Tag: himbo

linxiaopei:

Matt blinked dumbly at his phone. What was he doing again? Oh yeah, his friend Craig had linked him to this app, which he said he just *had* to try. Matt opened it and scoffed, yet another dumb thing Craig wanted him to use. Apparently the app would make him look hotter through editing his image or… something. It was pretty vague on the details really. Not like it mattered, it wasn’t going to do anything anyway. Still, might as well get it over with, it’d make Craig happy at least. He skipped past the terms and conditions and pressed ‘Go’. The screen displayed a loading bar with ‘Processing…’ written above it. Matt stared at it for a minute, waiting for something to happen, before getting frustrated. He tapped at the screen, trying to find someway to cancel it, only to find no way out. Ugh, had Craig given him some sort of virus or something?

It was then that Matt caught a glance of his reflection, and gasped. His clothes were fucking melting! What the fuck? He would have dropped the phone in shock, but he was somehow frozen solid. He could only stare horrified at what was happening to him, and the phone which now said ‘Removing Clothes’. So this app was changing him? That had to be bullshit, no app could do that. He’d have to ask Craig what the hell he was playing at the next time he saw him. Anyway, looked like all he could do was stand here until this weird prank, or whatever, ended. He watched as his shirt and jeans shrank into a tanktop and short shorts, then vanished entirely. His trainers and socks became more sporty and his underwear shifted from standard grey boxer-briefs into a sexy red number, clearly designed to show off his bulge and ass.

He thought it looked ridiculous on him, he was hardly one to show off his body normally. He wasn’t in terrible shape but he was pretty scrawny, with some pudge here and there, and fair too hairy for his liking. Just as he finished that thought the display on the phone changed. It switched to ‘Processing Body’ and Matt felt a strange tickling sensation all over his skin. He gawped as his hair started receding into his skin, slowly at first but speeding up until he was completely smooth all over. Normally he wouldn’t mind a change like this, but he was pretty creeped out that this app was somehow changing him without his permission. Other changes began hitting him in quick succession. His body started bulking up, finally getting some muscle onto his skinny frame. He started in awe as he developed pecs and a six pack, and his arms and legs bulged out. He felt a tingle of pleasure as his cock lengthened and ass plumped out, filling out his underwear nicely. Apparently satisfied with his body, the process then moved onto his face. It looked like his skin was flowing as his face was re-sculpted before his eyes. His features were smoothed out, blemishes removed. He was getting increasingly freaked out by the time the process was done with his face. Sure, the face staring back at him looked kinda nice, but it definitely wasn’t *his* face. To finish off his hair started styling itself. It had been short and brown, Matt not bothering to do anything with it other than cut and wash it regularly. Now it spiked up, Matt mentally groaning that it was going to be a pain to deal with.

With his hair finished the visible changes appeared to have completed. Matt hoped this was the end of it, hoped that he might be freed, might be able to figure out what the fuck was going on. The app had other ideas, and switched to ‘Mental Reprogramming…’Oh no no no, this fucking prank had gone too far! Matt strained against his invisible prison but it was no use, he couldn’t even twitch thanks to the power the app had over him. What was the point of these muscles if he couldn’t fucking use them? He felt himself get dizzy… no, no he had to fight thi-… so dizzy… The app flooded his baffled brain with pleasure, making him think that maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. He started to relax as the app went through his memories, deleting and reorganising as appropriate. First to go were his knowledge of his accountancy job and memories of his degree, he wouldn’t be needing those any more. Huh, degree? Nah, Matt had never gone to uni. That was for smart people, not thickos like him He’d dropped out of school the first chance he got, that nerd shit really wasn’t for him.

Sex had been all he’d been much good at, or interested in, so it wasn’t a surprise when he ended up as a go-go dancer. Memories of being on stage, showing off his body to anyone and everyone flooded into his mind. He’d worked hard on this body so it wasn’t surprising that he wanted to show it off. He practically bounced between the club he worked at and the gym, what little time wasn’t spent there was inevitably in the bedroom of one nameless customer or another.

He was glad to see he was in his usual skimpy underwear and little else. Clothes were so constricting, he never wore them if he had a choice about it. People called him a slut, as if that was a bad thing. They sure weren’t complaining when they got his ass. It might be expensive but hey, he was worth it. He felt nice and calm as the pleasure continued to overwhelm him, what had he been so worried about earlier? Eh, thinking was hard, made his head hurt. Best not to do it at all if possible….

