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Dappr

Why were you drawn to that app? It was just another one of those stupid apps advertised in your Tumblr feed between posts featuring hot girls you could never have and men who looked eons better than you could ever hope to be. It showed different models with different outfits and hairstyles that the user could change out at a glance through what was essentially tacky AI Photoshop. You weren't gay, but you had to admit they looked good—probably because they were some influencer who was paid to advertise the app. ... Still… it could be funny to throw yourself into some trendy outfit that you’d never actually be able to pull off.

When you opened it, you were greeted with the pay wall you ultimately knew would block you from accessing any part of the app—until you saw that the app had a free version with a randomizer. Fuck it. Why not? Prompted by the app, you took the picture—a quick mirror shot opting not take any more effort than that—and followed the app prompt to reveal the first outfit.

Tap to change the outfit

A tacky Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts. Definitely just some stupid joke option—but it did apply a nice tan.

Tap to change the outfit

A casual suit in classic black and white, but the app threw in a suave haircut and a goatee. You thought you’d never be caught dead with any kind of facial hair but it worked kinda well. It was a bit amusing that the app made all your hair black to match the classic look of the suit.

Tap to change the outfit

The app was really taking liberties now. A Star Trek graphic tee, hi-top converse, and skinny jeans but adorning a version of yourself that was taller and significantly skinnier than your real-life self. The current Dappr version of yourself was a beanpole—no fat, no muscle, no nothing. As funny as it was, you couldn’t help but think how the geeky look would never go with your dashing, sleek black hair and your ever-natural tan. There’s gotta be something better.

Tap to change the outfit

A plain white tee and some form-fitting jean shorts. You thought the jean shorts looked half decent but the tee was far too loose on your skinny frame. The photo version of yourself had the shirt lifted up to reveal your complete lack of muscle as well as the waistband of a pair sky-blue underwear with white trim sitting above the top of your shorts. The exposed underwear look is not one you’d have gone for—nor is the color—and it’s a brand you’ve never heard of: Andrew Christian.

Tap to change the outfit

Huh.

The app showed you in nothing but a white speedo, but that wasn't the only surprise. The first was how well the app seemed to accurately display your nearly naked skinny frame, but you didn't have time to mull that thought over before you took another look at the speedo.

You now had an obscene bulge. The app showed you with a 10 inch rock-hard shaft stiffed sideways into the skimpy swimwear. After being turned down over and over again by guys you were trying to flirt with, you couldn't help but wonder if you'd have different outcomes if you sported a bulge as difficult to hide as the one you were seeing in the AI generated photo. Best not to dwell...

Tap to change the outfit

You have to stop yourself from laughing. The app has you in a bro-y tank top that hangs off your skinny frame, but the real absurdity were the biceps you now had. So not realistic. You'd checked out a guy's arms before but you never thought you'd have them for yourself. Still... you had to admit the app made you look pretty decent. You had the hair, you had the tan, you even had a sizeable dick, but you didn't have much on your frame. At least the app could show you how you'd look with even just a bit of muscle tone.

Tap to change the outfit

Oh. Shit. Maybe dreams do come true. You were proud that you could manage to have definition in your arms, but the app has filled in the rest. You're staring at a version of yourself wearing a short sleeve muscle tee and joggers. The shirt is stretched tight across two nice pecs and hugs your body to reveal a taper. You felt your monster dick get hard as you saw yourself and how many guys you could get with that body. You want to look over every inch of that photo to leave it in your mind forever until you realize you've been given a new prompt.

Tap to see more

You hope that maybe you'd get another underwear or speedo pic of this fantasy body on your phone. You tap the screen...

A momentary rush. You're dazed for a moment. Coming to, you look ahead at your reflection in the mirror. It might be vain, but if anyone else had your muscular body, they'd spend just as much time admiring theirs as you do yours. You had just taken a picture to post on your Instagram story... wait, no, it was that stupid app you decided to try out. You really didn't know why. You had every trendy outfit you could want, and your body got all the attention you could ever need. You didn't know what possessed you to download it in the first place. Making the best use of your excuse to strip down to nothing but a towel, you screenshot the photo the app prompted you to take. Figuring you could get more follower engagement if you post the photo to your story and take another one with the outfit you pick for the day. You might wait a bit longer to post the photos because you didn't want to change your outfit quite yet—unless you count removing the towel so you can jack off in front of this mirror.

[subbytransformingkink]

Propa Fit Scally Fucker . Luv Im

[subbytransformingkink]

[subbytransformingkink]

[subbytransformingkink]

Boss tracksuits 🤤

[subbytransformingkink]

It happened so quick.. I didn’t realise till it was to late. This guy and he was a lean and fit guy, asked me if I’d ever been in to cycling.

I said I’d thought about it. But never done anything.

He asked me if I wanted to try on some gear and see what it’s like. I could even go for a ride if I wanted.... Next thing I know I’m in a changing room stripping out of my clothes.. he’s passing me the suit and I pull it on..

I walk out of the changing room not noticing that he’s now in my clothes. The suit is tight on me.. it’s not the right size for me, it’s way too small.. as he passes me the cycle shoes and socks.. as I finish pulling them on he sneaks over and pulls the zip up on my back.. I feel my whole body contract.. the suit compresses me.. my body becomes lean.. my muscles powerful and built for the bike.. the pain as my body adjusts, becoming younger as my age drops to 20. I’m sitting there in pain and he just smiles and walks away.. leaving me to my new life as he takes mine..

