#masculinization
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No Need to Apply
Here is my 1K special! Though admittedly it is nothing much out of the ordinary- Thanks to everyone who submitted prompts but especially the anonymous suggestion that spurred this transformation of a desperate twink into a cocky slob! -Occam
Brock really needed a lucky break. He had been staying with his ex since they ended it, but now that he’s sleeping with someone it’s clear that Brock needs to get his own place. Unfortunately the market is not being quite so accommodating to his urgent needs. Given that he is now to be living alone it’s evident he also needs the place on the cheap. He had been denied all reasonable accommodations that he could afford and was beginning to contemplate moving back in with his parents when he suddenly received an email from an apparent realtor he’d never met.
It was an invitation to an open house at some ritzy downtown apartment that he was sure was out of his price range. Rather than just tossing it to his spam folder though, he finds himself looking at the handful of images with a voracity, whether it’s simple curiosity or a fantasy to have such clearly luxurious housing Brock reads through the whole listing. Reaching the end of the invitation and looking at the specs he finds the rent impossibly labeled as just under half his monthly paycheck.
Nearly spitting up coffee all over himself in shock, Brock’s eyes flutter to find exactly when and where this open house was. Surely the demand for this place would box him out but god wouldn’t it be nice to just check it out and dream. He sends an RSVP and far too quickly the realtor, Lucas, thanks him for his prompt response, wishes him well, and signs off saying see you soon. Brock went about the rest of his day as normal, if not a little cheerier than he’s been for some time as he keeps finding his mind drift to that almost-too-perfect apartment’s view over the city.
Fortunately off from work the next day, Brock took the bus to the open house, stopping by his favorite cafe that just so happens to be nearby. He grabs a drink and finds himself preoccupied with thoughts of what a convenience, what a windfall, this break would be. He heads inside and takes the elevator up to the suite and hesitates before entering at the door. Odd that there is no one else here, he double checks the room and floor and puts his ear to the door to see if perhaps other visitors are inside already.
In his untrained attempt to eavesdrop he puts his weight squarely against the door, pushing it open and stumbling in, nearly spilling his coffee over the pristine floors as he crosses the threshold into the apartment. Light streams in through the blinds, only magnifying the manicured state of the spotless room around him. The floor is clean enough to see his reflection, mouth agape, staring at how impossibly clean the apartment is. The only record at all that the place had ever been lived in is the furniture that had clearly been procured by someone of great means, though one lacking any critical eye or desire for design. He sees framed posters of some real red flag movies near a large TV and some sports trophies lined on a shelf. Brock can’t help but wonder what could cause someone to leave such personal artifacts behind and feels a chill in the air.
He wanders away from the entrance to stand at the large windows, his phone ringing as he takes in the view of his town. Answering without checking the ID he hears a man’s voice he doesn’t recognize. Though he knows this must be the mystery realtor on the line, “How do you like the place Brock?” he begins to reply before being cut off by Lucas, “Have you seen the view yet, it’s quite something else.”
Brock feels something flicker through his mind as he gazes at the city blocks around him, below him. His eyes briefly catch on his reflection in the glass, though not long enough to see his eyelids droop slightly as he is able to reply, a tad slower than he usually likes to project, “uhh, yeah I know right, how could I not apply to live here? It’s almost too good to be true right?” There is another chill in the air and his body shivers before tensing up, shocking him back to reality and awareness to something strange afoot, “Excuse me actually, I’m so sorry, how did you get my phone number?”
Lucas clicks his tongue and speaks with an almost sickly sweet tone, “Now Brock come now, what can I do to get you to move in today?” Shaking his head in shock Brock is immediately, regardless of the clear sinister air to this man, he really cannot afford to pass up this chance. He clams up as he clambors to express interest, “No I uh! Of course I want the place, just send the lease over so I can read through it.” There is a real weight to Lucas’ words as Brock hears them, the cloying tone impressing itself on his mind, “Wonderful! That is all I needed to hear!”
It is suddenly dark in the apartment, but wasn’t he looking out the window? He can’t tell if his eyes are open or closed but he cannot see. Brock tries to move his head around to see, to feel anything, he strains his mind reaching for any muscle to flex, any tendon to pull, limbs to controt. He loses track of time and reality as he sits in the darkness, trying to grasp anything beyond his own consciousness, unable to affect anything. He feels his right hand move in a familiar way then he feels a warmth, almost a burning, completely engulfs it. He can almost see the shine of a smile, stark perfectly lined teeth that seem eerily inhuman and suddenly there is once more light. He gasps, coughs, and spits up over himself. Immediately grateful that he can feel anything at all. After feeling his body, and seeing the world almost entirely like it was before he lost consciousness, besides a copy of some contract with his name signed at the bottom.
He takes deep breaths feeling his lungs stretch and he starts to read whatever he has gotten himself into in that stupor. He reads the first few lines before he loses where he was on the page. Going again he finds his eyes suddenly dry, doing an uncharacteristically heavy blink that he can’t quite recall ever doing before and as he wonders this he again forgets his work on the contract. He slams his hand on the thigh in a rare show of aggression and gives it one last go. Brock makes even less progress this time as he is almost immediately overcome by a headache. As soon as he looks away from the sheet though, it disappears.
Brock groans as he feels himself starting to lose control of his senses before he hears his stomach grumble, and he finds a purpose he can immediately resolve. He starts to the fridge, clearly something has happened, an episode or something, he can figure it out later, he just needs food in his stomach now. He doesn’t stop to realize that there should be no food in the fridge since no one’s been living there. Though he finds there is no need as in the fridge, under a note labeled: “To Help Moving In -Lucas,” Brock sees at least a week of prepped meals. The thought that this is bizarre beyond imagination, as well as the concern at his missing time, is immediately pushed from his mind as his stomach rumbles once more, his mouth watering as he sees his soon-to-be dinner.
Brock swiftly heats it up and begins to scarf it down, throwing something on the paying no mind or care to the thought that he’s using the account of whomever the previous tenant was. He quickly scans through seeing a handful of shows and movies that he wasn’t quite interested in before stumbling on a reality show he was watching with his Ex. He grimaces and almost loses his appetite as he thinks about his boyfriend for the first time in what feels like forever. He sets his meal down on the coffee table and crashes down onto the couch. He continues to stew in ire at his ex, palming his crotch as his feelings become more passionate. He rolls his eyes in irritation at himself and that jerk, he’s not going to masturbate to that asshole.
