Hank watched as the former homophobes left, sure in the knowledge that more would arrive shortly looking for new IDs!! He smiled to himself, that he would be only too willing to oblige.
A group of young studs entered, that were obviously looking for IDs.
Hank heard a rough voice shout “hey, Kasim, get your black ass in there and find out”
A tall good looking black guy entered, approximately 6ft 7ins, with a basketball players build.
“Hello”, Karim said, “My friends and I are looking for IDs, I am sure you know the reason!”
Karim smiled as he looked down condescendingly.
The other four members of the group entered Hank’s office.
The superior sneer on their faces as they ambled in said it all, almost as if they were doing Hank a favour by getting fake IDs from him. First up was Karim, a handsome jock of African descent with short, black hair and sultry dark eyes that did nothing to hide his pride in the fact that he was both the star basketball player on the team and a tri-state wrestling champion.
Following Karim came Chester, a clean-cut, preppy youth with golden bangs of hair falling across his forehead, a smug, superior smirk on his lips and Ralph Lauren good looks that perfectly matched the cliched Ivy League clothing that encased his taut, gym toned body.
Charlton was next through the door, 6ft in height and unusually, an intelligent, if arrogant, muscular jock, perfectly groomed and wearing the clothes suitable for a trust-fund brat. In spite of his cocky strut, he couldn’t quite make the dark suit, shirt and tie combination he wore give him the authority of age he needed to get served at a bar.
Rafe was next, same arrogance, but it didn’t sit well on his chubby figure, 5ft 8inches, and about 230 pounds, his dirty blonde hair was overlong and his clothes, while the best that money could buy, looked like they had been made for someone else.
Finally came, Jordan, 5ft 4, the runt of litter, he was the guy that made the others look good. His scrawny, bony frame held up an overly baggy plaid shirt and skinny jeans with a crease down the middle that left the impression of a failed hipster who didn’t get the message about ironic clothing.
Hank grabbed grabbed 6 clipboard from off the top of his desk and smiling to himself as the boys goggled at him, handed them out. “Write your info on these, so I can enter it into the computer.” he said heading back to the desk.
“Excuse….s’cuse me.” Jordan said to Hank. “My pen doesn’t work.”
Hank’s eyes lit up, another group of jocks to play with, Fantastic. Hank gave out pens and let them fill in their forms, the sooner they were finished, the sooner he could start to play with them. Casting a glance over the collection of young men, he imagined what he was going to do to them and decided to make a start with Charlton.
“Let’s get started with you then shall we?” Hank said, indicating to the young man in the suit and beckoning him forward. “You stay where you are he said to the others”.
Charlton came forward, the fabric of the suit highlighting his toned musculature in just the right way.
“So you want ID right?” Hank asked Charlton, raising one eyebrow and staring hard at Charlton.
“Yeah, I dress the part but I still can’t pass for 21.” replied Charlton. “Look can we get this shit over so my and my bros can go party?” He glanced around to his friends and cocked a wink at them.
"Sure, no problem!’ said Hank. “Let’s get started. You clearly like to dress well but as you say, you don’t look over 21 so how about, just for kicks, we give you another 20 years? I think 38 should do it don’t you?” Hank mused as he tapped on his keyboard.
As Hank typed, Charlton could begin to feel himself growing and soon he found that his muscles were straining at his suit pants and arms. His friends looked on in amazement as a dark coat of stubble grew in on Charlton’s cheeks and neck, filling out to a neatly trimmed beard with flecks of grey within a matter of seconds. Almost immediately, a wave of grey hair swept upwards from his jawline towards the top of his head and as the sliver hairs mixed with his original dark brown, his stunned friends saw the hair at his temples recede slighlty leaving him with a pronounced widow’s peak.
“Holy fuck!” Cried Rafe, “You’ve made him old! What the fuck have you done to him?”
“You’ll find out in due course!” replied Hank as he began to tap on the keyboard again.
“Now, how about some new clothes? That suit’s not fitting so well now is it?” Charlton stared at Hank in amazement and then noticing a slight constriction on his feet, looked down to see that his suit pants were now tucked into very tight, highly polished black leather boots. Even as he watched the fabric of the pants rippled and shimmered becoming skin tight black leather that crept up his legs towards his crotch. Unseen by Charlton, the rapidly creeping leather was changing his legs, shrinking the long lean muscle and compacting it so that by the time the leather reached the top of his legs, he’d lost nearly three inches in height.
Whimpering in shock, Charlton could only watch as the leather enveloped his crotch dissolving away both the fabric of the suit pants and his underwear leaving him wearing nothing now but a very tight pair of black leather chaps that completely exposed his ass and cock for all the world to see. With a loud popping sound, a shiny chrome cock ring appeared around Charlton’s cock and balls and the constriction began to give him an erection, sending waves of pleasure over him.
But the changes hadn’t stopped at his crotch. The ever growing wave of leather continued to move up his body taking another three inches from his stature, transforming his shirt, and tie into supple black leather equivalents and morphing his suit jacket into a fitted Brando style biker jacket.
In a matter of seconds, the old Charlton had been replaced by a stocky Tom of Finland model and as if to complete the image, an immaculately polished black leather muir cap popped into existence on his head.
“Well now Chuck” said Hank crossing his arms over his meaty pecs and admiring his handiwork. “That’s better isn’t it?” Turning to the stunned group of friends, he said “So, who’s up next? What about you Karim? Step forward now!”