[subbytransformingkink]

Sporting Incentive

I stood outside the charming London apartment, feeling an electric thrill in my bones. Six months in this enchanting city awaited me, and I was ready to embrace every adventure it had in store.

I simply swapped apartments with another student who was also studying abroad. The other student’s name was William, and his apartment was centrally located—a perfect find for me.

As I stepped inside, the interior was as impressive as the exterior. Clean and stylish, with a touch of sophistication that made me feel right at home. A letter from William sat on the dining table, welcoming me to his apartment and assuring me that a cleaning lady would come weekly. I grinned as I read the part about making use of William's sports equipment and clothing. The apartment was a treasure trove of athletic gear. It seemed William was quite the athlete, unlike myself. From the bike leaning against the wall to rows of equipment for various sports, I couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration and a pang of guilt for not being as sporty.

The day London's public transportation went on strike, I found myself in a on a dilemma. I needed to get to the university, and without hesitation, I decided to ride William's white racing bike.

It was a new experience, and at first, I struggled to find my balance. Alas, as I pedaled through the streets of London, a newfound exhilaration filled me. I was hooked. "Whoa!" I mumbled to myself, my heart racing and laughter bubbling up as I zipped through the streets, reveling in the freedom and speed of the bike. From that day on, I ditched public transportation for my trusty two-wheeled companion.

"Hey, Aiden, why don't you join us for a game of hockey?" The invitation came from a couple of guys at the university. I was hesitant at first, not being much of a hockey player, but eventually, I gave in to their pleas. Before I knew it, I was suiting up in William's hockey gear and taking to the nearby park.

The game turned out to be a surprising success. I found joy in the friendly competition, and soon enough, hockey became a regular hobby for me. "Aiden, have you ever tried rowing? Our club could use someone like you," a fellow hockey player asked one day, sparking my interest in a sport I hadn't considered before. I thought that since I was in London, I might as well try rowing—after all, it's typically English.

I took William's rowing suit and ventured to the rowing club.

The sense of unity and purpose I found there had me hooked from the very first stroke. Before long, I was waking up at the crack of dawn to row every morning before heading to the university, relishing the tranquility of the river and the rhythm of the oars. As days went on, I noticed a change in my physique due to all the sports. My own clothes no longer fit properly, so I began wearing William's refinde attire. It felt a bit odd at first, but soon, I grew to love the posh style. "Well, well, look who's turning into quite the athlete,"

a friend remarked, and I couldn't help but smile at the transformation I had undergone.

With a deep breath, I stepped into the familiar pub, the scent of ale and chatter filled the air.

William was waiting for me, a grin spreading across his face. "Aiden! I'm back earlier than expected. How's the apartment been treating you?" "It's been fantastic, William. I can't thank you enough for letting me stay here." "I'm glad you enjoyed it. By the way, you don't have to sleep on the sofa. It's not really my apartment, and I actually haven't been abroad," William confessed with a chuckle. "Wait, what do you mean it's not your apartment? What's going on?" I asked, feeling a knot of confusion forming in my stomach. "It's all part of an experiment for my master's thesis. The apartment is designed to influence your subconscious and turn you into an athlete. And I must say, it's been quite a success!" William's eyes danced with excitement. "You did what?" My voice rose in incredulity, but I found myself unable to muster anger toward William. There was an odd sense of acceptance and understanding that came over me. Before I could protest further, William dropped another bombshell. "And it seems my experiment turned out more successful than anticipated. I also tried to make you my best friend, and it looks like it worked!" I blinked, trying to process everything, but then something remarkable happened. A warmth settled in my chest, and I couldn't help but mirror William's grin.

"A world trip, you say? I've always wanted to travel with you, William." "I thought you'd say that! I've already booked the tickets. It's the perfect way to celebrate the success of my thesis," William said, excitement lacing his words. The thought of traveling the world with William filled me with an indescribable joy, and for the first time in a long while, I felt genuinely excited about something. As the days passed and the world trip drew closer, I found myself caught in a whirlwind of preparations and excitement. The sparkle in William's eyes was infectious, and I couldn't deny the thrill of experiencing the world with him. The first light of dawn illuminated the airport, casting a golden glow over the eager faces of the travelers. An array of emotions churned within me—anticipation, excitement, and a flicker of apprehension.

"Here's to new adventures, Aiden," William said, clinking his glass against mine as we waited for our flight. "To new adventures," I echoed, a genuine smile curving my lips. The world awaited us, brimming with possibilities, and for the first time, I was eager to embrace it all. As the plane soared into the boundless sky, I couldn't help but feel a semblance of freedom that I had never experienced before. Leaning back in my seat, I closed my eyes and let the hum of the aircraft lull me into a state of contemplation. What awaited me beyond the horizon?

"Hello, Josh. Yes, it's been quite an interesting experiment, and I believe it's time to put the cherry on top," William’s professor spoke into his phone, his eyes glinting with anticipation. "Thank you for the generous financial support. Aiden has proven to be the ideal candidate for your law firm. He will change his subjects to law after returning from his world trip. I’ve influenced his subconscious so that he will become a dedicated and loyal employee." William’s professor said, his voice dripping with confidence.

"Oh, and I've taken up the suggestion of the HR department. Aiden will be pleased to contribute to the diversity charter as well. It seems he'll be a nice little addition to London’s gay community soon," William’s professor said with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

[subbytransformingkink]

[subbytransformingkink]

https://toonchavlad.tumblr.com

Come on then you little bitch I’ll smash ya face in.