He reclines in the couch and hears the sound of paper shifting in the cushions, pulling it out he finds a crusted magazine lodged in the couch. What can he do besides shout “what the fuck” and toss it across the room. How could they have possibly missed that in their cleaning? Brock’s eyes shift across the room suspiciously, though he notices nothing amiss as the room is illuminated by only the television. He looks at his hand that grabbed the porn and blushes, wanting to joke about the absurdity to calm himself down. Though his body makes its priorities known once more as his cock pulses and he looks past to see the magazine once more. He did want to masturbate to anyone besides his ex right?
He shuffles to pick it up, the discomfort and anxiety from handling something covered in a total strangers cum only heightens his pleasure as he sits back down. He grimaces as he sees this is a real hetero-bullshit magazine, he quickly flips through to find something he can work with. His cock keeps demanding his attention as he flips through, almost impatiently pulsing as if to suggest he doesn’t need the magazine at all, just give it your attention. Though soon enough he finds an ad for some protein powder made to emasculate the reader into buying, that almost immediately helps him lose control.
Soon after he once more fades from consciousness, his cum joining the plethora of other stains in the magazine as he tosses it behind the couch. He finds himself in a darkness that this time feels almost familiar and pleasurable. He once more feels his hand, this time though it is wet and warm. He feels it scratching in briefs that are too tight, through pubes that are too thick. He hears snoring breaking through the silence of his sleep, but that can’t be right? He would know if he snores, surely that fucker of a boyfriend would have complained. He feels his head grow warm as if he’s got a fever, though he knows it is a rage. He feels his hand feel even tighter in his briefs as his cock begins to grow in them. He continues to think of every slight his ex made, every shortcoming he was made needlessly aware of, and of how much better things are going to be now.
The heat shifts from his mind through his whole body and as light begins to break through the windows. That is not what wakes him up though, rather it is the heavy scent coming from his now sweat stained clothes. He rolls off the couch onto his face, quickly removing his hand from his briefs to catch himself, landing the stinking hand too close to his face to not smell just how loud his underwear smells. He feels his clothes sit weird on his body as he starts to rise, while his shirt just feels like it’s hanging weird, surely from the sweat, it is impossible to not see how strained his underwear is. He groans as he feels them pull strangely before he just discards them and makes his way to the bathroom.
His eyes immediately latch onto his now exposed crotch, he does a double take as he notices that it seems distinctly larger. He also would have sworn that he shaved his pubes far more recently than it seems. He scratches through them, blushing as he sees dried cum flake off curls that are longer and thicker than he ever remembers them begin. Rather than hoping in the shower like any reasonable person would do he instead tosses on some boxers, not questioning why clothing that isn’t his would just be lying out, or why he would ever put them on. Instead choosing to focus on how right wearing them feels. He pulls them tight and turns wanting to see just how his ass and bulge fill them out, though is waylaid as his shirt blocks the view.
He sneers as he takes off the sweat-stained shirt and tosses it to the floor, stretching high as his reeking body feels the air on his skin. He smiles in shock as he sees the body he has now exposed, he sees hair spreading across his stomach and torso and sweat dripping off of pits that were sure to stain every shirt he is to wear from now on. Beyond that he feels a body that is indisputably powerful, where there wasn’t even fat on his body before there was now muscle accompanied with weight in all the right places. His eyes then trail down to see the weightiest part of him by far as it bulges even lower in his boxers.
He feels an urge to move, to flex, to stretch, fill him as he hungrily takes in every new change in his body. His eyes trace their way past muscles contorting to land on his face, seeing a jaw that could certainly do with a shave. He sees his eager grin begin to turn into a cocky sneer as he begins to stretch once more, trying to will his torso even longer, trying to force his body even taller. His voice grows even deeper to his barely-aware ears as he closes his eyes to stretch, not seeing his throat force itself thicker and longer. There is once again a flicker in his mind as Brock is in darkness once more. Where there was once discomfort and fear there is now only hunger and an eagerness to grow even more.
He feels an itch burn across his body. He feels his hands dig deep into his pits scratching as hair grows thick enough to hold an odor that would never dissipate. He smells as even in this dreamstate he raises his hands to his nose to give them a post-scratch whiff. He feels the same itch cry out from his chest and pubes, from his lower back and his ass. He feels himself move his jaw as it squares up, a rumble in his throat as he feels his groans grow even deeper. He feels his mind thicken and slow as his muscles flex in his sleep. His arms do rep after unconscious rep as he feels biceps that should not be rub against a chest that has never been there before.
Finally he wakes one last time, his hand as it apparently always is, shoved in his pants, once more barely fitting despite wearing the spacier boxers. Brock blearily looks to see lines of takeout containers covering his coffee table. He scratches his beard using the hand from his crotch and he deeply inhales, two birds one stone after all. He sets out to get started with his day, tossing over in his head if he should masterbate again or not, a stain from a wet dream clearly showing through his boxers. Instead he throws Drake on his speakers and starts getting an early workout in, seeing to every part of his body getting a pump as he feels the hunger in his crotch grow only more urgent.
Going about this workout Brock feels totally at home in this apartment. After all he’s lived here for? Uh? His mind empties as he looks around and sees weeks of piled up detritus and filth. He sees dirty clothes and cum stains on his couch. Looking past them there are his American Psycho and Fight Club posters, discarded underwear hanging off the latter, as well as the trophies he distinctly remembers winning back in college wrestling. He smirks and flexes tilting his head to sniff his pit. Beyond feeling at home in his apartment he also feels unequivocally at home in this, in his body, duh. He jumps to his feet with ease, his stomach rumbling as he once more goes to meet a basal need.
Throwing some of his favorite protein powder in a blender with some milk and eggs he hears his phone go off. There are a string of messages from some bitch asking him to come back and for the life in him Brock can’t remember who that little fucker is? Hearing his shake finish blending he stares at the profile picture of whoever this twink is as he starts to down it, wiping his lips on his sweaty arm as needed. The twink he doesn’t know calls him Brock and his eye twitches, ugh. Why is this dude calling him by his, uh? Is that his middle name? Or no he was Brock right?
