“God, what is that smell?” Paul muttered as he closed the door to his apartment. He’d known his roommate Henry was having some guests over, but he could have never expected to casually stroll into this gas chamber. The whole place reeked of a Mexican restaurant’s bathroom, the kind of restaurant that could leave someone on the toilet for hours. And to make matters worse, it almost seemed like there was a noticeable haze to the room too. Paul didn’t know what could’ve caused the apartment to hold a visible spore cloud. He’d have to find Henry to get to the bottom of this.
Tossing his work loafers and unknotting his tie, Paul hurriedly made his way over to his roommate’s room. He just wanted to get undressed and take a nap after a long day at the firm, still having a party to attend later that night. Henry had mentioned he was going to have some people over from his Dungeons and Dragons club. It wasn’t their usual day of the week, but there was a new guy who wanted to join. Some foreign-exchange student from Mexico or something, who according to Henry did not physically fit in with the rest of the group. Not the racial detail, but the fact that apparently the Mexican student was some jock who completely dwarfed all the nerds. Paul chuckled when Henry had told him that, imagining his roommate’s dramatization.
“Henry?” Paul knocked as he approached the bedroom. Paul didn’t hear a response, but he noticed that the odorous cloud did seem to be seeping out from underneath the door. Sighing, he called out Henry’s name again. When a reply didn’t come back again, Paul lifted the hem of his shirt over his nose and carefully walked in. Henry’s room looked the same as before; same Star Trek posters, same lame figurines from some video game, same tidy room overall. Well, except for the large man who was strewn across Henry’s bed.
Lying on his stomach was a muscled Latino that Paul assumed had been the source of this stench. He was happily zonked out, snoring loudly. Paul cautiously moved closer, confused as to who this stranger was in Henry’s room. He was much bigger than the white nerd had ever been. This man was at least half a foot taller with every body part noticeably greater. Plumper thighs, heavier pouch, wider feet. The man was covered in workout gear that by the look of it had very recently been used. But when Paul began investigating the Latino’s handsome, caramel face, he was shocked to notice that the man was wearing glasses. Henry’s glasses.
BBRRRPPPTTT!
Inhaling generously, Paul blinked as he reevaluated the situation. Of course Enrique was wearing his glasses; he practically couldn’t see without them. The glasses were ironic really, being the only thing about his Mexican roommate that could be considered “nerdy”. Enrique’s life was built around fitness, besides eating good food and getting laid. When the foreign jock wasn’t working out, he’d be at home slobbing it up or in his bedroom with some stranger. So Paul wasn’t surprised when he came home to the apartment smelling like a Mexican restaurant’s bathroom. Enrique had said he was going for a workout after all with his güeyes, some other Mexican bro-types.
But after all these years, Paul couldn’t remember Enrique’s funk being this bad, let alone his gas. Enrique had always had pretty bad body odor, something he blamed on his “proper Latino diet” and his frequent visits to the gym. Enrique even tried to convince Paul that there was evidence by how his body smelled, being that there was a little “Mexican flavor” to it. Paul never bought it, but now that he was in a concentrated room full of Enrique’s fart fumes he couldn’t deny there was an element that made the back of his throat and eyes tickle. He didn’t want to, but Paul had to wake Enrique to solve this (literally) visible smelly problem. Begrudgingly, he leaned forward across the larger man’s sleeping body to wake his roommate up.
PPHHRROOOOTTTT!
A pungent cloud of gas escaped Enrique’s wet buttocks, causing the unfortunately-placed Paul to stagger back and away from the bed. His head had been right over the danger-zone. He’d been so close in fact that Paul watched the flatulence push through the tight fabric of Enrique’s running shorts before blasting him in the face. The mass almost had a spore-like quality to it, the condensed fart gliding through Paul’s nostrils and right into his brain. Now on the floor, Paul’s head felt hazy from the direct blow. Still in his work trousers and button-up, he was barely able to hear the sound of a small toot escape his own bottom.
BBRRMMPPP!
“I gotta…I gotta get out of here…” Paul murmured, the awful stench causing him to lose focus. He was in survival mode now, the smell finally getting into his system and tainting him, corrupting him. Unable to stand without falling again, Paul carefully crawled his way across the room. Each step was not only one towards freedom but one away from his pungent roommate. Each step however was also getting more difficult to take. Paul heard a sudden creak in floorboards. He hoped it was his roommate, waking up to save him from this oddly disgusting fate. Instead, it was the door to the bedroom, shutting on its own like a metaphor from some horror movie; closing the coffin lid.
SSSHHHBBBBRRT!
Enrique’s plump cheeks let out another putrid gust of air. Paul rolled on the floor, his body weakening as he became powerless to the gas. His breathing slowed, accepting the stale air into his body. Paul’s eyes slowly shut after, his consciousness escaping. The foul fumes entered his system willingly as he surrendered. Having a lot of ground to cover, the odor coated both Paul’s interior and exterior. The last thing Paul heard was another fart from his own back end, although this time its ring was a little more similar to that of his Mexican roommate’s.
BBRMMPPHH!
Similar to his roommate’s situation, Paul’s body laid on the carpeted ground lifeless. His lungs were no longer functioning to take in oxygen and release carbon dioxide. Instead, their focus has been reoriented into processing more methane and hydrogen sulfide. The rotten components eagerly flooded Paul’s system, creating an almost hibernation-like state to ease into the metamorphosis stage. While the flatulence Paul inhaled from Enrique polluted his body, he released his own gas that disposed of his previous being.
FFRRRAAABBBTT!
The spores slowly multiplied and released from Enrique’s body into Paul’s. As particular areas became more concentrated, the malodorous work became more apparent. Being hit first and the hardest, Paul’s face was the quickest to change. His nose and jaw broadened dramatically, growing wider as his skull realigned itself into something squarer. His cleft pushed back and thickened, allowing for his lips to plump up with a little extra pout. Paul’s eyebrows became bushier while his hair took on a new texture, darkening into a lovely dark brown to match the altered shades of his brow line and barely-there stubble. Finally, his skin tanned into a honey-like color that begged to be tasted.
