Forced In

This time around I’d like to promote @newyoutf​​ and their INCREDIBLE collection of stories. Seriously, if you haven’t already discovered them then get out from underneath your rock. Make sure to check out more stories about New You Industries over on their page!

Malcolm Ryder strutted down the street with an obnoxious bounce in his step. His fluffy, chocolate brown hair bounced with each step, displaying his own self-confidence as he made his way down the hill to his neighbor’s home. The young man had his lightly-muscled body on full display underneath his basic white tank-top and running shorts. With his 6′4 stature, thin but built body, and flowing mane, he knew he was a handsome dish, and with the outfit he would be receiving in minutes he’d be even hotter.

With a fresh business degree and a starting position at a local marketing company, Malcolm had set off smoothly into the adult world. He worked, neither not enough or hard, and in most of his downtime he was spending all the money he earned partying. Luckily, his parents helped him out every time he reached a financial crisis, but it had given Malcolm a false promise of security, allowing him to believe there would always be someone to help pick him up. With that aside however, he was smart, attractive, and had a (mostly) promising future ahead of him.

About a week ago, Malcolm had been invited by a college buddy to a massive blowout in the city later that evening. His friend had been told by another source that it was supposedly held by a social media mogul, hopefully meaning a colossal turnout. While Malcolm was grateful for the invite and excited for the party, he also hoped to hook up with someone–or a few someones–by the end of the night. He’d already prepped himself hours ago–making sure to look appealing to his conquests–and was ready to depart when his friend realized he had forgotten to tell him one major detail of the party.

“It’s a costume party?” Malcolm’s lower tenor voice complained.

“I swear I told you that when I texted you last week.”

“I’m pretty sure I would’ve remembered!” Malcolm shot back, yelling into the phone.

“Calm down, we can just go shopping. I’m sure we can find something.”

“At this hour on a Saturday?” Malcolm questioned the phone. He sat there dwelling with multiple different emotions of confusion and anger. He had thought all hope was lost when a desperate idea popped into his head.

“Wait, I got something!” Malcolm responded.

“Ok, good! Let me know if it works out, and if not we can think of something else. You can always go Greek, dude. Talk to you soon.”

“Bye,” Malcolm replied after ending the call. The last thing he wanted to do was wear another bed sheet toga. Quickly, he typed in the number for an old family friend and prayed that his crazy idea would work.

Thankfully, that crazy idea of Malcolm’s had worked. Hours later, it’s what had driven him up the hill to an older neighborhood outside the city. Malcolm had parked on the road and was just now merrily guiding himself up the driveway, passing by a police car parked in the dirt driveway. Smirking, he noticed a tall, brutish looking man approaching him.

“Mr. Barrow!” Malcolm gleefully shouted.

“Malcolm! Great to see ya again, bud.” Mr. Barrow brought his huge arms around Malcolm and squeezed him into a good old fashioned bear hug. Sure, Malcolm had a well-developed body, but nothing as powerful as the beast of a man in front of him. He felt the bristles of an unshaved stubble scrape across his cheek before Mr. Barrow let go.

Mr. Barrow was a friend of Malcolm’s parents from way back in the day. The police chief had been neighbors with them before they’d had children, and the three had bonded quite well. Mr. Barrow had even stuck around to help with Malcolm and his siblings when they popped up. He’d been at their baptisms, babysat every one of them, and even attended their graduation ceremonies. He was kind of like an uncle to Malcolm; an older, stricter, and enforcing uncle.

Being the chief of the local police force, Mr. Barrow had always installed some of his work life into his at-home regimes. Although Malcolm had now grown to appreciate Mr. Barrow a little more, he had originally been a lot harder on him as a kid. He’d always want strict discipline and “Golden Days” behavior, which meant no electronics and all time spent outdoors. If it was raining, then Malcolm and his siblings were expected to do chores around the house, making it sparkly for his parents’ arrival. Still though, Malcolm liked Mr. Barrow, probably because the man could no longer boss him around.

“How’s it goin’, kid? How’s the big city treatin’ ya?”

“Oh I love it out there!” Malcolm replied honestly. “Got started at a great corporation near downtown, it’s a pretty sweet deal.”

“That sounds great,” Mr. Barrow responded. “Now, I know you’re cramped for time so I won’t bother you too much.”

Malcolm chuckled before rolling his eyes.

“Your uniform…I mean costume is in the trunk.” Mr. Barrow stuttered before making his way around the police car and popping open the back end.