[subbytransformingkink]

I Bought a Tanktop

Last week, I bought a tank top. One goddamn tank top. It was light blue with stripes. It wasn’t supposed to be a big thing. Sure, it was the first tank I’d ever owned, but I didn’t expect my whole life to become about it, y’know?

I had always been… not nerdy or anything. I was never picked last for a team, I was never bullied, I was never the smartest kid in class. I was just nondescript. Picked somewhere in the middle, ignored, and unremarkable.

It’s stupid, the stuff you argue with yourself about. I’d always felt like I was just a little too skinny to pull off a tank top. A little too pale. But three weeks ago I was in the mood for a change, and summer was coming up anyhow, so I screwed up my courage and bought that damn shirt.

I know, I’m 35, I shouldn’t have to screw up my courage to go shopping anymore. Shut up, okay? Some of us never really got over ourselves.

“Anything else?” the clerk said, some bored-but-hot 22ish year old dude. The kind of guy who would rock this tank without a second thought.

“Nah bro, I’m good,” I said, trying too hard.

“Cool,” he said. “Hey, you know anyone who needs a job? We need a stockboy here? Pay isn’t bad, and you get a deal with the clothes.”

“Sorry,” I said. “Everyone I know is sort of past doing retail in their career.”

“Serious? Everyones got a couple friends who’d be happier with a slack job,” the clerk said.

“Thanks buddy,” I said, starting to get irritated at how long this was taking, “But me and my friends are all professionals. Why don’t you harass someone else?”

“Yeah, okay,” he said, sounding like I just kicked his dog. “Twenty bucks even.”

He messed around with the tank for a minute while I swiped my card, pulling the security tags off and stuff. I wished he’d hurry - I felt so exposed, being a normal fucking human being in a mall.

I crammed it into my backpack after I paid. The whole walk home, I felt like I was smuggling something.

Safely back in my apartment, door locked, I pulled off my shirt and modeled it in the bathroom mirror. In the fluorescent light, I looked a little too skinny to pull it off. A little too pale.

I stuffed it in a dresser drawer and promised myself that I’d wear it at least once this summer.

Safe to say bro, that’s gonna happen.

—-

The next morning I was running late for work. I’m an auditor at a pretty big company - big enough that you’ve heard of them, so I won’t tell you who it is. As I pulled together my suit, I noticed something weird in my undershirt drawer.

I had two tank tops. There was the blue one I bought yesterday but… when did I buy that other one? I was plain red, the same cherry shade as one of my favourite t-shirts. Whatever, I didn’t really have time to puzzle over it. Maybe my fuckbuddy Josh left it here? He was a lawyer across town, but sometimes he liked to play up how bro he was.

Something else weird happened that day, but I didn’t realize until I woke up for work on Friday.

—-

Every single fucking shirt I owned was gone. In their place were weird /almost/ versions of them. Plain white T’s had been replaced with ‘beaters. Old band shirts had the sleeves ripped off, sometimes cut like halfway down the shirt. Even my dress shirts had been replaced by brotanks of the same colors.

That was… impossible. Someone had to be fucking with me. Maybe one of my friends had seen me buying that stupid tank top in the store the other day and now they were screwing with me.

Not a cheap joke, but hey, we all make good money. Maybe Josh was having a laugh? Or Trevor? They were both occasional fuckbuddies, so they both had keys.

Whatever was happening, I couldn’t end up late for work. And it’s not like you could call in and say ‘I’m not sick, but someone stole all my shirts overnight and I don’t have anything office-appropriate’. Instead I started digging around in my hamper.

But my hamper was full of the same kind of thing, except that these were even worse. The tanks were all covered in sweat like some neanderthal had grunted for hours at the gym in each of them. They stunk like a college locker room. I was seriously going to have to do some wash after work, provided I didn’t just throw out the whole damn bag.

Wash! They had to have missed the laundry. But no, my dryer was full of casual khaki pants, dress socks, …and sophomoric sleeveless fashion choices. My dry cleaning had expensive suit pants and tank tops that were sure to highlight the narrowness of my shoulders.

Even the shirt I wore yesterday had been replaced.

So I called in sick to work. I lied and told them I had a 24 hour bug. My boss probably thought I was hungover, but that’s better than him knowing how thoroughly I had been pranked.

I actually checked, but there’s no uber for shirts or anything, so I resolved myself to actually leaving the house in one of my many tank tops. I sure as hell wasn’t going to text my friends and let them know that I was stymied.

I chose something ‘conservative’ - a plain black tank with a thick red stripe across the chest. I matched it with a pair of blue jeans that I had kept around for - I don’t even know why I still had these. They were pretty tight on me. I’ve gained some desk weight since the last time it was appropriate for me to wear jeans.

The black and red tank hung off my body - a little too skinny and a little too pale.

I headed to the mall, this time feeling out of place in my regular stores. I looked stupid, dressed like some college kid, pawing through the racks and trying to find a few polos and dress shirts.

I had no idea what possessed me to even buy that blue tank in the first place. Thirty-five years old, probably looking like some out of touch loser.

I got through the humiliating experience, waving off the clerks every time they came near. Eventually I put about $500 on my card and walked out with some actual real clothing.

I even wore one of them out of the store - a black golf shirt. I never wear clothes before washing them, but this was an emergency.

It probably won’t surprise you that when I pulled them from the bag at home, my new shirts had been replaced by tank tops. These ones were neon and reflective, like I’d just come from Gym-Clothes-R-Us.

What the fuck was happening?

Josh and Trevor were smart, but there was no way they’d intercepted my new shirts and replaced them. The shirts had literally been in my sight the entire time, from rack to change room to the house.