He finishes the shake, tossing the blender onto the pile of dishes in the sink and his mind finds itself deeply conflicted. As ever though, his body is more than happy to assuage him, the phone vibrates once more and his cock begins to bring him clarity, demanding his attention once more. Brock’s a little bitch name. He smirks as he looks around at his sty of an apartment, not remembering how neat it once was. Peeking from under a particularly dirty dish there’s a contract that he remembers that he meant to have a look at.
Bringing it to his face however he simply can’t find the motivation to even start. Why worry about this when he can masturbate, or fuck maybe he can get that whiny bitch to come over? His eyes trail to the end of the paper and see his signature, written clear as day “Adam.” He guffaws at this, god how stupid can you be, he basically forgot his own name after that twink called him uh, whatever that bitch name was. He feels his crotch grow tight again, that is kinda hot though? He moans to himself, pawing at his crotch and texts whoever this man is his address and to come ready to fuck. Adam feels no real attachment to whoever it is, nor should he, a hole is a hole after all. Saying that thought he can’t help but feel this hole is due to be taught a lesson.
If you enjoyed this I also recommend @fredwkong's The Voice in Your Head which explores a similar idea in quite a unique and captivating way!
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Soulmates 2
[Here's a sequel of sorts to my previous story Soulmates (you don't need to have read it to understand this story). With thanks to @guytransformedforever, @beardobession, @tf-vigilante, @maletransformationlover, @clevertreephilosopher, @scorpionofredsand, and @maletffanatic for providing the photos used as inspiration.]
Hello, my name is Tyler. This is me:
And this is my roommate, Dylan:
Now look, I don’t have a problem with gay people. My cousin is a lesbian. And Dylan is a great roommate. Stays out of my way when we’re not gymming together, but is always down to hang when I need someone to talk to. I just wish he would be less in my face with all his gay shit. Rainbow flags everywhere, blasting Ariana Grande at all hours, constantly bringing new Grindr hookups back to the apartment but giving me side-eye when I ogle women. It’s just… too much for me.
Here’s the thing. I might actually be able to change that. I have this friend Evan, who I’ve wingmanned for on a few occasions over the past year. One night, when we were getting drunk together, he shared his secret with me. He has a magic gift. He clasped my hand and said “tomorrow, you will wake up and have this magic too.” And sure enough, the next day I could feel a tingle coursing through my veins, and I automatically had the knowledge of how to channel it.
Now I have the ability to change somebody’s future. I can’t fiddle with anything that’s innate or has already happened to them. Like, I can’t just make Dylan straight. But I can shape his future decisions or actions, and my magic will make alterations to speed the process along. Like if I made him decide to work out more, he would basically become a muscle beast within the week. Not that I’d do that. I still gotta be the alpha here. I just want to make him a little more… palatable. Someone cool to kick back with all the time, even if he sucks dick. Let’s see... I think I know what will work.
TOMORROW, DYLAN WILL BECOME OBSESSED WITH SPORTS
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Hello, my name is Dylan:
Sports are my LIFE. I never cared about them much growing up, but about a month ago I felt the urge to join my local queer volleyball team and never looked back. It became my everything. It’s been great exercise, but on top of playing volleyball and getting totally jacked off of it, I’ve loved the sense of camaraderie. I love my team. So much so that I even pierced my nipples on a dare when we lost the semifinals. My teammate River also recommended I stop dyeing my hair, and I think the look is really working for me. For some reason, even though it’s only been a month, my hair has grown out significantly since then. Was the red dye stunting its growth or something? Anyway. I also feel like my roommate Tyler and I have really bonded. We’ve been watching baseball games together and I think he appreciates how into it I am. He says he’s excited to bro out while watching football together in the fall.
I love Tyler, but here’s the thing. Maybe I love him too much. I’ve always had this huge crush on him, and no matter how many random Grindr hookups I try to distract myself with, I just can’t stop hoping that one day he’ll give up women for good and decide he loves me. Especially now that we’re spending all this time together, bumping chests when our team wins and shit.
I know us getting together is never going to happen, but I have this… temptation. I was born with a gift. Or maybe I wasn’t. Something my twink friend Paul told me made me think maybe he had something to do with it. Anyway, I have the ability to reshape someone’s past. I change just one thing about their past, and everything about their present just ripples forward to reflect that change. It’s a delicate art. Changing something big can have huge effects that are totally unpredictable. It’s a major temptation to make Tyler gay, but who knows how he’d turn out. Plus, I think that’s just too invasive.
But… Maybe I could change something small about him. Something that would make him less my type, and allow me to move on and focus on finding a boyfriend who would actually be into me. I’m into nice guys. I really love how kind and caring he is. And come on, he’s a FIREFIGHTER. So maybe I can try…
TYLER GREW UP SELFISH AND SPOILED
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What’s up, I’m Tyler.
You dig the jacket? Yeah, I’m still a firefighter, I’m just off duty. But babes dig whatever look I rock, you know what I mean? I get what I want, and what I want is a lot of one night stands. I know how to get ‘em, too. I’m so glad I made the decision to grow this beard out a year ago, it’s opened so many doors for me. And opened a lot of legs.
I’m getting what I want from Dylan, too. Finally, I have a roommate who’s willing to grab brews and watch the game with me. But I think I fucked up when I changed him. Queer volleyball isn’t exactly “sports,” at least not in my book. I thought he’d come out like a linebacker or something! I mean, nipple rings were never part of the plan. The gay guys seem to really go for them, too, so he’s got an even steadier stream of Grindr hookups coming in and out of the place.
On top of that, I’m a little sick of his shit. He’s always giving me lip about stupid stuff like leaving my dishes in the sink or dropping my unwashed uniform on the bathroom floor. He says it’s unsanitary. Like his parade of twinks aren’t dying to sniff that shit anyway. He just doesn’t get it. I think his volleyball teammates are a bad influence too. They’re all so obsessed with aesthetic and anti-hetero rhetoric. I still can’t make him straight, but I can definitely make him less… annoying.
