Popular Post NexCanis Posted December 28, 2021 Popular Post Share Posted December 28, 2021 There are few things in this world that could allow and facilitate instantaneous transformation or gratification. Those that do often are fleeting and transitory, offering brief releases from reality but never leaving any lasting effects. Most of the time, people need to rely on themselves to change and their will to commit to that change. Note, however, that the use of determiners such as ‘few’, ‘often’ and ‘most’. Rare as they may be, there are phenomenon and artifacts out there that can bring permanent change and true gratification. These objects often cause great change that mortal minds simply cannot comprehend. Our minds would simply explode trying to understand this phenomenon so our minds simply rewrite our memories and thoughts to accept the new reality as truth. An extreme sense of denial, one could call it. Perhaps this is how these objects maintain their sort of pseudo-anonymity and remain forever hidden with only the lucky individuals who encounter it stumbling upon them by complete accident. No one ever hunts for these artifacts because in the eyes of history, they never existed. Even those changed by it rarely have any recollection of them, their memories and history merely blending with the truth that they had come to understand. One of these many wonders is rumored to have been created by Priapus, crafted from only the hardest of wood from a tree that was fed on the seed of all the gods that Hermes secretly milked while they slept. There are even tales that this unassuming object was crafted by a puckish demon who scorned the world’s objection to homosexuality and used it to turn men into loving other men just to destabilize the world. A single tale speaks of an extra-dimensional entity who simply wanted men to have the lives they dreamed of without fighting against the constraints of circumstance. Whatever the truth of it, this simple, unassuming closet ensures that any man who steps inside, truly ‘comes out’. ❖ Timothy Willis stepped into the dingy motel room with a dejected sigh. Sleep had eluded him for the past week leaving the heavy bags under his eyes to match the weight of the two travel bags that he dropped onto the floor next to the awful, puke-green door. Shuffling his scrawny frame across the mud-colored carpet, his dirty sneakers dragging beneath him, he shut the door behind him with a slam without even bothering to lock the door. Weary, broken-hearted and defeated, he collapsed onto the bed face first only for pain to immediately rocket up from his nose. The mattress was as hard as concrete and he could swear one of the springs had jabbed his forehead just out of spite. Grumbling, he rolled onto his back and stared at the creaky ceiling fan that looked like it was just about to fall on him and end his suffering. Though that would be welcome. Timothy lay on his back, trying to muster up some previously unknown psychic power to summon that fan into his skull. Naturally, nothing happened and he was left free to ponder the misery of his existence up to this point. Truly amazing was the speed of his descent. Just two weeks ago, he was a bright-eyed intern for a country-wide media corporation. Dreams of one day being an anchor man fueled him through grueling hours, hostile bosses and constant jabs of having ‘no soul’ because of his dark red hair. More than once he had scalding hot coffee thrown at him because ‘it wasn’t a latte’. He draped an arm over his blue eyes, fighting back the tears and holding back a sob. One of many interns, he was in a competitive field and many of his fellow interns were constantly doing whatever they could to sabotage his and one another’s efforts to garner favor from the higher-ups. Being too nice or perhaps too honorable, Timothy never resorted to any of those tactics. Which is exactly what got him fired. Too ashamed to go back to his parents, he packed up his belonging from the apartment that he could no longer afford and shuffled into this motel, a loose-fitting white collared shirt from Forever 21 around his shoulders and black tie hanging loosely around his neck. His legs were covered by the same, skinny, black slacks that he had worn to his senior prom were dirtied with mud and coffee stains. The tears were starting to soak into his sleeves. Wiping puffy, red, eyes free of the tears, he steeled himself and straighted up in the bed. “There are better opportunities,” he told himself, light voice that never stopped ‘breaking’ heavy with disappointment and shame. “I’ll find another job. Maybe start local.” Though he had no solid plans, the twenty-three-year-old, communications major jumped to his feet and straightened his back. Having never really participated in sports, Timothy had the blessing of being able to eat anything