The gorgeous Furii drew my monkeysona!! And I haven’t stopped smiling since, I think I might need to commission him for some monkey doodle things of me. Look at how adorable and cute and everything it is!!
Furii drew me as an orc so I had to return the favour. Slipped him the spell book he gave me, so hes going to be a sexy rockstar orc for the rest of orctober with me.
I’ve been looking for a new dog for a while. Last one ran away.
Then I saw the perfect specimen in my building. It couldn’t have worked out better. He was young, fit, and he looked like he belonged on all fours.
All that stood in my way was his free will. All I had to do was collar him.
Luckily I had developed a pup serum ages ago. It wasn’t perfect (the last couple had run away). But I’d perfect it eventually. For now, I just needed to infect this boy.
Easiest way? Surprise injection.
I kept a dose in my pocket for the next week, waiting to run into him again. Then it finally happens.
“Hey there,” I say. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”
He doesn’t look excited, but he’s polite enough to stop. As he stands in front of me, I search for the best injection spot.
“What is it?” he asks.
“I lost my wallet around here earlier today. Have you seen it?”
He looks around, as if he thinks he’ll find it sitting on the floor somewhere. Maybe he’s already dumb enough to be a pup.
“Um, nope, but I’ll let you know if I see it.”
“Thanks, I’m in apartment 6C,” I say.
He nods and walks off. The kid’s slower than before, like he’s looking for the wallet. Like he’s playing fetch. I laugh to myself. Before he get’s too far, I come up behind him and stick the needle in his neck. Easy enough.
He squirms, tries to shout, but I have him held from behind, and my hand is covering his mouth. The kid has a lot of fight, but I’ve been doing this for a while; I’m not easy to escape.
I drag him toward my apartment, luckily avoiding any other residents.
By the time we reach my place, he’s squirming less. I turn him around to get a good look at his face. His eyes are perfectly blank, completely dumbed down, which lets me know the serum is working. So I let go of his body, and take my hand away from his mouth.
His tongue instantly droops out of his mouth.
“Good boy,” I say, chuckling to myself.
I scratch under his chin, and he’s already panting. The serum worked fast on this one. Maybe I’d finally perfected it.
I can’t wait to see the boy get on all fours, but I know it’ll take some time. So I go to my room and get the collar I already have ready for him.
“You want your collar, boy?” I ask.
He pants heavily, his tongue hanging from his mouth, the drool starting to drip.
“Good boy. See your name? It’s Buster now,” I say, pointing to the tag.
To my surprise, he barks. I can’t tell if it’s a bark of disagreement or happiness, but it’s a bark. And that means he’s well on his way to being a pup.
I stick the collar on him and begin stripping him down. Before I can get his socks off, he’s on the floor. Already on all fours. And his lean, muscular body is perfect.
“Damn, you’re a good pup, aren’t you, boy?”
He barks in reply.
I scratch under his chin again, and this time, I notice precum dripping from his dick as a result. This is by far the fastest transformation yet.
“Ready for your tail, boy?” I ask, grabbing a butt plug.
He barks again, and this time I know for sure he’s happy. The precum is still dripping. Horny little pup.
I slide the butt plug in his tight ass, and as soon as it’s in, he starts wagging his ass, his balls and cock swinging with it. The plug will make sure he’s nice and ready for when I fuck him. Don’t want him barking too loud after all.
Behind his hanging tongue, I can see a pup’s smile on his dumb little face. Glee and excitement in his otherwise blank eyes.
“Now that’s a good boy. Such a horny jockpup. You’re gonna be a good one, Buster.”
Man, if the serum is working this well, I might have to get Buster another pup to play with.
But for now, it’s time to enjoy my new pet. I slip off my belt and release my cock.
“Now be a good pup and suck your Master’s bone.”
Buster barks in anticipation. He licks and licks and licks with his tongue, and then my pup starts to suck. His wet mouth makes my dick drip. And as I scratch behind his ear, his cock leaks even more. This is going to be a wonderful arrangement for the both of us.
‘Shit, it’s happened again!’ I cursed under my breath as the jogging pants I’d been wearing as I ran laps suddenly morphed into revealing running shorts and my t-shirt vanished into thin air.
Examining my exposed torso nervously for changes, I nearly freaked when I saw a huge expanse of inked skin where the tattoo of an eagle soared majestically across my serratus and abs. The tattoo looked as though it’d been there for a few years but like the abdominals it covered, it was really brand new, yet another effect of Justin’s fucked up fag-magic.