TOMORROW, DYLAN WILL START HANGING OUT WITH MORE STRAIGHT PEOPLE WHO WILL HELP HIM STOP WORRYING ABOUT STUPID SHIT AND BE LESS PRISSY, WELL-GROOMED, AND UPTIGHT
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Yo, I’m Dylan.
Yeah, I cut my hair shorter than the last time you saw me. The upkeep was just getting to be too much, y’know? A couple weeks ago, about the time I dumped that lame-ass volleyball team I was on, I just got bored with shaving every day, too. I invested in a trimmer and now I rock the stubble look, and it’s working for me. I’ve gained a bit of weight since then, and it’s all for the better because I joined my local football league. Having a few extra beers with my new buds afterward just adds to my potential as a linebacker, anyway.
I thought hanging out with more straight people would make me get used to their vibe and kinda inoculate me against Tyler, but I’m still totally obsessed with him. He’s more of a bad boy now, but I’m finding that less unappealing than I used to. Plus, he’s still parading around in his uniform all the time. I can’t help it! I’ve jerked off more times that I can count to his Mr. June photos in the local firefighter calendar.
Whenever I see his mom, she’s constantly going on about how, out of all his Tonka toys growing up, the fire truck was always his favorite. She thinks that’s why he grew up to be a firefighter. Maybe I can change that core memory into something a little more… disreputable. That would definitely make him not my type anymore. I hope.
TYLER’S FAVORITE TOY GROWING UP WAS A TONKA MOTORCYCLE
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Fuckin’ A, man, I’m Tyler.
God, I love my hog. She’s a beaut, ain’t she? My parents wanted me to grow up to be a doctor or a lawyer or a firefighter or some shit, but all I ever wanted to do was ride my hog. Chicks want to ride my hog too, and I let them. As long as they don’t go near my bike! Hahaha, get it? Fuck, I love life. Let me take another drag on this stogie real quick.
Where was I? Oh yeah, my roommate, Dylan. I wish I didn’t have to room with anyone, but my boss at the garage keeps refusing to promote me. I should knock him around one of these days, see if that changes his mind. Anyway, sure, Dylan isn’t so much of a priss anymore. He doesn’t give me shit if I leave my grease-stained clothes on the couch or light up when we’re watching a football game.
But I wanted him to be straight-acting, you know? I tried to train him up as my wingman but he wore a super gay shirt with all these see-through holes to the party, and all the chicks kept their eyes on him the whole time! Fucker. Why can’t he be more like his brother? I’ve seen pictures. That dude is a full on redneck slob, got a Confederate tattoo and everything. I know they had the same backwater-ass trailer trash upbringing, why can’t he be rougher around the edges? You know what… maybe he can!
TOMORROW, DYLAN WILL REALIZE HE WANTS TO EMBRACE HIS WHITE TRASH UPBRINGING
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Hey y’all, I’m Dylan.
Hoo-ee, life has been good lately. I dunno why I resisted my good ol’ boy roots for so long. This goatee really makes me look rugged, dunnit? Also the chest hair. So grabbable. I decided to stop shaving my body, and poof! There it went. A full rug, within like two days I reckon. Like a sign from God. This is how I was always meant to be.
I know I was trying to push away my crush on Tyler by making him not my type, but what’s the fuckin’ point? I need someone who can handle me, and this hot as fuck biker dude I’ve created might be the only one who can handle me at this point. I ride ‘em rough and bareback, just like the horses back home, and weak city dudes just can’t handle it.
Will he be the same if he’s not straight? Maybe not. But as long as he can take my eight inches, I’ll keep him around. I vaguely remember having some sort of compunction about changing him so drastically, but I’m too horny to remember what it was.
Fuck it.
TYLER WAS BORN GAY
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Uh… hi. I’m Tyler. Who are you again?
Sorry, I’m pretty forgetful. Daddy Dylan says I don’t gotta remember shit though, as long as I let him ride me as rough and as long as he likes. He’ll do all the rest for me. He tells me where to go, what to do, who to do. There are so many nice, hot guys who are willing to pay our rent if I turn a few tricks. I love it.
I’ve been like this as long as I can remember. My mom and dad kicked me out when I was 18, in my senior year of high school. I was caught sucking my English teacher’s dick behind the locker rooms. I never went to college after that, but it’s not like I was getting good grades anyway. Sucking Mr. Brentmon’s cock wasn’t for my health, you know. He had a nice juicy one, too. I still dream about it sometimes.
What was I saying? Oh yeah, I took up with this biker gang for a while after getting kicked out. I’ve always had a thing for bikers. But once they got through using my ass, they got bored. It was hard for a while, but now things are oh, so easy. I get all the dick I could ever want. I have a roof over my head, and no job to worry about. All I do is go to the gym and eat and fuck and I never have to think. Dylan said he might take me out muddin’ sometime too. I don’t know what that is, but anything Dylan does is fun. Fuck, I love the way his goatee tickles my skin when he kisses me, so rough, so manly. Way manlier than I’ve ever been. It’s so fucking hot. I love how he takes care of me.
I really have no complaints. I wouldn’t change anything about my life, even if I could remember how…
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I think a lot of Spiderverse fans are forgetting that while Hobie is canonically a flirt as seen with Gwen and Miles(and Pavitr too if you want),he's also like.Not a dick about it.Yeah he's got a big ego but it's not like he degrades any of his crushes with it,he brags and tries to act cool to impress them,not make them feel insecure or like they've been given god's gift with his attention and he's never mean with his remarks like.....at ALL,he teases them lightheartedly in a way that implies romantic intent.He's legit attracted to them with no ulterior motives and he's just trying to be nice,can you guys stop making him like act like That.I'm not gonna get into the age discourse rn but i think it's weird to make him a horndog even if you interpret him as an adult like i'm sorry but if you do then there's no evidence for that because then he'd have only really interacted with minors(the Spiderkids).You don't even have to hc him as ace like i do,Just Please Be Normal About Alt Black Dudes Regardless Of What Age You Think They Are
#hobie brown#hobie brown deserves better#gwen stacy#miles morales#pavitr prabhakar#ghostpunk#punkflower#punkchai#goldenpunk#trans hobie brown#transfem or transmasc or transneutral or secret fourth things you pick#autistic hobie brown#ace hobie#team dad hobie#atsv#spiderman#antiblackness#masculinization#💌#summerposting#x black!reader
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I've been off my HRT for 28 days so far and been getting more frequent erections, but one thing Ive noticed and loved is how my urge to breed women has gone up.
