“Wasn’t this peacock lounge?”
Shawn got up, the famous gay party boy questioned, the GPS must have steered him wrong, as he tried to access it-no signal. Being stuck out in the country and unsure how to leave, he decided to talk to the folks at the party.
He walked down in his sandals, already in skimpy attire in glitter spandex shorts and sleeves as he got looks and whispers from the party goers around him. His body formed an hour glass shape and his petit figure complimented his small back, short and thin arms and legs. He even had sparkly nail polish on his long finger nails as his social media name being @SparklyShawn .
The only thing that assured that he was a slutty gay guy and not some slutty stripper gal was that he had a small bulge below, alongside a bleach blonde undercut supporting his dark brown asian eyes and tanned-less skin, he smirked at the thought of a big daddy as he swished his hips.
As soon as he stopped by, he noticed cowboys, cowgirls and overall just formal christians. Not a single gay or lesbian or even if there was any-it didn’t seem like it, although he was slutty and courageous, he had to muster up the courage to talk to the potential homophobes.
“Excuse me big boy, do you know where’s the peacock-?”
“FUCK OF FAGGOT!” The hunky rancher man transmitted the curse into the gay twink, as he pushed him aside onto the ground, the other folks boos and jeers got louder as Shawn could only stare in shock.
“But Im SparklyShawn! Im worldwide famous-!”
“NOBODY CARES FAGGOT!”
“FUCK OFF!”
“NO GAYS ALLOWED!”
A thought of barely anyone knew him surfaced into his head. It shuddered him as he got up, ran back to the car. His legs growing much thicker and longer the more he ran. As he wanted to flee from the location.
It seemed like miles, as he jogged and jogged, the twink did run on treadmills to keep his figure-but never for this “long” as it seemed like 10 minutes of jogging. His feet grew much bigger in every step-bursting out of his sandals as his pace became uneven. Reaching to size 14s as his much manlier feet could not wait to kick these fag slippers off.
He huffed and puffed, his legs followed in pursuit as his thighs strained against that spandex. His formerly waxed legs grew tuffs of sun-kissed brownish blonde fur, contrary to his asian descents. The thickness of his new heritage shifted his white-asian to a peachy caucasian, as the spandex concealing his thighs stretched to maximum capacity and shrunk back to his groin as though it were a pair of briefs-not that he wore any underneath.
Thick strong muscle etched over his skinny bones as they got filled with calcium from fresh farm milk, growing taller as Shawn’s height grew closer to the invisible ceiling, from that 5ft 5 to an already tall 6ft 2.
For some odd reason, he felt like his car should be much bigger than it looked from far away. He glanced at it, reaching out for his keys...his keys...
“GOSH DARN IT!” He spoke angrily, noting the very southern slang he uttered out...He was southern was he? Was he? “Ah who cares, Ah Gotta git outta ere!”
Accepting his new southern tone, almost kicking off his gay sandals before they morphed and grew in length, with a large pair of XL white socks stretched against his manly feet. The sandal material morphed into buffalo leather, as the straps that once held his feet in place shifted into multiple laces, forming an XL Size 14 black work boots. Looks like gays can turn straight after all.
BANG!
He pounded the car with his bare fists, the first couple of hits-he wanted to scream but his mouth glued shut, he was a man after all and he had his own pride, plus he often left his keys in his tractor often! Ain’t no fist pounding didn’t do the trick-
Wait? Tractor?
He grabbed the side of the car door as it elevated. The old car grew lengths, windows breaking down due to consistent glass breaking as it rose up, tires growing tougher and more intense. Shifting to a big rusty tractor that they used in their family for centuries. Multiple plough equipment attached to the front of it, as he just finished up his duties for the day.
His fists grew bigger, as they grew tough and calloused as they took on the same peachy caucasian hue as his big hunky feet and legs did-proud of his strong trunks but not in a homo way-“Dad says a man oughta be with his wife! No sinful for the Brussels!”
Ah Brussels! His Famileh! As his formerly small petit fingers grew thick and calloused. Fingers gripping tightly onto the door handle and YANKED the handle out with an “Uh Oh!” Before the door went wide open.
He clenched his fists in victory, showing his big bandaged knuckles from hard labour as his nails be poorly trimmed and yellow from all that dirt labour-the old Shawn would’a scream for a manicure-actually a dozen of them-but the new farmer man was too manly for that.
“Man are not ta’ be afraid of a lil dirt!” He drawled, as he the proceeded to flex with his free arm as layers of muscle and fat swelled in both of sides. Forming a huge hill of muscle ,being his biceps, decorated with freckles thanks to pushing tires for years while remaining that peachy caucasian fatness from chugging down gallons of milk and chomping down all American meals and dozens of eggs per day.
“ALLEY-OOP!”
THUD!
His spandex SNAPPED! As he leaped and landed onto the newly huge dent on the cushions inside his rusty tractor, as a monster SHOT OUT! Revealing his exposed, thick beer can of a cock as he smirked a little-about how much of a man it makes him as he watched the latex spread into two layers.
The first layer went and rubbed his ass, filling it up roundish square until it fit the pre-dent the ol’ farmer boy made from sitting and even napping on it for years. Covering those big cheeks and his member as it formed a cotton XL sunflower boxers that his moma made for em-speaking of moma!