SSSHHBBRT!
More of Paul’s lifeless figure was coated. The small amount of fat that he had earned in his first years of desk work at the firm melted away, leaving behind supple muscular tissue. The erosion led to biceps, triceps, and quadriceps. Abs upon abs, pec beside pec. His calves were excavated underneath the years of unuse, now dug up to renew their purpose. Veins that had previously been hidden were now apparent, showing the renewed strength in Paul’s body. Once any part of Paul’s body was contaminated, updated, or corrected, the caramel color came sweeping in like a fresh coat of paint.
The spores continued their work across Paul’s frame. His feet shrunk from their average US Size 10 to a more appropriate MX Size 26. His buttocks plumped up underneath his weight, now vibrating every time a new blast of gas was released. Paul’s pouch swelled larger too, each of his balls the size of ripened, flavorful tomatillos. His cock also grew meatier, girthier, swelling proudly into a thick chorizo sausage. Paul’s clothes also adapted, his office attire disappearing entirely except for his loose boxer shorts. Those shrunk in and stretched across his lower half, encasing the bronzed skin underneath a tight spandex material.
FFRRRBBTTT!
The fumes were now undeniably a fog, crowding all of Enrique’s room after being confined to such a small space. The last of Paul’s body was tainted in a matter of moments. His body hair either completely disappeared or transformed into something darker, coillier, and a heck of a lot smellier. His Adam’s apple shifted slightly upwards while his vocal chords replaced some vowel sounds with others. Even the tiniest details weren’t spared. Anything that could be made more Mexican was.
All this time, the spores from the toxic gasses had been infiltrating Paul’s body too. Memories of family in America, culture in America, life in America were all slowly altered. The red, white and blue became the prickly pear, rattlesnake, and golden eagle. Burgers and fries were erased by enmoladas and posole. Paul’s mom dropping him off at law school became Pablo’s mamá dropping him off at the airport. Paul’s life goals were centered around becoming an incredible lawyer, but Pablo’s life goals were centered around having a good time.
BBRRMMPPP!
-and spreading his Mexican flavor of course. Everyone had to get a whiff of him. He loved his manly, Latino scent. And he knew everyone else would as well.
Wrapping up their job, the spores gathered the last bits of the previous being and ushered them towards the backdoor. Anything that screamed “American,” “white,” or “Paul” was clustered and pushed out the two new bouncy globes the man would call his mejor activo. With one final thrust, a concluding fart escaped his system, permanently discharging anything left of his former self.
FFBBBRRRMMPPHH!
Pablo’s eyes fluttered open slowly. He groaned, his head feeling cloudy from the hedor that lingered in the air. He loved it. Pablo adored his manly smell and wanted to indulge in it. Fortunately for him, it didn’t seem like su trasero was planning on stopping anytime soon.
“¡Amigo!” Enrique’s voice loomed from up above. Pablo pushed himself up, noticing his very atractivo roommate in the doorway. “You could’ve slept in mi cama,” he continued smoothly.
“I couldn’t make it,” Pablo replied with a cute accented English. “I fell to my knees when I saw your bella Durmiente.”
Enrique smirked and rolled his eyes. He sat on the floor to join his roommate/lover, but Pablo was already up. The two had unintentionally swapped spots.
“¿Mi bebé varón?” Enrique purred, giving a playful smack to Pablo’s beach balls. “Where are you going?”
“I’ve got that party tonight, remember? For that law firm.”
“Ah yes,” Enrique replied. “Lover by day, el compañero by night.”
Pablo smirked. “Don’t be too sad. I’ll be back soon.” He then turned in the open doorway, leaving a proper parting gift.
No matter what I did in life, I always found myself surrounded by chaos and insanity. Lately, my supervisors have been sadistic and manipulative, honestly I was fucking sick of this, and my need to see how the other half lived, was even more intense.
Having lost my favorite ring, one of kind, in my sleep, I sought out another one. A new knock knack shop opened up on mainstream, one that gave off that slight, “Target other world,” vibe. The store was ran by a young woman, with ancient eyes and a brilliant smile. Before I could say anything, she took my hand, closed her eyes, and somehow didn’t really seem present, though I could feel her. Opening her eyes, she smiled a Cheshire grin, walked to a jewelry case and picked up an ancient looking piece of metal.
It was dull, looked like bronze, and was older than anything I had probably laid eyes on. As I approached the ring and the woman, some sort of energy dance off of it, making it appear shiner and made of nothing found in this world. Once again, she took my hand, this time sliding the ring onto my finger, fitting me perfectly. With a wink, I was standing alone in an empty lot, with a ring on my finger, completely dumbfounded. I set off for home, thinking of the strange experience the whole time.
As I reached the front door, I felt more energy than I had had in a long time, almost giddy. Years had gone by with chronic pain, fatigue, and mystery bullshit, so this was foreign to me. I raced up the stairs and started to do everything I hadn’t the energy for, until I felt completely overheated.
I took my shirt off, stripped down to nothing and watched my dick get hard immediately. The odd thing was that it didn’t quite look the same, it was then when the butterflies in my stomach erupted. That weird feeling was spreading from my stomach, and it looked like the distention and the impact of low energy were reversing. I wanted to get to a mirror, but my body wasn’t cooperating, I could only look down and feel changes. My dick did look bigger, as I was examining it, I could feel my ass cheeks push and swell. My center of balance felt off, but I didn’t have time to think about that because similar things were happening to my feet and legs. My calves expanding, thighs bulking enormously, and my feet cracked as the stretched and became wider. The feeling wouldn’t stop, it crawled up my chest, sculpting me like I was clay. Pecs were forming where there hadn’t been much, the strange feeling was becoming almost erotic. I began to moan as I could feel my biceps, triceps, and lats change. Pressure over took my arms and suddenly I was flexing, arms growing larger while I continued to flex. As I flexed, I involuntarily began to moan, the sensation crawled up my throat, around my neck, pushing veins, muscles, and stretching the skin. The more I moaned, the more it felt like something was stuck in my vocal cords. My voice dropped like a stone, cracked upward, and fell into that sexy smooth middle ground. The same sensation spread across my face, it felt like fingers pushing and pulling, my jaw was reshaping, my entire head, even my ears were changing. My lips were massaged as they grew, as my face became that of one of the many studs I had lusted after.
