M4M kink writing. Control and transformation of men. 18+ only.

Category: Transformation (Page 1 of 3)

On brand (My perfect dad 54)

Tom adjusted his tie for the third time, feeling the stares of shoppers as he walked into a store ominously called Suburban Savers. His tailored suit, a navy blue ensemble that hugged his tall, slender frame perfectly, stood out against the casual attire of the other patrons. He was acutely aware of the sweat forming at the nape of his neck, threatening to stain the crisp white shirt he wore beneath his jacket. Cody, meanwhile, was already live streaming their entrance, his phone held up high to capture every moment. The younger man, dressed in trendy, casual clothes, exuded confidence and charisma. His messy blonde hair and impish grin made him seem approachable, unlike Tom’s polished and somewhat intimidating appearance. 

“Hey everyone, we’re here at Suburban Savers with my new project. Say hi, Tom!” Cody said, turning the camera toward him. 

Continue reading

DadMan at the beach (My perfect dad 53)

Enjoying the adventures of DadMan? I’ll be releasing the rest of “DadMan at the beach” exclusively to My newsletter subscribers, so sign up at the end of this story if you haven’t signed up already.

As I stood on the balcony of our hotel suite, the warm ocean breeze tousling my increasingly salt-and-pepper chest hair, I couldn’t help but be suspicious of the long overdue peace that washed over me. I peered down at the turquoise waves breaking gently on the shore, studying them as if they couldn’t be real. The last six months had taken every bit of time, energy, and give-a-damn that I had in the tank.

The soothing rhythm of sea against sand accomplished something that the overnight flight and the water taxi to the resort hadn’t. I finally felt transported a million miles away from the cacophony of my double life. Here, on this secluded tropical island, I wasn’t Mike Dawson, the middle-aged executive with a stack of unread emails and looming KPI deadlines. Nor was I DadMan, the caped superhero the press couldn’t get enough of and whose secret identity every newspaper in town wanted to expose.  

Continue reading

Royal perfection

Author’s note: This week, I’m sharing a scene from a novella, originally titled Prince Hairy, which I wrote a while back but abandoned after the second draft. In the story, a bearish everyman named Brandon falls for Prince Thomas, a junior member of an unnamed kingdom’s royal family. The spicy gay romance plot also incorporates elements of dystopia and horror, as courtiers use hypnosis and chastity to transform Brandon into the perfect royal consort. 

The door to the chamber stood open, a silent invitation that filled Brandon with a sense of foreboding. The room beyond was clinical and utilitarian, a stark contrast to the opulence of the palace above. The walls were painted a cold, sterile white, and the air was filled with the hum of machinery and the scent of antiseptic. In the center of the room sat a large, padded chair, surrounded by an array of medical equipment and devices that glinted ominously under the harsh light. 

As he stepped into the room, Brandon felt a chill run down his spine. The oppressive atmosphere reminded him of the control and conformity that defined this world. The head psychologist, a tall, imposing man with a sharp, discerning gaze, greeted him with a polite smile, his expression one of composed professionalism. 

Continue reading


Bryan’s eyes scanned the street as he walked, his gym bag swinging lightly in his grip. He had moved to this quiet suburban neighborhood for his new job a few weeks ago and was eager to maintain his fitness regime. After scoping out a few options online, he settled on the closest gym to his new apartment. From the outside, it looked quaint, almost nostalgic, with a classic neon sign that read “TownFit Gym.” Unlike the sleek, ultramodern gyms Bryan was accustomed to, the building had an old-school charm.  

He pushed open the door, the scent of worn vinyl and faint sweat greeting him. It was inexplicably familiar, almost comforting. Inside, the gym buzzed with activity, but it was not the stereotypical health club intensity Bryan was used to. The patrons here moved slowly, laughed loudly, and seemed reassuringly at ease with each other. The average age appeared to be mid 40s, with a striking majority of the men sporting dad bods—soft around the middle but with an air of solid strength beneath the surface.   