A horrible idea washed over me and I ran for the bathroom.

Sure enough, I was wearing a baggy neon yellow tank. There was absolutely no way that Josh and Trevor could have done that.

When you’ve eliminated the impossible…

Something fucked was happening…

That blue tank…

It was like it was infecting my clothes? Making them like it?

No way. Impossible.

I went to bed.

—-

Saturday morning, I got up and put on a faded purple racerback with pinstripes. I think this one used to be my favourite dress shirt.

I actually don’t look bad in these clothes. I swear these tanks actually make my shoulders look decent, and the way my pecs press out of them makes me look bigger.

But goddamn it, all of my underwear had transmogrified into jockstraps.

I don’t know if you’ve worn a jockstrap before, but I woke up feeling constricted. Even the boxers I went to sleep in ended up as a tight black pouch and two ass straps.

My body was definitely changing. I measured my chest on Saturday afternoon. I had gained like an inch in the last day. And my arms had definition. Like I could actually see the curve of my delts. I flexed in the mirror for a while (yeah, like you wouldn’t?) and I’ve never seen my biceps peak like that. Plus my tanks were starting to hang loosely on me - my core started to tighten up.

And my cock… well it was constricted in the morning, but my mid-afternoon it was fucking packed into the dark purple jockstrap. I had selected my purple jock for how spacious it seemed that morning.

I spent the day plotting out my next move - but who do you call when a tank top suddenly decides to take over your fashion choices? Is there a witchdoctor in the phone book or something?

I went out and grabbed groceries, got some takeout, even thought about picking up some new shirts - but what would be the use? I knew I couldn’t go into work like this on Monday, and I probably couldn’t call in sick for more than a week without losing my job, but at least for the day I was starting to feel normal. I liked the way that the early summer sun felt so intense on my bare shoulders.

And after I got over the feeling that I was walking wrong, the jockstrap was actually feeling pretty okay. I might keep a couple, after I solved whatever was happening to me of course.

—-

I woke up late on Sunday morning with my cock rock hard, stretching out the elastic of my jock. I was very, very horny.

So horny that when I opened up my closet and saw that every pair of pants I owned had been transformed, I didn’t even care. When you own nothing but tank tops, who needs dress pants or dockers or even jeans anyway?

Instead my closet was full of short little workout shorts, long shiny basketball shorts, and a couple pairs of sweats and track pants.

Whatever I was wearing, it needed to slip on quick anyway. I didn’t have time to fuck around. I needed to fuck.

I texted Josh.

> > dtf?

> Hey! this early? Wanna grab brunch first?

> > After… or do I need to call trev isnteadd??

That’d do it. Josh hated the idea that he wasn’t my boyfriend (which he wasn’t) or that Trev was hotter (which he wasn’t). I watched the typing bubble my phone for ten long seconds while Josh wrestled with the idea.

> Sure, come over.

I left the house wearing black baller shorts over a neon green jock, and a ripped up tank that was made from this old rock and roll T I loved. I ran my hand through my short hair and slipped on a pair of flip flops. No time to get ready - I needed this.

I slipped my phone into the shorts pocket and put in my earbuds. I felt like listening to some rock. Might as well match the shirt.

Some days your dick is in control, you know?

Josh was super surprised by the way that I looked. If I had any remaining doubt that he might have somehow been behind this, I put that to rest.

“Have you signed up for a gym or something,” he asked. “Trevor has that one he’s been going to, and if it works that well…” Josh trailed off.

“Yeah bro,” I lied. “It’s good.”

“Bro?” Josh laughed. “What are you, twenty?”

“I wanna fuck you so bad,” I said. “I need my dick inside you.”

“Seriously though,” he said. “Are you okay? You’re like a pure bottom. Not that I mind getting plowed for once, but…”

I kissed him deep, just to shut him up. Then I peeled off my band shirt and dropped my shorts. I groped Josh’s ass and pulled off his polo shirt. The button of his dockers popped off as I fumbled to get his cock out.

“Hey, watch it!” Josh said.

And then I was down on my knees, sucking at his dick through the thin blue material of his boxers. I practically ripped them down his legs and let his cock slap my face. I pounced on it, desperate to get Josh as horned up as I was.

I didn’t take long. In minutes, I was pumping in and out of his tight ass, our clothes scattered all over his bedroom floor. Josh had never ridden my cock before - nobody had, really - but he was loving all nine inches of it.

A week ago, it had been maybe five inches. Damn. If I’d had a cock like this in college, I would never have bothered learning to bottom. Hell, I might not have bothered learning anything.

I came like a volcano. And with my rod pulsing inside of him, Josh came moments later.

For the first time in days, my mind felt totally clear.

I left Josh in his well-earned afterglow and gathered up my clothes. My jockstrap is lying on the floor next to his dark blue one. Weird - I thought Josh was wearing boxers earlier.

I slipped my spent cock and balls back into my neon jock, and slid my baller shorts up my tight ass. Before I slipped my tank back on, I took a look at myself in Josh’s hall mirror.

I wasn’t just looking bigger. I wasn’t just looking good. I was just short of jacked.

Well, fuck me harder. I looked awesome. I even had a healthy tan going on, though you could see an obvious line where I wore tanks all the time.

I threw on my tank. It had to stretch to make it across my wide chest, though it hung loosely over my defined abs. My shoulders looked so powerful, bursting out of their holes. If this shirt had arms, it probably wouldn’t even fit me anymore…

I flexed my biceps and enjoyed watching a vein stand out. I started to get hard in my jock again. Just salivating over my amazing body.