The familiar feeling of heat was returning to my body, my skin felt extremely warm, almost hot. The pigment darkened, giving me a a non-white hue to match my face. As the heat increased, I continued to look down, watching all my body hair fall off. As it disappeared, I felt my facial hair almost grow, it felt like my face was more insulated. What I didn’t know is that my once brown hair had quickly become a natural black color.
The physical part stopped finally, and I was able to get to a mirror. Needless to say I was shocked, and almost had a heart attack at who was looking back at me. As I felt my new face, I noticed that crazy ring glow some kind of ethereal foxfire, it was then the final changes began to take hold. I felt an anger growing inside of me, so many feeling raging. I felt years of self understanding and awareness cease to exist, memory by memory. The time I had worked on myself was not being filled with gym time, modelling gigs, and easy labor jobs. I felt anger when my memories of education came forward, to be eviscerated, replaced by more gym time and memories of hating school. Memories of so much sex rushed in, as my empathy seemed to be ripped away. Caring was replaced by self-centered anger, fueling my need for the gym. I couldn’t fight it, one by one my life was destroyed and replaced. Politics were stupid now, my vocabulary was severely limited, and knowledge beyond what had to do with me was ripped away. Stupid shit seemed funny, the words dud and bro echoed in my head so did the need to fuck.
The ring fell apart, turned to dust right there. The dust spun around me, becoming part of me, making this permanent. Later I would find out that this was so permanent that I would never age, could never lose muscle, would never really change. My fucking cock was so fucking hard I had to beat off bad, I stroked the final vestiges of the old me out. Once I stopped blowing my geyser, I realized that I wasn’t really thinking, the only thing that bounced around in my head was my name…
I was Dario, and who wouldn’t want a piece of this shit. Fuck, I need to hit the iron and fuck someone’s brains out.
***************************************
The woman laughed, and awful, horrifying cackle as we watched. She was always happy to corrupt another soul, she knew that he would had been trouble to her plans.
C'thictas was one step closer with her road block now a self-obsessed dumb-ass, but he got what he wanted, now he can see how the other half lives, forever.
Society is a sick and twisted construct, it makes you feel inadequate if you are not successful, or rich, or just naturally gifted in the genetic lottery. Inferiority and imposter syndromes plague us like some sort of epidemic. You can scroll and scroll through pages of attractive men, wishing, hoping, or even attempt to do things magically, but usually it fails. This is the cycle the TF community seems to live in, and it is sad. That is exactly the cycle Josh was stuck in, masturbating to the idea of being someone else. He was doing anything and everything to wake up and not be himself, gooning with poppers, hypnosis, ancient occult rituals, you name it. He was stuck only able to get hard if he played these fantasies through his head, intimacy made him feel unworthy and disgusted with himself.
Josh Idolized the fit men of Instagram, the athletic sexy types and he followed them on twitter and only fans because the idea of being sexually liberated or “a slut,” turned him on so much. Josh was a desperate man with seemingly impossible desires, but it did not stop him. He spent more money than he had on ancient texts, a vast collection surrounded him, but none held the key to his problem. His bedroom, or now his library smelled of musty books and faintly of ozone which emanated from the books. Occasionally they would faintly flash with eldritch power, but Josh was too absorbed in his quest to even notice.
His most recent acquisition was the original Pseudomonarchia Daemonu, which he procured off the black market. He had hoped to use it to summon infernal powers to reshape him into what he desired. Josh set up his ritual, during an eclipse in retrograde, trying to harness the most chaotic energies he could. As the clock struck midnight, he began his incantation, carefully making sure he had his list of traits and qualities, because he did not want to end up as some airheaded narcissist, no he had his idealized image in his head and written down. Each step of the ritual was planned to the second as he tried calling forth to the powers of chaos and madness. Nothing happened once he finished, so again he cleaned up the ritual, put the book on the shelf next to the rest, and went to grindr just to jerkoff to a few local hotties, wishing he was them.
Before Josh new it, the books surrounding him lit up in an electrical eldritch glow. He tried to get out of bed to investigate but could not seem to move. The energy crackled and glowed and began to shoot across the room akin to a tesla coil. Josh’s heart was racing, scared out of his mind but still immobile in his bed witch his 4-inch cock hardening more than it ever had before. The electricity became more violent as it began striking objects in his room, finally striking his phone with full force. The final strike seemed to release him of whatever bound him, and he leapt out of bed, afraid for his life. Everything had become quiet again, no sign of the magical energies that had plagued him a few moments ago. Josh ran out of his room and headed half naked to the front door, ready to make a quick escape. He was in such a hurry, he did not notice the man on the otherside of the front door standing there, waiting for him. Josh ran straight into the man and fell backward. The man had to be 6’6, in perfect athletic shape, a wet dream for Josh. Josh wasn’t short by any means at 6’3, but he felt tiny in the man’s presence.
“Hey there guy, what’s the hurry,” the stranger asked. Before josh could even answer the man said, “I’m Evan, I’m your escort for the evening, you must be Josh.” Poor Josh was so confused, he just took the hand of the stranger as Evan pulled him up. Josh felt a slight shock, but he was so rattled it did not even register. Evan immediately kissed Josh, something sensual, magical, and fierce and Josh felt like putty in Evans hands.