and everything while remaining quite skinny. His metabolism seemed to constantly be in overdrive. Eating takeaway was probably not a good idea given that he was now on a budget but he needed some comfort food this evening. First, he needed to get changed out of these clothes. They stank of disappointment, expensive cologne, coffee and cigarettes. He padded over to where he had left his bags, grabbed them by their handles and dragged them over to the closet. He wasn’t expecting anything fantastical or even decent from a roadside motel but when he pulled open the closet door, he was quite surprised when he had a full walk-in closet in front of him. It was not a dingy closet that could barely fit one person, either. It could be construed as a room in and of itself. “What the hell…?” he mumbled to himself, poking his head forward and into the room. “How could a place like this have a closet this big?” There was enough room for him to stand inside with his arms outstretched and still have room for the coats and shirts to hang on the racks with his fingers barely grazing them. It was the kind of thing he would expect to see in a mansion or a ritzy hotel but certainly not this place. The strangest thing of all, however, was the fact that there were already clothes in the closet. To his left were a variety of jackets from heavy parkas, long trench coats, tough-looking leather jackets and even some luminescent worker’s vests. To the right were shirts of all variety. Long-sleeved, collared shirts, tank tops, compression shirts and even some print shirts. Beneath both were matching sets of pants and shorts ranging from the formal to the mundane. A rack at the far end of the wall was populated by all forms of footwear. On that same wall were large, square shelves where underwear and socks were stocked, neatly folded. “That explains the fee,” he mumbled to himself. “Though who would leave all this stuff in a motel?” The logical part of his brain said that he should go back down to the front office and inform them that someone had left a fortune’s worth of clothing in his closet. Maybe he could even argue for another room without such space and get a discount for being a Good Samaritan. Something about the closet, however, called to him. Perhaps it was curiosity or some innate desire to try on something that didn’t hang off him like a ghost’s sheet during Halloween. He left his bags where they were, just outside of the closet and stepped inside. The air was strangely crisp and clean, the bright, white light above his head illuminating every corner without flaw. His eyes were drawn to the expensive-looking suit jacket to his left. Just as his hands were about to brush against the silky sleeve, there was a loud bang behind him. Timothy spun in place and his heart leaped to his throat at the side of his own reflection staring back at him. There was a full-body mirror planted at the back of the closet door - a door that was now firmly shut. “What in the world…?” he exclaimed, scrambling forward for the doorknob. But there was no doorknob. There was a brief flash of confusion followed by panic as he tried to push the door open only for it to stubbornly refuse. He banged at the door with his right fist as fear began to set in. Something cool, slick and silky suddenly snapped around his wrist, pulled it back away from the door. It was a tie. A burgundy-colored tie that seemed to have wrapped around one of the racks and winding itself to pull him away from the door. “The fu -” He never got to finish his exclamation as that same sensation snapped around his left wrist and suddenly yanked his wrist back. Another tie, this one teal in color, had taken his wrist. The force of both ties pulling at his limbs dragged him across the carpeted floor before stopping about halfway into the closet. The question ‘what is happening?’ constantly played in his mind, his shock keeping him from vocalizing it even as the ties tightened their grip and yanked him off the ground, lifting him a whole two feet off the floor. The first instinct was to start kicking and in response, two other ties snaked out from between the pants and shorts, seizing his ankles and holding them still. “What the hell is going on here!” he cried. “Let me go!” In response, something heavy and damp slapped into his face. The ensuing gasp caused whatever it was to dive a little into his throat, causing him to choke on the fabric and filling his tongue with the salty, musky taste of the sweaty briefs. A scent thick with testosterone, manly body odor and the strange combination of fresh pine and mud wafted into his nostrils. Coupled with the weariness from a lack of sleep for the past five days and his protests and struggling quickly subsided. Blue eyes glazed over, Timothy hung there, suspended by the ties with his head drooping slightly and