun Brotha!”

With that, the college student gave him a good pat on the shoulder, and dashed off out of sight.

…

…What?

Did he scare him off? But he felt so…sluggish, so…lazy even. He didn’t feel like getting up, all he wanted to do was to just…

Just Chillax~

Grip, grip….

Laying back lazily on the couch, one hand gripping his privates shamelessly, mouth agape in its dazed-out stupor, not sparing his grown-up drool from dripping down as he gazed over on the messy coach.

Turning to his left, spotting an odd uncapped bottle nearly-identical to the one that zoomer had earlier. Alongside a bunch of plastic bags, a laptop and a really cool looking backpack.

…Wait…was this his stuff? Didn’t he have a suitcase filled with papers and…his laptop? Yeah in his backpack was his laptop, and he’d brought alongside a bunch of junk food in case he got hungry or something. It was quite irresponsible for him not to bring the physical copies of the agreements, but everything’s done digitally nowadays anyway right?

Just Chillax…

BZZT

Picking up the phone on his right, as he winced at the stickiness of it, as though it was slathered with fresh lotion…or maybe he had really sweaty palms just now. A familiar sweet and salty raspberry scent wafted around his nostrils as he brought his Cisdroid Pro up front.

Odd, he could’ve sworn he had a more liberal model…but a man like him had to always be up to date with technology right?

BLIP!

>Darling: Hey hun…sorry I’ll be sort of late, got an urgent call with a client

Mr Schmidt frowned.

For some reason, he felt kinda pissed at his fiancé’s message. Not out of punctuality or anything, he understood they were both busy men and had to jerk now and then but…

Jerk? He must be more annoyed than he thought.

Continually kneading his manhood, still frustrated and quite dry despite being pent. No eye candy and no fiancé to gush over, his re-igniting hormones desperately needed something to focus onto, right after responding back to-

‘Amung Os: Update finished’

Press…

His thumb instinctively pressed the notification, almost like a daily habit for the man as an iconic mobile game flashed into play, engulfing the whole screen as a flashy animation of the ‘Brothamates’ inside a spaceship blasted on the screen.

He normally doesn’t play games, but this one…felt different! Loosening his Windsor knot, he began to sink deeper in his seat, getting into the mood of relaxing, although his new office tie seemed to be much thinner…redder, and more plastic than it was before.

Whatever, he can complain to the tailor later right now he wanted to try-

Press-

“AMUGOS!”

“AMUGOS!”

Loud boisterous jeers came from the app, connecting to the other ‘Playahs’ as the lobby filled up in an instant, blasting as his earbuds popped right into both of his ears, giving him a full HD-sound definition of these Boiz.

Not sure when he got those red cheap elastic headphones, but its far less itchy than a stuffy old man’s tie.

Invigorating, smoothing out the wrinkles on his forehead. And man…was it igniting a fire in his sack, he might have just turned forty, but man listening to men like his young cheeky acquaintance Ben just makes him feel like a decade younger.

Wait…the college guy’s name was Ben? Did he manage to get his number just now? And the more important question, FORTY? Surely a Fag like him ain’t that THAT OLD! …Not saying its wrong or anything! But could’ve sworn he was just in his late thirties as a top-level manager.

Wait, did he just refer to himself as a f-?

-YOU ARE A FAGPOSTER-

The game began with a thunderous uproar, as his heart sank. Oh Shyt-! Like how Benjamin would slur. He was not immature…or at least THAT immature, but his mind instantly reeled at the term used to describe his given role in the game…

He definitely should be more angry and upset that the game had such used such a term, but spending time with Ben really made him…Just Chillax about it.

Its just ‘shyt talk’ between bros after all, sure there’s abit of aggression, but there’s nothing gay about it!

Wait a minute…

“Pink’s Butt-Peach looking kinda sus.”

“Yeah DAMN, like a woman’s!”

“Got any girl gamers in our group?”