“But, but I didn’t order an escort,” Josh said, almost whimpering. “Sure, you did guy, how else would I be here?” retorted Evan. Josh tried to think about it, but it felt hard to make that logical connection… “Yeah, that does make sense,” replied Josh. Evan grabbed josh by the wrist and lead him to the bedroom. Upon arriving in the bedroom/library, Evan commanded Josh to strip, which he did, almost like he was on autopilot. Evan knew had Josh and decided it was time for the big reveal.
“Now Josh, I know what you want, what makes you tick, what makes you, you. I see the brilliant potential you have in that old soul of yours, how you will transcend the dimensions and the power you could wield. See, I am here to relieve you of this burden and thanks to your vast collection of power here, I can now give you what you want.”
Josh stood there powerless, seemingly petrified, unable to talk, looking horrified. He did not ever think anything like this would work, it was a fantasy, this wasn’t how it was supposed to be…he thought.
Evan put his hand on Josh’s chest, as it started to glow the same color as the electricity form early, it felt like Evan was pulling his very essence out of him. The power came to the surface and integrated into Josh’s body, where it settled. Josh felt even more powerless, he felt kind of empty almost.
“Good, now where to start,” Evan pondered out loud. Evan quickly moved behind Josh and began giving him the most sensual and amazing massage ever. Along with waves of euphoria, josh felt some kind of vertigo, he didn’t realize he was losing centimeters of height.
“I like a shorter guy,” laughed Evan as he continued to rob the height from Evan. Inch by inch Josh’s perception came closer to the floor, as he shrunk to 6 feet, 5’11,5’10, and so on, settling at 5’8 and a half. The vertigo stopped finally, leaving Josh looking at Evan’s diaphragm instead of his upper chest.
“What do you think,” Sneered Evan.
Josh’s tongue was released, and he proceeded to beg Evan to stop, “No, please, don’t do this, what about my life?”
Evan continued to sneer, “Some life gooner boy, don’t worry you won’t have to worry about wasting that potential once I am done with you.” With that Evan shoved Josh onto his bed, taking Josh’s hard four inches in his mouth. Josh could feel something strange as it felt like his balls were shifting, almost growing and he could feel his cock expanding and swelling. He wanted to protest but the pleasure was too much, and his thoughts were all jumbled and foggy. Before Josh could come, Evan abruptly stopped, taking his tongue all over Josh’s hairless body. Josh could feel an itchy sensation everywhere Evan’s tongue had been, his abs, chest, and pits were filling out with thick, but well-defined hair.
“now for my favorite part,” smiled Evan. He lifted Josh’s legs into the air, spit on his own godly dick and impaled Josh.
Evan fucked Josh slowly and carefully, each pump fill Evan with warm euphoria, something you can’t experience on this earth. “Listen closely, I want you to remember your life, remember it as clear as day, and as you hear my voice you will understand that those memories are false and never happened.”
Josh was filled with horror and fear, but the warmth of the ecstasy had him conflicted.
“Josh, you have always needed attention, which wasn’t hard because you just won the genetic lottery. It never felt like enough, so at the age of 13 you began working out. It consumed all of your time, your focus was never on band or theatre, no, you needed to be more like the athletes you admired.”
Josh’s lean from began to swell and grow, defining itself from years of hard work. His arms exploded as his abs tightened, traps, delts, legs, thighs all grew to utter societal perfection.
“DO you remember playing baseball, basketball, and competing in weightlifting? You should because they kept your focus far more than schoolwork. I bet you can remember a few head injuries too, it really helped empty out some of that excess thinking, letting you focus on what was important, your body.”
Josh could feel his mind slow down to a hazy speed, one that did not make him the dumbest guy ever, but nothing more than slightly below average.
“Thankfully everybody wanted you, you let it go to your head, didn’t you Clayton?” said Evan with an evil look in his eyes. Josh was confused, he was Clayton, why was this guy calling him Clayton?
“With a body and face like this and a sex drive that is borderline uncontrollable, it makes sense you started an only fans as soon as it was legal. The money poured in, and it just allowed you to focus more on your social media, your body, and the sex that fills that gaping hole where that potential used to be.”
Everything poured into Clay’s head, like a flash flood, shoving everything else out. “You know, you are quite the switch hitter, but I know you like to be fucked and face fucked the most. Men’s cum is like ambrosia to you, which is probably why you whore yourself out in bathrooms, bathhouses, and public parks.” As the words echoed and Evan fucked the truth into Clay’s ass, Clay could vividly remember how many men he had let fuck him, which did not feel like enough especially for the 34-year-old slut.
“Now a few final touches,” said Evan. How old are you, Clay? “
“I umm, I’m 34,” he replied between pants and grunts.
“Ahh good, I thought you looked about 22, I am glad I was right,” replied Evan.
Clay could feel the age fall away, and it made more sense he had only been with as many men as had had so far. His sex drive was increasing as his precum production became almost constant.
Evan leaned down as he fucked Clay and kissed him deep, shoving his tongue down his throat. “Tell me again how old you are,” cackled Evan.
Clay went to speak but his voice cracked violently down about 3 octaves and his vocabulary to basic bro level, “I UMMmm aM 22 bro.”
Evan came torrents inside of Clay, filling the missing potential with his demon seed, cementing Clay in this new form.
“Clay, I want you to remember, you are a social media slut who needs sex almost daily, you need external validation for your body and looks. You love to be dominated and fucked, being fucked gives you a sense of worth and purpose. You obsess over your grooming and the gym, there is nothing else about you that makes you interesting.”
With that, Evan sucked off Clay one last time ripping anything left that could allow Clay to redeem what he lost.
Clay woke up in his tiny studio apartment with a raging hard on and need for sex and the gym. There was one less light in the world and one more basic bro to fill that space.
I had known it would be dangerous, but I was young and dumb and heartbroken. Sure, I had just graduated with a Masters in Microbiology, but that didn’t necessarily mean I was street smart. I had just wanted to get out and explore the world…and get away from my ex-girlfriend who had just broken up with me after two years. I had nothing to tie me down anymore; no reason to stay in one place forever. My parents told me I could go anywhere in the world as their graduation gift to me, and I chose to go where I knew I could spend a few bucks. Sure, I was an averagely built, 5’9 straight white male, but I thought the rumors wouldn’t apply to me. That I’d be special. Well, it turns out I was not.