Karim, still shocked by the sudden transformation of his bud Charlton, stumbled unwillingly forward but was unable to resist the command.
So Kamir, step up to the plate, hmmm, big man on the basketball team, 6 foot 7, always looking down on everyone, think your so much better than everyone else, well time for a different perspective Kamir.
‘Wait, what happened to Charlton, what the fuck is….’
Karim went silent
You might say he paled a little, well quite significantly really, his dark African American skin paled to that of a well tanned white man. Karim held his hand up to his face in amazement.
As he looked to his friends he now noticed that he seemed to be looking up to his friends. Karim’s height plummeted from a towering 6 foot 7 to an almost dwarfish 5 foot 3, yet his weight somehow increased! A shocked Karim felt the new muscle mass weigh heavily upon him restricting his movement and slowing his actions as his arms jutted out at curious angles from his body, his now massive lats forcing them out. His biceps bulged like nothing he’d seen before the veins in his arms grew thick as as skin seemed almost to thin.
Karim’s chest felt especially heavy, his mountainous pecs like a shelf protruding from his body, nipples hard and erect, the fabric of his once baggy singlet now lay in shreds on the floor.
Hank continued to type statistics into the computer and Karim’s butt bubbled out from behind into two perfect globes, his now much shorter legs grew heavy with mass forcing Karim’s stance to widen and it wasn’t long before Karim’s shorts met the same fate as his singlet; shreds of fabric on the floor.
Karim was now naked in front of his friends, and the changes kept coming. His tight black Afro withered away to be replaced by a military high and tight in light brown, though mostly it was shaved scalp that showed. The hair on the rest of his body vanished completely, leaving a smooth taut skin for all the world to see.
Karim’s formerly complete cock was now an 11 inch circumcised monster, with a huge mushrooming head. as he stared at it a heavy cock ring appeared around his engorged package, cold to touch and weight was palpable. If that wasn’t shock enough a thick P.A. appeared in his cock head glistening now with a coating of pre-cum, and a ring of equal size appeared in Karim’s right nipple.
‘Almost done’ called Hank.
Karim looked up at the sound of Hank’s voice, although he found the movement of his head restricted, as a heavy leather collar appeared around his neck, it would become the only clothing Karim, or ‘Slave’, as he was now known, would ever need.
Slave looked across to a nearby mirror and saw a naked fireplug of a man; clearly a white man but tanned to perfection, adorned with silver rings his face and skin aged, he looked to be in his late forties now. His high and tight was now mostly gray instead of brown and with huge muscles like a body builder, he looked like a caricature of some type of marine.
As he stood there Chuck, his master, appeared beside him and attached his leash, the immediate hunger he felt for his master was undeniable. His cock hardened even more and now constantly leaked with pre cum, his bubble butt hungered for his master’s cock. He leaned forward and took the Masters meat in his mouth and gave the best and only blow job he’d ever given. He was rewarded with Chuck’s seed which in turn pushed slave over the edge as he lost his load all over Chuck’s leather boots.
‘Who’s next’ asked Hank with a cheese eating grin.
Rafe shrunk back against the wall as Hank called out his name but it was no good, he knew what was up and that something bad was going to happen to him.
Hank started tapping at the keyboard in front of him and, Rafe looking nervous, began to notice his stomach rumbling and he belched, long and loud. The effect it had on him was like a balloon deflating. He went from looking easily 230 pounds to a much fitter looking 170, this was helped by his increase in height to around 6ft 3inches. His clothes started to change, until he looked every inch a surfer dude.
Jordan couldn’t believe what he’d just seen; in a matter of moments Charlton had become a muscled leather man fully kitted out, a hunger in his eyes. Karim had turned into his over muscled slave, both with their cocks hanging out for all to see, and now Rafe had become a Kelly Slater look alike all tanned, and his hair now only a slight stubble. He watched in amazement as the wetsuit formed on his body. It contoured his every muscle like a second skin. Then, as if that wasn’t enough it suddenly began to shimmer and shine all over until it settled and had taken on the appearance of some kind of PVC type material. Jordan could in fact see his reflection in the shiny black material. If it was even possible it seemed to hug Rafe’s body even more, his nipples clearly defined, the vein’s in his skin and the obscene bulge of his cock and balls clearly outlined. Clearly now in his thirties at least, the only trouble Rafe would have getting into clubs now would be due to the dress code.
“Dude like, what have you done to me!? I look like some total queer surfer dude. Totally bogus man”
“If that’s what you see then so be it”, said Hank, as he entered the final command into the computer.
A change seemed to come over Rafe and as he stared at his own reflection and the men around him, he felt his cock harden, it quickly expanded until a loud pop was heard and Rafe’s dick now stuck out from his body, hard throbbing and covered in the same shiny black substance that covered the rest of his body, a huge dollop of pre-cum oozing from the end. Everyone stared at Rafe’s shiny black cock in amazement.
“Jordan, you’re up”, called Hank.
Jordan, having seen what had happened to his friends, shrank back from Hank but the power of the computed commands was too much for him to resist and in spite of all his mental protestations, he found himself inching forward towards the grinning Hank.
“Well, well, looks like we have a wannabe lumberjack here in his plaid shirt and jeans. I’m a big fan of the outdoors look so what say we give you a taste of the real thing?”
Jordan grimaced, suspecting the worst and sure enough, as Hank began to type, he felt a tingling jolt run through his body starting in the pit of his stomach and working up to his chest. All of a sudden, he was aware of an intense itching inside his chest and with a rasping cough, choked and gagged as a fully lit briarwood pipe emerged from his mouth and settled into the corner of his mouth between clamped teeth.