his eyes gazing off at his own reflection in the mirror. A new sensation quickly made itself known, radiating from his groin. If the bottom half of his face wasn’t obscured by the large briefs wrapped around his face, the leg-holes looped behind his ears, it would have been possible to see the dopey grin that crawled across his features as his modest cock began to stir awake. There was still some part of him that was screaming that this was unnatural, that he should wrest himself free from the restraints or cry for help but those thoughts were quickly overwhelmed by images of getting up in the morning with a supreme hard-on and immediately finding release by stroking his throbbing meat. Restrained as he was, the only thing he could do to mimic that sensation was to absently thrust his hips forward into the air, rubbing his erect dick against his boxer-briefs and the tight confines of his slacks. That one thrust was all the rest of his body needed. A deep thrumming began emitting from deep within his flesh, vibrations rippling throughout his entire body. Cells rapidly multiplied and divided, muscle stretching and expanding with a sound like stretching leather while bones snapped and grew to the chorus of a cracking whip. Each of his toes wiggled up from where they sat in his sneakers, pressing up against the dirtied fabric and distorting the shape as the balls of his feet widened. Those toes were forced to curl as they pressed up against the limits of the same sneakers he had worn since college. The strings grew taut, wailing in protest while his socks receded down from his calf, the fabric begin pulled by his expanding digits. Rrrrrrip! His toes flared out from his sneakers, exploding out of his size 10 shoes like a crescent moon peeing over a curved hill. His socks were only a second behind, giving way as his toes shot out of the white fabric and freeing his feet. The gap at the top of his destroyed shoe quickly spread all down the length of his foot, finally meeting at the back of his heel and causing the dangling flap of the sole to drop uselessly on the ground. A soft sigh of relief escaped his Timothy’s lips as a sense of familiarity washed up from his his new size 16 feet. Size 16. That didn’t seem right. He never had such big feet. But of course did. Ever since he had reached puberty, he needed to have his shoes custom made simply because most shoe stores didn’t stock size 16 shoes readily in stock. His parents always boasted that he would be a star basketball player with feet that big. Basketball was never his sport though. Wrestling. Yes. Wrestling was h is more type of game. But did he ever wrestle? What questions he had was erased by a more pressing question. ‘What is it that people say about guys feet compared to their cock size?’ Grinning through the mouthful of musky undergarments, Timothy thrust once more into the air, brushing his cock against the slacks that felt so alien on him now. His member pulsated, already fully erect but somehow stretching up another inch and leaking precum that mixed with his own rising musk, a musk that was quickly gaining a hint of pine and mud in it. Like magic, the remnants of his shoes which hung uselessly on the back of his feet peeled themselves away, shards of an old life falling away to give way to the new. The torn fabric of his socks unraveled themselves, the thread flying off out of sight in between the tightly and neatly pressed garments that hung against the walls, being absorbed into the essence of the Closet. The fragments of his shoes wiggled off into the shadows, disappearing from view and leaving him completely bare foot. To fix this, two pairs of thick, black, woolen socks snaked out from the shelves behind him, sliding themselves down the back of the closet to meet the two pair of heavy, tan, steel-toed boots that let themselves off the shoe rack and began ‘walking’ towards the restrained Timothy. They worked in tandem with one another, the shoes offering a platform for the socks to slowly open their maws and position themselves over Timothy’s bare feet. The moment the fabric touched Timothy’s pale skin, the young man squirmed and found his arousal double, precum forming a distinct stain against his slacks. Thick, reddish-brown hairs sprang from the knuckles of his toes, curling into a dense patch that matched the thick patch that formed over the bridge of his foot. All of this the socks quickly enveloped, hugging the delicate hairs tightly with a promise to protect them in as much warmth and comfort as they could provide. Timothy smiled at the memories of feeling that fabric brush against the back of his feet, enjoying the tingling sensation of the freshly laundered and dried socks gliding over the hairs on his feet. The thought made his toes curl, welcoming the embrace of those steel-toed worker’s boots