Age Regression Tf - Blog Posts

Swapsidite stone

--- Originally posted on 2019-10-17 by dumb-and-jocked. ---

ROMAN’S PERSPECTIVE

“Come on Roman, let’s get to work.”

I kicked off my small shoes and sulkingly walked into Mr. Jefferson’s house. I was still embarrassed that I had scratched his car during a neighborhood soccer game. All the other kids in the neighborhood were playing soccer with me, yet here I was, the only one who had to pay up. Just because I was the one who ran into his car and scraped my cleats across his door shouldn’t mean that I have to make it up to him all alone. I mean, how much can one twelve-year-old do anyway?

At least Mr. Jefferson was a pretty cool dude. He let me off fairly easy, saying that I just had to come over for one day and help around his house. He had moved into our neighborhood a few years ago, buying the entire rambler to himself. I’d always hear my parents talking about him, how they feared he was growing a little too old to stay a bachelor. I’d seen a few women come over to his house and stay the night, but no real signs of commitment. He seemed to be in his late 30s, maybe already in his 40s, the guy was definitely past his prime. Unkempt beard, flabby stomach, and poor choice in clothes, he wasn’t the best looking neighbor on the block. I didn’t know much about fashion, but everyone knows that the dress shirts, jeans, and flip-flops don’t go together. He even had a weird-looking necklace on, something I’d never seen before today.

No matter what I said about his body or clothing, my opinion was rather meaningless. Still waiting for puberty, my short, skinny, and hairless body wasn’t anything special. I wore a bulky football jersey and mesh shorts to make my appearance seem bigger, but I’m pretty sure it just made me look smaller.

Mr. Jefferson led me to his kitchen and showed me a stack of boxes.

“I need you to bring all of these downstairs,” he said in a deep voice, “I don’t have much for you to do today, so I hope you remember that, even though I don’t think you will.” He walked towards the living room and out of my view. What did he mean he didn’t think I’d remember this? Was he trying to make a backhanded comment or was he just being honest?

“It’s all super easy, Roman. I promise!” Mr. Jefferson shouted from the other room, dragging me out of my thoughts.

I shrugged it off and grabbed the first of the boxes. It was a little heavy, but I’d be able to manage. I walked around the house slowly, the weight causing my stride to be a little off. Once I had eventually found the staircase, I placed the box down and wiped my brow of sweat. It had become a little more than I had expected. Procrastinating the inevitable, I surveyed the area around me. I noticed Mr. Jefferson sitting in a yellow chair--he was in my view, but luckily I wasn’t in his. He held the necklace up to his face, examining it as if it was the first time he had ever seen it. I swear I saw him whisper a few words into it and saw it glow lightly, but before I could focus any more on it, he began to shift in his seat. I quickly picked up the box and, forgetting its weight, marched down the stairs.

— —

I carefully placed the last box down next to the others and ran up the stairs, my mediocre-sized feet making little noise. I walked into the main area, and, after pushing the brown hairs away from my eyes, found Mr. Jackson still sitting in his chair, smugly reading something on his phone.

“I’m done, Mr. Jackson,” I exclaimed proudly, my soft baritone ringing in the room. He slowly got up from the chair and guided me over to my next project.

Mr. Jackson and I had been pretty close these last few years. Ever since that one day I had stupidly run into his car during a soccer game, I had often come over to help with his other chores. Although he was only in his mid-thirties, the single man still had a lot to do around the house. After a while, he began to pay me for my work, persuading me to come over every summer. He even offered me a raise this year, saying that I should get some extra money before college in a few months. I probably could’ve gotten a better paying job, but my personal connection with Mr. Jackson made it hard to turn down. Luckily, it turned out to work for the best.

Ducking under a short ledge, we walked into a small closet behind the main bathroom.

“Alright, Ronan,” Mr. Jackson began, pointing to rolls of paper towels, “I need you to bring these down into the laundry room. Once you’re done with those, come and find me again; I’ll be in the same place as usual.”