Joax flushed, literally pink out of embarrassment as he continued to edge himself further, and further. Palms de-matured themselves onward. Wrinkled skin smoothening out to fresh palms and nimble fingers, built for fast reflexes. Like gaming!

His buddy Benjamin said he could be really great at it after all. Heh! Maybe he had a chance! For a quick release.

“…I’m a guy..-“

“GAY!”

“HOMO!”

“FAGPOSTER!!!!”

Almost immediately, every other player unanimously voted for the gay dude, sending him out of the Brothaship.

YOU LOSE FAG, TRY AGAIN! 10, 9, 8….

An obnoxious pop-up air-horned right up in his ear-drums, heart-pumpin’ yet still makes his D-throbbin’. Startled, yet Ironically snapping the man more outta his dazed state.

“Ugh…shyyyyt! I’ll win the next one…!”

The middle-manager slurred, grinning. It honestly felt good speakin’ like that. His bud Benjamin was right! Office life can be such a drag sometimes. But being around all these zoomin’ college boiz really refreshes your system.

Slouching his back, screwin’ his posture like what some older dudes like tellin’ him. Spinal chord contracting something whatever! He is already sorta above 6ft…which was kinda a weird flex but made him stand out for the wrong reasons.

His complexion tho, the rumours around camp christening were TRU! Spending time around those asians does ‘orientate’ your body!

Peachiness melting into a more light-tanned tone down his fingers. Was he part asian? That made sense! The interns told him so! And they were right! They were sooo meant for gaming! It was just like him!

Man was it worth skipping his duties to spend time with those interns. Playing mobile games on their phone and yelling a lot was his JAM, simple but ‘Duckin Ez’ as the young college men kept growling.

And therefore it should be simple enough to win…

-AMUNG OS!-

“Heheh…Amugos…Os…”

Rekindling grunts, sophistication giving way to stupidity as buttons began fusing in the middle, collar reattaching to the outer layer to form a more trendy outlook.

Silk giving away to a rougher, stereotypical material, pants tightening alongside his constricted thighs, as his belly sunk down towards a gut for a more Chillax approach to his diet.

Besides, his mouth craved for more memes, mindless lingo like the rest of them-

Message from BF dude

>’Still having a call, have to do a bunch more work all of a sudden…’

…Wait, he had a BF?

Squinting his eyes narrower than his growing heritage. Thought he was…single? Scrunching his nose, a single backward thought echoed in his mind.

‘Kinda gay ngl.’

Degrading like carbon, the ring over on his finger lost its sheen, replaced by simple yet exaggerated cheapness, mass produced from a convention downtown.

…Yet something stuck out, no homo but a signature from the game developer stuck at the edge of the ring.

“Fell dudez LIT!”

“Oi magenta, dis here’s AMUGOS! Not Fell Dudes!”

W….Oh yeah! The game started didn’t it?

“Sorry Man…duckin’ dry AF!”

He spoke, with the widest grin. He definitely got their lingo right. He practiced long with his good bud Benjamin after all, being his favourite sorta-nephew as a family friend to them.

The boomers doing business with him were such sleepers, but Ben? The dude’s cruisin’ HetTube career at his age! He always watched his streams, and likewise so did he.

That’s how they’re so LIT! Sorry but NOT sorry NOOBS! Only Fags apologise in Amung Os!

…

WAIT-!

“SORRY? Brotha you got LIGMA?”

“NO I’VE-“

“LIGMA BALLZ!”

-YOU ARE A FAGPOSTER-

“DUCKIN SHYT!”

Kicking his footwear out into the sky, as they simply flew and shrunk, turning from office to cheap muddy sneakers. THUNK! Laying messily onto the floor, taking ownership like he owned the place.

Lyin’ down irritatedly, his body took up the entire sofa length as his head plopped on his backpack. Kickin’ back his legs as they rested on the opposite side with inconsiderate defiance.

