Trey was the high school hot shot, and he knew it. A senior, star of the football and wrestling team, he was cocky, sexy, and also known to be quite the fag basher around school. If he so much as caught a whiff that someone might be a cocksucker, as he preferred to call them, he would hunt them down in the halls and beat the queer out of them, just to be safe. I was one of those he hunted down a couple of times, so it isn’t surprising that when I saw what was going on in the locker room that afternoon, my jaw nearly hit the floor.
I’d forgotten something in my gym locker, so I stopped by after school to retrieve it, when I saw coach Stevens and Trey over by the showers, and both of them were totally naked.
“That’s right, cocksucker, everytime I call you that, the deeper into trance you fall.”
“Get down on your knees.”
Trey did as he was ordered, and then he sucked the coach off, eyes closed, totally oblivious to what he was doing. The coach kept talking to him, telling him how much he was enjoying this, that he secretly loved sucking cocks, but he couldn’t even be honest with himself about his desires. I realized that coach had, somehow, hypnotized the school hotshot, and was turning him…gay.
The coach finished, had Trey drink down his cum, and then started waking him up–and that’s how I learned what the code phrase was. When Trey heard the words “Go to sleep cocksucker,” he would fall into trance again, while “Wake up cocksucker” would bring him back out. I left the locker room before either of them could see me, my heart pounding…but I waited down the hall anyway. Would it really work?
I knew it would either work, or I’d get my face beat in, but I risked it. As Trey passed me in the hall, I said, “Go to sleep cocksucker,” and he immediately went into a trance–and I dragged him into the nearby bathroom, and fucked his ass for fun. Trey didn’t know it, but he was about to become the personal cocksucker of every guy he’d ever picked on at school, and I had a feeling that by the time he graduated, he’d love every second of it.
I had two gear related suggestions from Patrons this month, which I’ve turned into a couple of sketches.
In the first, a strange science experiment gone awry has caused a young man’s skin to start tearing apart revealing something–or someone–else underneath. Skintight gear seems to keep the monster within at bay, but for how long?
In the second, a strange chain email offers to make a young man the perfect football jock. It turns out the email had a more…permanent idea in mind, as the man finds his very flesh being corrupted and twisted into football gear he’ll never be able to take off again.
If you’re a $5 patron or more, you already have access! If you’d like to see these, and other sketches, stories, and stuff I’ve posted to Patreon, there’s never a better time to support me! You can find out more information here.
“Fuck it, I wish I was the big man on campus,” Timothy said. Is that what he’d wanted to say? He couldn’t quite recall, exactly, what he’d meant to come out of his mouth, but that seemed…right, mostly.
“Ah yes, that can certainly be arranged, Master,” the genie said, snapped his fingers, and Timothy felt something happening to his body. It didn’t hurt, exactly, but it also didn’t feel comfortable. It was his feet, at first–they were growing in his shoes, and it was getting uncomfortable in there, and then it really did start to hurt. He tried to undo the laces in time, but in a few moments, his feet ripped out through the sneakers entirely, and Timothy found himself face to face with his new size twenty feet, the tops covered in hair, and he just, gaped at them.
The sensation was rising higher, his legs beginning to throb and expand. Again, Timothy tried his very best to get out of his clothes, but he was growing too fast. He tore his way out of his jeans, his thighs now not only thicker, but longer as well, as he grew taller, in addition to larger in general.
“Hold…hold on, could you slow this down or something?” Timothy said, trying to get out of his shirt, but it was too tight already to come off, and in frustration, he tore in down the front as his chest expanded into two meaty pecs, the genie just holding his usual cocky smile. “I said I wanted to be the big man on campus, but I didn’t really mean it literally!”