Being that both Mr. Jackson and I were the same height, he didn’t have to grab anything down for me. He walked off as I grabbed the first few rolls, being able to fit a decent amount in between my large palms and toned arms. Over the school year, I made sure to start the healthy habit of working out, hoping to get ahead of the freshman fifteen. I had never really gotten into sports through high school, but I made sure to keep my body through the school gym during my senior year. It took me a while to start working at it, but progress eventually began to show. After only a few months, my body had firmed up with the beginnings of abs and some perceptible biceps and triceps. It wasn’t much, but I was fairly proud of myself. It also made an impression on my boyfriend, which became an extra motivator for me.

I strolled out of the closet and walked back towards the staircase downwards. I saw Mr. Jackson sitting in his chair again, scratching his small beard as he read a small book. I itched my own stubble with my shoulder as I descended, remembering how I had forgotten to shave this morning.

— —

Once I dropped the last load into the laundry room, I guided myself up the stairs, ready for the next assignment.

“Next thing?” I shouted as I strolled into the room where the other man sat.

“Finished so quickly, Robbie?” He quipped, getting up from his chair. He knew I was going to fly through that job in minutes. I barely had to put out any effort; my military experience made it rather simple to carry everything down.

“Got anything harder for me, bro?” I said, itching my buzz cut. I had just returned after four years in the service, which I had come to realize were some of the best years of my life. After graduating with a bachelor’s degree, I decided to draft myself into the military and spend some time overseas. My parents and friends didn’t approve at first, but after a while they realized it was good for me--and by that I mean my physical appearance.

Coming home to see my parents shocked faces a few days ago was one of the funniest moments I had experienced. When they saw the lumbering, muscular man walk out of the airport, they didn’t expect to hear their names coming from his [my] mouth. The military had given me a rather strict routine, providing me with an impressive 6-pack, defined upper arms, and powerful quads.

After spending some time with my family, I decided to visit my old friend next door. We had gone through most of school together, with my neighbor only two years older than me. I hadn’t been able to spend his thirtieth birthday with him a few weeks ago, so I was making it up by helping him move into his new house. He had bought his house from his parents, now owning the very place he grew up in. Assisting my old friend reminded me of when we were younger and I scratched his parents’ car during a game of soccer. I can still vaguely remember all the chores I had to do that day to pay for the damage.

“Since you’re so good at this,” he snarked, “I think I’ll give you something a little more difficult to do.” We both walked to his front door and, after grabbing my average-sized shoes, made our way to the backyard. I had been over here plenty of times, the two of us spending hours here when we were little, but now it looked almost completely different. The old playground and slide were removed, now replaced with a disheveled patch of grass and a modern fire pit. Where once stood the garden was now a brand new shed, and as my neighbor opened it, I realized it was where he stored all of his seasonal gear.

“I’d love it if you could mow the lawn for me,” he began, “it’s never really been my thing.” He smirked arrogantly, knowing I’d do anything he said because I missed his birthday. I pulled out an old lawnmower and pushed it out of the shed, my old friend had already gone back into his house. I adjusted my jersey, which fit perfectly tight on my frame, and pulled at the engine. The motor revved up, purring obnoxiously as it began. Although I was very athletic, mowing was still such a bore. As my long legs glided across the yard, I reminded myself to never miss another one of his birthdays again.

— —

I brushed over the last part of the lawn and let go of the brake, causing the motor to stop. I brought a palm up to my sweaty forehead, pushing the black hair back back on top of my head, revealing my receding hairline. I still can’t believe I agreed to mowing for Jackson--the guy’s no older than 25 afterall. He had the body for it too: we had worked out together before, so I knew he was fairly toned.

Then again, I had no problem at all with the physical exercise. Ever since returning home from the military 12 years ago, I had made sure to keep my body in shape. My muscularity isn’t exactly what it used to be (age does that), but I still take a vast amount of pride in my work. I still have the torso, arms, and legs of a football player, but now with the firm maturity of adulthood. I also still have the libido of a football player; no one told me that your cock gets meatier as time passes.