After my long flight, I finally landed in Dubai on a sunny Friday afternoon. I already had plans to go clubbing that night before a long Saturday of shopping and adventuring. But as soon as I had left the airport, what I thought was the unthinkable had already happened. All I remembered was waking up in a room with a bed, a mirror, a toilet, and a door with no handle on the inside. My clothes had been taken and I was instead naked underneath a simple white dress-looking thing. After a thorough inspection, I didn’t find anything on my body that alerted me as “wrong” or “altered”. So, after a long bout of panicking and screaming and begging for help, I simply sat there and waited.
Aftab eventually came in and introduced himself. By “eventually,” I mean hours after I had woken up. Although, I had lost any concept of time, with not even a window to give me a clue. And by “introduced,” I mean he asserted himself and his position. He followed his own schedule and strutted in like he owned the place, which obviously he did. He just simply stared at me for a moment, his eyes scanning my body like it was a possession of his.
“My name is Aftab.” His statement was firm, unyielding. His deep baritone reverberated around the room with a noticeable Arabic accent. “But you will soon refer to me by a title more appropriate of my status.”
I replied with nothing, which was apparently the right thing to do. I investigated him while he investigated me. He was 5’11, and underneath his garments I could tell he was well built. He appeared strong, confident, and something about him appeared intelligent. He obviously had money, both noticeable by the quality of his fabrics and the ability to hide a room like the one I was in. Aftab wanted to be feared, respected. I struggled to decide if I’d get out faster playing along or fighting back.
“As a domestic object, there’s a lot you will need to learn about my culture and my needs.” He walked over to the bed and stroked your cheek. You didn’t move, not simply afraid but still shocked at the situation. “Eventually, you’ll come to fulfill every desire needed and will provide those above with your full and undivided attention.”
Aftab left the room immediately after, the sound of the door locking shut affirming my place and the situation I was in. Not knowing what else to do, I decided to use the toilet. I took my 6-inch softie out assuming Aftab had already seen everything I had to offer. After a quick piss, I hopped back into the bed and tried to start devising a plan. I didn’t have a large body, or a modest body at that, but I was at least lean. I could be fast too, and with the rush of adrenaline and a solid hit to the groin, I could probably distract him long enough to push my way out the open door. The timing would be rough, but I probably had hours to craft up a decent plan. I didn’t know when Aftab would come back, or even a meal for that matter, but at-
— —
The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the sore, aching feeling in my dick. It felt like it had been overused, lying there tired and dormant. I pulled up the sheets and my attire to look at my cock, but it wasn’t covered in the cum I had been expecting. It just lay there limp. My balls underneath looked a little lifeless too, but there was none of the cold-hard evidence that I was looking for to prove I had ejaculated. Not only was my pouch sore however, but my ears too. The canals stung in the way they do when you leave a pair of headphones in for too long.
Sighing, I got out of the bed and made my way to the mirror, looking over myself. I didn’t look as dehydrated or starved as I thought I would. In fact, I looked perfectly fine. Fine, blond hair still straight and hanging in curtain bangs. My face still holding a little baby fat with my blue eyes making me appear even more youthful. My arms and legs unscathed, my torso untouched. Still the average, hairless, young man I was used to. I didn’t know what Aftab’s plans were for me, or why my groin felt fatigued, but at least I was still me.
As soon as I sat back down on the bed, the door opened to the room to reveal Aftab. I hadn’t had time to create a plan of attack, so I just sat there motionlessly as he came over to the bed and sat next to me. I noticed the funk he gave off right away, the odor floating off of him freely. He was wearing the same articles of clothing as before, but by the smell I assumed he’d be wearing them for a while.
“Strip,” he ordered. I didn’t want to obey, but before I knew it I was already standing before him and bare naked. I wasn’t afraid however, I was just existing. Something in the back of my head rationalized that this was all ok.
Then, Aftab silently grabbed my shoulder and pushed me down. I resisted a little, but Aftab simply applied more force in response. Before I knew it, I was kneeling before him, looking up at him as he pulled back his tunic to reveal exactly what I was afraid of. I don’t know how I hadn’t noticed the hard, pulsing, massive brown cock that had been hiding underneath the tunic. It seemed inhuman, impossible for a dick to be that big. It had to be at least 10 inches and was as thick as a can of beer. The forest of curly, black pubes and the heavy sack made it look even more intimidating, which I didn’t think was possible.
But once his cock was revealed, we simply sat there in silence. I maintained eye contact with him but neither of us made a noise. After a minute of what seemed like a challenge to see who’d blink first, he pulled down his tunic and left. He had been expressionless, leaving no hint or indication of what he was planning.
Not knowing what else to do, I slowly got up. But I was shocked to find my dick erect and precumming. Apparently, the feeling of being spent had not been accurate. Now, at its full 8-inch glory, my penis was pulsating and pointing straight out at a 90-degree angle. I don’t know what had turned me on, let alone got me this hard. I hadn’t been thinking of my ex, or any woman for that matter. I’d only been thinking of Aftab. My dick replied with a slight twitch at the thought of him again.
I rolled my eyes and jumped back into the bed, after putting that white dress-thing back on. I simply ignored my boner and hoped it would go away, thinking I was only turned on because I had no other form of stimulation. Instead, I tried to focus on planning how to escape. My first idea was to-
— —
Again, my cock was exhausted when I woke up. It felt drained, but I couldn’t tell if it was. When I did my routine checkup underneath the tunic, it appeared to be unscathed. All 4 inches left alone. The area around my crotch was looking a little shaded though. Usually, I didn’t have to shave that often, but I guess I had been here long enough that the pubes had had time to grow. Giving my nuts a good itch, I got out of the bed and took a hearty piss. Then I made my way to the mirror and did what was unfortunately becoming a habit.