I was leaving my home and was walking behind a woman with a black leather coat and purple tights on. My brains first thought was wishing that her coat was higher so I could see her ass bouncing up and down. Then I imagined bending her over and having a go at her. It gave me an erection as I was walking. Never felt like more of a guy. I hope it gets worse(better).
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Gendered Popsicle! (Patreon Request)
Patreon Stream Request for TheSipple!
Mental Masculinization via Popsicle!
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coming home and getting to change out of my uniform into boxers and a hoodie to get cross faded n play Minecraft n jack off IS gender affirming actually
#nsft#mlm nsft#t4t nsft#ftm nsft#trans nsft#queer nsft#tw weed#tw alcohol mention#gay nsft#androphilia#autoandrophilia#ftm supremacy#ftm t4t#forced masculinization#masculinization#gender play
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Not big enough. Not hairy enough. Not hung enough.
But not bad. 💪😎
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Honestly the more feminine you are the better. Just means more changes and more submission when you give up your feminine beauty to be my pretty boy. With each change I know you are becoming mine more completely than any other way you could show. Your feminine curves melting away and replaced by toned muscles, your soft feminine moans beginning to crack like a teenage boy, your upper lip thickening with hair as your skin thinkers and loses its feminine allure, your pink smooth pussy becoming covered in fur only for your newly turned cock to poke out in need for daddy. I would be so proud to call you my boy. Such a good boy to be mine.
#autoandrophilia#testosterone#ftm#gender transformation#transformation#ftm transition#forced masculinization#penis envy#forced masc#masculinization#autoandrophile#daddy’s boy
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Calli's Shirt Lift - Masculinization Sequence
So much for No Nuts November, amirite???
Sometimes I fantasize about becoming more masculine... which is really weird since I'm AMAB non-binary and have been working for years to be on the feminine side of androgynous.
Gender is crazy, y'all.
Image Description:
A sequence of three images. The background of the first panel is a mix of pink and blue. The non-binary (but feminine in appearance) Calli is grasping the bottom of their long-sleeve shirt. They say: "I keep seeing this Shirt Lift thing going around... does it actually work?" In the second panel the background has shifted to be more blue. A pink and blue arrow to the right of Calli points upward, following the motion of Calli lifting their shirt. Their sleeves stay in place and their bare chest is exposed, though without the feminine breasts that were present in the first panel. They say: "Uhh!? This feels really weird!!" The background of the third panel is completely blue. Cal has clearly become taller, his head poking up from the top of the panel. His green hair is shorter, he's blushing, and one hand is running down his flat chest under his shirt. He says: "Oh! This is... Uhm... o///o"
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Please fave, comment, and watch -- it's really appreciated!
Drawn in Procreate on iPad Pro
#transformation#tfeveryday#tf#human#tg#tftg#transgendertransformation#nonbinary#female#male#ftm#ftm_transformation#masculinization#nbtm#shirt_lift#meme#sequence#simple_background#green_hair#brown_hair#nonbinarytomale#nbtm_transformation#undercut
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Look a lot of you have been asking about voice masculinzation
As in voice therapy because HRT didn't do enough for you.
Let's start with links yo youtube videos & see where that goes
Uses a piano app
youtube
This playlist curently has 2 videos
This video has about 6 videos, though some include more "androgynous" presentations
Here's a smartphone app
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Should've Worn Green
Happy St. Patrick's Day! Figured I couldn't miss the best Irish Tf day of the year eh? Best! -Occam
Charles didn’t account for the drunks storming the streets today when he was getting ready this morning. Why should he have to step out of his way to avoid getting beer spilled on him. Nevertheless perhaps the accountant should have checked the calendar before wandering into the streets without wearing a hint of green.
Such a blunder would not long go unpunished however. Compact as he is, he nimbly ducks out of the way of glasses clinking in brutish hands raised high. He scoffs at their total disregard for sanitation as they spill beer all over each other in the cheers. Barely avoiding getting drenched himself Charles bumps into a figure who drunkenly laughs before reaching out towards him.
“Aye! Shoulda worn green lad! ‘S St. Paddys!” He shouts as he pinches the already frustrated clerk who yelps and slaps at the hand. Not even pausing to dignify the man with a verbal response, he pushes forward to not be late for work.
He stumbles onward, reaching the edge of the crowd and finally takes a break. In the scarcely fresher air, his stomach lurches and he leans onto a building to avoid falling over. His shoulder itches as he almost feels what can only be described as vertigo? He looks over the crowd angrily, sure that they are to blame for whatever this episode is, contemplating going back toward whoever assaulted him but every face in the crowd is impossibly similar. Jesus, he’s never seen so many redheads in one place?
Wondering if he’s somehow woken up in Ireland proper he feels a breeze on his midriff. Not only has his shirt been untucked but the skin exposed suggests it never could have been tucked in the first place. It’s as if he’s grown half a foot. Charles starts hyperventilating, trying to convince himself his shirt must have shrunk in the wash, though surely he would have seen his exposed belly button when he put it on no?
He again looks towards the crowd seeking anything to blame for his state. This makes it evident that he has grown indeed, now able to directly make eye contact with men in the crowd. There is a draft on his ankles as his increasing height only becomes more difficult to deny. Charles clenches his jaw as his eyes find the man who simply must be the culprit.
In the middle of the mass of Paddy’s day parishioners, he sees a man staring directly at him, a smirk edging out from under his thick beard. He raises a large glass of Guinness in cheers and Charles can’t help but stare at the man in turn, his anger quickly being replaced by confusion. He winks, the glass still raised, as Charles stumbles backwards trying to avert his eyes. They forcibly return to this man each time taking in a new facet of his impossibly masculine body. The jungle of hair in his pits draws him in as if there’s a fire in his still-raised arm. His powerful chest is covered in a similar forest of beyond dense red hair.