After pushing the lawnmower back into the shed, I made my way to the front of the house. I opened the door, kicked off my large shoes, and made my way to the living room. There, sitting comfortably in his yellow chair, was Jackson, reading his phone once again, his shirt lying on the floor.

“I was hot,” he replied, seeing my confused face. His voice was smooth, deep and youthful.

“Alright,” I said before yanking off my shirt, revealing a shaved, muscular torso with a black treasure trail. Bulging arms and wet, hairy pits also became visible to the world.

“I’m hot too.” The smell of my sweat and odorous armpits began to flood the room.

“I think I’m done with you for today, Richie,” Jackson muttered before plugging his nose, “but I think you do need a shower.”

“What?” I replied sarcastically, my deep, gravelly voice shaking the room, “You don’t like the smell of this?” I brought my furry underarm up to his face and shoved him playfully. I’ve known him since he was born, so we’re almost as close as we can be. I was already in highschool when he was born, and, being the neighbor, I became his babysitter. As the years flew by, babysitter became friend, workout buddy, and brotherhood, so teasing him with my pungent body odor wasn’t anything new. I knew he didn’t like it because he was straight, but I loved it. Being a homosexual, and a top, made dominating very erotic for me, but Jackson had no idea of my true sexuality. That was why I had to hide my giant boner as he found his way out of my pit.

“Ha!” I guffawed, “Now your going to smell like my pit sweat all day long.”

Jackson glared at me furiously, my beads of sweat on his forehead.

“Go take a shower before I kill you,” he said, pointing to the master bathroom.

“Oh, sure,” I retorted before walking off. He could never beat me: I was a man still in his prime. As I stripped myself of my clothes and stepped into the shower, I quietly stroked my dick. Once I got home, I’d have to furiously beat one out like many nights before, probably once again to the thought of Jackson.

— —

JAX’S PERSPECTIVE

I still can’t believe it worked!

With my life lately going to hell, this was my last, desperate choice. Nevertheless, it’s surprising that I even found the necklace in my basement; the people who had lived in the house before must have left it.

When I had found it a few days ago, there was a little note attached describing the name and purpose of the necklace. According to the description, the Swapsidite Stone, the strange chunk at the bottom of the necklace, would switch one of your traits with another person. The trade off however was that whatever you’d swap, the other person would receive double the original bargain. For example, if one person had decided to take a quarter of someone else’s intelligence, the first would receive the quarter bargained for, but the other would dumb down so much that it would seem like the first had taken half. As an added factor, only the person who had the stone one remember their own swap, the rest of reality would change accordingly. That was why I had to consider what I would take and give to someone else.

A few days after I had found the necklace, Roman scratched my car. It was only a coincidence, but I knew it was the perfect time to strike. It took me a while to figure out what I would trade between the two of us, but after a lot of thought I figured out what I desired the most: I wished to redo my past and find a woman to love. I regretted that most of my life I had remained a bachelor, and know was my time.

I decided to trade 20 years of my age to Roman, which meant that he would receive 40 years in total. I felt bad at first, but as I saw him change and reality adjust around us, I began to care less. I had gone from Mr. Jefferson, a 38-year-old loser, to Jax, an 18-year-old stud, in the course of one day, and the best part was that the changes were permanent. I was so excited that as soon as I saw the stone darken to its finish, I stripped down to my underwear and sat back in my chair. I now had the body of a high school jock: thick muscles, blonde haircut, pronounced pouch--it was perfect.

“Hey!” I heard a gruff voice shout from the bathroom, “Where did we put the towels?”

“Back counter!” I yelled back, my voice now a lighter baritone with a more innocent tone. As I sat in my chair, a large, older man walked out of the bathroom, wrapping a towel around his waist. Usually, the sight of a naked man would disgust me, but right now I was completely enthralled. In front of me stood a true adonis.