that jumped up and gobbled his feet like a hungry whale. Raw power and masculinity radiated from those boots and Timothy arched his back, sucking in air and more of that heady musk through clenched teeth as the boots pushed back his slacks and securely tied their laces around his new, enlarged feet. This stirred the mass of his calves to throb and bulge. The hems of his slacks were forced to recede further as his shins extended, dense, dark red hairs sweeping over his pale skin and covering them in a protective layer of fuzz. These hems became stuck above halfway up his calves where they abruptly tore, giving way to the large, heart-shaped bulges of his muscles that spread out like two, meaty hams. This started a chain reaction all up his slacks. The seams of the same pants he had worn almost every day to work burst to reveal thick muscle and hair beneath. A series of ripping and tearing accompanied the cacophony of moans that left his lips. Bulging tree-trunk thighs shed the fabric of his pants, sending shards flying off into different directions like tiny, black snowflakes that disappeared in between the garments of the Closet. Even the part of the pants that was tightly wound bound by his belt was not spared as it flaked off of its own accord, surrendering itself to the powers of the Closet and leaving him only in his shrinking black boxer-briefs and his shirt. As the line of the boxer-briefs were forced further and further back up his swelling thighs, the hairs on his legs grew thicker. A beastly coating soon covered his massive limbs like God himself was trying to tell this primal, perfect specimen of a man to show some humility and hide the definition in his legs so that other, lesser males would not feel so emasculated. But modesty could not hold back the thick, pulsating veins that crisscrossed Timothy’s legs like vines over a tree trunk or the tear-drop definition of his quads and ‘V-shaped’ arches of his hamstrings. Stubbornly, his briefs refused to tear even as his cock tented the fabric and weakened it was precum that almost completely soaked the front of the garment. The assault would not - could not - stop there. Timothy moaned louder and his upper body squirmed. His fingers curled around the ties that held him down more out of a need for support than to resist their bindings. Each finger popped and swelled, becoming huge, meaty sausages that could make any man moan with just a single prod with them in the right hole. A favorite pastime of Tim’s. Only another man could truly satisfy him, after all. Only other men built like he was could understand what he needed. It was a reason he never dated women. Though there were a few transient images of asking girls out only to be rejected while he was in middle school and a fling during college, it all seemed like distant dreams from a hormone-induced growing body that could not possibly be true. Reality demanded that he often found other guys and shoved his fingers into them, pushing them up to his hairy knuckles to loosen them up before his thick beer-can of a cock, already lubricated with his seed, found its way into their ass and bred them like a bear fucking in the woods. Just those images stirred his cock into a second - or third, in this case - awakening and it surged up to a devastating eight inches. His grip around the ties tightened, stimulating his forearms and sending them surging out in all directions. Bands of thick, reddish-blonde hair sprang across his otherwise hairless forearms, joining with the thick pelt that developed on the back of his hands. The muffled cry that came from his throat broke one last time before settling on a deep, gravelly bass that shook the Closet, rattling the handle-less door. Perhaps he could have escaped then and there but nothing about him wanted to. Not even the little doubting fragment that tried to remind him who he had been. That increasingly distant voice wanted this to happen as it even recognized that this was better. Deep rumbling shook through his arms, pulling the sleeves that he had pulled halfway up his forearm to recede a little further before they gave up and - Rrrrrip! Tore apart. The seams of his shirt split around his shoulders, boulder-like flesh exploding from torn, white fabric and monetarily revealing their scalloped frames before it was partially obscured by dense, red-blonde hair. Another thrust into the air and his cock surged out into a monstrous nine-inches. The grunting from his throat grew more fevered and his thrusting became less an occasional burst lust and rhythmic pounding a beast in heat. To accommodate, his chest swelled, the buttons of his shirt straining against the rapidly inflating pectorals and forming diamonds of exposed flesh where the buttons held on doggedly. Tim curled his toes as he threw his whole body into each thrust. Each