It was still the same old me looking back. Wavy, sandy hair that flowed lightly with my breathing. The buttonish nose that gave me a little youth to contrast my appearing jawline. Some toned features across my ligaments to show I had at least seen a gym once or twice in the past month. But still nothing seemed wrong. I shrugged and plopped myself back onto the bed, my feet getting near the end of the mattress as I laid back.
Aftab came in not too long later, shutting the door behind him so quietly I somehow did not hear him until he commanded me to sit up. I complied immediately without a thought, watching as he stepped over to the bed like before. I wanted to move, but something told me not to. I just simply sat and watched as he placed his butt between my legs, sitting across from me at the other end of the bed.
Without hesitation, Aftab lifted a foot up to my face. The bronzed toes gently glided their way up into my view, one entire, giant foot covering my entire face. It levitated just a few inches away from my face, reeking of a foot funk that captured essences of allspice, coriander, and cumin. My eyes followed as he wiggled his toes in front of me. Just like before, we sat in this position for a while; his foot in my face, me taking it all in. After a bit, he lowered it, revealing to me his face again. That face that lacked any clue as to what was happening. He then scooted himself off the bed and was gone.
Noticing the similarities of this interaction with the last, I realized he was starting to establish some form of a conditioning pattern. Aftab was creating a sort of cause-and-effect relationship between himself and me, although I could not yet put together what it was. Looking down to confirm my theory, I was once again confronted with my cock rock hard. The 6-inches were begging for release. Unlike last time however, I was going to use this to my advantage. I was bored and he’d already seen me naked. So what was the harm in a little-
— —
This time when I woke up, I didn’t even bother checking myself. I now knew that my sleep schedules weren’t natural–they were being enforced. What I couldn’t figure out was how, or why it affected how my pouch felt. My ears still rang a little bit too, so I was going to have to find a way to figure out what Aftab was doing to me before it was too late. I would probably have to figure out what “too late” meant first though.
Although I wasn’t interested in investigating my nether regions this time around, I was still curious about looking in the mirror. It was annoying that the mirror wasn’t on the wall facing my bed, because then I would’ve just been able to wake up and look without moving. However, these little check-ups accounted for half of the exercise I’d been getting recently, with the other portion revolving around the toilet. But even with the lack of physical activity, I still looked in shape. My body definitely had some definition to it, which was surprising considering how long I’d been in here. I still had no concept of time, but I was surprised to still be able to see little divots and valleys that weren’t caused by some form of starvation.
Otherwise, everything else was up to code. I ran a head through my bouncy, brown hair with a grin–glad it wasn’t shaved off like I’d been taught about kidnapping through Hollywood. My skin had a healthy glow that almost made it look tannish. Even my gray eyes had a sparkle in them. For some reason, I was looking pretty good. And stranger yet, I was feeling pretty good too. Sure, I was kidnapped, but I was apparently being treated well here. I’d have to thank Aftab for that.
As if on cue, my host opened the door and I immediately scurried back to my bed. Unlike the previous times however, I felt little fear in the situation. I was overcome instead with a sense of…wonder? It was peculiar; I was both amused at the situation and what he had come to do next. I now desired to understand more just how he was conditioning me and what he was getting to. I wished to know why Aftab did it.
He joined me on my bed and motioned for me to sit across from him, our legs crossed and knees almost touching. He spoke again in that tone I realized was rather rich and smooth. Aftab was easy to listen to. His tone filled my ears and swam around like a thick chocolate sauce. I had found his voice a little dull and too abrasive at first, but the more he talked, the more I enjoyed his input. He had me answer a lot of questions regarding where I was from, what I’d done in school, what my parents did to get them so wealthy, their credit card tracking numbers and history, my social security and domestic residence information, my knowledge of brainwashing into forced servitude, and other such things to familiarize himself with me.
Eventually, I had stopped answering his questions open-endedly, instead replying with a simple “yes” or “no.” Every time I responded to what Aftab deemed as correct, he sprinkled in the occasional “Good boy.” At first I didn’t know what to think of that statement, but as I continued to answer his questions, I found my cheeks flushing and my heart beat a little faster. A light-headed, distant feeling settled over me as we went on, until the conversation suddenly stopped when I accidentally muttered something new.
“Yes Sir.”
It had almost come out as more of a slurred one word than an actual address. But Aftab had heard it. With a nod, he leaned over and gave my pouch a quick, painfully-firm squeeze and then left. I dropped my head and saw what I had feared I would. Groaning, I surrendered to the comforts of the bed and decided I was going to deal with these blue balls. Grabbing my-
— —
I laid in bed staring at the ceiling, confused as to what kept knocking me out. Although I could never exactly remember what had happened in the few minutes leading up to before I fell asleep, there was no logical way I could have kept naturally succumbing to some sort of slumber. I hadn’t eaten anything, drank anything, and barely had any form of physical activity. Every time before I’d close my eyes, I remember having a hard-on stronger than ever before. My barely average 4 inches had never been so vigorously rocklike for any of my past girlfriends or boyfriends. Yet for some reason, every time I woke up I felt depleted.
I didn’t even bother with the mirror this time around; noticing the 6’ athletic body out of the corner of my eye was enough. Instead I pounded on the door and opened my mouth to shout Aftab’s name. He’d asked me so many questions that I had willfully answered for him, so I hoped he’d maybe be willing to answer some from me. But when I tried to call out his name, no noise came out. It was like my throat literally did not know how to create the vowels and constants in his name. I could still speak, and I could still think of the name “Aftab,” yet the two processes could not interrelate.
It took me some time to consider what to do, but I didn’t dwell too much on the topic of why I couldn’t say his name. I assumed it had to do with my mental fragility after being locked up for who knows how long. I did not know what else to call him except what I had said earlier.
“Sir?”