Charles, unbeknownst to himself, continues to hungrily stare at the statuesque man as the pitch-black coif on his own head begins to bleach as a red tint starts to force its way up from his roots. He scratches at his face wondering how he forgot to shave before work. Oh, work? He needs to get to work right? His eyes retreat from the specimen to check his watch. He raises his arm to check his watch creating a tear in his suit as his bicep involuntarily flexes. His face reddens just as his hair continues to do, his anger towards the crowd returns as they have clearly forced him to not only be late to work, but to arrive wearing less than his prestigious work demands of him.
Before enacting whatever meager retribution his increasingly muddy mind decides he looks up to see the mysterious man approaching him through the crowd. His body involuntary clenches in fear, each instinctual flex creating new tears in his workday attire. His chest bursts into existence shooting his shirt’s buttons far into the dancing crowd. Tears appear down the length of his dress pants revealing tight briefs barely hanging together underneath. He rips off the rest of his suit jacket lest it impede him as he prepares to bolt from the rapidly approaching giant, though with each surge of growth coursing through Charles the man seems less menacing and massive, and more familiar.
He again scratches at his shoulder as he begins to notice that someone in the crowd desperately needs a shower. At least he thinks it's the crowd, he looks towards his own pits questioning his cleanliness and sees pits with thin dark hairs. But that can’t be right? Surely they should be red like all his other hair. He flexes his pecs and watches the ginger hair on his torso dance in the morning sun. Laughing before he returns his attention to his pits that are rapidly agreeing with his assessment and growing thick and red, they also make it clear that the sudden stink in the air could be no one but him.
It’s chill though Charles thinks, he’s been partying all morning with the guys, he’s sure they’ll get it. Smirking to himself not even noticing how swiftly he has assimilated to being one of the parishioners that have taken over the block. As he stands there, his red pubes increasingly showing above his crotch as his briefs are weighed down with each growing pulse in his crotch.
Finally the smirking Irishman who started it all makes his way over shouting, “Ay Charlie! Yer gunna have to cover up ya! Shame we’re not Scots or I’d toss ye a kilt, Ha! And ‘Ere lad don’t be standing around without a drink in hand.” He tosses a large cup at Charlie who catches it, though losing the head as it splashes all over him, matting his ginger curls to his chest and revealing the most intricate details of his still-growing bulge.
Charlie cheers at the man who must be a friend, or at least a countryman, before quickly starting to down the tankard. As he swallows the swill he swiftly loses whatever smidge of himself that remained in this northern paragon of a body. His chest fills out with a bit of weight as beer trickles down the beard expanding further down his face. As he swallows his voice develops into an impossible to mistake accent. It’s just, didn’t he have something to do today? His brown eyes sparkle as they brighten to a green bright enough to be in the tricolor as he laughs. What could he have to do today more important than celebrating his home country! America is fine and all that but fwoh, could certainly stand to be more like his homeland. Charlie, tired of thinking so much on a day like this, gives into a primal urge of celebration and joins the bacchanal. Charles Morris would not arrive to push whatever buttons and keys he was supposed to at work that day. But Charlie Mulligan was having the greatest time of his life, as he would continue to do evermore.
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I saw your post about offering advice for trans folks and had a question! Any tips for dressing more masc while still having good style? So many of the tips I see lead to the most boring white bread styles. You look like the expert in Not doing that
masculine fashion is super fun, i am very flattered that you asked, so here are some tips
a lot of people i think assume that "masculine" means it needs to blend in and be bland, but if you take a look at a broader variety of men's clothing, you can see that there are a lot of very fun styles. it depends on where you live in the world and what you have access to of course, but i highly recommend checking out thrift stores if they are accessible to you because they will give you a good idea of a broad range of masculine styles to choose from
there are so many different styles and cuts of clothing. especially when it comes to men's jeans. men's shoes can also vary surprisingly wildly and and shoes can make a big different in an outfit. it's good to look and see what styles appeal to you
a lot of ppl gravitate toward very bland, plain button ups with maybe a simple necklace, or just a v neck or something, but i've found that there are loads of fun and even flamboyant styles when it comes to men's streetwear. you can find all kinds of modern fashions that prioritize bright funky colors.
keep in mind that "masculine" in the modern era generally refers to the cut of a particular garment. generally angular, square, straight lines, etc, no flare or flourish or much dangling cloth. clothes that prioritize a bulky chest and upper arms. no frills design, but the patterns and colors however you can absolutely go nuts with.
i think people often forget that scarves are a great accessory and men's scarves can slap super hard. big dress coats and trench coats are also genuinely very cool. overalls and coveralls are also very slept on and i think that's a shame.
you can do a lot with hats, i recommend seeing if a particular hat type calls out to you and see if you like it. a lot of dudes i know had 1 particular style of hat they'd wear all the time and idk sometimes you're just the hat guy LMAO i was when i was younger. no wait i still am
vests are absolutely delightful. i own several, you can find them premade or literally make your own out of an old jacket. vests can be very masculine and make an otherwise femme outfit have an edgier masc look instantly.
also consider that the wilder the pattern on something, the more it visually distracts from the shape of the body underneath, so it's worth trying out. useful tip in hiding one's chest.
those are some random tips but i hope that was somewhat helpful. thank you so much
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Magic Mustache - Chapter 1
A chapter commissioned by @beardobession:
Cam’s mom had asked if he wanted to get grad photos taken, but he shuddered at the thought that the way he looked, even at 18 years old, would be commemorated for all time. He looked nothing like the “barely legal” dudes he watched in porn videos all the time, with bulging muscles covered in hair, even the ones billed as twinks capable of light stubble, but most bursting forth with manly facial hair designs from goatees to mustaches to full-on beards. He had a sneaking suspicion that most of them weren’t actually 18, but that didn’t prevent him from being jealous.
That’s why his finger was hovering over the “Add to Cart” button on an Amazon product called Magic Mustache, which claimed - under the banner “Barbers Hate This!” - to be such a realistic-looking false mustache that you could fool anyone in your life into thinking you grew it yourself. Cam wasn’t trying to gaslight anyone or nothing, but last year all the boys in his small Virginia town had participated in Movember and he was the only one who didn’t sprout a single hair. He was hoping to be able to make himself a new man when he started college in Boston in the Fall, and maybe a few pictures with the mustache would convince people he was able to grow one but had merely elected to shave it off.
Fuck it. He added it to the cart and made the purchase.
Ding dong!
