The tattoos really completed Brad’s jock transformation. After I finish inking his skin, his body put on thirty pounds of muscle. I buzzed his hair really short, whispering in his ear the whole time about how amazing it was to be a dumb horny jock. His dick got harder and grew larger and larger, and soon it was the perfect sized tool for a dumb jock like him. I started to slowly stroke it, telling him to let his smarts get all gooey and melt in his brain, and to let them gather up in his nuts. His balls grew fatter and fatter, and soon he had a care-free expression on his face. I started pumping his shaft harder, telling him to cum away everything that he had melted down. Soon he was coating his chest with his load, letting a big dumb laugh out of his mouth. I helped him get into his car, but told him he should just let his dick stay hard and hang out. After all, a jock boy is proud of his tool and takes every opportunity to show it off.
imagine how it feels, bros. the static cling of his closeness to your body. the soft certainty of his palms against the hardness of your muscles. the warmth of his breath wafting down the hairs of your neck as he whispers his commands into your ear. all the while, the vibratory, electric sensation of his control deepening, his hands running down your cock as you collapse into a vegetation of thought paradoxically liberating you to instinct, action and animism. your mind’s eye dilates and the woods around you fish-eye as the feeling of airiness, the ether numb, seeps into your skull. you’ve changed. nothing can stop you now. nothing but him.
BroUnderConstruction 