I hadn’t looked this good since…

Had I ever looked this good?

I studied myself carefully. My face had the look of a young man just escaping college-age and emerging into adulthood, framed by shaggy hair that spilled over my forehead. My body was hard-won, shaped by countless hours in the gym and as a fuck machine in countless beds across the city.

Yeah, I looked good.

Back on the street, I pulled out my phone and tried to throw my music on again. But it wasn’t my music. I scrolled through the music. This was definitely my phone, but EDM had replaced all my classic rock.

Apparently whatever magic was making this happen, it had crept from my shorts to my phone. The heavy beat of an EDM artist blasted in my ears.

I tried to remember what was wrong. It seemed like something was wrong.

Nah… Things were actually going pretty fucking well. I could remember everything - the tank, my clothes being changed, my body growing to match, my cock needing to be fulfilled, my friend fucked into submission on his bed…

No, everything seemed alright.

I walked home, letting the heavy beat wash away my concern.

—-

I woke up the next morning to my phone playing EDM. Nothing gets my ass out of bed in the morning like shaking it to some tunes.

My apartment felt weird for some reason. I had a vague memory that it should be different - boring and stodgy. All clean and neat, organized, with fancy art and a diploma on the wall. I’d been 4th in my class, and I was proud of that.

I shook my head. That was ridiculous. I went to college for less than a year before I dropped out. There was too much ass to fuck with my giant cock. There was no point in learning when you were this young and pretty.

I’d been out of school for… oh man, it seemed like 15 years, but really I know it was only one or two. I still remember the day I walked off campus, straight into a house on frat row, and fucked anyone who wanted it. It took all day and most of the night, but I didn’t want to have any regrets about leaving.

No diploma. Yeah, there wasn’t anything weird about my room. It was messy, piles of tank tops and athletic clothes all over the floor. A rack of dumbbells in the corner. A chin-up bar hanging above the door. Posters tacked to the walls - my fave artists and teams natch.

I did a quick set of 5 chin-ups. I’ve got this deal with myself, I do them every time I walk through that door. No excuses.

That’s how you end up being a stud like me.

I grabbed a shower, swapped out for a fresh tank and a clean jockstrap. All the time, I kept getting texts from Josh.

> Bro, what the fuck is happeneing? I feel all weird

> is this cuz we hooked up??

> fuuuuuck bro!! answer!! all my shit is… fucked up…

Whatever. I had to hit the gym. No excuses.

I pounded through my sets. The EDM blasted my skull with thick beats. I love the way my muscles feel when I work them. The blood flooding in. The fatigue.

Between the sweat and the music it was getting hard to think - like counting reps is hard, but whatever, just push through when you lose count. Just keep going. It’s not like an extra couple reps ever killed anyone.

Bench. Incline. Decline. Dips. Flyes. Fuck I love chest day. And I was wearing a ripped up tank that split most of the way down. All the bros in the gym could see my sweet pec flex.

I ignored my buzzing phone. Josh was totally high maintenance. I kinda felt like maybe I should think about him… but the EDM was washing away my thoughts as they formed.

Push through this next rep. You got this bro.

Nothin’ but net.

By the time I finished up my routine I was soaked in sweat. Everything from tank to jock was covered in my musk. Nothin’ smelled good like hard work.

And results. I flexed in the locker room mirror as I wrapped a towel around my waist. Nothin’ looked as good as results.

After a quick rinse, I headed to the steam room to relax. My earbuds were out, but I could swear that I could still hear the music, thumping back and forth in my brain. That beat keeping me on track. Keeping me from thinking too bad.

There was a kinda-hot kinda-old dude enjoying his own post-workout relaxation. I checked him out for a minute, feeling my cock harden. Eventually I figured out how I knew him. 
“Trev!” I said. “How you doin’ bro?”

He looked up surprised. “Do I know you?” he asked.

“It’s me, Ben!” I said.

Trev’s jaw practically dropped through the floor.

“Wow,” he said. “I really didn’t recognize you. I know we haven’t seen each other for a couple weeks but… are you on steroids or something man?”

“Whatever bro,” I said. Then I lifted my towel and motioned. He couldn’t resist. Who could?

I leaned back and watched him sucking my rod while I enjoyed the steam.

“You got a nice mouth Trev,” I grinned after I came. Then I pointed at my rapidly re-hardening cock - “You wanna take a shower together? Get that ass fucked?”

Trev nodded, lost in the haze of sex and steam, and followed me out of the steam room. We grabbed a shower cube and I used shampoo as lube while he moaned softly under the hot water. After I blasted my load up his ass, I gave him another look.

You know what? I don’t think Trev was really that old. Hell, he was probably around my age.

It turned out that his locker was next to mine. I glanced inside when he unlocked it. Man, Trev must have been shopping at the same store as me - either that or my clothes had done their magic even through the locker wall.

I could see a moment of confusion on his face as he pulled out a tank top instead of a t-shirt.

I changed into my ‘street’ clothes - there’s really no difference between my gym gear and my normal gear, ‘cept that one of them is fresh. My phone was still buzzing off the hook. It was my roommate Josh, still freaking out.

> Bro for serious… i need to get fucked. U cumming home or do i gotta go online for dick?? >> omw

—-

I was headed to leave when Trev called out behind me: “hey brainiac, you left your cap!”

I turned around. Trev was headed towards me, his tight body wrapped in trackpants and a highlighter yellow tank. His gym bag was flung over his shoulder, and he was holding a maroon baseball cap in his hand.

I grab the cap outta his hand and slip it backwards over my mop of hair.