Wreaths of smoke billowed from the bowl of the pipe and as they enveloped his face, Jordan felt the itching return to his skin as thick, coarse dark hairs emerged across his jawline, chin and upper lip.
Hank looked on approvingly as Jordan’s new beard grew in, becoming a dense but well trimmed thicket of shiny black hair that covered every inch of skin from his ears to the top of his chest. Tapping a few more commands, Hank watched Jordan closely as he began to make the young man grow, not just in height but in muscle mass too. Pound after pound of muscle packed onto Jordan’s rapidly growing frame until his small head was perched precariously atop a mountainous bodybuilder physique that topped out at 6 foot six inches.
As he grew, Jordan’s clothing had subtly changed and his once lose plaid shirt had now lost its sleeves and tailored itself to hug every inch of his work sculpted body. The cheap jeans now many sizes larger had transformed into well worn, heavy duty work pants and Jordan’s white converse sneakers were a distant memory having been replaced by grimy work boots with steel toecaps and heavy rubber soles.
The pipe still clamped in his mouth, Jordan looked down in amazement at his arms which were now corded with muscle and showed rope like veins snaking beneath taut tanned skin. Even as he looked on, coarse dark hair erupted from his skin cloaking the gorilla like limbs in a furry covering that marked them out as the arms of a true bear of a man. The thought settled in his mind: ‘A bear’, ‘Bob the Bear’. That’s what he was now, a bear, Bob the Bear and it felt good, right, natural.
He reached down and adjusted what now seemed to be a sizable package in his work pants, still transfixed by the huge arms that moved at his bidding. He looked up and as if seeing him for the first time, caught sight of Hank and felt a flutter in his chest and a stirring in his cock. He wanted this man, needed him and he was going to have him.
Pleased with himself, Hank saw the new fire in “Bob’s” eyes and with a few final taps completed the creation of his new partner. As the former Jordan strode purposefully towards him watched by his former friends, Hank saw the man’s head expand and grow, transforming into a vision of masculinity with a strong jawline, tough brow and high cheek bones. His nose was strong and showed a slight kink as if it had been broken but it didn’t mar the overall handsomeness that made Bob such a hit. As wisps of pipe smoke trailed around his head the final change swept across Bob’s face adding ten years and a new maturity to his appearance even as it grew his hair out into a thick shaggy mop of hair.
With the last step, Bob stood face to face next to Hank and looked into his eyes, smoke enveloping the pair of them as Bob maneuvered himself between Hank and the computer terminal and grabbed his erst while transformer’s crotch roughly and squeezed.
Once Hank and Bob had finished their ministrations and Bob had wiped the cum from his face, Hank made his way back to the terminal.
“OK last up Chester, such a little pretty boy, hmm you don’t seem to fit into this group any longer boy, let’s see if we can fix that”.
Hank began to type and immediately Chester’s blond bangs turned to deep black, but not only that it began to shorten, right down to just a stubble and then to nothing, Chester was seemingly now a victim of male pattern baldness.
As that happened, on Chester’s face developed a thick 5 o’clock shadow, looking like a couple of day’s growth even though Chester just recalled he’d shaved this morning, did his beard always grow back in so quickly he thought to himself? As his beard growth stopped Chester’s brow grew to the point that it almost seem to over hang his eyes which had now become a deep deep brown/black. His nose flattened and went off at an odd angle where it had been broken. Chester noticed himself in the nearby mirror and thought he saw a neanderthal man looking back at him, but, no, it was just himself.
Hank continued to type and Chester’s clothes vanished and his muscles grew in. Thick and heavy, pecs like massive slabs, a butt that had a life of its own, biceps like footballs and legs like tree trunks.
“Hey Hank buddy give us another bear would ya!” hollered Bob who was loving what he saw so far.
“Hold your horses bud!” Hank returned.
As is common with a lot of bald men their body hair is often quite dense, and this was to be the case for Chester as he felt a prickling sensation all over his body as his hair grew in, dark, thick, but not long. In fact when finished Chester looked like a well man-scaped “mans man”, from his chest to his groin he was trimmed and tidy, even shaved balls to contrast his trimmed pubes. His skin had taken on the tan of a man who worked outdoors.
“Fuckin’ yeah!” called Bob, as he came over and lustfully grabbed Hank. In fact he grabbed Hank with such force Hank stumbled and fell onto the keyboard.
“Uh oh, fuck knows what’s gonna happen now. I don’t know what I’ve pressed.” said Hank.
As both men turned to Chester a tiny pair of silver short shorts appeared on his over muscled body. His package grew and filled the pouch of the shorts obscenely and his balls must have been the size of lemons. His feet were now encased in a pair of shiny black boots with white socks showing over the tops leaving him looking like a weird cross between a lumberjack and a go-go dancer. Then Chester shook himself and there was silence.
Chester looked up to the the men in the room with a coy grin and asked in a deep bass voice.
“Hey, can I help any of you men out? I gotta a hole made for fucking and a mouth made for sucking, and both ends are hungry”. He giggled causing his meaty pecs to quiver and turned side on thrusting his silvery butt out and winking at Hank and Bob.
Hank sighed… “hmm a twink trapped in the body of a “man’s man”, not quite what i was aiming for but once the changes are done they can’t be undone. At least with a bod like that you should pull some action Chester”.
“Have fun boys”, called Hank. “My next appointment is nearly here so off you all go, but Bob and Chester stay here”.