“Oh I know Master, don’t worry, the physical changes are only part of the wish,” the genie said, and that didn’t exactly fill Timothy with confidence either. Thankfully, the changes were beginning to slow down somewhat, Timothy tearing off the rags of the clothes he’d been wearing moments before as he looked down at his new body. He was massive, easily six and a half feet tall, weighing in at over 300 pounds. Much of it was muscle, but he was…thick in other areas too, especially his gut, which was filling in last, along with plenty of body hair all over his chest, arms, and crotch. He looked over his gut and his eyes went wide–he was certainly the big man where it counted now! He gave his new, eleven inch cock a few strokes, and it hardened almost immediately, filling out to almost a foot long, thicker than a beer can–whoever he was with was going to have a hard time taking this monster, that was for sure.
“Look, this…this is too much, I don’t want to be a freak!” He turned to look at the genie, only to be captivated by the genie’s shimmering eyes, as the rest of the wish took hold of him. After all, a body like this would be wasted on a RA position–this was the body of a jock! Timothy’s mind began to drain, his studious nature replaced with a more athletic focus, his diligence replaced with a smug masculinity as well. The genie snapped his fingers again, and they weren’t standing in Timothy’s RA dorm room anymore–they were standing in Tim’s room at the nearby fraternity instead. Tim blinked a couple of times, looked around his room and grinned. “Fuck genie, this is fuckin’ crazy man! I’m a fuckin’ jock!”
He turned towards the mirror and gave a flex, admiring his new look, and already in love with it. “Fuckin’ amazing…” he said, picked up his still burning cigar, and took a long drag off of it, still working his cock. “Man, I wish my bros were big men like me! We’d be fuckin’ unstoppable on the field, man.”
The genie was already hard at work, warping Tim’s idle wish that he hadn’t really thought too hard about making. Still, the genie thought that Tim was in good shape, but he needed to start having some fun, or the genie was going to get a bit bored.
“I wish I was a middle aged ex-jock,” Adam said with confidence, only realizing, after it was out of his mouth, that those weren’t quite the words he’d been planning on saying. “Wait, I…that’s not what I…I swear I didn’t mean–”
But before he could try and correct himself, he felt a strange force wash over him, as the genie’s eyes grew rather intense, flashing through so many colors and shades he couldn’t barely understand what he was seeing, the mist picking up that same brilliance all around him, as the wish began to take form.
Adam began to grow. He was a rather small fellow to begin with, around five foot nine inches, and around 140 pounds soaking wet. He felt a heat radiating out from his chest and abdomen, shocks and waves of heat shooting down his arms and legs, and he had to cling to one of the bookshelves in the dorm room to try and keep balance. He picked up around six inches, growing to six foot three–even taller than Eli, his roommate was, and his muscles were growing as well, his legs growing massive cords of muscle from calf to thigh, pecs inflating across his chest, his arms and shoulders bulging out as well…but while the muscle was appreciated, some of the other physical changes were less so.
The gut was one thing. Adam had never had much fat on him, but even as muscle packed on everywhere else, his abdomen inflated into a rock hard muscle gut, large enough that when he tried to stand up straight, he found it difficult to balance with leaning back somewhat. As the growth slowed down, he felt something between a shudder, shiver, and goosebumps spread across his arms, legs, chest and back, and hair began to grow…everywhere. Brown at first, the same color as his hair, but then there was some grey sprinkled through the hairs, and then, there was almost an even amount all over his body in a thick coating. He found his way to the mirror in the room, and saw that his face was no longer the youthful one he recalled. His hair was cut short, but obviously receding past the crown of his head, a short, greying beard spreading around his face as well. He looked to be in his forties at least, and he rubbed his face, rubbed the rest of his body, certain this had to be a hallucination.
“Look, I…I didn’t fucking want this, this wasn’t the wish I thought I was saying!” Adam said, as he turned to the genie, speaking in a much deeper voice now, with a certain, gravelly tone to it.
“Do not be ashamed Master, I know that many…gay men–that is what they call you now, isn’t it? Enjoy the idea of being…a daddy? A bear? I’m not sure what to call them, really. You are rather handsome, are you not?”