5ft 11 since forever, bein’ the right height for him, nothin’ too extra. One less thing to complain about unlike THIS OLD GEEZER!

If a crusty guy like him wants to run TWO companies he can just SUCK IT! But dragging his twenty eight year old first-line manager to help out is SUCH A PAIN!

And yeah he’s rude, its THE META!

“Doesn’t he know I give a rats azz bout’ business?”

“You VENTING Bro? Acting real gay!”

“NO IM RAGING YOU NOOBS-!”

The game auto-continued itself once again, gripping his, abet less thick, groin controller both physically and addictively as his mixed/mostly Chinese face filled with reddish frustration.

“SHADDUP FAG! UR SUS”

Greyish Blue is a FAGPOSTER

GET REKT FAG, TRY AGAIN? 6, 9,

‘Call from FAG SIMP’

“WHAT?!”

At this point, the mid twenties Gen Z’er was pissed. 9 inch Pent, yet continually getting rubbed off the wrong way downward to 8. He felt his buttocks cringe at the reminder that this FAG SIMP was his superior.

“…Hey, I’m on my way in a couple of minutes, hope you didn’t wait too long-?”

“You CALLED me cause of THAT?”

He was just one of the DUCKIN’ team leaders, why can’t he bother one of his Brothas?

Didn’t he made it clear he couldn’t care less bout’ work? Socks springing OUT of his feet, those bare size 8s stuck out with public disregard. College backpack filled with his gamer-ware laptop, snacks cause and the latest game consoles cause WHY NOT?

He couldn’t give a RATZ AZZ!

If its some sports maybe, he did play basketball and soccer sometimes, hence why his legs are so kick-ass! Tight strong lean muscle wrapped by your every-boi Jeans. EZ and simple, nothin’ too complex.

What was he? Some FAT-AZZ? He was a BIG PRO, but his snack and soda abdominals said otherwise. Defining a faint, yet prominent outline down from his developing pectorals. A naturally given wide back, and ironically thick arms with sufficient bicep power to compete in those arm wrestling matches with Da BOIZ.

Yeah that bit ain’t online, SO WHAT? WHO CARES-?

“I…I just thought you might care Mr Schangit…”

“You think I give a flying DUCK dude? ONLY FAGS CARE HAHA!”

BEEP!

His voice crunched into his octave, losing all sense of humility as he gave into that oriental Fucc Boi call with absolute immersion.

Especially since he is just an ‘underpaid’ first-line manager. Even though he did get paid quite well but anythin’ lesser than his streamin’ career is GHEEEEEEY! He didn’t really do nothing except play games, eat snacks and watch HetTube at work though.

MIGHT AS WELL BE INTERN HAHA!

For Laughing out loud, vanilla patterns lunged all over his darkened shirt and jacket, forming cool patterns and a suitable style onto his graphic tee. Plastering an iconic sports logo over on his right and lines down his shoulders, front and back, it finally took on his final form as a fitting sports Puffer Jacket for a cool dude like him.

And a COOL DUDE like him has to WIN, STAT!

In order to destress himself, to get the ‘game release’ he so desired, even if meant to stooping down to their…HIS LEVEL!

“ANY AMUGOS IN DA HOUSE BOIZ?”

Hair sizzled at the back and sides, painted jet black as small fringe rested overto the right of his forehead. Round and moderately sized, as he got bathed in his Chinese ethnicity through and through.

No one questionin’ his LIT BIOLOGY! FULL ON CHINESE MUTHAFUCKA!

“AMUGOS!”

“YEEE AMUGOS!”

“AMUGOSSSS!”

Jonax initiated the chorus of aggressive stupidity. Mindless hollering over that idiotic catchphrase like he and all the other zoomers do throughout the day just cause its the newest trendy thing on the webz. Joining with his tribe, whaling on and on.

But SO WHAT?

If anything, he was with DA IN-CROWD. Unlike those Faggy Simps who he CAN’T STOP THINKIN’ ABOUT! Especially looking at Pink’s Peach Cheeks, MAN IF ONLY IT WAS A WOMAN!