“And don’t forget to pick up your cards on the way out”.
As group left, they passed two uniformed cops heading in. Hank looked up as if he’d been expecting them.
“Hey fellas!” He called, “What can I do for ya?”
The older of the two cops dragged his eyes away from Bob and Chester who were making out on a couch in the corner and turned to Hank.
“Word is you’ve been producing fake IDs and we’re here to find out more.” The cop pulled a wad of paper from his back pocket and waved it at Hank.
“This is a warrant to search these premises so you won’t be minding if me and my partner here take a look around will ya?”
“Why, not at all. Officers…Wilson and Hughes,” said Hank raising his eyebrows and putting on his best innocent look for the officers as he entered their names in the computer. “Don’t mind Bob and Chester over there, they’re harmless… Mostly…” He winked at the cop who didn’t seem amused.
As he and his partner wandered off to have a look through a store cupboard, Hank began to type…
The cops searched and as they did they started to slow, their movements became slower and slower, first into slow motion and then they came to a complete freeze.
Hank smiled, a sly sardonic smile with a hint of malice.
He sauntered over to the cops and started to interrogate them, he wanted to know who had grassed him up. The cops, both now totally submissive and obedient, told all they knew, and gave full details of the informant.
Hank was annoyed that he couldn’t dispose of the cops, but that would be too dangerous. There was however no reason not to “adjust” them slightly. A new and revised outlook on life was quite possible and who would notice a couple of pounds or inches added or removed here and there. Hank began typing.
The cops didn’t change physically; at least not at first, but now they were both becoming turned on by the sight Bob and Chester making out in the corner though not quite able to place why they had a sudden attraction to the sight of the two bears making out. The first, older cop, Officer Wilson, shifted uncomfortably and rearranged his now stiffening cock in his tight uniform pants, turned and pulled the younger Officer Hughes towards him, one hand reaching for his partner’s crotch while the other found an engorged nipple.
Hank grabbed a sliding bar on the screen and slid it up, watching Wilson begin expanding, pushing against the fabric of his uniform as he grew taller and broader. When he finished, he had shoulders too wide to fit through a standard doorway, tapering down in a perfect “V” to his waist, with two massive legs to carry that much weight around. The officer was now seven and a half feet tall, his partner a good foot and a half shorter than him. He grew a bit rougher with Hughes, both of his massive hands now twisting at his nipples, the younger man groaning, but also a bit terrified. Maybe Hank should do something to increase his confidence.
The younger cop’s groin started tingling, and a moment later his cock began lengthening quickly, crawling down one of his pant legs, his balls inflating the crotch of his pants obscenely as they grew to tremendous proportions, and a dark spot immediately appeared at the head, half way down his thigh. The sudden burst of testosterone to Hughes system set off a chain reaction, his brown hair receding back several inches, a light beard sprouting on his face, and body hair springing up all along his arms, and presumably on his chest. While he was still twenty-three, he now looked like a man in his thirties. Hank thought he looked like a man who should be in charge, so he increased his dominance and decreased Wilson’s, making him naturally submissive.
The change was immediate. The now bearish Hughes reached up and yanked on his partner’s nips through his shirt, pulling him down onto his knees, where he kissed him roughly, the muscular giant surprised, but incredibly turned on by this shorter hairy man dominating him. Hank made a few more changes, removing all of Wilson’s hair from his body aside from his eyebrows, and making Hughes a cigar smoker. The cops pulled apart, and Hughes hauled out his cock, stuck his cigar in his mouth, and with a deep voice, growled, “Suck it.”
Wilson didn’t waste any time. Hank was thoughtful enough to give him a big mouth and remove his gag reflex so he could take it to the hilt, and also inflated his ass, making it so it would be a tight fit, and that his ass would never be loose for his partner’s massive cock.
Officers Wilson and Hughes couldn’t get enough of each other, Wilson was in heaven with cock in his mouth, his partners bush slamming into his face, his musky scent and just the way being dominated by the young Rookie turned him on was near to pushing him over the edge. He could feel Hughes’ cock quicken its pace and tense and as he reached up to run in fingers through his partners furry chest and tweak his massive nipples Hughes let go of his considerable load. Wilson took his reward down with relish. savoring the previously unknown taste. Releasing Hughes’ cock, he set to cleaning his partners tool with his tongue and then meticulously worked his way up his fur covered torso, his magnificent chest, up to his stinking pits, for some reason he couldn’t get enough, he licked and slurped and drank in as much of the young bear as he could, finally the feel of the stud’s hairy body against his alabaster smooth physique was too much and he blew his load all over Hughes’ chest and immediately set to cleaning up his mess.
“Alright you two, enough, time for play later” said Hank. “We need to talk business. Firstly i need you two to get who ever tipped you off and anyone else who knows about my little operation, down here, they need to be dealt with, and dealt with fast. Raise no suspicion, and let nobody else know what is going on. Understood!?”
“Yes Boss.” both Officers replied “We’ll work something out ASAP.”
“Alright then dismissed, oh wait hang on a sec can’t have you going out naked can we. Hmm uniforms.” Hank sat at the keyboard and typed in the instructions.
Slowly, uniforms formed over our officers bodies, authentic and unmistakable as two of the cities finest, the only difference was, even though their uniforms were regulation cotton, they somehow fitted the two studs bodies like spandex, a second skin, every muscle, every vein, and particularly every bulge stood out clear as day, Hughes’ shirt opened a few buttons down to showcase his hairy chest and Wilson’s nipples were on full alert. They both placed their hat’s on their heads and headed for the door, their new mission at the front of their minds, chatting to each other devising their plan, although Hughes seemed to be doing most of the talking with Wilson just nodding eagerly.