Adam turned back to the mirror, and the genie wasn’t wrong, of course, but still, he…what had he wanted to say? Everytime he tried to think about it, that same string of words was all that would come to him, but he knew…knew what, exactly? Had the genie tricked him somehow? But they why couldn’t he recall how it must have happened? Maybe he…he was mistaken.
“It is a shame about that shoulder though, isn’t it?” the genie said, eyes flashing and shifting in a more subtle manner now.
Adam saw a number of scars appear on his right shoulder, where he’d had it rebuilt in his senior year of college, effectively ending his budding football career in the process. Wait–that hadn’t happened, had it? “Don’t…don’t fuck with my memories, I don’t want to forget who I was!”
“How could you forget! You were a star, weren’t you? But all good things must end, as they say, and that was years ago now. Your life has not been bad, has it?”
He was twisting things. The mist was rising up around him, obscuring everything, choking him even, making his head spin. He tried to cling to who he’d been, but that small, tiny man seemed so far away now. He’d been…fuck, he’d been scouted by so many national teams, and overnight, it had all evaporated, and now…now he was here. The mist fell away, and Adam was no longer in a dorm room, but in his small, one bedroom apartment–looking at himself in the dirty bathroom mirror he hadn’t cleaned in, well, years probably. It was his bachelor pad. The genie was right, of course, it wasn’t a bad life. He made decent money working in construction, after his shoulder had healed up. He worked out a lot of course–he couldn’t imagine a life without going to the gym five days a week. Boys were always interested in hooking up with him, now that he was a proper daddy, and a few even loved calling him coach, which was always a fun scene.
The genie’s eyes returned to their normal, now that Adam’s new identity was well in place. He would not remember being that man he’d been before–unless the genie deemed it, of course. He would recall making a wish, but not the details of it–and it would seem…unimportant. Adam left the bathroom and went into the messy living room, smelling himself on the air, and he was…a bit disappointed. The place was a mess, really, and while he knew he could fix that with the genie–hell, he could go back and make his injury never happen! He…didn’t really want to be that pro athlete now. But there was one thing about that life he resented that he’d never gotten–the money.
“Alright genie, here’s my wish. I wish I was fucking rich!”
Or at least, that’s what he tried to say. The genie chuckled to himself, tinkered with time, with Adam’s words, and what came out instead was…
I can’t take credit for the basic idea of this one, it’s a story frame that floats around fairly regularly, but for the life of me I can’t remember who wrote it originally. If you recall the proper credit for the concept, send me a note, and I’ll update it.
Adam climbed up the stairs after a long day of classes, and was mostly thankful it was Monday evening, which meant that his roommate, Eli, would be at practice for the rest of the evening, and Adam could have the room to himself. It wasn’t that Eli was a bad person, or anything–it was just that the two of them had nothing in common, beyond the fact they were freshmen. Adam was a nerd in the engineering program, while Eli was here to, well, play football, and study a few things along the way. It wasn’t like the guy was dumb either–and he was really driven when it came to football–but Adam just didn’t understand it. Things were a bit awkward too, because Adam was gay, and Eli was straight as an arrow. He was being cool about it, but Adam could tell that he was a bit, well, suspicious of Adam living with him. It pissed Adam off a bit, mostly because Eli wasn’t even his type! He had a soft sport for chubby guys, really, and Eli was, well, ripped, and had the ego to match.
He pushed open the door to his dorm room, dropped his bag on the bed, and then set the package that had been waiting for him at the mailroom on his desk. He’d been expecting a care package from his mom for a few days, but this didn’t seem to be it–or at least, it didn’t seem big enough to hold everything she’d promised would be in there. He unwrapped it, and sure enough, it wasn’t–the only thing that was inside, was a small glass bottle. He held it up to the light, trying to see what was inside of it, but the glass had been smoked, making it hard to tell what might be in there, if anything. It was stoppered with a simple cork, and he searched for a letter or anything that might tell him more, but there wasn’t much to go on. It didn’t feel heavy, like there was liquid in there, but why would someone send him an empty bottle? He worked at the old cork for a couple of minutes, and eventually managed to pop it off, and as soon as he did, the room was flooded with a strange blue, green, and purple hued mist.