HE WOULD CLAP DAT!

But SHYT! It was clear that it was a dude….he didn’t say AMUGOS! Butt CRINGE! Solid upgrade to a narrow ventless fortress where only hot chicks would be allowed in, specially like that Princess chick from that other game.

WTF! PINK’S VENTIN’

He is so HARD! But it DUCKIN’ pisses him off even more that he got OWNED so many times by those FAGPOSTERS…wait wasn’t he-DUCK NO HE WASN’T-!

“OI BROTHAS, PINK’S A FAG!”

“W..What? I’m new.”

Grinning widely, his chin seared off any traces of facial hair, revealing the clear mischievous nastiness of the Pro Gamer, natural behaviour. No effort, MUCH WIN LOL!

“HAHA NEW! FAG!”

“DUCKIN FAG!”

“FAGGGGGGG!”

Two studs pierced the sides of his earlobes, labelling him zoomer sixty and zoomer nine. Inches defining as a prominent average depth 7, MAKING HIM A COMPLETE JERK HAHA!

“Sorry ugh…dude you’re being really ho-”

“SORRY DEEZ NUTS!

Pink was voted

Voted

Voted

…

Pink was a FAGPOSTER

BROTHAMATE VICTORY, LITTTTTTT

Course it was simple, that’s what he always did to win. It was the ducking meta! Yell and the noobs GET REKT. That was why he was a PRO at this game!

He had ALWAYS WON, specially as one of the brothamates, course-why would he be a FAGPOSTER?

Furrowing dark brows, he grinned a cheeky grin as his eyes rested in their narrow-splendor. Straight small pupils built for a hardcore rude gamer that didn’t take or give any shyt but winning, even if those adults called him a total ZOOMER for it.

And just for them, like the clap back remark he yelled earlier-

“GOTTEM!”

With that obnoxious proclamation, Jonah Shang blasted over and over without remorse or care, putting down his phone as he sloppily collected whatever milky testosterone he could with the bottle.

He might have missed a bit during his climax, but who gives a shyt? HE WAS LOADED! In dollars, popularity and in Streamin’ Come. If anything-they should be THANKING him and his Boiz for popularising the game so much, especially with how many desperate simps got converted after the initial release.

Giving a pat to his controller, the freshly sprayed E-Boi gave a thumbs up to the waiter, who quickly picked up his bottle and returned back to kitchen to do whatever with the chefs.

What was he? Gay? It was his Saturday and he truly couldn’t give a shyt bout’ anything aside from gaming, fun and CHILLAXIN’.

“Ahh…So lit…”

Slacking backwards, the hormonal twenty-one year old heaved a satisfied sigh. Proud to be one of the Bois in camp christening, part of his fellowship fam with his rival and younger cousin Ben, or as he calls himself, Bro-Jammin’.

Despite being close as DUCK, the two of them were always in a heated battle in game, trying to OUTFAG one up one another in the various games as competitive rivals with no end.

He could almost just taste his cousin’s salt once Ben finds out he had raked out more wins in Fell Dudes.

“Heh, Madge.”

With more games coming out each day, it meant more scores for BigProJonah to whoop in record time. More 100% completions to complete. Something he always made sure to not let his cousin get the upper edge, considering he had the BOSS rank, and is a leader of the Camp Christening gaming Ciscord group.

It was close though, if he hadn’t played those hundred games in Amung Os just now for the daily bonus points, he could’ve gotten OUTFAGGED by his cousin in the group! and that would be LAME AF!

BOP! BOP!

Though speaking of bosses…

Turning to the left, he spotted his caller looking all frantic and panicky at the counter of the shop, poking his head out as if he couldn’t recognise one of the ‘famous Shang men’ just by presence alone.

Noob.

Taking in a deep breath, hollering at the top of his lungs-

“SUUUUUP! MAN-GAY-GER, WAZZUP!”