“Mr. Barrow, thanks again for all your help,” Malcolm started. “Really, it’s so nice that you could help me with such short notice.”

“Of course,” Mr. Barrow said. “But once you put this uniform on, you’re going to have to call me Chief.” 

Malcolm thought it was a joke, but Mr. Barrow’s tone seemed serious.

“Here we are, this is what I’m lookin’ for. Catch!”

Malcolm eagerly responded as Mr. Barrow tossed a small metallic object at him. Reacting instinctively, Malcolm caught it in his hands. It was a badge, just a regular old police badge. However, Malcolm shuddered as his hand suddenly tensed around the badge. Incredible energy surged up his arm and spread through him. The feeling of the enchanted object was both frightening and exhilarating.

“Um…” Malcolm muttered, ignoring the strange surge of energy. “and the rest of the costume?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Mr. Barrow sneered, his kind demeanor suddenly evaporating. “It’ll all come on it’s own, just like the new you will.”

Before Malcolm could question the comment, his legs gave out and he fell to his knees with his fingers still firmly grasping the badge. Malcolm was immediately terrified by the developing situation but at the same time engrossed in the power rapidly bubbling throughout his body. Finally after what seemed like hours, his fingers unclenched and dropped the badge to the floor, but the damage had been done. Malcolm collapsed and let out a long moan as his body began to change.

“You’ve always been quite the little brat, Malcolm,” Mr. Barrow looked down on the young man as his body began to writhe. “For 25 years you’ve never been the kid that your selfless parents deserved.”

Malcolm’s legs compressed painfully, slowly hiding away more and more of his thighs behind the running shorts. Likewise, his arms pulled back into his body while his entire torso was compacted inwards, stripping Malcolm of his lanky appearance. 

“What’s ah…are you talking…about?!” Malcolm groaned as his cock hardened to full mast.

“What am I talking about?” Mr. Barrow impersonated Malcolm’s anguished, whiny tone. “You were always an ungrateful little twat! Your parents are some of the kindest people I’ve ever met and as a kid you leeched every dollar you had out of them.”

Malcolm’s muscles fluttered and twitched all across his body, causing him to once more cry in agony. Tendons and ligaments grew across his arms, bulging from his biceps and triceps as his shoulders grew wider, becoming wider and broad and destroying the straps that just barely held his tank top up. His defined pecs slowly protruded further from his bony chest, growing larger and dense. Malcolm’s precious abs sunk in along his stomach to make way for a rock-hard muscle gut. His legs surged with strength, allowing copious amounts of muscle growth in his thighs and calves. The sudden spurt caused his running shorts to split at the seam and fall to the ground, revealing a wet, hard, bulging jockstrap underneath. Behind him, his flat butt began to press outward, growing bigger and rounder to match his thick, muscular thighs.

“I was…just a kid…all kids…disobey-”

“That may be true,” Mr. Barrow growled. “But you never stopped. No matter what I did, what I told you’re parents, you never changed. I’ve watched you grow up, Malcolm, and as far as I can see you still act like a spoiled little boy.”

Malcolm panicked as he realized couldn’t help himself, clasping desperately at the exposed muscle while hairs darted across the surface. Much to his surprise, he soon found himself grabbing at fabric. Refocusing his eyes, he watched on stunned as his tattered clothes repaired and reshaped into the uniform of the local precinct–the precinct under Chief Barrow’s control. His bulging arms and defined chest easily strained the new shirt, while his quadriceps, bulge, and rear did the same to his pants. His jockstrap bloomed into a pair of worn boxers, leaving room for his schlong and balls to breathe. Even a bulky, heavy belt complete with a radio and utilities now pulled down on his waist, not only adding to his uniform but pulling up his legs another half of an inch.

“Ngh! How can…there be…more!” Malcolm grunted, bucking his hips involuntarily. Throwing his head back, he moaned as soles stretched against the rubber of his slides. Hairs erupted along the tops of his toes as they fell over the ends of his sandals, yet the problem was quickly fixed when the streetwear rapidly bloated outward into a pair of heavy Size 14 leather boots. A pair of generic, starch white socks quickly enveloped his feet as well, climbing up to the mid-calf. However, by the time they had reached their destination, their white color had been replaced with a buttery yellow due to overuse, allowing for a sweaty, potent stench to slowly crawl out from within the boots.

“Even now you just barge on over, asking me for a uniform after almost a year of absolute silence.” Mr. Barrow’s tone was incredibly demeaning, forcing Malcolm to feel an increasing amount of guilt. “You’ve always thought that you could get anything you ever wanted, Malcolm–deserved it in fact! That’s why I agreed to help you, because I wanted to give you more than just a uniform.”