Almost instantly, the door opened to reveal the man himself. With both of us standing about eye to eye, we just stared at each other like every time we had before. His right hand slowly reached forward and started cupping my pouch, fondling my dick and balls expertly. I don’t know how I hadn’t noticed it before, but Aftab was actually quite attractive. He was strong, confident, and relatively good-looking. Sure, the whole dominant-kidnapping act wasn’t really my thing, but I was a switch for a good reason.
“You’re coming along nicely,” he said suddenly. I opened my lips to say something, anything, but he immediately backhanded me in response with his other hand. I staggered and almost fell over, but his grip on my erect dick was sturdy enough to keep me upright.
“You do not speak,” he commanded. “You shall only thank me for the attention I give you and obey.”
Tears welled in my eyes, but for some reason it wasn’t due to the pain I felt burning in my cheek or the embarrassment of the entire situation. It was because I felt bad, horrible even, for making Aftab angry with me.
“Now, you may respond with what feels right.”
He tugged at my dick as I contemplated my reply. I didn’t consciously know what he meant by “feels right,” but apparently my subconscious did.
“Yes, Master.”
And after another “good boy,” Aftab was gone. This game of cat and mouse was getting more and more cryptic, but I was determined to solve it. Carefully ignoring my throbbing cock, I crawled into my bed and underneath the sheets. Then, I decided to put on a little show. Maybe if I fell asleep first, Aftab wouldn’t knock me out. I quietly tossed and turned, pretending to make myself comfortable as I fluttered my eyelids. I even slowed my breathing, hoping I would get to stay awake through my hypothesized conditioning process. Eventually, I went still and just simply flowed air into and throughout my body. I laid there and waited, hoping he wasn’t as intelligent as I thought he was.
It wasn’t long before I began to hear something underneath my bed move. It was a mechanical sound, soft whirs of gears clicking and something extending outwards from the far end of the bed. I felt the cold tingle of metal tickle past my feet, which were hanging over the end of the mattress. My ankles were cuffed into place before the machine crawled its way up further, eventually reaching underneath my tunic. I felt a surreal sense of release as the pump was fitted around my cock, affirming the frequent feelings of depletion I had been experiencing.
Slowly, the pump began to move on its own, fulfilling its namesake. I tried not to squirm too much, trying to still give the illusion that I had fallen asleep. But I luckily didn’t have to focus on the machine around my dick for too long. Moments later, two little rods enter my ears, completely blocking out any other sound in the room. They felt like they were so far into my canals that they could have poked my brain–if that was possible.
Aftab’s voice came next. That velvety accent that caramelized his words flowed throughout my skull, softly bouncing off of every square millimeter of open space. I didn’t understand anything that was being said, but by the clicks and foreign phonics I could tell that it was Arabic. Each individual sound coaxed me, releasing any sort of tension I felt as I sunk into the bed. The pump worked away diligently but otherwise the rest of my body was serene. I didn’t even notice when I fell asleep.
— —
I nearly leaped out of my bed with excitement, my entire body brimming with energy. The 5.5 centimeters down below were still the limp self I had grown accustomed to, but I could feel something new underneath my white thobe. I pulled up the bottom of the traditional dress to reveal a small metal device holding my brown cock, the pubes a little curly around it. Looking at the cold steel caused me to smile, knowing it was better for a person of my status to be caged rather than getting hard at free will.
Noticing the keffiyeh placed delicately at the foot of my bed, I grabbed the headdress and made my way to the mirror. I took careful precision in adjusting the red-and-white scarf over my curly black locks, noticing how when they were hidden underneath it, my bronzed skin and prominent beard were able to stick out more. I then inspected myself to make sure nothing else was out of place. I wanted to look presentable when my Master arrived.
He came not too long after, tilting his own head up to view the top of my
keffiyeh until eventually scanning all the way down to my Size 13 feet. He caressed his hands along every curvature of my body, as if looking for any imperfections on the meat he was due to sell on the market. After a firm nod, he beckoned me to follow him through the door.
Amazed, I proceeded behind him and entered a kitchen and dining room area. He ordered me to take a spot at the table where an older man was already seated. The older man had a grin across his face as he inspected me while I took my place at the table.
“I just finished with it last night,” my Master began in Arabic. “Everything is as you personally selected.”
He handed the man a piece of paper; the printed receipt with details pertaining to my features.
“188 centimeters, body-mass index of 16.5, motor-functioning intellect of 80…” the older male rattled off each of the numbers, reexamining me quickly with each new piece of information.
“Your Arabification process is remarkable,” he responded. “I’ve never seen any of them turn out this well.
My Master said something in English to prove a point, and the old man turned his head in my direction before nodding with approval.
“And his personal assets?”
“After tomorrow will be in your custody.” My Master decided to annunciate his work a little further. “He was worth a lot, so I hope you don’t mind that I took some as a tip of sorts.”
“Not at all.” The older man let his eyes drift towards the area I was hoping he’d lead himself to. “How did you get him below 8 centimeters.” He was genuinely curious.
“A salesman never spills his secret.” Although I could not make eye contact with my Master, I could tell he was proud of his results.
“And he’s been tailored to all my needs as well, correct?” the older man pushed.
“Tested them all myself,” my Master replied. “This was certainly one of my more challenging projects, but with greater challenges comes greater rewards.”
“And the watch?”
I looked down at my left wrist. I had somehow never noticed the golden armband that had been wrapped around my brown forearm.
“A tracking device, just as a standard precaution.” My Master got up from his seat. “Although in my years of working in this business, it has yet to be a problem.” My Master then nodded his head and offered the older male some space for my new guardian to get acquainted with me. Once the other man left, it was just me and the older male.
“Let’s see if you are truly going to be just what I need.” The older man pulled up his tunic to reveal an engorged, 8-inch brown monster, a mess of wiry black pubes surrounding it. Instantly, my mouth watered as my eyes zeroed in on سيدي: my new Master.
The parasite had gotten to work so quickly you hadn’t known how to react. It had all started with that one lick. That one, stupid, horny, misguided, inappropriate, deliciously perfect lick. Yet that one lick is what had gotten you sick.