The man, who was now 52, had the body of an alpha male. Strong forearms, calves, and hips were brought together by incredibly large biceps, triceps, and quadriceps. Not only that, but there were a powerful set of abs hiding beneath two massive pecs, adorned with large nipples. The man’s face showed lines of maturity along the forehead, which were easily visible thanks to his recently-gelled graying hair. The beginnings of a beard also framed his lantern jaw, its shape just as perfect as the ridges of his collarbone. The last thing I noticed was the military academy ring he wore on his left hand, which lay in front of his graying pubes. I assumed there was both a massive dick and large set of balls hiding right underneath.

“What are you looking at?” his husky voice rumbled.

“Oh, uh, nothing,” I lied dumbly. Before I could react, he leaned over and snatched the necklace of my neck.

“And what have we got here?” he asked, looking at it oddly.

“Oh, just something I found in the basement,” I replied, giving him half the truth.

“So you wouldn’t mind if I tried it on?” he requested, catching me off guard.

“Sure?” I responded cautiously. He placed the necklace around his neck and smiled smugly.

“This is the Swapsidite Stone, correct?” He already knew the answer, but before I could react he had already muttered something into the stone. The stone began to shine dimly.

“Richard, I can explain, if you’d just-”

“Jax, I know you did something to me. I have no idea what you traded, but at least I know that you did something.”

“But Richard, I-”

“It’s Sir to you.”

“But, Sir-” I froze. Why had I just listened to what he had told me?

“I’ll tell you what I swapped between us, because it won’t matter soon enough.” ~~Richard~~ Sir pulled up a seat from across the room and sat right across from me. He placed the towel aside and let his naked body hang free, his enormous cock standing tall.

“I’ve had a crush on you ever since you entered high school. I’ve known you since you were born, I’ve raised you, I’ve made you who you are today, but now I’m going to make you into who I want you to be. You’ve never appreciated what I’ve done for you, so I’ll make it that way.” I had no idea what he was talking about. He was referring to the new reality, while I was still living the old, causing me to have no way to respond.

He took a deep breath before continuing, his tone becoming more serious, “You see, you stupidly left the description card in the bathroom, not even thinking about me finding it. Once I got out of the shower, I finally figured out why you were wearing that ugly necklace. Now it’s my turn to trade and I think you’ll like what it is.”

I tried to get up from the chair, to run away, but I was stuck. It was like I had no control.

“I’m taking half of your dominance. You know what that means right? I’ll become 150% the alpha male.” He leaned over closely, his hot breath on my cheek.

“And you’ll lose all free will. WIth this, I’ll be able to change anything about you that I want, no magic stones needed. Oh, and just to be safe,” he ripped the necklace off his neck and crushed the small stone between his hands, never to be recreated again.

“So I hope you remember that,” he smirked, leaning back, “even though I don’t think you will.”

— —

Something was poking at my hole, and I had now idea what. I slowly opened my eyes, finding a hairy forearm draped over my side. The smell of my dad’s body odor and cum poured from the sheets like a flood, almost as if they had been washed in them. Memories of the pounding dad gave me last night came into my head, causing my miniscule dick to harden. I remember my dad telling me that although it was almost as big as his, it was tiny. I knew he was right--he is always right.

“Morning, Jax,” I hear my dad groan as his dick pushes further inside of me. I moan as he begins to push in and out. This is how mornings usually go: waking up to the smell of old sex, discovering how intelligent and arousing my father is, and then him filling me with his cum. It was always a pleasing cycle.

About ten minutes later, after my insides were filled with his semun. I got up and went to go make breakfast, still in my birthday suit. It only took me minutes to prepare a protein shake and some eggs for my dad. It only took seconds for him to come clomping down the stairs with his abnormally large feet. He always had to specially order his shoes.

Before sitting down, my dad, who was also naked, brought a dirty cup to the tip of his penis and began to piss. A dark, yellow stream dripped in until it was full to the brim.

“Drink up, son,” my dad said as he handed me the cup, “it’s good for you.”

I greedily slurped the steaming liquid down my throat. It was going to be a long day of work ahead, so I had to eat and drink healthy. There were chores to do, dirty laundry to sniff, and fathers to please. I was excited to do it all.