Malcolm clambered to his feet slowly but surely, clutching his head from the sheer amount of pain. In agony, he felt as his curly mane was rapidly yanked away from his scalp, leaving his hair short and tidy. Not only that, but Malcolm unfortunately noticed how some hair even vanished completely from his temples, leaving him with the drastically receded hairline of a man just under Chief Barrow’s age. His fingers cracked as they began to slide longer across his scalp, pushing through the neat, handsome cut of hair. Still in shock, Malcolm held the stretching, trembling hands in front of him, gasping as he watched them swell into huge and meaty sausages.

“I wanted you to learn about respect, dignity,” Chief Barrow enunciated harshly. “I wanted you to understand how a man can provide everything for himself without draining the wealth of others.”

“Must be… some way to s-stop this…” Malcolm groaned, his eyes widening at the sound of his gruffer, completely unfamiliar voice. 

“Luckily, there isn’t,” Chief Barrow replied. Painfully, Malcolm’s features broadened and enlarged. A strong chin and sharp jaw pressed out of his face and light stubble sprouted from the skin. Malcolm frantically scanned his surroundings, looking around to see if somewhere, anywhere, there was someone to help him stop this. While searching, he caught a glimmer of his new reflection in the police cruiser’s window. Malcolm’s wide, handsome jaw fell open at the sight. Not only did he look easily 20 or more years older, but he looked completely different. He looked more like a friend of Chief Barrow than the son of one.

“Almost done,” Chief Barrow chimed in. “If you’re going to be a man, you’ll have to have the materials to play the part too.”

Malcolm didn’t have time to register what the Chief had meant before his hard cock downstairs ached for touch. It stretched down the leg of his pants while his balls swelled larger. The python continued to slither south, thickening and lengthening against his muscular leg. Malcolm couldn’t contain himself anymore, quickly pulling the fly on his new pants down and fishing his swelling cock out. As it flopped into the open air, he couldn’t believe how big it had already gotten, almost double what he was used to–and he was average before.

Although Malcolm was reluctant to do so in front of the Chief, he was unable to resist as he gripped the sausage in his hand and pumped, growling loudly with every stroke. He was too busy relishing his increased size and virility to realize his mind was being stuffed with policing skills and years of experience. Before he knew it, Malcolm had a nine-inch weapon in his hand, and the knowledge of how to use it among other things in his head. Seeing things were about to wrap up, the Chief decided to make his final move.

“Your selfish life is almost gone, Malcolm,” Chief Barrow seductively whispered into his ear. “All you have to do is let go.”

With stubborn arrogance, what was left of Malcolm’s resistance began to fight back. He wasn’t some almost 50-something, tight-laced, muscle-gutted daddy-cop! Malcolm was an energetic, lanky yet toned young adult.

“Blow your load,” Chief Barrow demanded. Malcolm’s mental defenses fought back even harder, delicately slowing his pumping speed. 

“That’s an order.”

Instantly, Malcolm screamed in ecstasy as an explosion of semen erupted from his cock. Once the post-orgasmic fog lifted, he blinked his empty eyes rapidly and brushed a large hand through his shorter hair, dazed and bewildered. All he could think about were his policing skills, authoritarian desires, and traditionalized traits. The muscular officer slowly regathered himself and tuned back into reality, discovering Chief Barrow standing right in front of him. Looking up, the 5′11 man’s face was lifeless.

“How you feelin’, Officer Morgan?”

Roland shook his head one last time to regain focus. Apparently old age had been getting to him.

“Just fine,” Roland responded. Roland’s straight face didn’t show any emotion. He was a man who believed he always had to be in command of the situation. He contained his emotions, believing that men were better suited to appear calm and in control at all times in order to gain obedience. And as a police officer, obedience was one of his strongest demands.

“Ready to head out, Chief?”

“If you are, old man,” the chief coyly responded. “Anyway, I got a tip that there’s going to be a huge social gathering downtown later tonight. If we’re lucky, it will hopefully be just a bunch of dumb kids doing whatever they do these days. But, I’m assuming there’ll be underage drinking and some substance abuse, so I made sure to have backup on standby just in case.”

“Sounds great, Chief; I’ll follow your lead.”

The Chief grinned, overjoyed that the once annoying, rebellious brat had become a straight-laced, rule-following gentleman–and a still rather fine looking one at that.