He rushed to open a window, but the mist didn’t move with the air–instead, it seemed to coalesce near the bottle, until a form appeared–the upper body of a strong fellow, his dark skin picking up the same blue, green and purple tones of the mist. His smile was broad, teeth white, eyes full of mirth and mystery, as he addressed the rather terrified Adam.
“Fear not my young master! I am the genie of the bottle–I have been given to you, because you are a unique soul in need of my services. For the next 24 hours, I am yours–you may have as many wishes as you desire from me while I am in your service.”
Adam was certain he must be hallucinating, but the genie assured him he was not, and in order to satisfy his demands, granted a few minor wishes for him, enough to gain the young man’s trust. This was often necessary, the genie had found–the mortals had heard tales of his kind which cast them as great tricksters.
The genie was a trickster, of course, just not in the way that Adam was expecting.
The genie would grant his wishes, and the spirit of them–however, the genie had the power to alter three words in his master’s wishes. The master would generally believe that they had wanted to ask for the new wish, and wouldn’t realize what had happened. The genie knew it was so he could keep things from getting too out of hand, but over the centuries, the genie had found that the loophole was more than enough to allow him to toy with his Masters–and the genie was a rather perverse fellow himself.
Satisfied with his tests, Adam found himself wondering what to wish–what he would do differently. He found himself thinking about Eli all of a sudden, and wondered…what his own life would be like, he was a jock like him. “I can always change myself back, right? If I do something dumb?”
“Of course Master–for the next 24 hours, you can live all of your fantasies.”
“And it doesn’t matter if it’s a bit vague?”
The genie shook his head, “I can sense what you desire Master–if I get something wrong, it is easily fixed.”
“Alright. Then for my first wish…I wish I was a jock.”
The genie smiled, and Adam felt something strange happen as he spoke, or as he tried to speak. It was like the words were caught between his mind and his mouth, and as they came out, they were…twisting into something different, something he hadn’t intended to say, had he? The genie just smiled away, tinkering with his Master’s wish, which was now…
Fuck, I can…smell myself…I never knew I smelled so fucking good.
I didn’t really believe it, when coach told me what was going to happen, that I was really going to shoot my essence into this fucking jock, turn myself into a weak old, impotent man for him…but I’m so happy I did. I’d do anything for coach, ever since…ever since he cast that first spell on me from that book, told me I was going to be his obedient slave for the rest of my life, and it’s true. Not only can I not disobey him…I don’t even want to. Obeying him brings me the greatest pleasure, and now…now I can give him even more, all of my youth, all of my strength. Sure, I…I’m old now, and I can barely get a hard on–though smelling myself is doing a damn good job–but I didn’t deserve it.
He’s the one who deserves to be young, and strong, and I just hope after he puts it on and absorbs me that I’ll still be able to serve him. He…he said that I’ll just be a worthless old faggot after this, but I can still suck cock, and he can fuck me, and…and even if he doesn’t want me, I suppose that’s alright. At least I could give him this, all of myself, as a final token of my service to him.
Maybe…he’ll fuck me, after he absorbs me. Maybe he’ll bend my old ass over, and fuck me with his young cock, shoot a load of cum into me, fuck! I hope he does, I hope he gives me that much at least. I’d better get this to him right away–I can’t want to see my master in his true prime!
Hugh didn’t hear the garage door open, on the sound of his father entering the house. He couldn’t hear much of anything through the headset he had on, while he was playing his video games, shouting into the microphone on occasion, but otherwise utterly absorbed in the TV screen, at least until the basement door slammed open, and his dad stomped down the stairs, as had been their habit ever since Hugh had graduated the year before, and decided to take what he was calling a gap year–but which his dad was beginning to suspect was more of a slacker year than anything else.
