bearslikeus:

Thanks for the submission of a sequel. Good stuff.

The hell was all this? Jerry flipped through his buddy’s photostream but instead of him all the pics seemed to be featuring some mustachioed redneck. Was the site buggy today or was David just trying to pull some stupid prank on his friends? A link below the photos said that the profile was modified by some app, without thinking Jerry clicked on it and was immediately transported to its control panel. The thing seemed to have pulled some random shirtless selfie that he took for his girlfriend from his profile and was asking him to modify it somehow, it looked completely inane, full of various party hats and poorly drawn facial hair shaped icons that you could stick on your pics. Jerry wasn’t interested in any of that, but the app didn’t want to let him get back to his profile without adding something to his selfie so he just dragged a grey mustache and a pipe onto his face and clicked okay.
When the processing was over Jerry couldn’t believe his eyes, the background was the same as in the old photo but he has been replaced by some grandpa! A really sexy grandpa… Jerry moaned to himself as he took a puff off his pipe and leaned back in his chair, massaging the bulge growing in his underwear. Yeah, browsing the profile of that stud from earlier has gotten his juices flowing, why didn’t he notice that he had such a hot guy on his friends list before?
Jerry was so busy stroking himself to David’s pics that he didn’t even notice that his body changing as well, growing larger and hairier, grey hairs sprouting from every inch of his skin.
He moaned again, anticipating an upcoming orgasm and exhaled a big cloud of smoke that engulfed his entire face, by the time it had dispersed he was looking exactly like the mustachioed pipe bear from the picture.
All of David’s photos were safe for work but the huge bulge in his denim shorts didn’t leave much to imagination, even thinking about that fat cock burrowing itself deep inside his hole was enough to push Jerry over the edge and make him shoot out ropes of creamy cum across his round belly.
Within moments he was taking another pipe smoking selfie and attaching it to a message he was about to send out to the sexy bear who used to be his college buddy only a day ago.

“Nice profile stud, really got me going, wanna cum over?”

bearslikeus:

Jack loved to browse antique shops and junkyards for items to restore. He loved taking some old and making it look new again.

He would typical run into vendors trying to pawn off actual junk as something special. Jack felt he had a keen enough eye to spot a diamond in the rough.

That was the case the ‘smoke box’ as the woman called it. Jack recognized the humidor for what it actually was. Even as a very occasional smoker he felt he could polish up this beauty and sell it for a nice profit.

Taking it home, it didn’t take long to restore. He even went out and purchased he necessary items to get it up and running, including a few cigars.

Jack sat on his couch and marveled at the humidor. It really was quite a find. He ran his fingers along the woodwork, admiring the intricately carved details. He found himself imagining who it must’ve belonged to. What type of man must’ve come home from a long day of work and kicked back with a fine cigar.

Jack pulled out the cigar and lit it. Puffing on it and bringing it to life. Jack’s eye was caught by the way that the humidor seemed to glow as his cigar did. A warm color. While odd it was also soothing to Jack.

Finishing the cigar he turned in for the night. Resolved on finding a buyer the next weekend.

Jack woke the next morning with an odd taste in his mouth like he’d smoked a dozen cigars the previous night. He also craved another smoke. As he got out if bed he felt almost sluggish. Off balance. He padded his way to the bathroom and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

Once a little more awake, Jack thought he looked about as crappy as he felt. Heavy stubble. Puffy cheeks and eyes. He just didn’t feel himself. In the back of his mind he knew what would make him feel better. A cigar.

He went to the humidor and picked out another cigar and fired it up. Puffing away he immediately felt a calm come over him. The taste in his mouth was replaced by the creamy earthy smoke. He sat smoking and noticed his body felt warm. Was he getting sick? No. It was different. It was like… Arousal. Puffing on the cigar he rubbed his chest. Noting what felt to him like more hair than he should have, but not caring in that moment.

The tenting of his boxers called to him. He needed to rub his cock. Still puffing away he freed his dick and began stroking himself. Taking great pleasure in each careful stroke. One hand in his dick, the other his meaty nipple he continued. His cigar bright with each drag. The humidor glowing as he pleasures himself. Bringing himself to climax he shot his thick load all over his chest. Coaxing out every last drop if cum he placed his sticky hand on his belly as he finished his smoke.

Once done he got up and noted how heavy he felt. Not sluggish like before but solid. Heavy. With more moss. The room was thick with smoke still hanging in the air. Jack thought it odd from one cigar but was enjoying the moment too much to worry.

Time to shower he thought. Back in the bathroom he noted the reason for why he felt heavier. He had put on a fair amount of weight. An impossible amount for such a short period of time. The stubble has also grown out into the start of a full beard. A graying beard at that.

Jack muttered to himself about the changes and even his voice sounded off. What was happening to him. And why was his cock at attention as he checked himself out in the mirror stroking his beard. This new form was oddly attractive to him. He started to fondle his cock but stopped. He needed a cigar. He always loved to smoke when he jerked off. Always. He couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t. Pulling another cigar from the humidor he took to rubbing his cock. He wiped a bit of his precum on to the warm wrapper and then continued to smoke. The heat from the cigar exciting his cock. He held the burning end close to his nipple until he couldn’t take the ambient heat any more. Cussing under his breath and the mixed feelings of pleasure and pain. He shot another load. This time rubbing the cum into his matted fur.