When me and my bros mocked him and his blimp of an emo fag hag at the mall last week, I’d had no idea they were into that fucking voodoo-bruja shit but when my board shorts transformed into a faggy white speedo at the beach the next day and my usual gym gear of ball shorts and tee turned into shiny spandex tights, a stringer tank and backwards ball cap that evening in the middle of my workout, I knew some weird shit was up. The really fucked up thing was that I couldn’t seem to take the clothes off or break out of my routine until I’d finished what I was doing which meant I spent the whole day at the beach being called a fag and got hit on by roided out gym bunnies all through my workout at the gym that night.
I began to join the dots the next morning when I saw one of my buds, Brody on his way to class dressed up like some Ivy League grad student in chinos, button down shirt, tie and blazer. His cheeks were flaming with embarrassment but like me the previous day it looked like he was forced to continue his day as usual while everyone else seemed oblivious to the changes.
It was three days later when I noticed the first physical changes. I was at the mall picking up some new threads when my jeans, tee and sneakers transformed into the kind of fruity outfit that would make even the most hardcore gym bunnies blush with shame.
Catching my reflection in one of the store’s mirrors as the transformation completed, I’d been horrified to see that I was now dressed in revealing lime green spandex compression shorts, a blue stringer tank, fluorescent yellow running shoes, red fanny pack and a white and yellow trucker ball cap. What freaked me out most though was that I’d hulked out with muscle. Dressed up in that faggy workout gear, I looked like one those douchy meatheads that can only hold a conversation if it’s about macros, lifting or fucking but I reluctantly had to admit the muscle was pretty cool even if the threads weren’t.
The next morning Brody turned up at class in a three piece suit and tie with one of those preppy side-parting haircuts. The combination made him look older and when I asked him about it in private after class he told me anxiously that according to his driver’s license, he’d aged fifteen years and was to all intents and purposes thirty-five. Worse still, he told me blushingly, his voice sinking to a whisper, his cock had shrunk two inches and he’d discovered he could only get off by sticking one of his ex’s dildos up his ass.
Eventually we and a few of the other guys worked out who was behind the changes but for some reason, none of us seemed to be able to get near enough Justin and his fag hag to confront them about it. As my entire wardrobe was gradually replaced by revealing workout clothes in hot, bright colors and synthetic fabrics, I realised, I was beginning to accept and even enjoy exposing my new physique to the world and found myself spending more and more time jerking off in front of the mirror in my room or skipping classes to hit the gym and work on my bod.
As I thought back on the past week and my gradual transformation into a narcissistic gym bunny, I spared a thought for poor Brody, or Broderick as he now preferred to be called, who’d yesterday sprouted a thick grey mustache that worked surprisingly well with his newly receding hairline. With the tweedy suits he was now wearing day to day, he looked more like one of the professors than a college student and who knew, by this time next week, he might actually become one.
I continued pounding out the laps, conscious that I wouldn’t be able to get out of these shorts until I’d done at least fifty circuits of the track and consoled myself with the thought of a slow jerk off in front of my reflection in the locker room mirror afterwards. At least I still have that… Brody’s dick’s so small now he’s had to start bottoming for dudes into old men that he finds on Grindr. Poor fucker!
“It is done,” intoned the genie, and disappeared in a puff of purple smoke.
By the time the smoke cleared, I realized I wasn’t in my office anymore – instead I was in the locker room at the local bodybuilding gym (wait, I’ve never been here before, how is it I recognize it? dude, I freaking live here) and wearing nothing but a towel (I’m a 55-year-old middle manager, I’m a 22-year-old personal trainer) and staring at the guy in the mirror (I weigh 325 and have high blood pressure and diabetes, I’ve been competing in Physique since I was a teen, gotta put on more mass if I wanna move up to the big leagues!).
As my thoughts swirled around in two parallel tracks, one of them already fading into static, behind me on the bench my phone buzzed (who could that be? no one ever calls me after work hours – must be one of my worship clients confirming for tonight – sweet, I really need to drain my balls!).
The moment I stepped into the ring of mushrooms, my clothing vanished.
“Dude, get out of there!” my friend Michael called, and I tried to back away. But my feet felt strange, and looking down I saw that they’d become cloven hooves.
“What the fuck,” I gasped, lifting one up.
“Shit, what happened to you?” Michael said, coming closer. “Oh my God, your feet. Oh my God, your dick!”