Hank turned to Bob, “you know, once this shit is sorted out, maybe we could use Hughes and Wilson to clean this town up a bit, provide a bit of community service you might say. There’s quite a criminal element out there that I’m sure we could…hmmm re-integrate into the community, so to speak.”
“When the cops bring in the grasses, what are you doing with them?” asked Bob.
Hank thought for a while and then suggested that it would be nice to have our own gay skinhead gang. Hank drew himself up and said "That’s enough daydreaming, we will sort the grasses when the cops return, before that we have another group on their way for fake ID’s Bob, so get your thinking cap on and we will get working.
2 o’clock on the dot and the front office buzzer went off and three more cashed up college lads were waiting for their new ID’s, to gain a few years. Little did they know they’d get those years and then some.
Chester opened the door is his silver short shorts and boots to find the preppies waiting somewhat impatiently.
“What sort of homo set-up is this?” whispered Alastaire to his friends. Taking in the sight of the middle aged bear wearing nothing but a pair of ridiculous shorts that did nothing to hide his massive package.
Alastaire turned to his best mate Peter, “Peter, what’s going on… nobody said anything about fags?”
Alastaire was visibly upset, the future star of the College football team didn’t want to be seen associating with sicko’s like this. He could feel Chester’s eyes scoping out his impressive body, his Ralph Lauren polo showing off his impressive pecs and the way his chinos highlighted his own package, the ladies couldn’t help but look, but this fag was another thing.
“Settle down Alastaire, we just get the ID’s and get out, simple,” Peter told him.
Peter too, was destined for the football team, both were in fact on sports scholarships, however his beefier build had him earmarked as a line backer and he was proud of his mass, he loved the feel of the weight on his muscular frame, that combined with his All-American good looks and styled blond hair he was a definite ladies man, If he could just get into any of the clubs around town he would be anyway.
“Let’s just do it then” piped in Russell. Russell was the man with the cash today, normally Peter and Alastaire wouldn’t have anything to do with Russell, but he had money to burn which made him integral to Peters plans. Poor Russell hadn’t developed the way the other two had he was a bit of a bean stalk to be honest, but the one thing the three of them did share was a lust for the ladies. Russell was always on about which of the ladies he’d bone and which could suck his cock, sex sex sex that’s all Russell cared about, in fact Russell’s attitude towards women was seriously in need of adjustment.
The three lads gave Chester a wide berth and slipped into the warehouse. Chester moved ahead, his silver shorts glimmering in the dull light.
"I can’t believe a guy that age getting around like that’. Russell said quietly.
“Complete fruit” added Alastaire.
After filling in the forms Chester had given them they were ushered into the workshop. Hank was sitting in his customary spandex shorts and wife beater.
“Welcome my friends”, called Hank “come in.”
“Great” whispered Russell “a muscle fag, this doesn’t get any better does it?”
“Oh but it will my friend, it will” Hank said under his breath.
“So boys, ID’s is it? Getting noticed for all the wrong reasons? Lets see what we can do.”
Hank moved to the computer terminal and with a curious but cheeky look on his face spoke and began to type.
“Alright Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb, step forward”
All three lads looked at each other and without any control over their own bodies Peter and Alastaire stepped jerkily forward.
“What the fuck?” they said in unison. “What just happened” again in perfect unison.
They looked at each other nervously.
“Let’s get started” said Hank.
Immediately both lads Polo’s seemed to loosen around their impressive chests, but instead of their shirts expanding it was their chests deflating.
“What the Hell!?”
Weight seemed to be falling off their bodies at a rapid rate, Their muscles earned from hours in the gym melting away. They both needed to use a free hand to hold up their pants. As the process finished they were both lighter than when they had arrived. Both were much leaner, they still had their 6 packs and pecs but now it was more of a field athlete’s look.
They looked to each other, stunned.
“Dude! Your hair!” they both yelled simultaneously. Each of them raised their free hand to their heads to feel nothing but a trace of stubble, only the shadow of their former hair remained.
As they stood there shocked and bewildered, they felt their pants tighten, they stared at each other and watched as the expensive Chino’s reformed, they clung to their lithe muscle and seemed to become denim, pale denim with bleach stains all over, their fashionable shoes had become Doc Martins and slowly climbed up their calf muscles ending just below the knee, they slowly tightened as yellow laces threaded their way up the shiny black boots. Their polo’s it seemed were next and instead of the formerly loose Ralph Lauren they now sported Fred Perry which hugged their torsos, not quite covering their belly buttons and revealing a glimpse of their hairless bodies.
As if that wasn’t enough the fabric of the polo shirts shimmered and in an instant became thin white rubber which was quickly followed by bright yellow, rubber braces. Each of the men was astonished by how much older they looked, each had to be at least 40 and the ring through their septum really did look brilliant each of them thought. It was almost impossible to tell the two skinheads apart now, the only difference was Al’s left arm was fully covered in intricate tattoo’s and Pete had had his right arm done. Both skinheads were smoking with their cigarettes hanging from the lips, the index and second fingers of their right hands badly nicotine stained.
Transformation complete, the two new skinheads looked at each other.
“What the fuck’s he done to us Tweedle Dee?” exclaimed the former Alastaire in a deep bass voice with a pronounced English accent.