Carl wasn’t quite sure what had happened. Sure, Hugh had never been the brightest fellow at school, not showing much interest in anything other than football–which his father happened to coach at the school. Sure, Carl might have pulled a couple of strings with some of the administrators to make sure Carl graduated on time, but it wasn’t like every other parent at the school wasn’t advocating for their kids. When a football scholarship failed to materialize, Carl told his dad he just needed a break–a year to try and sort out what he wanted to do, and that had seemed reasonable. Carl had assumed that would mean Hugh getting a job, or studying, or…well, anything other than this.
Instead, ever since summer, all Hugh had done, really, was play video games down in his room in the basement. Carl had started pestering his son more directly, and more than once now they had gotten into shouting matches with one another, Carl demanding that Hugh do something with himself, while Hugh shouted back that he just needed some time, and some space. Maybe he wasn’t being fair. Maybe he’d helped him too much. Carl thought about trying to engage him again, but just shook his head. He was tired from his second job–and just wanted to relax for a while himself. He tossed the letter that had arrived for his son on the table in front of him, saw Hugh’s eye flick over to it, and then Carl went back upstairs, got a beer out of the fridge, and sat down on the couch to watch the news.
Hugh didn’t really have much interest in the letter, and so he kept playing until he got hungry, and then took a break. The six month streak of lounging and slacking had done a number of Hugh’s physique, and while he’d always been thick, the football had at least kept him from going from thick to fat–but he was decidedly in ex-jock territory now. His hygiene had also slipped considerably, he hadn’t gotten his hair cut in months, and had stopped shaving regularly too, and was no sporting a considerable beard–something else his dad nagged him about all the time.
Still, getting a snack or a meal would require getting past his dad upstairs…and Hugh just didn’t have the energy for another fight with him. His dad didn’t understand how he felt, how…Hugh just didn’t know what in the world to do with himself. High school was easy, and easier still than it could have been, because he had his dad there to help get him through it. He just felt…stupid, sometimes, and the only person he felt like he could count on, even more than himself, was his dad, but he was even fucking that up too. Everything just felt so…anxious all the sudden–it was easier to just play video games. Even if you lost, at least you didn’t lose anything for real, right? Wanting to put things off a bit more, before braving his father, he grabbed the envelope Carl had tossed on the table, opened it, and read the note inside.
Congratulations! You have been nominated by someone you know for our exclusive resolution program, and we have selected you from many excellent candidates as someone who could benefit from our unique service. Enclosed, you will find your tailored list of New Year’s resolutions for the year 2019.
Now, we know what you are thinking, that you don’t need someone else, especially some strange organization, to make resolutions for you! That’s where you are wrong. You see, people who are nominated for our program are those in the most dire need of change, but who often are incapable of changing themselves, often through supreme self-delusion. You’ll be glad to know, then, that the included resolutions are compulsory, and non-negotiable. Come 2020. You’ll be amazed at what a little change can do for you!
Included with your 2019 resolutions, of course, is a mandatory invitation to our 2020 New Year’s Eve party. We know that it’s a year away (and goodness, do you have an exciting year ahead of you!) but we just want to make sure you mark your calendars now. Not that you have much of a choice in any case!
Enjoy the new year, and enjoy the new you!
New You Enterprises
Hugh looked at the list inside, and then turned on a light, so he could read better, certain it must have been a mistake. It didn’t make any sense, what he was reading, after all, and more confused than ever, he felt something odd…stir in him, a small awareness that his slacker year was going to be very different from this moment forward.
Alright, here’s the last set of resolutions for this story! I’m still not sure how the final year end party is going to work out yet, and whether it will be interactive or not, but at the very least we’ll get to see how our four characters ended up after a year under their new resolutions. Don’t forget! If you’re a patron, you get access to the bonus poll, that counts for double! You can find it here, and the public poll is embedded below.