testosterone gyration caused a bit of irritation across his chest and stomach as the rough, course reddish-brown hairs that was his pubes began rapidly spreading up from his crotch and making its way up the valleys and developing hills of torso. Every abdominal muscle popped, hardening into solid, hairy plates that fit together perfectly like a six dark ice cubes sitting perfectly in a row, swallowing his bellybutton between their folds. As he put more and more of himself into each thrust, his ass ballooned outwards, becoming a crisp, cut bubble but that caused his boxer-brief to slide uncomfortably up their bulging mounds and strain into his crack. The thrusts sent rippling bursts of energy shooting up his spine while a sound like crackling bark or dry leaves being crushed underfoot emanated from his spine. From his moderate 5’6’’ height, a whole half a foot was added thanks to his lengthening legs while another foot was added into his torso length, pulling the hems of his shirt from where it hung around his waist and causing it to recede until four of his abs were fully exposed. The train on his shirt was getting too much. The fabric gave loud groans of protest, nearly squealing as it strained against his expanding muscles. It became harder to breathe as the cloth was pressing up against his chest, his mountain like pectorals pressing so far up against the fabric that his diamond-hard nipples were poking right through. His loose tie was now straining against his bull-like neck, nearly disappearing between the muscular fold of his traps and shoulders. It’s dull, gray length was sandwiched between his two pectorals. A loud pop put a momentary pause in his gyrations before the memories of his multiple sexual conquests began stirring his groin and pumping his dick to a titanic 10 inches in length. Gone were the ambitious thoughts of being his own news anchor and reading off the news every night at seven. Now, all he could think of was clocking off work at five in the evening, dragging his sweaty, musky frame to the nearest bar, picking up some hot bull that was in the same boat and then licking each other clean before spraying their seed all over one another and then once again bathing each other in their tongues. Deep, wet stains developed under his armpits soaking into his shirt, weakening the fibers further. The strong musk of man, sex, testosterone and that unique blend of pine and mud permeated the air. It became so overwhelming that even the direct scent that came from the pair of briefs pressed against his nose was overpowered. Something just clicked in his mind that this was his scent. A smell developed from his overactive libido, hours spent in the woods chopping trees then fucking all night long in the embrace of another man. This realization connected the final hold-out brain cells that were still resisting his change to the rest of his body, mind accepting what body had already welcomed with great enthusiasm. Tim threw his head back, letting out a tremendous roar. All at once, every button that remained on his shirt gave out, emitting that same resounding pop that he had heard just a moment ago. Buttons flew off his chest like bullets, disappearing into the jackets and shirts but never emerging again, never even emitting a sound like they had hit a solid wall. Immense, hairy pectorals were finally free, erupting outward to reveal the thick coppery chest hair that seemed to spiral out from his nipples before forming a thick treasure trail down his washboard abdominals and disappearing into the waistband of his stubborn boxer briefs. Straining at eleven inches of thick man-meat, his cock oozed precum to the point where his soaked underwear could no longer absorb the amount. Drips of clear, gooey liquid seeped out of his undergarment and seeped into the carpet beneath him, disappearing into the fabric without a trace. How his briefs remained intact despite now being little more than a thong against his titanic quads and bulging but remained a mystery. But there was still a few finishing touches that the Closet had to apply. The smile on Tim’s features grew a little and the pair of briefs hanging from his ears finally released their grip, dropping from his face and landing on the ground. This left his clean-shaved features free. A prickling sensation crawled over his cheeks, spreading out from his sideburns and trickling across his cheeks. Coarse, coppery hairs sprang from his pale flesh, quickly multiplying to form a well-trimmed and maintained canopy over his skin. The hairs met at his chin, highlighting instead of hiding the handsome cleft chin that suddenly appeared against his lantern-like jaw. Accentuated by his his thick neck, the thick, closely-cropped beard exuded an aura of manliness but also discipline as each hair follicle was well-trimmed and glossy. After