This was his ritual. This was how he smoked. Instead of a shower he went to his bedroom. Cigar nub still clamped in his mouth. His fingers still toying with his nipples. He pulled out a shirt that fit his ample frame. Jeans next. Pulling out his favorite leather suspenders he made his way. He was going to need more cigars. He was also going to need to call his friend, and fuck buddy, Freddy. That cuss could suck a mean dick. Always treated his cock like an expensive cigar.

Jack looked at himself in the mirror. Stroking his bushy fraying beard and adjusting his suspender, he grabbed a couple of cigars for the road and headed out to run his errands. He would call Freddy on the way. Jack was looking forward to a good weekend.

gainerguy30:

He is finally turning into a real man a fat old bald man!

bearslikeus:

He knew what was happening to him but he couldn’t stop. He was overwhelmed by his desire for dick. With each load he took in he put on more weight. His hair grayed a little more each time he shot his load. The two older gentlemen that hit on him at the bar seemed friendly enough. He was excited about a threesome with two sexy mature men. He had no idea he was going to become one as a result of accepting their invitation.

furbleofyourdreams:

the first of my YCHs I posted awhile back! Drinking enchanted scotch will very rapidly have you experiencing your golden years…

For Theome! I think he looks a lot better like this, yeah.

bearslikeus:

Someone Your Age

When we started seeing each other people would whisper about the age difference. I was in my 60’s. I didn’t care if my boyfriend was in his 20’s. Age is just a number I would tell them. But when their talk started to bother Matt I knew I had to do something.

Getting him drunk was easy enough. I wanted him pliable. Finding a mystical dealer that sold what I needed was not easy.

Setting the romantic mood. A weekend getaway. Bubble bath. Champagne. And two tablespoons of a fine powder that I told Matt was an exotic bath salt.

As he soaked, I watched his youthful trim body give way to age. His hair graying. His body layering on fat. I was surprised at how erotic it actually was.

Matt began to stroke himself, as did I. I shot a load into the bath on to his chest. I found out later this ended up changing him in ways no one predicted.

When he stepped from the bath I helped dry him off.

“I need a smoke. Did you bring our cigars?”

Our cigars? But Matt didn’t smoke. I did. Absorbing some of my DNA through mystical means gave him parts of my personality.

Still pliable I told him what I’d done. Completely open to my suggestion I started calling him Marty.

Even though Marty had aged significantly he still had th vitality if his former age. Which we took advantage if three times that night.

I ended telling my friends that they were right and I broke up with Matt. When they saw Marty and I together they saw how happy we both were.

bearslikeus:

Easy Money

Garrett Lowe loved the money he made as a stripper. He was proud of it actually. He knew he was good looking, but was never cocky about it. He knew Magic Mike was more fiction and fantasy than real life. Instead of working in some sleazy club where women, desperate for any attention, stuffed singles in his bikini briefs, he hired himself out for parties. Typically bachelorette parties, but he did get the occasional request to be a go-go dancer at a night dance club. He even occasionally got a call to be a strip-o-gram for a group of guys. Sometimes, it was meant to embarrass the unsuspecting frat brother. Sometimes, it was a group of gay guys. Garrett didn’t mind. It was always all in good fun. With abs like Garrett’s he couldn’t pass up making a few hundred dollars for a couple hours work. It was easy money for a good looking guy in his early twenties.

When Garrett got the call for a stripping gig he almost didn’t want to take it because it was such a last minute request. The guy seemed almost desperate as he spoke. If it was a drunken fraternity brother, he knew he could talk the guy into paying big money for the chance to prank someone. If it was a gay dude, he knew that the twinks would be all over his body. If he was lucky he could score five hundred dollars easily.

Garrett showed up at the address, a little early. He was coming from another gig dressed as a police officer. Since the man he spoke with didn’t make any specific requests, he figured he could keep the uniform on. No need to change.

Garrett grabbed his “bag of tricks” as he called them. He carried the usual assortment of police paraphernalia; handcuffs, night stick, a robber’s mask, a couple amusingly written arrest warrants. He was set.
As he approached the front door he could hear what sounded like guys having a rowdy time. He took a deep breath, put a smirk on his face, kept his aviator shades on, and pulled his hat down just to his brow. Garrett rang the doorbell. The voices inside the house, seemed to quiet down a bit. Usually, when a party knew the stripper arrived, they’d hoot and holler more in anticipation.

A heavy set guy in his late forties answered the door, dressed in a stained white tank top, sweat pants, and grimy bandana around their head.

“I’m sorry, Sir. I must have the wrong house,” Garrett presumed.

“Nah, you’re right on time. I called you,” the guy answered taking a swig of his beer as he finished speaking.