“Tweedle Dee?” said the man who had once been Peter in a nearly identical voice. “My names’ not Tweedle Dee, it’s Tweedle Dee, I mean…” He trailed off for a moment and then burst out. “Shit, if you’re Tweedle Dumb, then I guess I must be?”
“Tweedle Dee?” supplied Tweedle Dumb who’s memories of being Alastaire were fading as thoughts of fucking with his twin brother rose in his mind.
Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dee stood awkwardly looking at each other, unconsciously rubbing their crotches through the tight bleachers before throwing down their cigarettes and crushing them with their well shined Docs, finally locking each other in a passionate embrace as they began to fully explore each others bodies, mouths locking tongues probing a new a world of skinhead bliss.
Russell hadn’t spoken a word he had just seen the colleges two football stars become fag skinhead twins, he was utterly lost for words and try as he might, he couldn’t get his feet to move.
"Rus, Rus, Rus now what was that snide comment before, hmm… muscle fag wasn’t it? Well as they say in the school yard, takes one to know one!
And with that Hank began typing.
Instantly Russell’s clothes vanished, blushing furiously he was able to cover his cock and balls with his hands, briefly anyway. His pale skin began to tan, darker and darker to an almost unnatural orange. Once the color was set an odd sheen seemed to take to his skin, like someone had covered him in olive oil, he peeked at his cock and it too seemed to shine with the oil. As he looked at it however, it seemed to grow, from his modest 5 inches it snaked out to a formidable 12 inches and it thickened in proportion, his nuts grew to the size of Kiwi Fruit and he was unable to cover his genitals with his hands any longer. This was not only due to their new size but also to the fact that Russell’s muscles had started to expand. His lats pushed his arms out from his side and his biceps grew to the size of a grape fruit, his shoulders the size of rock melons.
“Who’s getting all fruity now Rus”? Called Hank.
Russell’s pecs grew to an absurd proportion hanging off his body like two massive shelves, his eight pack popped out and his legs grew to a size that seemed almost cartoonish. His size and mass just seemed impossible. Russell’s formerly lengthy hair had become a military high and tight with the rest of the hair on his body vanishing completely. Lastly a ridiculously tiny pink spandex poser appeared on his unnatural body, looking rather comical as it tried to cover his massive package.
“What have you done to me, I look like a freak”.
“A muscle fag in fact” said Hank. “Oh hang on I forgot the fag bit.” Hank resumed typing.
“No, Wait please…”
A odd look came over Rus’ face, a look of lust, at the same time his skin seemed to weather a little become a little leathery as the years started to pile on leaving him looking a lot older than his 20 years of age.
He looked to the two skinheads, who had managed to peel off each others bleachers, and knew what he needed, cum, pure and simple. Rus realized then and there that he was now a cum addict, he needed cum and he didn’t care what he had to do to get it or who he had to do. Lumbering across the room adjusting to his new size, not to mention almost crushing his massive balls between his own thighs, he got to his knees and took Tweedle Dumb’s cock in his mouth and worked it for all he was worth. The three men seemed so content.
Chester tapped Hank on the shoulder.
"Boss, Wilson and Hughes have been in contact with Bob. They’re bringing the Chief here tonight at 6.00 along with the informant who dobbed us in, apparently he’s some hobo the Chief has on his payroll, you know, throws him a tenner if he reports any unusual activities. Anyway, somehow they’ve convinced both of them to be here at the same time, 6.00 tonight.
“Excellent. Chester you shall be rewarded. Rus get over here.”
Rus looked up licking cum from his face.
“Chester here hasn’t been blown all day; he’s got a full load.”
Rus crawled over to Chester, he hauled his massive arms up to Chester’s silver shorts and released his huge meat and devoured the hardening cock.
“Rus here is now a cum addict, help him out Chester.” and with that Hank went to find Bob and plan out their evening with the Chief and his informant.
Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dee went back to groping each other as soon as Rus left to suck Chester, Hank smiled at them.
“Don’t worry boys.” He said. “Soon you’ll have your own harem of submissive skinboys to do your bidding. When our guests arrive at 6 o’clock, you will be able to choose exactly what you want your boys to be like, so get your lust addled minds working”.
The Chief strolled in precisely at six o’clock, his firm tread echoing along the corridor. He threw open the door with a defiant gesture.
“Ah! I see you are expecting me, I assume your pet policemen, managed to pass on the message.”
Hank glanced up the impressive figure of the Chief, his military bearing and well cut Savile Row suit, out of place in the shoddy warehouse.
“Welcome,” said Hank, his nimble fingers flying across the key. “Please make yourself comfortable, while we wait for your tramp informant and the rest of your minions.”
For the first time, the Chief looked slightly less confident, slightly less ‘in charge’ of the situation. He could feel his body less and less, as if he were walking through syrup, all movement was difficult.
Next to appear was the tramp, he sidled in almost apologetically. Hank welcomed him and suggested he wait quietly.
Hughes and Wilson were next, ushering in four nervous looking lowlifes, the rag-tag army of the Chief.
“Good”, said Hank, “we are all assembled, we can begin!”. “You ‘Chief’ will have to wait your turn, while I dispose or perhaps I should say re-dispose of your colleagues”.
Hank started keying and the Chief’s four lackeys and the tramp, froze on the spot. Their bodies shimmered slightly as they lost all the clothes they were wearing revealing a selection of body types, none of which could be called clean, attractive or healthy.