all, he was a man who knew how to take care of himself not a slob. The pale flesh on his cheekbones reddened from years laboring out in the sun. His eyes shut momentarily, allowing the hairs of his faint eyebrows to thicken with his growing brow. Behind his eyelids, his irises danced as memories of going from lumberyard to lumberyard, traveling across the country wherever there was work and even doing some voluntary fireman work down in California during wildfire season wrote themselves into his mind. The smell of damp underbrush juxtaposed against the scent of cum. The blazing sun versus the dark of a room filled with the moans and grunts of men fucking. The clean breeze of an open window as he traveled across the country in his truck against the pleasure of a fresh pair of lips around his thick dick. The pump he felt from lifting over three hundred pounds at the compared to the exhaustion from cumming over and over again in the company of a sexy, beefy, hairy man. When Tim opened his eyes, they were filled with clarity. Whispers of doubt faded into the bellowing choir of morning shoveling carb-heavy meals down his throat, days spent felling trees and nights fucking and being fucked. The roots of his dark hair lightened, a fiery red color seeping out from his skull and smoothening the disheveled, split ends into cool, maintained curls that hugged the shape of his head. Their tips lightened further into streaks of blonde that, adding color and texture to his lush head of hair. With all other sensations abating, he became aware of the one, remaining pressing need that had to be met. The ties around his wrist and ankles loosened, allowing him to finally drop to the floor. He didn’t need to reach for his dick no matter how needy it was. He closed his fists, veins popping up his forearms and merely grunted, thrusting his hips forward. At long last, the boxer-briefs of Timothy Willis gave way and exploded off his groin, the elastic waistband snapping away almost like magic to free the enormous, foot-long member supported by heavy lemon-sized balls covered in a thick, dark bush of red fuzz. The pieces of his boxer-briefs dissolved into wispy threats that glided through the air like tiny streamers that disappeared into the folds of the clothes all around him. On instinct, he grabbed his throbbing meat with both hands. His left hand wrapped around the base, fat, hairy fingers jostling his balls and stimulating them while his right performed laps up and down his flushed pink penis. The fiery sensations of arousal exponentially grew, his toes curling and his eyelids fluttering. His jaw dropped open in slack-jawed pleasure. Eyes became unfocused as the last vestiges of the old Timothy Willis was pooled into his balls. The overwhelming need to ejaculate, to release his old life grew to unbearable levels. Every muscle in his body coiled like a spring, readying himself for the onslaught of the dam breaking against his reservoir of man milk. His strokes grew more and more desperate, the oozing precum from the tip of his dick lathering his entire 12-inch length with increasing thickening liquid. Something compelled him to turn to his right, an otherworldly command that warned him not to spray his seed on the mirror pressed against the door. The moment he obliged, nothing held back the flood. He threw his head back, thrust his hips forward and tightened his grip around his cock and balls. Molten seed exploded from the tip of his cock in a gush that could only be considered herculean. White, sticky rain splattered all over shirts, hangers and shoes as he slowly rotated in place, flexing every muscle in his body as if he was displaying his new, hirsute physique for an audience hidden between the fibers of the hanging garments. He turned to face the shoe rack, his back to the mirror. Waterfalls would have recoiled in embarrassment as the sheer volume of cum he produced. Some of the shoes even had their interiors flooded to the brim by his seed. Pride welled in him at the display but he couldn’t linger too long as he knew that this was the peak of his pleasure. With every peak, came a fall and as he turned to face the rack of suits, the jets of seed that pumped out of his cock subsided. Even as he squeezed his dick and splattered the last ounces of his milk into the dark suit jackets and dress pants, he was filled with a lingering buzz akin to being pleasantly drunk. Tim’s arms slowly fell slack, fingers unwinding from around his cock. At long last, the remnants of his shirt which had clung miraculously to his shoulders and looked more like a stained, torn white vest crumbled away, their strands disappearing into the cum-stained walls. Just with these fibers, his still-warm seed was absorbed into the fabrics at an unnatural rate. Within moments and even before his staccato breathing could