Garrett was clearly a bit thrown off by the gruff appearance of the guy. He cautiously stepped inside. Garrett had a good poker face in most situations, but it was a struggle not to look at least a little surprised. There was another guy in a pizza delivery uniform, a man chomping on a cigar who wore overalls that were unbuttoned about as low as they could go. Another man was wearing a trucker’s style hat with the profiled silhouette of chubby dude reclining. The sleeves of his shirt were ripped off and he was sniffing his pits. It was like some bizarro-world Village People.

“Go ahead and do your thing, son,” the host said closing the door and gesticulating towards the living room. Garrett was stuck now with no easy way to bolt. The living room was not clean by any means. Garrett presumed the pizza guy brought plenty of pizzas for his hungry friends. Boxes were strewn about the living room as well as beer cans. The place reeked of the cigar that the guy in overalls was smoking.

Garrett nervously asked, “Who’s the guest of honor?” soliciting a few laughs from the group.

“You are,” said the pizza delivery guy who’s name badge read Donny.

The guy in the overalls spoke around his cigar, “Yeah. Show us what you’ve got.” The stitching was frayed and wearing away, but you could make out the name Chuck.

Garrett started up his music on his iPod and portable speaker. He began to dance to the music. Slowly undulating his body in time with the rhythm of the music. He had never been self-conscious about dancing in front of people before, but there was something about the way these guys were looking at him. Garrett removed his hat and tried his best to hide his revulsion as he placed in the head of the cigar-smoking overall-clad grease monkey. Garrett could see that the guy clearly had not bathed today and perhaps in a while. The grease from his hands had been smeared across the guy’s chest. It was apparent that he had been feeling himself up at some point the way the smudges appeared.

Turning around for the mechanic, Garrett began unbutton his police uniform. Slowly with the first couple of buttons before then ripping it apart, exposing his clean shaven chest. Tank top guy booed at the sight. Garrett was confused, but continued dancing, making his way towards his heckler. Garrett quickly stepped behind the guy, taking note of the sagging of the guys actually sweaty sweat pants.
“I think he likes you, Robbie,” Donny called out.

Garrett could see that the Robbie’s sweat pants were barely held up. He thought that Robbie must have the worst case of swamp ass on record, for as wet as his sweat pants seemed. Garrett was about to run his hands over Robbie’s body. Normally this would really help him sell it. He typically would take the lucky recipient of the strip-o-gram and run his hands over their back or chest and arms before cuffing them. He paused momentarily thinking otherwise about his normal routine. Figuring that if he wanted to really make big money, he had to sell it.

Garrett went for it. He ran his hand up Robbie’s back, holding back his disgust at the dampness of the back of the tank top. He moved to what he hoped was a dryer spot on Robbie’s side. Stepping around Robbie and his girth he stepped in front of the man.

“He may like me, but I don’t like him. He’s not my type.” Robbie said with a chuckle, “But I can fix that.”

Robbie took the liberty of lifting up his tank top up to his arm pits. He pulled, Garrett in close and began gyrating in imitation of Garrett. The rest of the guys began to howl with laughter. Garrett put his hands on Robbie arms trying to push himself away from Robbie and get out of his clutches.

“Nah… You ain’t getting away that easily,” the trucker said. He moved himself behind Garrett and pressed hard against him, grinding his beach ball gut into the small of Garrett’s back.

Not wanting to be left out of the action, Donny and Chuck hoisted themselves up off the couch and placed themselves on either side of their dancer.

Chuck was still puffing away on his cigar and blew a big cloud of smoke in Garrett’s face. Garrett could feel Robbie’s hair chest swirling around as they moved. The trucker whose name he didn’t even know was simulating fucking Garrett up the ass, or at least that’s what would be happening if the guy’s gut wasn’t in the way. All it ended up causing was Garrett to be pressed closer to the guys as he tried to escape. Garrett thought Robbie was singing along to the music at first, but when the song stopped he realized it was more like chanting.

Garrett felt like he was being flattened between the men. Donny and Chuck were tugging at Garrett’s clothes, but instead of ripping they were stretching to their limits. His shirt, already open, seemed tight around the arms. Looking at his arms Garrett realized it was because his arms where thick as country hams. Garrett started to scream for help, but just as he opened his mouth Chuck jammed he cigar he’d been smoking in his mouth. Chuck and Donny began rubbing their hands over the sides of his belly, kneading and massaging the growing mass.

Robbie grabbed Garrett’s head and began massaging his temples. Garrett’s eyes seemed to glaze over briefly. As Robbie continued to work on the inside of Garrett’s head, the outside began changing too. His scruff grew out a bit. His cheeks became puffier. Robbie pressed Garrett’s face deep into the sweaty recesses of his moobs. When he was satisfied that Garrett had enough he shoved Garrett’s face away, breaking up the circle of sweaty men that had surrounded the stripper.

Garrett fell back on the couch and tried to button up his shirt. Realizing the fabric would no longer reach around his belly he gave up. He loosened his tie, picked up a cigar that was smoldering in the ashtray next to him, and began rubbing his pronounced gut.

Robbie sauntered up to him and pulled out his cock. Pulling Garrett in by the slackened tie he began to feed him his cock. “Welcome to the club Officer.”

Garrett pulled off long enough to unbutton his pants and sputter out, “Call me Gary,” then hungrily dove back on to the sweaty cock.