The phone pinged ‘Complete!’ with Matt’s final acceptance of his new life. Acting on autopilot, he took a selfie and sent it with the message ‘all done ;)’ to Craig. Matt awoke to his reflection, blankly starting at himself in the mirror. Not that staring at himself was unusual, people often told him how vain he was, a regular himbo. Not that he could say they were wrong, huhuh. But still, something in the back of his mind told him he was meant to be doing something…

His phone popped up with a message from Craig ‘Nice! I’ll be over in 10…’ Oh yeah, he was gonna be fucking Craig today! God he was such a dumbass, he’d forget his own name if he wasn’t careful…

Source: linxiaopei

wild-eyed-misfit-prophet:

You were like a statue, you agreed to model for the art class. You weren’t told that you’d be model clay. After underessibg, tue professor offered you some water
Drinking the water, you felt you body seize up, coming to a complete hault.

The drink made you into clay, now you were at the mercy of the sculpting class, apparently full of horny gay men. The pulled clay off of you, smoothed yoir skin, sculpted your pecs and abs, adding muscle to your arns and more to your feet.

The massaged your face, pressing, scraping and pushing. Once they were done, they let you set and dry. The next day they fired you in the kiln. Once dry, they paikted you to look like a real boy, skin tone and all. Gone was the irish tan, replaced with a darker hue, thicker hair and a perfect complexion. On the third day they added all the fine details. The fourth day they glazed you sealing off the body hair you once had. On the 6th day they fired you again. Setting your fate as a resembling a 19 year old, statue.

On the 7th day they bathed you in the waters from the cauldron of life. Your skin gained feeling again, your blood was rushing you could feel your heart betaing. You were alive again!

You were a freshman again, your doctoral work was gone, nobody would believe you. You couldn’t remember anything, unbeknownst to you, the professor known as Dag, has slipped a piece of paper into your clay form. That paper dictated yoir new life, making you a C student, grade A hornball and an above average model. You might get your degree, but you ate much more happy flashing your body for the camera.

Source: tarccisio

dougtfs:

I hired all three of the bodybuilders to dance at my party, and they were a huge hit.

“Nice job, guys,” I said at the end of the night. They stood before me in next to nothing, just the skimpiest briefs, their bodies slick and sweaty with a strong musky smell.

“You have checks for us?” said one of them.

“Maybe next time,” I said. “This was just an audition tonight. You guys were fine.”

“That’s not what we agreed to,” said another. “You’ll have to pay us now.”

“Look, meathead, I don’t have to do anything,” I said. What a bunch of idiots. “Now leave before I call security.”

“You can’t call security,” said the third. “They won’t recognize you.”

“Why won’t they … uh … what?” I said, my head growing groggy. I fell to my knees, weak and dizzy.

“You’re just one of the dancers,” said a voice.

Was I? I looked down at myself. The business suit I was wearing seemed to grow thin and threadbare. Worn-out. It began to fall from my body, leaving only a blue pair of skimpy briefs on my thin frame.

“I’m not a… I’m not a dancer,” I said, but I wasn’t sure. Who was I? I sure smelled like a dancer, with all this sweat. Or was it them, did they smell? Was their smell rubbing off on me?

I lifted an arm to sniff – no, it was me, I stunk. I must’ve been dancing all night. Yeah, that’s right. I stared at my arm as it bulked up with muscle, growing thick and strong and hairy. The other arm swelled too, then my chest, my back, my abs.

Rising to my feet, I felt the muscle growing down my legs, my thighs and calves thickening with strength. My feet stretched, growing long and hairy, giant meaty slab-like feet on my huge hulking body.

“What did you… what am I?” I said, staring down at myself.

“You’re one of us,” said the dancer in the red briefs. “Muscle man. Body builder. It used to just me be. But then I started turning bad bosses into good men.”

“Good men?” I said. I felt so stupid. Why couldn’t I concentrate?

“Don’t think about it too hard,” said one of the other guys. “We all live in a loft now. Mostly just fuck and work out, get hired for dancing or whatever.”

“Awesome,” I said. “Am I coming with you now?”

“That’s the plan,” said the one in red. “Of course, as the new guy, we’re going to have to take you for a test drive.” He stepped closer, reaching around behind me. I felt his finger slide down inside my briefs to my ass crack, then press against my hole.

“Let’s see how many cocks we can fit in here at once,” he said.

Get more stories of transformation, power, and control: http://bit.ly/DBGPlus

Source: mistergarf

wild-eyed-misfit-prophet:

idesofrevolution:

wild-eyed-misfit-prophet:

Your initiation would be complete after they fuck you. You won’t eve recognize yourself in the mirror once their done. Each time of of them fills you with their seed and it pushes part of you out. They have decided you’d make a great bottom and it was he who is fucking you turn to decide what you be. He’s fucking away your inhibitions, he’s destroying all of your ability to live in “normal society”, he’s ripping your potential away. All of that is the sacrificial lamb to what you will receive. A body no man could resist, a fuckhole that will always be tight, a contant depraved need for sex, cum and man sweat. Your morals and values are burning up like leaves in an autumn pile. 