Startled, the bespectacled man turned to his direction, pausing momentarily before walking towards him. Squinting his eyes, trying to figure out who was the loudmouthed jerk that called out to him, attempting to rationalise…who he was going to meet up just now.

Puzzling, surely it cannot be this incredibly rude…rudely handsome intern in which he employed many months ago.

Blinking, the older male then blushed, fiddling around the plastic replica ring over on his middle digit, something he got for himself at the recent convention to match his intern’s.

Kinda sus tbh, but as long as he keeps it hidden, it wouldn’t cause one of the twenty-two year old’s infamous mood-swings.

“Its boss…Mr Shang.”

“Yeah yeah whatever, Man-GAY-ger, just sit already.”

The older male ignored that remark…well he tried to, as he struggled to keep his ‘membership’ sandwiched between his legs, putting down his bags on the right side of the couch and-

“Was here first. No cap!”

The E-Boi pointed at the plastic chair in front, forcing the older male to squeeze in the small chair uncomfortably despite being so huge.

Jonah smirked, a hundred times he would’ve preferred a sugar mommah instead of this giant tubby dude…but getting to slack all day at work and still get an A is LIT!

Plus picking on an older fag always gets him thrilled like no other. As long as he does not ask for favours, or he’s gonna yell NO HOMO!

Speaking of which…

“Yo dude, you looking thirsty AF. Get a drink or something.”

His manager blushed further…and all the plus points being said, Jonah still could not stand all the gawking looks from the guy. How the heck can his fellowship stand shyt like this almost every minute?

The cologne may be great and all, but sheesh if only he was allowed to score chicks…instead of D-

“What should I order?”

“Ughhhhh….come on!”

Jonah Shang groaned, slumping back on the couch in rebellious impatience.

No way was he going to bother with this boring internship shyt when he could be at AMUNG OS WITH DA BOIZ! And it won’t be long until his cous’ ‘OUT-WHALES’ him in that new princess game which just came out.

DUCK NO! He ain’t taking the ‘L’ over something stupid like this! Plus at this rate, he might even miss his ‘prayer time’ with that gal he met in-game…and that would be NOT LIT.

Fiddling with his straw, he had to think of something to cut this ‘meeting’ short! But his stupid boss is already asking noob questions like that kind of drink he should have! Doesn’t that dude know that the thirst meta is…

…!

The Chinese Zoomer grinned, hastily sat-up and held his cylindrical glass of raspberry energy-drink soda.

“Just CHILLAX, Noob!”

#gay to straight #gay to straight tf #zoomer tf #g2s #racial change tf #amung os #AMUGOS #brothamates #brothamate #FAGPOSTER #mental change #personality change #racial change #age regression #fucc boi tf #douchebag tf #jock tf #JUST CHILLAX NOOB #muscle growth tf #Eboi tf #camp christening #sexuality change #dumbing down #straight gamer tf #camp christening tf #nerd jock tf

[sjw-publishings]

No Homo Bruh

————————

A mini sequel to Stay Straight Babe

————————

“Love you Babe~”

Robin Prescott kissed his boyfriend Brendan Gaye. The two lovers were glad to live together during this isolation period, as they embraced each other lovingly without the need for restraint.

Robin was the more ‘less flamboyant’ of the couple. Dressed in a plain shirt and sweatpants, pretty casual brunette next door kind of look, always dominating his boyfriend...though sometimes he does wish for the opposite to happen...

Brendan, well his pink tank top and booty jeans shorts. Honey, that fabulous pink hair screams ‘I have a boyfriend’ anytime of the day. Lips painted cherry red, and makeup that his boyfriend ironically always get entranced with...ah well, easier for his lover to follow his instructions. Maybe one day he could somehow convince Robin to act more desperate and hunkier? Hahaha! Yeah right!

Though it is kinda stressful coming up ways to be sassy. But hey, what he lacks in muscle, he’s got his Wit! And speaking of Wit!