Good Game

---

Originally posted on 2022-06-06 by dumb-and-jocked.

This was a collaboration piece with @rozza22365.

---

“Babe, how did you know exactly what I needed?” Brenden asked, skipping happily along the trail with his boyfriend’s hand in his own.

“I have my ways,” Chaz replied nonchalantly, although it was evident he’d thought about this long and hard. The whole day had gone according to his plan of making Brenden feel as relaxed as possible. After a very stressful promotion process at Brenden’s hair salon, Chaz knew the 22-year-old was going to need a break. He planned a romantic weekend getaway involving time at the beach, a stroll through the local park, and a fancy meal for dinner followed by “dessert”. Chaz was working hard to help his boyfriend take a step back from reality. Brenden just needed to slow down to keep his miniature body from exploding.

And by miniature, Chaz meant the 5’5 skinnier-than-a-flagpole twink hopping beside him like a delicate gazelle. His stick-like figure (along with the platinum-blonde locks gelled up in the front and a pair of beach balls in the back) often made him a target for bullying, including homophobia. Luckily, Chaz was usually enough to scare them off. The recent college-grad was only 5’11, but thanks to his many years on the swim team had developed a modest frame. He’d also gained a comfortability with public speaking and argumentation thanks to his political science degree. Once he got a job, then Chaz believed he would have everything he would need to be happy in life.

“Oh! Honey, look!”

Before Chaz could even follow Brenden’s sight line, his boyfriend was already skidding across the field. Chaz walked comfortably behind, smiling as he noticed how the light breeze blew through Brenden’s salmon-striped tank and ripped white jeans. Chaz thought about catching up, but he didn’t want to run in his cheap sandals. Not only that, but the last thing he wanted to do was rip his khakis and sweat through his casual button-up. It was already pretty warm out, so any extra effort might have strained Chaz’s body in ways that wouldn’t be attractive.

“Yum…” Brenden was basically drooling as Chaz joined him at the top of the hill. About 200 feet away were a group of jocks wrapping up what looked to be a game of baseball. They all appeared to be around the same age as the couple, except each was about double the size of both boyfriends put together. Even from a distance, one could see the jocks’ bulging muscles, shimmering layer of sweat, and (thanks to their lack of shirts) set of washboard abs. And their gym shorts perfectly showcased the numerous perky behinds and overstuffed pouches. With their hats all turned backwards as well, they looked exactly like the stereotypical college jocks.

“No kidding…” Chaz joined in the ogling, watching as they packed up their gear and started heading out. The boyfriends couldn’t stop admiring how the jocks looked, strutted, and acted. Their physical features weren’t the only thing the pair noticed however. The jocks were all engaging in playful gay banter, fake-kissing and bromanticizing with each other. Although it was pretty obvious that all of them were typical arrogant, straight boys pretending to be men, Brenden and Chaz couldn’t help but fantasize about the simplicity of their life.

The couple watched on as the jocks got into two lines facing opposite directions, ready to give each other the classic “Good Game” sendoff. However, instead of giving high-fives, they instead swatted every butt playfully. Brenden and Chaz bit their lip, every jiggle of a straight male’s buttock translating into a tiny pulse of pleasure through their modest boners.

“Did we…” Chaz started. “Did we just get baited?”

“No, at least I don’t think so,” Brenden retorted, taking a breath. “I think that was all natural. Nothing gay about it.”

“No homo,” Chaz imitated in a broish tone, gaining a laugh out of his boyfriend. “Ready to head out, sweetheart?”

“Just a second.” Brenden was still looking down at the field. “I think the boys might’ve left us a present.”

Sitting on home base lay two blue baseball caps. Making sure no one else was watching, Brenden instantly made a run for it. With a small smirk, Chaz followed behind at a quicker stroll. Apparently tonight’s “dessert” was going to involve roleplay.

“Chazzy! How do I look?”