As Hank continued to type and the Chief looked on, the bodies of his four men began to slim down and tone up, their body hair disappearing as they each began to more closely resemble each other. In a matter of seconds, the rag-tag group of drop outs had been replaced by four identical generic looking skinheads in their mid-twenties, gazing at each other in shock and examining their new bodies with feelings of growing lust as they took in the appearance of their look-a-likes.
Hank looked at the scene eagerly, pleased with the expression of blank terror on the Chief’s face. “My skinhead friends Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dee will decide the final forms and fetishes that your friends will take Chief.” said Hank. “So I’ll leave them just now. You’ll be able to watch, but remember that the more depraved and perverted they become, the more you will have to put up with, because your fate is to be their slave and you’ll have to do their bidding. They’re lucky because they’re not gonna remember what they were, you, however, will remember everything and you won’t be able to resist their orders!”
Next, Hank called up the tramp, a sorry looking old guy, obviously a down and out, probably an alcoholic. Hank started keying in changes, almost immediately, the tramp looked younger and cleaner, he straightened up, his lank greasy unkempt hair seemed to pull back into his scalp, until he had the zero crop look. His body firmed, the jowls fading into a strong chin, his formerly blank eyes looking clear and resolute. Within moment he began to look like a skinhead version of the Chief and very shortly the two were almost identical with the exception that the former tramp’s body was in near perfect athletic shape.
As the tramp and the Chief looked at each other, Hank continued to tap at his keyboard and as he did so, the Chief had a sudden urge to strip off his expensive tailored suit and give it to the tramp. He knew that this was part of the plan and wanted to resist but it was futile. He quickly shucked off his shoes and socks, tossing them over to the tramp before loosening his tie, removing his jacket and pants and finally, throwing the shirt, tie and underwear to the tramp who was now beginning to get dressed.
Now naked, the Chief looked on in amazement as the athletic skinhead who had been the tramp began to dress in his clothes…
The longer he looked the more the tramp looked like him and when the tramp put on the suit, he WAS the Chief.
When the tramp (ex-tramp) was fully dressed, the Chief felt himself start to alter, he shrank about 5 inches, his hair became a number one crop, he felt his nose break and re set, while he remember everything that had happened and was happening, his other thoughts became fuzzy and indistinct. He started to remember some things, like the fact that his name was now “Cuntboi” and that he was a sex toy for all skinheads.
Cuntboi looked up at his former minions, from being identical, they now were developing individual looks.
Tweedle Dumb was getting excited, standing next to Hank, it was his turn now to have some fun, and considering that he was now simply too stupid to use the terminal he had to rely on Tweedle Dee to do the typing
Ron was first, one of the Chief’s closest confidants at the Station he used to be the epitome of All American good looks, but now his thick blonde hair was not even long enough to be called stubble, His gym fit body was as it always was albeit a little lither than before, he stood with his companions, unable to move, naked, watching in horror at what was going on.
He, the Chief, and his other buddies now all looked like, for all intents and purposes, a bunch of skinheads, but then something happened…
Ron’s body started to tingle all over he looked down at his perfectly waxed body (his girlfriend was into the whole metro sexual look, and he waxed to keep her happy and keep her in the sack). He heard moronic giggling from where the suspects were sitting at some sort of computer terminal. Two skinheads were looking at him with knowing eyes.
The tingling became more of a prickling and he looked down to his body again to notice little black hairs starting to grow through, not even his usual blond, but deep black hairs. Firstly around his cock, a thick thatch of black pubic hair formed, it started to grow up towards his belly button, first in a line thick and dense, then it reach up his stomach towards his pecs. He was going insane with the need to scratch but could not move his arms. To his horror once the hair reached his neck it started to spread, from his dense pubic patch across his abs which seemed to be popping out as the hair grew, it kept growing up towards his pecs which now seemed more slab like, they were heavy now and thick with hair swirling towards his neck, his nipples which now seemed to point to the ground poked proudly through the forest of hair. Then he noticed his arms also now thick with hair even his hands were covered, they too looked larger, muscles which were unfamiliar seemed to appear from nowhere, his guns now massive. Somewhat to his relief, the hair stopped just past his elbows. His legs fared no better, now huge and hairy.
The stubble on his head grew ever so slightly, showing a deep deep black shadow where his head had been shaved. His handsome boyish face cleanly shaved grew thick now with heavy black stubble, his old self would have taken days to grow this but he knew he’d only shaved a few hours ago. His jaw squared off, leaving him with a dimpled chin and a heavy brow. His new Italian heritage was impossible to deny.
The new Rocco looked down to discover his new skin tight bleachers which showcased his club like cock to great effect. His shiny boots, glistening. A wide leather band appearing on each wrist, and through each of his proud nipples a heavy silver ring. He looked up to his new skin head buddies and his meat hardened immediately, they were so hot. Not to mention that hairy fag in the silver shorts he was hot too.
Man I am so lucky, hard arse cop by day, cock hungry skinhead slut by night… life was good Rocco thought to himself, as he sauntered over to Chester slowly unbuttoning his bleachers his mind overcome with his new need for cock…
The second skinhead started to twitch as Hanks fingers flew across the keyboard.
The pale skinhead was starting to change, deep inside him Cyril could feel a need for cock develop, he could see himself in the mirror opposite, The dark outline of the five o’clock shadow on his head and jaw faded, and was replaced by the gleam and glint of a permanently bald head. His body developed gaining the musculature of a manual worker, years of hard work digging ditches formed the knot and muscles all over his body,
His pale skin began to color in places as tattoos formed across him, some were homemade, with slogans like SKINZ RULE others were minor artworks, pictures of skinheads fucking, sucking and kissing.