“Get yourself prepared, its going to be a cat fight! Hehe~!”

Brendan strutted to his room, giving a couple of winks to his boyfriend before shutting the door. They needed to be prepared...for the most exotic time of their lives...

Growl...

“Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten too much of those delicacies...”

But of course, speaking of exotic. They had just finished some overseas Asian delicacies advertised to be nearby where they lived. The orders came earlier and both lovers feasted on it like the best thing they ever had in their lives.

No idea why it was so good...but they probably shouldn’t have overate...

Lifting up his shirt, Robin felt the rough grooves and rumbling from below. Hot salsa like the special chilli that he just can’t get enough of! But mmm, despite the rumbling...he only thought of the delicious exotic delicacies from earlier.

Rubbing his abdominals, its almost as if the food was a huge ‘ON’ as those Abs clenched in delight, taking on a dark tanned hue as the spicy hot peppers rose up six pillars of muscle below, shifting belly rubs to admiration as he...really worked hard on those, didn’t he?

Growl...

The rumbling...somehow went upward? Inaudible growling as he felt the spice pressing against his flat chest. Pumping firm air like a hot air balloon, as he rubbed and...

TOSS!

He tossed away his shirt, giving free reign to his palms to massage those growing balloons. Gotta rub...gotta treat right. Nipples jutting outward with every touch, solidifying two bowling balls like the sport which he always competed with his boyfriend at...

And...came in second. Tch.

But whatever! He was still hot? Both figuratively and literally! Thank God he went shirtless, or the room’s gonna die of heat cause he’s around. Y’know, cause he’s hot. Who said his boyfriend makes all the remarks?

Doing quick back twists on the couch like a warm up. Rotating as the dark tan flowed across his shoulders. Broadening up, widening up, like a real man would, not some Beta.

“Ain’t a Beta...”

Light growls rumbled his vocal chords, twisting his shoulder blades with satisfying waves as his height towered over 6ft 2, smirking as his wide back overtook the sofa.

“Only an alpha...”

Growls continued, as a more aggressive and masculine tone began brewing. Bringing his arms upward, stretching to the ends of the couch selfishly, he had a huge muscular bod, had to display it...specially that hot tan he got from Asia.

Oh man...was Asia great! Met a couple of bros who were just his style. Working out regularly with HUGE GAINS. Flexing his biceps shamelessly, tanned and HOT, like his Bros, though he was hotter of course.

Posing powerfully, getting up the couch and heading to open space, tan spreading downwards with every step. Dropping away the girly swishes in favour of a masculine swagger, with those thick juicy glutes in those sweatpants.

Like a mornin’ routine.

He was a fitness jock, envisioning his firm lips alongside them bicep curls. Man was he delicious. Remembering those sweet chicks spanking his hard butt and complementing him, tracing his bodybuilder muscles with such admiration and...

What...he was Bi?

Yeah...and they were HOT. Nothing wrong with that right? Sides, flirting with that chick on the takeout phone line saved Trobin Prascott tons of bucks considering he just came back from overseas.

He was dating a dude, yeah. But he was a total ladies man through and through. THRUSTing his manhood, he cannot wait until he could start going clubbing again to start pounding some ladies. Dominating a gay guy over and over has been getting boring...

Speaking of gayness...

Giving a couple of firm grabs to his butt, smirking as his hole refused to take in his middle digit. A man like him doesn’t get penetrated, he does the POKING…poking around for more of that take out of course. He was still an alpha, and an alpha’s gotta eat.

Gotta have more...

“Da FAAAAAACK?”

His mouth hollered instinctively, before tossing the empty food takeout to the trash can. That ‘two-headed snake’, or whatever insult he yelled just now, ate all the rest of the take out.

“BODOH!”

It was hard enough he was away from Asia and cannot revisit due to work. But that was the last of the takeout. A man’s gotta eat. Fight, Eat, and POUND PUSSEH!