The blue hat sat comfortably on Brenden’s head, the bill shading his cute face from the harsh sun.

“Exactly like them,” Chaz responded sarcastically, placing the other hat on his head.

“Thanks, bro,” Brenden replied in his version of a broish tone before leaning in for a kiss.

“Mmm!” Chaz was surprised to feel his boyfriend’s tongue quickly slide through his mouth. Once they pulled apart, Chaz stopped any further affection, “Darling, let’s roleplay when we get home.”

“But no one’s here,” Brenden whined. “No one will see us. Now, flip your cap around.”

Chaz quickly surrendered, too horny to use any of the argumentation skills he had learned over the years. Rushed, he did one more sweep around the field before following instructions. Brenden flipped his own as well, letting the front of his quiff pour out of the empty hole in the front. Instantly, the pair felt a sharp shock strike through their bodies. They physically lurched in extreme agony for a moment, but seconds later they had already forgotten about the pain.

“So what do you say, babe,” Brenden tried replicating his broish tone again. “Should we…”

Chaz, getting the memo, leaned down for a kiss. He closed his eyes, ready to feel his boyfriend's soft lips touch the bottom of his own. Chaz kept feeling himself get lower and lower, but eventually he became confused as to why he hadn’t reached Brenden yet.

“Dude! Open your eyes!”

Chaz’s eyelids lifted to reveal Brenden’s crotch right in his face.

“Ah ew babe!” Chaz backed away in disgust. “How could you prank me like that?” Brenden however was laughing so hard that Chaz could see each one of his skinny abs rippling on his lanky body. The 6’5 beanpole was cackling up a storm.

“Gotcha!”

“I didn’t even realize I had leaned in so far,” Chaz joined in with Brenden’s jovial nature. At 6’4, he must’ve bent almost straight down in order to get to his boyfriend’s crotch. “Ok, so can I kiss you now?”

“No bro, we’re still roleplaying.” Chaz noticed how Brenden was getting more in touch with his broish tone, so he decided to follow suit.

“Alright then…broski…what’s next?”

“What’s next babe is a game of gay chicken.” Brenden appeared extremely eager for this. Chaz could tell by the way his boyfriend’s cut-like-steel and shaped-like-diamonds calves bounced excitedly back and forth.

“What’s that?” Chaz replied, positioning his own legs out into a kickstand. Thanks to his khaki shorts, people were also able to see the fine, rugged calves he owned. Similarly cut like Brenden’s, yet just a little tanner and meatier. Although if Chaz ever brought this up, Brenden would just compete by acknowledging how he was slightly taller so his calves were drawn out more.

“It’s simple, bro. It’s where basically two dudes get as close to a kiss while trying not to. The person who kisses first loses.”

Chaz considered this, a little thrown off by the game. The rules seemed simple enough, but why would his boyfriend want to play this? Chaz was so horned up right now that he could just stick his head between Brenden’s two massive thighs. Chaz could just daydream about how if he placed his skull into Brenden’s gym shorts, then his boyfriend would probably be able to break him open like a ripe watermelon. Their chunky, meaty size was almost tangible, but unfortunately that’s not the game his boyfriend wanted to play right now. Chaz instead reminded himself that it could happen tonight for dessert.

“Ok, I’m in,” Chan announced, suddenly enthused over the prospect of a challenge. He clapped his own thighs together in anticipation, sending ripples across his soft and muscular quads. Just like his boyfriend’s, they too filled his own gym shorts nicely, looking like candy with a tight wrapper.

“Sweet dude! Since I brought the game up I have to go first.” Although Brender had seemed excited, Chan noted the new tone in his voice. The use of “have'' accented a new emotion laced into his boyfriend’s words: fear. The emotion was also evident in the way Brender’s torso was super tense. The man’s abs were extremely hard, flexed to their max capacity. His tender pecs were solid while his silver-dollar nipples were rock hard. Even the man’s delts displayed apprehension, hiding away from their true larger-than-life wingspan.