Cyril the dumb minion was becoming Cy the dumb submissive but aggressive skinhead.
The next skinhead walked over towards the mirror that was facing him, as if in a daze, like the others he did not have any features. Hank started to type into the keyboard. The man who used to be an inspector looked at the mirror and as he did do, he started to see changes take place. First the hair on his head started to disappear all that could be seen was a shiny bonehead where before he had well-kept hair, a red hanging from his mouth. As he looked down he could see his body darken, on his feet he noticed that he was wearing a pair of 20 hole Rangers with yellow laces laddered up tight and neat. These seemed to mold to his feet. As he started to look more intensely he noticed that his lower legs where engulfed in tight shiny rubber, looking further up he saw what was his cock, lengthen down the right side of his leg. Next appeared a black rubber polo shirt which looked like a Fred Perry with yellow stripe on the collar and at the end of the sleeve. Within seconds a pair of yellow rubber braces appeared.
On his arms appeared tattoos, on his lower left arm he could see a British Bull Dog with a union jack and with the words “made in England” and on the other you could see a panther the symbol of the Skinhead gang that he belonged too. On his hands he saw a pair of swallows between his thumb and first finger. On both of his elbows you could see spiders webs. On the side of his neck you could see a pair of swallows even if you wanted to cover them up they would still be seen, above then where spiders webs
As this was happening. In his mind he was trying to remember where he had been before the chief had told him to report to the station, yes he was at home with his beautiful wife to whom he had been married for 16 years and he could see his two sons playing some game on the computer, he was trying to remember his wife’s name, but for the life of him he couldn’t, and his two sons what where their names? As the oldest was also going into the police he went along with him.
As these alien thoughts where running through his mind he shook off these thoughts, that was stupid he thought to himself, he was gay why on earth was he thinking like that, he could not stand looking at women, he had always been gay from when he saw some of the guys who used to hand about on street corners, how he had been taken in by the other skinheads who he now regarded as his friends, he never been with a women in his life, but men O yeah!!!! he was always on his knees sucking off one of his skinhead mates or offering his arse for them to use.
He turned around so he could see his bubble butt, that was one of his best assets, he could see the rear zip on his rubber jeans and with his hand he felt for the zipper and started to undo it. He saw Hank and turned round with a sneer on his face and said “Oi, mate, I want my fucking fuck hole filled, come on spunk up my man cunt.”
Hank looked up at him and said, “That’s fine Bull, why don’t you choose one of those skinheads that were your pals and we will make him just the man you need in your man-cunt.”
Bull pointed to one of the men, he was younger than the rest of them, The lad who only looked 16 or so stepped forward as Bull pointed towards him. If anything was left of the Bull before his transformation he would have realised that the lad he had just pointed at was in fact his son. But to him he was just another skinhead looking for an identity. He was so horny all he wanted was a cock up his man cunt.
The lad stood in front of the mirror at first he did not see any change, but slowly he noticed that his eyebrows started to meet in the middle of his face, bright blue Aryan eyes, his nose looked as if there was a kink in it as if it had been broken in the past. On the side of his face you could see a scar from a knife or bottle. His once flowing hair receded to leave him a zero crop.
As he looked further down he saw that his t-shirt changed into a red checked Ben Sherman and on his shoulders a pair of white braces appeared. He looked at his reflection he could see a snear on his face and dangling from his gob a ciggie. His arms where covered with tattoos. He noticed a pair of bleachers with a bulge that seems to be straining against the fabric, on his feet a pair of cherry 30 hole Rangers. He looked round and saw Bull was fingering his man cunt. “Oi you, get your fucking arse over here NOW! I want you on the end of my 10 inch fuck tool”.
Bull walked forward to the the young skinhead and bent over. The skin opened his bleachers and his 10 inch cock sprange to attention and he positioned himself at the entrence of Bull’s fuck hole and pushed all the way in until his balls where against his arse, then he started to fuck with all his might. Bull was loving every minute of it.
After about 10 minutes the young skinhead emptied his balls right into Bull. He pulled out and presented his cock to Bull, who cleaned off his cock with his mouth, he then put his cock back into his bleachers. Lite another ciggie and said “fuck I needed that” and walked off not saying a word to Bull to join the other skinheads.
Bull stayed on his knees with a smile on his face, thinking to himself, this is why I’m a skinhead so that my skinheads mates can use me however they want. He then got up and joined the rest of his skinhead gang mates.
The changes of course continued through the night until Hank had himself an army of middle aged skin heads of various shapes and sizes. This left the former Chief of Police in a sorry state, the now nineteen year old skin was quite well built if not some might say, handsome. That is if you were into tats and piercings, for as the Chief had been warned he would take on many of the traits of his now Skin superiors.
His tight new body was encased in rubber boots and black rubber pants with zips at the crotch and butt so the lads could have easy access, with bright red braces as well, but that was all he ever wore now. He of course now felt the need and want to please his gang as they wished, what ever fetish was theirs was now his as well, he loved piss, he loved to have his ass and mouth used at the same time, he loved to be degraded and abused, he just loved to please his mates in what ever way he could.
Hank had had a long night and needed some rest Chester had taken a booking from some more College students for tomorrow so he needed his beauty sleep. He left the wild orgy of the warehouse behind him and took Chester still in his little silver shorts off to his private bedroom.