“Thanks bro,” I say. And for an instant I see my buddy Trevor, a 36 year old accountant. Or Trev, a 23 year old club kid. Both images seem to fade into each other like some hokey special effect.

I blink again and again. I try to focus. Who the hell would want to be friends with some old dude? Finally I snap back to reality, headed out of the gym with my roommate Trev, headed home to make sure Josh gets fucked. Man, he’s such a needy little whore.

Back at our apartment, the whole fuckin place is a mess. My slacker roommates never clean their shit up, but I can’t really complain. It’s not like I clean either. Anyone who gives a shit - whatever, I’ll fuck that out of them.

Not that i need to go out hunting for ass. I just do it cuz it’s fun. Between Trev and Josh, I could spend all day getting my cock taken care of. And I need it - if I don’t cum like five or six times a day, I can’t even focus on my reps.

For now tho I gotta get to the mall - it’s almost time to work. Being a stockboy is boring. But the work is easy and I get to listen to my tunes. Plus the deal with the clothes is great.

[subbytransformingkink]

[subbytransformingkink]

What you think?

[subbytransformingkink]

Left for me

Left or Right

[subbytransformingkink]

You Take My Place. I Take Your Body

College life is great. School is the main thing. But being part the football team is the top of the list.

You learn teamwork can you make a whole great group of friends. I don't know if I did something wrong. Maybe I got a little cocky. But one time during football practice. I got injured so bad that I couldn't play ever again.

I was taken off the team. My muscular tone body started fading.

But part that hurts the most was watching another guy take my place on the football team. Watching my name being removed from the jersey. Putting his name in it place.

Seeing how well my uniform looked at him.

I was talking to a guy in medical science class. He noticed. I've been feeling kind of down since i've been off the team. My body is fading down losing its muscular tone. I haven't been taking care of myself as I used to.

I feel like it was all planned. They gagged up on me, making sure I got hurt. They made sure I was off the team. And this guy just happened to be there to take my place.

I've been watching him walking across campus. At muscular physics of his beyond belief. And a handsome boy next door face.

The science guy gave me some stuff to use on him. He says it'll take him down and give me the ability to swap our bodies.

It was up to me. If I want to become him. In return he would turn into me. He would take my place and my life. I would take his. But I would be back on the team.

No jacket. Shoeing off his muscular tone body. As I watch him leave the student dining room. Talking to people as he crossed the campus courtyard back towards his dorm.

I didn't want to be detected. Walking towards him and I definitely did not want to be seen. So I had a wait till you got into a more wooded area of the courtyard.

Everyone else is wearing jackets or a sweater. And he was in a short sleeve shirt that shows off all those muscles.

There's a wooded area right by the dorm. I think that's when I'll make my move. I'm trying to stay out of site as I follow them.

I was able to come up right behind him and inject him right in the neck. That will put him under my power. He'll have no choice but to do what I say.

I poured this vial into his mouth and rubbed his sword to make sure it went down. I drank the other one. I just sat there waiting for the stuff to take effect.

I unbuttoned his black shirt to reveal his muscular physique.

Actually this is so much better than what I ever had.

An impulse came over to me to what I should be doing. I started running my fingers through his blonde hair. And I could feel the tinguine sensation of my own. Then running my fingers across his face.

Caressing is chest, feeling the surge comes through my body. It was crazy watching his face turning to mind. His blonde hair turning dark before my eyes. I could feel my chest growing more muscular. By the second as his got smaller. His muscular pecs are turning in the man boobs. Is watching his abs fade away. I could feel my muscles in my body expanding and contracting to their new size. This physics faded away to my now damaged body.

If he's turning in to me, I must be turning in to him. I can feel my arms growing. His abs were appearing on me. My legs are above and beyond from what I had. The best pair gluts in town. Definitely will look good in a pair of tight jeans. I wish I could explain the energy. I was feeling as my muscles expanded and contracted. As my body turned into his.

I started stripping him from his clothes cause I'll be needing them soon. As he just sat there as I stripped him naked. I wonder if you can see me now, as him.

I was nice enough to put my sweats on him as I put on his clothes.

My injury is totally gone. I felt better than I ever have. Probably. Because now I have his muscular physique as my own. I walked back over to him and I placed his hands on both sides of my head. I placed my hands and both side to his.

The surge was going through so strong. I was gaining all his knowledge. His memories, his mannerisms, and everything that was him were now mine. I was now him. As he was becoming me, I could see his body getting in more out of shape. He knee was so swollen.

Within no time I had to come the man I hated. I was back on the football team. I was actually a better version of who he was.

I just left him there. Behind this one building. As I pulled myself together I headed to his room.

I can't believe i'm back on the football team This body is amazing so much better than my own. And in so much better shape.

And it was funny that nobody could tell the difference between us.

I hate to admit that his life was even better than my own. You could say he had it all but it was now mine.

[subbytransformingkink]

The warm evening air wraps around me as I stroll casually down the busy street, my fiancee lost in the allure of a fashionable boutique. The neon sign of a gay bar blinks enticingly in the distance, drawing my attention, and my eyes fall upon a figure standing with an air of mystery - a street hypnotist. His dark, piercing eyes seem to hold secrets untold, and a mischievous grin plays on his lips.

A smirk finds its way onto my face as I approach the intriguing man, the idea of hypnosis in such a setting seeming far-fetched. "I don't believe in this hypnosis nonsense, mate," I jest, my voice tinged with skepticism.

"I assure you, it's quite real," the hypnotist replies, his voice smooth and assured. "Care to be my guinea pig?"