Slowly but surely, Brender slowly reclined forward. To make sure he didn’t get too close and lose in the first round, he placed a porcelain hand against Chan’s carved chest. He subtly felt up his boyfriend’s 6-pack, noting how each one felt like a stone plucked straight from the earth. Brender’s finger ran up the valley into the upper torso, giving each of the mounds of flesh Chan called pectorals a cheeky squeeze. He also made sure to give a little flick to one of Chan’s nipples, which truly looked more like an udder than something meant for nothing.

Brendor got close, but he paused at about 6 inches. “Gonna be hard for you to beat that!”

“Pfft, sure bro.” Chant was pretty confident this wouldn’t be as difficult as his boyfriend had made it look. Chant took a similarly sluggish speed that Brendor had, making sure to move forward at a cautious pace. To assure he didn’t fall forward, Chant grabbed his boyfriend’s massive arms. Brendor’s forearms were so long and sturdy with veins accentuating their muscular mass. His biceps were so firm and his triceps had a similar amount of vigor. Even the other man’s hands were gigantic, looking big and solid enough to catch a baseball without the mitt.

Getting to the 6-inch mark that Brendor had made it to, Chant slowed down his pace even more. He felt his own brawny appendages become strained, his own veins snaking across robust arms. Similarly to Brendor, Chant’s biceps stood as two proud mounds atop his tanned flesh. His triceps had a identical mass, and his forearms displayed a strength that had been built up over years of hard work. His heavily-calloused, giant hands only furthered the argument by looking more fit for a package of Hamburger Helper than a human being. Right as he passed Brendor’s previous attempt, Chant gave an obnoxious set of kissy lips before taking a step back.

“Almost had me there bro,” Brenor replied in a tone that was deep, masculine, and empty.

“Huhuhuh, you wish dude.” Chent couldn’t help but guffaw, his voice an almost identical replica. Absentmindedly adjusting his rope wristband, Chent felt a rush of adrenaline race through him as he said, “Ball’s in your court.”

Brenor gave a quick nod, his bulging Adam’s apple shaking in agreement. Bending his tremendous upper traps, Brenor approached Chent’s face once again. While watching his boyfriend dip closer, Chent took his time studying every part of the other man’s face. A square jaw loosened gently with some baby fat that made him look extra adorable. Eyebrows bushy but his brown hair was at a crew cut length beneath the cap. Big nose to circulate air while working out and fading eye black to advertise that there wasn’t much behind those dull brown eyes.

Reaching in on Chent’s last milestone, Brenor carefully cupped one of his gargantuan hands against his boyfriend’s face to steady himself. He loved how it perfectly fit against the other man’s carved jaw, the way it caressed the other man’s Neatherandthal-like bone structure. He couldn’t stop himself from analyzing Chent’s crooked nose after being broken from a previous game, or the way that his blond crew cut matched his light eyebrows. Even Chent’s lackluster eyes had a certain shine to them. He wasn’t hypnotized by the looks however, he was just purely appreciating aesthetics. And with that realization, Brenor pulled away gleefully.

“Let’s go bro!” Brevor cheered, stomping his Size 15 blue Nike’s hard on the ground.

“I thought I was just about to win there, babe.” Crent playfully kicked Brevor’s shin with a Size 14 black Adidas, not noticing how the term of endearment had come out more like an insult. Noting his socks had fallen down a little, he faithfully bent down to pull them up before continuing.

“You still have time to surrender,” Crent sniggered.

“Nah bro, you’re about to fade!” Brevor may have been right, that last stretch was getting close. But that didn’t mean Crent was going to give up! Confidently, he grabbed his boyfriends behind and pulled him in. Crent may have been focusing on his game of gay chicken, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to feel up his bro’s ample bottom on the side. And wow, was he glad he did. It was thick and tough. Soft, yet too muscular to derive any pleasure from. Sneakily, Crent shoved a finger into Brevor’s butthole, finding it was way too tight to be welcoming.

“Hey!” Brevor yelped.

“Sorry, brohama,” Crent purred. “I’m just luring you in.”