He ran to the front door and opened it, expecting to see one of his friends. Instead, a package was lying on the doorstep, with a Magic Mustache logo emblazoned on the top. No fucking way. He had just gotten Amazon Prime the other day and hadn't used it yet, but he didn’t think it worked that fast.
He rushed upstairs and ripped open the package, dumping the contents onto his unmade bed. It all seemed simple enough. He applied the provided spirit gum to the back of the strip of false hair and affixed it onto his upper lip. He let it dry for five minutes before he rushed into his bathroom to check it out.
He looked… idiotic. The mustache looked like a bad prop from an elementary school play, the stiff bristles looking unnaturally shiny and incredibly fake. Tears welling in his eyes, he reached up to remove the waste of money from his lip. It wouldn’t budge at first, so he tugged harder. And harder. Eventually, in a rush, the whole thing was ripped from his lip, leaving a small cut behind where the gum had pulled at his skin. He tasted copper.
He crumpled a piece of toilet paper and held it to his cut, dejectedly throwing the now ruined Magic Mustache into the trash can.
The next morning, still mad, he loaded up Amazon so he could leave a one star review. When he pressed enter, a pop-up window read “Holding review for 7 days. This seller has requested that users only review their product after the one-week return window has closed. You will be contacted after one week and have the opportunity to edit and confirm posting of this product review. We apologize for the inconvenience.”
Frustrated, he decided to open up the selfie camera and take a picture of his cut to add to his review when he was finally allowed to publish it. But… the cut wasn’t there. He poked and prodded at his upper lip, wondering if the lighting was wrong for the camera to pick it up. But no, the cut had simply vanished. His fingertips still felt something off though, and he realized they were scraping against just a few light pinpricks of stubble.
Holy shit! He rushed to the bathroom and flipped over the reversible mirror his mom always used to pluck her eyebrows. They were tiny, but they were really there! He had stubble! Just a sparse smattering of dots, and who knew if they would grow in any further, but holy shit! They were fucking there! Cam let out a whoop, using every bit of air in the lungs that had won him the hog calling contest at the county fair three years in a row.
He poked at the stubble again, enjoying the unfamiliar feeling. His dick grew stiff in his jeans, imagining what he might look like with a full, legitimate, I-grew-it-myself, honest-to-goodness mustache. He palmed his cock, his body surging with pleasure. He reached back up to rub his lip again, only… there was more stubble now. Not, like, a lot. But he could have sworn there was only a thin strip right below his nose, where Clark Gable might have grown his mustache. But now the rough dots had extended about halfway down his lip. Was it… Could it possibly be…
He decided to spend the day at home, poking at his upper lip every 20 seconds to see if any new growth had appeared. His dick quickly deflated when he realized this was going nowhere, but the energy from his initial excitement was still coursing through his body. He felt fidgety, pumping with adrenaline, and he decided sitting in one place was not the move.
Maybe it was actually time to use the gym membership his older brother had ironically gifted him for Christmas. He felt like he could run 18 miles. He walked to their local gym, which was just a couple blocks away, next to the cigar store. He always thought that was an ironic juxtaposition, but he found himself lingering in front of the shop window a little longer than necessary, wondering what one of those huge stogies might taste like. When he arrived at the gym, he flashed his card at the bored looking teenager behind the reception desk. He hopped on the first free elliptical and began to pump back and forth, enjoying the freeing feeling of the air flowing past him.
He almost smacked himself in the face when the dude walked in.
Boasting a haircut with the sides shaved and longer, floppy locks on top, as well as a thick beard with a poofy mustache, this guy was Cam’s perfect guy. His nightly fantasy. The kind of guy he could wake up to every morning. Fuck, he was tenting his basketball shorts.
Luckily, the elliptical he had chosen had a wall on one side and another machine strategically blocking the other, so nobody could see his boner as long as he was on the machine. But he couldn’t leave or do anything else until it died down, or he would melt into a puddle of shame. He decided to just pretend everything was fine and keep moving. His hard dick felt a little weird bobbing against the inside of his shorts, but not bad.
He was hoping his boner would go away quickly so he could make his escape, but the dude took up residence on a stationary bike right across from Cam, giving him a perfect view of the way the hairs of his mustache rippled every time he exhaled with the exertion of his workout.
Cam wondered what kissing that mustache would feel like. Hell, he wondered what having that mustache would feel like. He tried to imagine his brand new stubble eventually growing into something that luxurious and supple. He thought about the tiny dots spreading, eventually claiming his entire lip, top to bottom. He imagined the follicles germinating, tiny hairs curling from them, straightening up and reaching for the sun. At first they would be entirely separate stalks of stiff hair, but as they lengthened and softened, they wouldn’t be able to help tangling into one another, softly brushing against themselves, sending a tingle down into his skin. If he closed his mouth, he would be able to feel the bristles tickling the sensitive spread of his lower lip.
He could almost feel his lip buzzing with the image he had conjured in his brain. His dick was abuzz that whole time, feeling more and more needy and stiff with sexual tension. He decided to derail his train of thought and focus on what classes he was going to choose for his electives in the coming semester. Eventually, his boner subsided and he subtly adjusted his underwear to find a place for his now soft dick.
That’s when the hot guy got off his bike and walked right up to Cam’s elliptical.
“Nice handlebar,” the stranger said.
Cam was confused. Was this dude complimenting the handlebars of the elliptical he was holding onto? He supposed the grips were really nice and had a good ergonomic design, but it wasn’t like it was his machine or anything. He wasn’t sure what the guy was after, but someone hot was talking to him, so he just smiled awkwardly and said, “uh… thanks.”
The other man smirked. “The name’s Duke. Maybe I’ll see you around!” With that, he strode over to the back of the gym, disappearing behind the door to the pool area. Cam felt his jaw gaping open and snapped it shut, embarrassed. It took another 30 minutes of elliptical to stifle the boner that had re-emerged at this interaction, so it took 32 minutes before he noticed something weird in the gym mirror as he was leaving.
He had a mustache. A thick stripe of brown hair completely engulfed his upper lip, curling up at the ends thanks to the hairs’ sheer length and volume. He ran his fingers through it, the soft bristles caressing his skin and parting from the movement like he was Moses with the red sea. He gave the curled ends a little tug and felt a slight shudder of pain roll through his face. Fuck, this was real. Could the Magic Mustache actually have been… magic?