Continue reading

Strings attached

Mick’s heart pounded as he stood motionless in the garage, awkwardly gripping his husband Paul’s hand. Ted’s laughter echoed around them, a chilling reminder of the power he now held over their lives. The air was tense. The scent of sawdust and whiskey mingled with their fear.  

Paul’s mind raced as his face ached from smiling. He tried to piece together how everything had gone so wrong and how he and Rick didn’t realize it until it was too late. Just a few hours ago, they had been enjoying a regular Friday night with Ted, their charming and seemingly perfect friend. Then everything changed.  

Continue reading

Freshly shorn

Marcus led Jamie down the cracked pavement of Main Street, directing his boyfriend from their car toward the barbershop. Clear Creek wasn’t a ghost town in the strictest sense, but whatever community existed was conspicuously absent from Main Street this Sunday afternoon. An autumn gust whipped through the thoroughfare, swirling old newspapers and fallen maple leaves into a mini cyclone. Jamie pulled his dark green bomber jacket tighter around his slender frame as they passed under an American flag, which flapped noisily from its mast above the awning of an abandoned storefront.  

Contrary to Jamie’s efforts to shield himself from the wind, Marcus cut a carefree, imposing figure as they walked to the barbershop. With his back straight and shoulders square, Marcus walked with a confident stride that seemed to make even the swirling leaves calm down in his presence. His sharply tailored jacket clung tightly to his broad upper body, the black leather creaking with every smooth, undulating motion.  

Continue reading

The Rowdy’s Way

Ethan has been down on his luck and unemployed for months. He’s lost his income, his social life, and now, his coveted gym membership. Short on cash and staring down at the prospect of having to move back home, he takes a job at Rowdy’s, a casual dining restaurant out in the suburbs. The all-male wait staff at Rowdy’s are big, bearish, happy, and productive. They love working long hours and giving five-star service the Rowdy’s way. Ethan resists his training at first, but soon discovers the pleasure of conforming to his employer’s expectations.

The Rowdy’s Way is a 4,900-word short story. All content in this story is fictional and describes activities between consenting, unrelated adults who are 18+.

Two for one (My perfect dad 51)

DadNet charged a lot of money and made grand promises without much to back them up. But I didn’t care. I was desperate. For the last three years, I had secretly lusted after my next-door neighbor Keith. I watched the 40-something divorced computer programmer wash his car in the driveway, mow his lawn in the summertime, and shovel the pavement in the wintertime. I had built up an entire relationship in my head and played it out in a thousand different ways. In some scenarios, we were married. In others, we were just fuck buddies. Keith wasn’t a supermodel or anything. There was nothing about him that I found particularly intimidating, and there was no real reason why I couldn’t just approach him and ask him out. I was just too scared of rejection. 
And then, one day, I saw the “for sale” sign staked into his front yard. After all this time secretly lusting after Keith, now he was moving, and I would never get my chance at him. I kicked myself for an entire weekend, already resigned to the fact that Keith was destined to be the one that got away. 

Continue reading

The pageant, part 2 (My perfect dad 50)

Read part 1 to get caught up…

As the evening started, Patrick perched on the edge of his barstool, his heart thumping with perturbation and disbelief. The air buzzed with an energy he barely recognized, charged with surreal, disquieting novelty. Mr. Leather Evergreen, the local fetish pageant he had followed religiously and whose title he clinched last year, had been turned on its head. The familiar program of events was gone, and each had been replaced with a bizarre suburban analog.  

Instead of showing off their leather craftsmanship skills, the contestants were each handed a pair of shears and tasked with trimming a small patch of lawn to perfection. The stop clock ticked its final seconds, and Patrick watched in bewilderment as a dozen portly, middle-aged men sweated and fretted over every blade of grass on their miniature plots of turf. The winner, a guy Patrick recalled from the old Hideaway days, high fived the entire panel of judges when they revealed he’d trimmed his grass uniformly to one-quarter inch in height, exactly what the HOA prescribed.  

Continue reading
« Older posts

© 2024 Jay Hypno Writer

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