“Go on,” the older male purred, maybe 10 years your senior at most. “I know you wanna.”
It was a rumor that had been spreading around the gay world everywhere. This new parasite that–unlike AIDS–actually only affected gay men. They called it the “Bald Bug,” and it spread by any bodily fluid. Apparently, the parasite turned any homosexual into a stereotypical straight man; one that was particularly ripe with a libido beyond control and an urge for semination. This bug wanted to conquer, multiply, and spread.
“Look at them,” he pushed his feet out further. “These bad boys want some…need some attention.”
But it had only been a rumor online. You didn’t really believe in the conspiracy theories. Some accounts had said it hadn’t reached the news because the government had released it, hoping to repopulate after years of low fertility rates. But again, you didn’t give in to the madness. A lot of facts didn’t line up, and others did too conveniently. Anyway, all you saw in this guy was a closeted hookup. And all you saw right now were his big, sweaty feet that were begging to be loved.
“Size 13.” He crossed his arms, getting tired of waiting for me to engage. “You gonna do it or what?”
I lunged, sending one long swipe of my tongue across his feet in a tantalizing movement. I moaned with delight as I tasted the salt that coated his soles sink into my mouth. I shivered in fear when a fiendish smirk wrapped itself around his bearded jaw.
“That’s right, fag,” he chuckled. “Hope you didn’t care for that pretty quiff of yours. That queerdo haircut will be wiped away in no time.”
That was the last part of the rumor. You could tell who had been infected because the victims all shared a particularly notable outcome: every man was left bald. And because no one was working on a cure (because these were all just rumors after all), the effects were irreversible. Your eyes widened as you lifted yourself up and away from his deliciously odorous toes, their beauty now tarnished. You looked him over; his bald head, his confident aura, his very soft cock in his very straight attire. Only now did you notice all the signs. You grabbed your things and ran, his brutish laugh following from behind. You were infected.
When you finally made it back to your apartment, you could already feel that the bug’s work had begun. Your original twinky frame would’ve never been able to carry you the last part of that run. Locking the door behind you, you dropped your things and ran to your bedroom, frantically investigating your body in your full-sized mirror. The shirt you wore now looked more like a crop top, being that it had lifted above the navel and appeared tighter around your upper chest. Your jeans had a similar problem, now landing partially over your enlarging calves when they should have brushed the tops of your feet. The feet that shouldn’t have looked so monstrously large.
Quickly, you grabbed the collar of your tee shirt and ripped it off your body, hoping to save it from a fate you feared could be possible. The fate your jeans suffered moments later. In moments, your height stretched up to well above 6 feet, stretching out the jeans beyond repair as large rips occurred near your newly bulky thighs and muscled bum. Not knowing what else to do, you tore away at the shredded remains of the denim, every pull becoming easier as the parasite expanded the tissues in your arms with strength more appropriate for holding a woman down in an animalistic fertilization.
Luckily, your underwear had been a little more conforming to the stretching nature of your situation. With your newly-callusing hands, you quickly disrobed and watched as your previously-small dick emerged forward. It piled on inch by inch as it thickened outwards, almost like watching a time lapse video of a tree’s growth. Your balls descended further too, yet the visibility of their drooping was becoming more hindered by plumping of your pecs.
You couldn’t help but be amazed by the new body the bug had created for you, a true stud of a man.
A carpet of hair adorned a good lot of your torso, along with your arms and legs.
Even your face had changed. A sharp jaw, thick brow, and permanent beard all reeking of masculinity. And speaking of reeking, your body now gave off an odor like no other. Pits, crotch, feet–if it could make a funk that could attract women, then it did. Your body had been crafted into a machine, one the parasite had designed to work as the perfect contamination device, whether through correcting this generation or creating the next.
Caught off guard, you felt a shock course through your body and down to your larger cock. Rolling your eyes backwards, you moved your naked body onto the bed and spread your legs apart. With your head against the headboard, you grabbed your cock and began stroking like you had hundreds of times before. However, this time around, new images were at the forefront of your fantasies. Women were everywhere. Boobs here, pussies there. Big swollen breasts and puckered lips. The women could be nearing 20 or nearing 40. They could have double D’s in the front and/or packed in the back. But the one thing that brought them all together was their ability to become mothers.
Your engorged dick began to spurt at that, the thought causing you to grunt in ecstasy. You continued pumping, no longer caring about the effects of the bug and just wanting to bust a load. Looking in the mirror across from you, your glossy eyes struggled to focus on the scene being reflected. Just like it had been prophesied, the chestnut-brown quiff you so heavily maintained began to falter. The parasite pushed any forms of homosexuality, personality, and resistance out of your body, purging it all through the follicles of hair it vowed to destroy.
One by one, you observed as your hairs began to evaporate into dust upon your scalp, thinning out before poofing away. You felt your head emptying as your quiff flattened in height, no longer able to support itself. The classic horseshoe formed first, before eventually the entire top of your head was smooth. Things that made you unique, different, and therefore could bring you on a divergent course than the one now planned for you were eliminated with the hairs that still remained along the sides of your head. If the bug was to survive, then its host would have to be completely committed to its existence. And the promise of impregnating tons of women and contaminating faggots made you so.
With one last huff of air, you watched as the final follicles on your head disappeared. You felt a cool shiver against your newly-exposed bald head, that shiver crawling its way down to your cock and releasing your long-awaited load.
“Oh fu-”
Your words shifted into a groan as your offspring squirt in their milky substance all over your body. You took a second to collect yourself in that moment of post-ecstasy, licking your lips at the epitome of masculinity looking back at you in the mirror. Grabbing the underwear from before, you wiped up the semen and tossed the tainted garment into a gym bag. You could bring it to the gym, knowing it to be the perfect trap for some helpless little homo.
Grinning, you rubbed a meaty hand over your Cueball head with pride. You snatched an old pair of sweats and grabbed your phone, ready to head out. The gym could come later; you had bald babies to make now.