You were going to help people with your life, you were going to be important and make a difference. None of that matters now, you see you can feel the transformation beginning your body tightening with muscle, bulging in every fiber of your being. Your face is rapidly growing that beard and your fuck hole becoming 1000 times more sensitive. 

The pleasure overwhelms your mind, searing away useful neurons replacing them with neurons that connect to lust, pleasure and depravity.  Your whole life is being stolen, rewritten, a slut since you could remember. A fuckboy and a himbo. Your life has always revolved around the need for pleasure, to submit. 

Once you cum your new fate will be sealed forever. Anything useful about you, other than your cock, face, hot body, need for sex and your fuck hole will shoot from your body. They will take your potential, in the form of your cum and sell it on the street to some poor sod who never had a chance. And while he gets ahead in life, you’ll be found in back alleyways getting fucked for a buck

Love this guy!! @wild-eyed-misfit-prophet

Definite mutual love @idesofrevolution!

Collaboration between me and my bf, @cannibal-chow

And as soon as his feet touched the beach, his feet grew to size 16. His torso suddenly got leaner and longer. His butt swelled into a firm bubble butt as his hair turned dark and shaggy. His mind filled with image of hot naked guys, and he realized he was gay now. His shirt turned into a white tank top for a few minutes before it completely vanished. His shorts crept up and got short. Too short, and tight; showing off his bulge. A fang necklace forming around his neck as he posed for the camera ready to play volleyball with his buddies. While they waited for the perfect wave.

dougtfs:

Tom stepped out into the sun, and instantly the oil he’d sprayed on his hairless chest went to work. His bare pecs darkened with hair, growing quick and thick around his nipples, swirling into the divot between his muscles, and straining up toward his neck and shoulders.

“Amazing,” he gasped. “Give me more.”

I handed him the bottle and he pointed it at his stomach, spraying around his belly button and turning to face the setting sun. As the rays his Tom’s stomach, more hair appeared down his torso, dark and curly.

“You look amazing,” I said.

“Try it,” he said, holding the bottle out toward me.

“I don’t know,” I said.

He pointed it toward his boyish face and sprayed twice. A beard began to sprout around his mouth, thickening and extending up into a mustache. It materialized from sideburn to sideburn, connecting across his jaw in a masculine thicket.

“Come here,” he said, roughly grabbing me by the shirt. I stumbled forward and fell face-first against his chest, feeling the cool smear of the oil on my face. I stood back up, and the chemicals had already gone to work, giving me a patchy stubble on my chin.

“Yes,” Tom said. “Take it. Take more.” He pointed the bottle at me and sprayed me square in the face. I winced, feeling the spray mist around my head. My scalp tingled and my hair grew shaggy and disheveled. A beard sprouted around my cheeks, turning the stubble to fur that reached nearly to my eyes. And even my ears became furry, losing their human appearance and becoming tall, pointed, animalistic.

“Too much!” I exclaimed, feeling the points of my ears. They felt like a dog’s ears, so heavy and tall they were able to flop over.

“Not enough,” he replied, snapping off the cap of the bottle and splashing me with it, dousing my shirt, my shorts, my shoes, my whole body.

Get more stories of transformation, power, and control: http://bit.ly/DBGPlus

Source: bullsbearsandbrawnpart2

dougtfs:

The job interview was going really well. The two guys interviewing me seemed really impressed with my management experience.
“Good body of work,” said the older one. “But let’s talk about your body.”
“Oh, uh, what about it?” I said.
“This office job requires some lifting,” he said. “How strong are you?”
“I work out,” I said, wondering if I should have worn something more casual than a suit and tie.
“You’ll need to show us,” said the younger one, holding up his hand. There was a flash, and suddenly my mind cleared. I felt confused.
“Where was I?” I said.
“You were about to start your striptease,” said the older one.
Oh yeah. That’s right. I was applying for a job as a stripper. I turned my chair around and straddled it, slowly undoing my belt and slipping out of my pants.
“Nice,” said the younger one. “Maybe we ought to keep him like this.”
I jiggled my ass at them. This interview was going great.

Get more stories of transformation, power, and control: http://bit.ly/DBGPlus

Source: raspberryfruitcake

lixpex:

“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!).

Source: tripltap