As if propelled by some unseen force, I find myself nodding in agreement, a hint of skepticism still lingering in my expression. The hypnotist's soothing words wash over me, lulling me into a state of relaxed submission. A tangible aura of calm envelops me, erasing any lingering doubts as his commands seep into my susceptible mind.

Moments later, my eyes flutter open, the vibrant colors of the surroundings taking on a strange, heightened clarity. Confusion reigns within me as I try to make sense of my transformed state. My attire has morphed dramatically - the once crisp shirt and trousers replaced by a tracksuit, and a baseball cap rests jauntily on my head. The faint scent of cigarettes and musky cologne hangs around me, a stark contrast to my previous clean-cut demeanor.

"Wha' just happened?" I mumble, my speech altered by a newfound hint of a rough, working-class accent. The hypnotist's hypnotic spell has utterly metamorphosed me into what can only be described as a horny gay chav, my old memories and identity completely wiped clean.

With a smirk, the hypnotist motions towards the crowded bar, his voice resonating with authority. "Kev 'ere's your new boyfriend. Snog 'im senseless."

A wave of carnal desire washes over me as I lock eyes with Kev, his rough charm and raw masculinity invoking a primal longing within. Without hesitation, I close the distance between us, claiming his lips in a searing kiss. Our mouths move in a fervent dance of desire, the taste of his beer-tinged breath and the texture of his stubbled jaw sending shivers of pleasure down my spine.

The cheers and catcalls of the crowd fade into the background as we immerse ourselves in the intoxicating embrace, the hypnotic command still echoing in my malleable mind. Kev's hands roam possessively over my newly acquired chav body, the firm grip on my arse eliciting a guttural moan from deep within my throat. The heady mixture of lust and submission clouds my thoughts, the overpowering need to obey taking precedence.

"Right, let's see ya gobble me cock," Kev commands with a smirk, his dominant demeanor stirring a primal arousal within me. Dropping to my knees in a display of submissive obedience, I eagerly unzip his jeans, the outline of his hardening length straining against the fabric. With reverence befitting a devout worshipper, I free his throbbing member, the musky scent of his arousal fuelling my own.

Taking him into my mouth, I revel in the taste and texture of his velvety hardness, my skilled tongue and eager lips working in a rhythm designed to elicit the utmost pleasure. The ravenous hunger with which I service him is a testament to my new instinctual desires, the hypnotist's twisted transformation molding me into an expert cocksucker, my former inhibitions and restraints a distant memory.

Kev's primal grunts and the appreciative murmurs of the onlookers are a symphony of arousal, their lewd encouragement fueling my primal need to please. As he nears the edge of ecstasy, a command from the hypnotist brings the situation to a shocking climax. "Cum when I count to three," he declares, his voice carrying the weight of authority.

"One... two... three," the crowd chants in unison, and with a shuddering release, Kev's hot seed spurts into my eagerly waiting mouth. The salty, bitter taste of his essence is a sensory overload, each pulse and spurt a testament to his overpowering climax. The sight of my submissive role as a cum-hungry chav slut is etched permanently in my consciousness, the hypnotist's perverse command sealing my fate as a willing servant to raw, unadulterated pleasure.

As the crowd disperses and the hypnotist sends me on my way with a snap of his fingers, the reality of my altered existence dawns upon me with a jolt. Striding purposefully through the bustling street, I feel a newfound sense of freedom and unbridled desire. Pulling out my phone, I eagerly download Grindr, the familiar ping of incoming messages signaling the start of my insatiable quest for gratification.

The hypnotist's devious transformation has irreversibly molded me into a horny gay chav, my former life nothing but a distant memory. Each encounter on Grindr, each searing kiss, and each submissive act of obedience serving as a testament to my new existence as a willing participant in the hedonistic underworld.

[subbytransformingkink]

The moment the necklace fell around his neck, Jacob knew something was off. His head started to spin, but instead of panicking, he felt a grin spread across his face. His toughts slowed down as he slowly started to unbutton his nerdy shirt. His pale, featureless torso swirled with color; a tan started to spread across his skin, while lines of ink started to create numerous amounts of tattoos all across his body.

His braces fell out of his mouth, on the way down turning into sets of jewelry, an earring, nipple piercings, and some rings.

At the same time, his tongue started to feel uncomfortable trapped behind his now pearly whites. It started to creep out of his mouth for increasingly longer periods of time, until he was almost always sticking it out of his mouth.

While his face slowly restructured itself and cleaned up the acne and pimples, his body began to swell. His pecs started to balloon, which in turn he began to absentmindedly bounce. His flubby stomach sucked in, leaving behind a perfect row of abs and deep cumgutters. His shoulders broadened while his back straightened out. His legs were growing slightly at the same time, so he immediately appeared much taller. His arms flexed, the muscle almost pouring in as they inflated. His hands cracked as his boney fingers and unkempt nails filled out and cleaned up respectively.

Next up were his now longer legs, which tensed as the quads exploded. His tighty whities strained against his new muscular thighs, but things were just getting started.

A low moan escaped the once squeaky voice boy. His tight briefs slowly began to tear as both his subpar dick and flat ass started to grow. His glutes filled out and kept a respectable and very noticable bounce, while his little nub grew into a large, but soft 8 inch rod with massive balls to match. He wasn't soft for long as his bulge began to slowly stick outwards. Being a shower not much changed but his poor underwear didn't survive the onslaught of new meat filling it, and it ripped apart and fell around his feet.