stabilize, all his seed was gone. From the rack of shirts, a simple, sleeveless, white tanktop snaked out from its hangers. Drunk on the daze of afterglow, Tim mindlessly followed an ethereal command to lift up his arms. The tanktop easily rose through the air, suspended on invisible strings and dropped down onto his form, hugging his hairy chest so that it was tight enough to accentuate his broad chest and chiseled abdominals while allowing the contours of his swirling chest hairs to just press up against the fabric. He lowered his meaty arms, holding them out to his sides. A red and black flannel shirt snaked out from the rack of jackets in front of him, easily sliding a sleeve into his right arm. Tim bent his left arm to allow the loose-fitting garment to slip over his taught biceps, the sleeves barely making it past his boulder-like shoulders. Time blinked a few times and remembered the piece of musky underwear sitting on the ground, the only piece of clothing that hadn’t vaporized into the Closet. With a grin of familiarity, he bent down, plucked it off the ground and pressed it against his nose, taking one good, long whiff of the scent embedded into the fabric - his scent. A scent that would never truly go away no matter how many times it was washed. The smell committed to memory, he easily slipped on the underwear like he had done a hundred times before. It fit snuggly around his balls and though he had to stuff his semi-erect dick into the garment, the eight-inch sausage sitting against his left thigh, it still felt right and comfortable. A pair of denim pants with torn knees walked casually out from the rack behind him, pressing its familiar, rough surface against his hairy thigh. Without questioning it, he plucked up the pants like an old pet, cradling it in his arms before lowering it so that he could slip his monstrous legs into it. Even with the heavy boots wrapped around his feet, he was able to slide his foot through it, the denim stretching unnaturally like a second skin so that he could complete his transformation. Like many of his other clothing, he had to get them custom built so that he could buckle it comfortably around his thin waist. On cue, a big, brown belt snapped out with the ferocity of a viper from a nearby hanger. It curled around his waist, sliding through the loops of his pants and locking together with the shiny, buckle shaped like a bear’s snarling head front and center. As a finishing touch, a silver chain necklace with each link as thick as a fingernail wrapped around his neck. Tim ran a finger over it, recalling how his parents had given it to him on his first day as a lumberjack. They were so proud of him. With a smile, he turned towards the mirror, regarding the familiar features of Tim Woods, his sparkling, pearly-white teeth shining out form beneath his thick beard. At long last, the Closet door jostled, opening just a crack. Tim, with a grin on his face, pushed the door open… … and came out of the Closet. 31 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ceebrupt Posted December 28, 2021 Share Posted December 28, 2021 Fantastic story with really nice & detailed descriptions! 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
NexCanis Posted December 28, 2021 Author Share Posted December 28, 2021 12 minutes ago, Ceebrupt said: Fantastic story with really nice & detailed descriptions! Thanks very much! I really appreciate that. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ceebrupt Posted December 28, 2021 Share Posted December 28, 2021 7 hours ago, NexCanis said: Thanks very much! I really appreciate that. No problem, hopefully a lot more guys can come out of that closet haha Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ro20316 Posted December 29, 2021 Share Posted December 29, 2021 This was a fantastic read. I loved it 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Maxmuscle6677 Posted December 29, 2021 Share Posted December 29, 2021 As always, amazing mental changes to match the very detailed and vivid physical transformations. Love your writing for years man. Keep up the good work! 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
NexCanis Posted December 29, 2021 Author Share Posted December 29, 2021 9 hours ago, Ro20316 said: This was a fantastic read. I loved it Thanks very much I'm glad you liked it Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
NexCanis Posted December 29, 2021 Author Share Posted December 29, 2021 7 hours ago, Maxmuscle6677 said: As always, amazing mental changes to match the very detailed and vivid physical transformations. Love your writing for years man. Keep up the good work! Awwww, thanks! I'll try top add a bit more of my stories here as well in the future. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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