“The point of the game isn’t to turn me on, dude,” Brevor sneered. “That’s a different game of gay chicken.”

“I just gotta get comfortable, bro. Just doin’ the same thing to you I do to a…”

Crent stopped himself, unsure of what word was supposed to finish that sentence. Instead of dwelling on it however, he continued. With one hand still on the butt, Crent slowly explored the rest of Brevor’s midsection. He found a pair of heavy kumquats hiding in the man’s shorts, so large they were probably painful to contain in clothing. Above those was his boyfriend’s babymaker, a soft 7 inch sausage stuffed not so subtly. Right as Crent passed Brevor’s previous point, mere centimeters away from the lips, Crent gave the other man’s dick a quick squeeze and backed off.

“Is somebro feeling a little frisky?” Brevor remarked.

“We’ll see when you kiss me,” Crent antagonized back. Not being one to back down, Brevor stuck his hand right into Crent’s shorts. Finding the soft 7 inch joystick, he pulled the other man so close that he could feel Crent’s balls rub against his. Even though they were separated by layers of fabric, Brevor was able to feel their succulent, robust nature. After giving the pouch a good squeeze, Brevor found that Crent’s buttocks shared the same descriptive adjectives. Succulent and robust, but also tense.

“What…what are you doing…bro?” Crent murmured, finding Brevor’s actions were a little less playful than his own.

“I’m losing.”

And with that, Brevor pushed himself into Crent’s lips. At first it was only Brevor kissing, but Crent got the memo and quickly began reciprocating. It wasn’t very long and it wasn’t involving tongues, but it was a kiss nonetheless. Both of the men felt odd and weird about the kiss, but part of them felt good about it too.

Immediately, the two men felt their dicks get hard followed by a constantly-looming need to touch them. Being preoccupied by their strange kiss however, they could only think of one way to resolve their issue: grinding. The two bros instantly started humping each other, as if the same, horny thought process was guiding their decisions. But with each rub against the other body, their attraction and horniness faded, becoming nothing more but amusement towards each other. The thought of actually liking each other felt pretty gay. And the more the two bros shared their gaze while kissing and humping, the less desire they felt. Instead, they discovered a great friendship and comradery towards each other.

The fading of attraction towards was closely followed by their homosexuality as a whole. Even though they were physically with their bro, they were mentally dreaming about boobs and tight pussy. Their homosexualities weren’t the only things disappearing however, as their IQ had been steadily dropping during their entire process of “appreciation of the male form”. Their minds began restructuring, new memories settling in and piecing together their new lives.

Flashes of sports, porn, and endless sex. Bad grades and rich parents, privileged backgrounds and dull futures. Lots of banter with the bros, even a bit of gay banter. Obviously, they sucked and jerked their bros off every now and then but that wasn't gay–just dude stuff. Sometimes they even destroyed nerds’ holes in order to make them do their homework, but as long as they topped it wasn’t gay. And a simple “no homo” always cleared things up though.

Laughing more as they humped, the two men (if they could really be called that) began thinking of this more as a stupid game. With so many memories of banging and impregnating countless cheerleaders and sorority chicks over the years, the thought of being gay seemed like a foreign concept. Just the idea of motorboating or ramming their cocks and seeding some bimbo made the two jocks want to-

“OH BRO!” they both shouted in unison as giant blasts of cum soaked the front of their shorts. With IQs under 90, the pair began showcasing the best of male intellect by jokingly rubbing their wet fronts against each other.

“You’re such a fag, bro!” Trent guffawed. “I knew I was gonna win.”

“Oh whatever dude,” Trevor huffed. “I wasn’t the fairy who was enjoying it.”

They both continued bantering with each other before realizing the rest of their crew had already gone back to the frat house. Accepting defeat for now, Trevor smirked and gave Trent a playful spank.

“Good game, bro,” Trevor ceded. “But I’ll getcha next time.” Trent chuckled dully before giving a smack back to Trevor’s behind.

“Sure, broski. Good game.”