The feet in question began to clench. His formal step-ins begain to strain against the slowly growing feet. His measly size 7 grew. Size 8, his feet were pressing uncomfortably hard against the hard leather.

Size 9, loud stretching noises erupted from his shoes.

Size 10, the first tear appeared.

Size 11, his toes burst through the hard leather.

Size 12, the top of the shoes flew off

Size 13, the only remnants of the shoes were the pieces of hard leather scattered around the floor.

As soon as his feet were free from their hard leather confines, a subtle tinge swept around the room. The subtlety quickly passed as it became strong enough to invade anyones nostrils at close proximity. The same stench quickly started to pour out from underneath his arms and his groin, which only increased the intensity of the smell.

Jack, as he was now called, looked down at a black cap that was on the bench next to him in the fitting room and put it on his head. Immediately, his head became even foggier. Drool slowly dripped from the side of his mouth, while his eyes rolled back. Every ounce of knowledge he had attained through the years started to drip out of his mouth. Simultaneously, his preppy quiff started to recede into his head, leaving only a short jocky cut.

As a finish, a small bit of scruff appeared around the jocks face, a bit along his chin and some above his lip. Jack licked his lips and grinned at the mirror.

"Fuckin tight broo..." he smirked and turned the cap around and grabbed his phone. He started filming himself, sticking out his tongue to the camera. He couldn't help but laugh at how amazing he looked. He sent the snap to an account named "Big Bae❤️" and felt his cock twitch. He ran a hand across his bubblebutt and softly moaned. He couldn't wait to get home to his boyfriend and let him pound his brains out. Well, what was left of them.

[subbytransformingkink]

Costume House

It was a local urban legend, an old abandoned warehouse where tons of underground parties happened ages ago. According to the legend, when you walked into the house, your appearance and personality changed to perfectly match whatever you were wearing. Every single story featured themed costume parties and tons of body transforming fun.

These days, there was a chain link fence all around the warehouse with tons of “keep out” signs posted. But still, even though it seemed like a lot like this would be rebuilt, the costume house remained.

One night, you got bored and horny enough, thinking about what people might turn into at a costume house party, that you decided to go take a look. You threw on a pair of sweatpants and a dark sweater and headed out.

The lot looked ominous in the gloom, lit only by the reflected glow of nearby streetlights. You hopped the fence and started to walk around the house, trying to figure out where to enter. There didn’t seem to be any security, and you were warm from your jog over, so you stripped off your sweater. No one was around, you could bare your unremarkable chest if you wanted.

A door near the back of the warehouse was ajar, and you pushed it open. It moved silently. You took out your phone’s flashlight and stepped inside.

You had the impression of a huge, empty space inside, bare concrete floor with a few piles of junk laying around, and then your whole body was overtaken with an overwhelming erotic sensation. You stumbled forward, the door swinging shut behind you.

As you collapsed to your hands and knees, your phone bounced out of your grasp and illuminated a broken mirror lying on its side. You saw yourself, looking flushed and horny, freeballing in loose grey sweatpants with no shirt on. You looked like a—

Grindr bro.

You were dressed up like one of those dudes who claims to be an aesthetic male appreciator but gets on his knees at the slightest provocation, who loves cock but loves even more to pretend that he doesn’t. The realisation sent shockwaves through your body that finally focussed in on your dick.

It was already steel hard from the supernatural stimulation you were experience, but you felt it stretching even bigger and harder. When your eyes uncrossed, you saw in the mirror that your big dick formed a visible tube in your sweats, a wet spot forming by the head.

Tingling waves of pleasure coursed from your dick down your legs, and they bulked up in the sweats, filling out the fabric to show your hot new muscles even through loose pants. Like a true dl bottom bro, your ass swelled up like you spammed hip thrusts every leg day, your ample cheeks giving you a crease along your crack as you spasmed on the ground.

Your bare belly filled out with a set of hot abs, perfect for a torso picture that would get bottoms and tops alike wet. The sensation of your abs and pecs growing in got you moaning, a sound that echoed from the distant walls. Light hairs grew in over your new muscles, giving you a cute yet manly look.

Your arms became truly impressive. Thick underarm hair, huge biceps, and veiny forearms perfect for impressing a bro at the gym so you could have some fun with him in the showers. You had been sweating the whole time you’d transformed, from the mix of pleasure and terror, but now all your new hair released a strong, musky stench that bros would definitely appreciate.

The final steps in the physical transformation were your neck and head, the least important parts, since the new you wasn’t going to be taking face pics. Your neck thickened, and your moans became lower pitched, then lower still as your natural speaking range extended downwards to an almost parodically masculine sound. You kept your boyish looks, sharpened by a habitual sneer and a slit in one eyebrow, as your hair became a perfect tight bro cut.

You tried to resist as you felt the costume house’s magic reaching into your head. Who knew if this would ever wear off? But the tingling pleasure of the transformation penetrated your mind, and your thoughts started to change to match your costumed body.

Cock. You couldn’t think about anything else. You could cover up your needs by playing up your manliness, but your mouth and your hole felt so empty, and you wanted to stick your big bro cock in some boy, too. All your other personality and interests vanished, replaced with the gym, partying, and, more than anything else, getting cock.

As the transformation finally ended, you scrambled to grab your phone. It had transformed too, becoming a beat-up iPhone with a cracked screen and some random meaningless girl as the background pic. Grindr was hidden in the folders exactly where you expected it. You scrolled through your badass set of faceless gym pics and mirror selfies that showed your muscle bro bod and big dick, and jumped in to message the first guy you saw.

“Hey bro. Wanna have fun? Come to the costume house.”