“What about – holy shit!” I said. My cock was suddenly growing huge and obscene, my balls swelling up and hanging low. Fur began to thicken around my legs, swirling over my skin.
“You’re turning into something,” Michael said.
“No shit,” I said, “but whaa-aaa-aaa-aaat?” My voice became a bleat for a moment, goaty and deep.
“A satyr,” he said. “Definitely a satyr. With horns!”
I could feel them sprout, two thick bony protrusions from my head. They curled around my ears, heavy.
I took a few steps, growing more accustomed to my new hooves, my furry legs, my swinging dick. “It’s kind of … great,” I said, my voice more manly now. “it’s kind of aaa-aaa-aaa-aaawesome!”
“Your ears,” Michael gasped, reaching up to touch them. I felt them grow long, floppy, and wild in his touch. My tail twitched over my furry ass.
“Come with me,” I said, abruptly backing up.
“Where are you going?” he said, following. He couldn’t take his eyes off me – his best friend now transformed into a huge-dicked creature of the forest. I rubbed my cock as I took another step, and it grew hard and long and tall.
“Just follow me,” I said, taking another step.
He obeyed. “Where?” he asked again.
“One more step,” I told him, and he came closer – too late realizing that I’d led him into the same circle of mushrooms that had transformed me.
“Oh dude no!” he exclaimed as his clothing vanished.
A body and the party life to go with it? Well, that’s no tall
order for the Thomas Gungy Foundation for Transformation. It’s probably our
second most popular package category. Tests and polls are inconclusive as to
why the most requested is reserved for those with an envy for the Asian
persuasion, but we’ll figure it out yet.
Straying from the subjects of the Eastern world and surveys
relating to, we need to find you an angle. We are masters of transformation,
but nine times out of ten, the biggest thing that we change is how a customer
views the world we provide for them. It’s the inevitable mental game that goes
along with the still very necessary physical one.
What game do we play though? We need a party, but it needs to be for the shy and reserved. It needs to be an event where tension is an art form and the best players are the ones who know the rules.
I think I might have something. Follow me.
Nowadays there’s almost a stigma that comes with the word “party”. We think of bros and chicks that go to a place to be loud, and in that sort of environment those with a naturally quiet disposition drown. It wasn’t always that way though. Parties have been around since the beginning of time, and they’ve always had different avenues of exploration.
In fact, that parties that were usually the loudest were always those of the lower class. Without manners or remorse for an unsightly performance, they would make more of a ruckus than a satyromaniac twink in bed with with a power top, so that’s just what became popular.
We’d like to believe that everything lost to the outside world has its place in the Foundation though.
Behold the Thomas Gungy Ballroom. This is the place were a steady, rhythmic event serves to be more pleasurable than the loud, second-long experiences that are so popular today. Balls, after all, are symbols of stamina, and no one has bigger balls than Thomas Gungy.
It seems that our presence has already been noticed. Can’t you tell? The gossip is already starting. Isn’t it exciting? Every move you make will be discussed and deliberated. You’ll be a celebrity among your peers simply by being here, no boisterous conduct required.
What do you suppose they’re saying? I’m pretty good at guessing myself.
“Oh, there’s that old receptionist fellow. Now this party can really have fun.”
“Who’s that specimen next to him?”
“That’s probably another client. I remember my first time in the ballroom. I hope they go easy on him.”
That reminds me, we’re going to have to get you properly suited for the part of the mysterious client. How else are you going to astonish and amaze? Come with me and the staff will see to it that you’re attired respectably.
Now you look right smart enough to be here. “Buck naked”? Don’t be crass! You’’re “nude”. It’s much more appropriate with this high-brow crowd, but don’t be embarrassed. It’s how everyone gets there start here. Everyone needs to learn the rules, and what better way is there than from the observers perspective?
I think you’ll make an excellent start by the fireplace. It’s a corner where the people of the ball congregate to chat in passing until their next dancing partner becomes available. They always display easily observable etiquette, and if you watch closely enough, you may pick up then fine arts of flirting and social maneuvering as well.
Meanwhile, the gentlemen of the fireplace also need their drinks, and you need to learn how to have a little extra respect for those around you in such situations. I think you’d start very nicely as a server by the fireplace. You’ll find that the drink you were offered while the servant were stripping you will help you be very open to the position.
It’s suddenly very relaxing and calm to be here, to observe and to learn, I don’t even mind being nude anymore…thank you so much TGFT
Muscle Tf Lover 