He rubbed his belly and chest, filling it up with memories and history of snacking on moma’s generosity while retaining his muscle and strength from papa’s chores. His pecs grew out thick as his tummy exploded into an even mixture of fat and muscle-a muscle gut. As his back filled up the wide-broad dent, shoulders resting wide as he layed his feet at the wheel, like he’d been doing this for centuries. His height now surpassing his dad at 6ft 7.
The second layer crawled around his knees, and now even his chest. Shifting to a pure denim as it looped around both of his shoulders. Multiple patches appearing beside a huge pocket at the center-as patches of dirt and stain appeared from the sloppiness of the huge man, his large pair of trusty overalls passed from generation smiled back at him.
His undersized shirt compressed against his straight bod, it too growing at the sides, rolling up mid-way at the arms as an array of buttons form down the center, leaving a tuft of fur exposed at the top as both his arms and chest are now graced with his brutish genes. A collar appeared around his neck as it completed his ensemble with a red checkered flannel.
“Gosh darn...Ah gotta take a selfie....Ah....What’s a selfie?”
His phone grew in size, losing all the electronics as all his social media accounts got shut off like they never existed, it grew metallic with the top part hooking off to multiple hooks, turning into his trusty plough in case his tractor missed a spot. He didn’t need no phone-he was out in the country for God’s sake!
Memories of handle social media vanished out of his mind. All those sinful thoughts of sexy photos and dances never existed in the new simple farmer man. He barely even knew what a camera was-let alone operate those whatdoyacallits.
“Much easier operating farm gear!” The dumbing down hick spoke, feeling octaves lower down while sounding high and mighty as a huge apple gets swallowed down his swelled up-thickening and-THICK neck. Reaching out for the keys as he SNATCHED EM and turned off the tractor.
“Time to go celebrate with pa and ma!”
Leaping off the tractor with his hulking figure, hour glass now turned massive barrel, as he strode confidently with his prized plough.
Carrying with him by his side-almost as though it was what “connected” him. As his hair began re-filling the sides and back, growing up out to his shoulders as it shifted to a natural brownish blonde like the rest of his bod. As peach fuzz appeared over his upper lip and-
“WHOO-NELLY!”
He slanged, feeling that growth of his proud father’s mustache echo above his lip. Proud of himself, head expanding while brain shrinking-“Ya don’t need brains for farm work or knowing that God is a good god! But ya need a big head for SMASHING! Darn me and my memory...”
His jaw accentuated into a squarish cleft, as the smooth features of his head melted into crispy rugged-but innocent, farm boyishness. Thankfully his pa and ma taught him the right way to go, otherwise he might as well be a player like those other millennials.
As he looked around, he got waves of encouragement from the other folks.
“YA DID A GOOD JOB PARTNER!”
“THANKS FOR ALL YA SERVICE!”
“APPRECIATE IT JOHN!”
He smiled, like it was the first time he was actually accepted, who needs the world when you have God with ya?...though the name John...was that his name?
Scratching his head, as his bangs fell forward in spirals. Covering up his eyes. His nose broadened up as freckles appeared over his sides. His teeth pushed out as his signature farm front two bucktooth stood out as he asked the cowgirls hanging at the corner.
“Howdy ladies! Ah wanna ask y’all a quest....” He paused, now hypnotized by the sight of the beauties turning around, blushing deeply as he could only think the following words.
“Ah think those gals likes me....”
His truck sized cock reached out to eight inches long, as its girthed rivals his father’s beer can-more than likely getting the longness from his mother side of the family, more specifically his great grand father.
His face blushed easily, like he was a virgin...”actually what’s a virgin?” He thought, education not being his strong suit as all he ever learned was working hard in the field and the bible. He remembers seeing the word in the bible but always thought it just associated with girls.
“Gosh Darn...So many gals!” He thought, thinking they were all attracted to him as he barely met any girl in real life...and the ones he did-he tented immediately.
His man sensitivity grew, the new farmer never touched himself aside from peeing. As the girls giggled and felt his strong arms, as one of them lifted his new country crown to his head-a straw-hat.
Placing it down, as another took a grain of wheat and stuck it in his mouth. The third one pinning a cross over the side of his overalls. He looked like a full fledged country boy! And all he needs is to seal it up with a—-
KISS!
KISS!
KISS!
BUMP!
“Ow...sorry uncle...cousin.... John....” A little kid hitting him on the side, snapping him out as he revealed his brand new blue eyes from his moma. He gave nervous smiles at the ladies kissing him, brushing aside his bangs briefly and WINKED-abit awkwardly-at them before his hair covered up his eyes once again. Dad told him to do that to every gal that came by him.
“JEB THIS PARTY IS FOR GROWN UPS! DIDN’T YA PA TOLD YOU THAT?” John’s father spoke, as Jeb winced and bowed his head in shame.
Dumb Hickey John Brussels walked up to his parents, passing his cuz who groggily walked up past him back to the farmhouse, little man can’t get past his bedtime! Standing by his dad, hands on his hips.
“Told him he gotta go bed cause the rooster crows early tomorrow!”
“Ah reckon ya did, Jeb sure is one tough one, at huge risk at becoming homo....Anyways! Did you meet any cute christian cowgirls tonight?”
“Sure did’a Pa!” He smiled a bright smile, cute and easy with the bucktooth complementing his farmer boyishness, he stayed with his pa and ma his entire life on the farm-so when gals came by in those parties, he sure was excited!