Continue to Chapter 2
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The younger,
the hotter,
the more enthusiastic,
the more narcisstic,
the more willing, brutal, intense, patriotic, arrogant, deluded, aggressive, sexual, egotistical, cock-driven and mindless,
the easier to influence.
Supremejock / Jocks-omnes-superant / Hitkatfat
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Welcome to the Star Pride! (Sketch)
Here's a thing I've been working on with OccPixTFs (https://www.deviantart.com/occpixtfs)! Fayne beefcake lionification/twinning into Pix's OC Leo!
Fayne had never really been a fan of old console games... Especially from consoles older than he was by more than a third of his lifespan. He'd just never understood the appeal of them, with their strange 8-bit graphics and esoteric genres. But when the local game shop closed down they had a closing sale where everything had to go, he had some spare time so figured he might as well give it a chance! The store owner seemed especially keen on getting rid of a specific Sega Genesis and a game for it named Star Pride Voyagers... (https://www.deviantart.com/occpixtfs/art/Star-Pride-Voyagers-199X-Mockup-Pixel-Art-959597243) He gave Fayne such a discount that he got the cartridge AND the console for just 20 bucks! What a steal!! It was honestly too good to be true...
He took it home and with some effort, removed it from it's unassuming packaging. It was wrapped in a way that made it seem like they wanted to keep whatever was inside in, rather than keep it safe from whatever was outside... Which was strange to him but Fayne tried not to overthink it like he usually does. When he launched the game and dusted off the old console, the ginger boy was hit with a loud intro, narrated by a campy sounding macho lion! Sitting down, Fayne prepared for a blast from a past he'd never seen before!
"Welcome to Star Pride Voyagers! We can see you're new here, but you've got the courage and power of a lionhearted Captain~! After this Training Tutorial, you'll be an ace pilot in no time!" Played the crispy ancient audio from his speakers... Sending a chill up the boy's spine.
It was a strange intro, for sure. But Fayne wasn't worried at all until the console started crackling, and he felt static in the air. Then, he started to grow... and grow... and then bluish fur appeared on his skin and he knew he was in for it!
Fayne had heard before that a group of lions is a pride, but he definitely wasn't ready to experience a lion's pride firsthand! Now he just needed to find his flightsuit...and his ship, for that matter~
This is probably one of the gayest things I've ever drawn. It took a lot of willpower for me to get myself to make a true male on male transformation/corruption piece with a masculine framing, but it worked out in the end! Tell me what you think. Is it too far for your tastes? Or are you happy to explore new things? I for one am excited to learn more about masculinity and gender in a positive way!!
Originally finished in September 2023!
If you like the art I make and have decided that you want to support me and help create more of it, please consider joining my Patreon at www.patreon.com/FanterFane for all of these benefits and more!
Preview all completed art at least two weeks or more before it's publicly posted!
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#femboy#crossdressing#male#corruption#corrupted#masculinization#furry#lion#transformation#musclegrowth#muscle#transfur#sketch#gay
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The Woman King - Combatting the Masculinization of Black Women
I was a little scared to watch The Woman King. I saw from the trailers that the movie contained a bunch of badass, Black women, but I wasn't clear on the plot. The ambiguity of the film's story made me worried for what exactly the movie was trying to accomplish in its portrayal of these women. It wasn't until I'd read up on the women who created the film that I became more excited about seeing the movie. Fortunately, Gina Prince-Blythewood, Maria Bello, and Dana Stevens flooded the movie with opportunities to view womanhood in various perspectives, defining Black femininity through an ironically historical and contemporary lens.
Set in nineteenth-century Africa, the film depicts the typical local life found in history textbooks. In a general sense, most communities were patriarchal and expected piety from women. Additionally, a woman's primary role surrounded her family or tribe as a daughter, mother, or wife, etc. However, during this time period, the Dahomey Kingdom had an additional status for women as warriors, who were revered even more than their male soldier counterparts. It is this culture that the film focuses on and embellishes.
In today's context of modern feminism, the film was evidently intended to primarily show female empowerment. I believe the writers did a wonderful job in showcasing this through story. But the layers of the film can be savored in its representation of African, Black women. This was due to great directing.
Overall, I don't think this film was especially good in that it took artistic liberties, fine-tuned dialogue, or had amazing camera work. Additionally, it was a story we've seen in other forms before, and in my opinion, it failed to add a unique twist on the tale. Despite this, the film was impactful (though I'm a bit biased as a target audience member). There are several scenes that are hard to forget due to their level of intimacy and relevance to modern Black women. For example, one moment that lingers in my mind is when a mentor braids a mentee's hair. For me, that was a perfect example of Black femininity. It showcased their sisterly bond and drew upon generations of braiding in the Afrikan diaspora. It also displayed fortitude, as it was a warrior's hairstyle in this culture. This aspect made me recall warriors of the Southern United States who wore map-like braids and risked their lives to help others. There was much to unpack in that scene. Regardless of the film's execution, I think it accomplished it's goal in terms of representation and positive messaging.
The Woman King was an especially interesting film because it purposefully blurred the lines between masculinity and femininity in an appeal to progressive ideology. Additionally, it centered on brown-skinned and darker skinned women, who have consistently been considered less feminine/desirable than their lighter counterparts due to a Eurocentric standard of beauty. Seeing Viola Davis's bulging muscles and contortion of her face into a war cry is not something traditionally viewed as beautiful, and it may have even fed into some stereotypes surrounding the abrasiveness of Black women. Even so, the feminist motif of the film highlights the fact that women have many facets. As any dynamic character, Viola Davis performs in moments of vulnerability and delves into feminine energy in more usual ways later on. Her beauty is then displayed in her multidimensional character rather than relying solely on either her masculine or feminine behaviors.
All in all, the film was a pleasant watch. I appreciated it more for its purpose than its quality.
Additional comments:
Personally, I could have done without the rushed, lightskin subplot. I get, that it was used to show another key definition of femininity (I hope so anyways). Manz was giving body though.
#woman#king#movie#film#commentary#Black#African#viola#davis#viola davis#race#race and ethnicity#masculinization#women#empowerment#feminism#beauty#standards#woman king#historical#true story
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