Tossing his body on the couch, spreading his legs wide as he whipped out his manhood and JERK! JERK! JERK! You-FAGGOT YOU CANNOT EAT LIKE SOME-

“Is everything fine hun?”

“EVERYTHING’S FINE FAG!”

Responding instantly, disrespecting his boy...boy, his faggot roommate from across the closed door. He doesn’t give two craps to being nice to that Homo, he’s a FAAACKIN muscle man. He ought to act like one.

His mouth continued to splutter foreign vulgarities and insults, which only intensified the throbbing with every forceful tug. Sweatpants darkening into a dark compression, accentuating his frame with the wiggling of his musky, size 16s.

He was such a MAN. Rude and coarse, vocal chords echoing that deep frightening bass that sends shivers down to his enemies while rocking that impenetrable masculinity he knows his ladies love him for.

As for the men interested…WHAT?-

“GET OUT!”

With that hollering command, immediate photos of loving times PUNCHED away into multitude combinations of beautiful babes, self portraits,and overall power and masculinity of wrestling and workout trophies he ever so prides on.

OF COURSE! A MAN LIKE HIM LOVES TO SHOW OFF!

Posing an uncontrollable FLEX, a bodybuilder’s arrogance out of his incredible bod and good looks. Barking out a loud guffaw, his jaw sharpened and squared out as the manly dustings of dark raven facial hair generously coated his chin.

BZZT, like a razor arrogantly trimming off down the slides of his ear, all the way down to his neck. Masculine clean-cut roughness styled the Malaysian-Indian man with a short gelled top and front, a prominent contrast to his loud and boisterous personality. But he loved his style, cause-

“I’M SCORIN DA LADIES~”

Bathed in foreign customs, the man tugged his hard on furiously, nostrils flaring down a quick trail of his moustache lined above his lips, tasting the remnants of that sweet spicy salsa on those thick lips, before flashing those arrogant curry-stained pearly whites.

Brows furrowing with thick dark strips, eyes narrowing in a mixture disgust and cockiness, a Kampung champion like himself ain’t a PANSY and will never be one, how STOOPID do they think he is to ask-

Are you Gay? ARE YOU GAY?

“NO FAAACKIN WAY!”

Troy Praveen bellowed a loud Beastly roar, letting out his coconut juices like the MAN he is, a huge messy douchebag…that was what he was….

That’s FAAAACKIN right, he settles fights with his FISTS.

His faggy roommate was in for a FIGHT, and he’s gonna get everything down on camera. And of course, you might be thinkin’, two men wrestling one another is really GAY, how will that impress the chicks?

Brotha…all he gotta say is-

“No Homo Bruh.”

#no homo bruh #gay to straight #mental change #g2s #personality change #racial change #age progression #gay to straight tf #muscle growth tf #douchebag tf #jock tf #dumbing down tf #asian tf #stay straight babe

[sjw-publishings]

All of these look interesting, I wonder what each of them will lead too. Endless possibilities seems like a good end to the series but it will be quite a while till then XD.

May likely vote for one of these three: Raising a new generation, proper use of assets and Front of the Stage.

The Three Components, Introduction - [CYOC TF Story]

This is a big project that I have had in mind for awhile. I wanna give TF writing a shot, and this idea seemed like a good fit. As you can see, there will be multiple pathways to choose from. Since I don’t know which path I want to create first,  I figured I could put it to a vote: 

https://take.quiz-maker.com/poll4386395x29fd49cd-138 I already have the series planned out, this straw poll will just decide which pathway I finish first. Each combination will have a story describing the transformation and Jacob’s new life, alongside a picture showing him post TF. I’ll try to update this series weekly alongside my other TFs, but I might skip a week once in a while if I don’t have the time. So yeah… this series is gonna take a long time to finish! Hope you all will like it! —

Keep reading

#male transformation #male tf #mtm #age progression #mental change #tf story #catolyst tfs