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

Tag: bears (Page 1 of 3)

Caged hunger

Jack cradled the overloaded plate like it was fragile porcelain, even though it was just the same scratched-up dinnerware they’d used for years. Still, there was reverence in how he handled it, maybe because of what it carried. Balanced precariously beside a pastrami and Swiss sub the length of his forearm was a half-empty bag of kettle chips and a box of peanut butter cookies. 

He was shirtless, his salt-and-pepper chest hair matted in patches from sweat, and the soft swell of his meaty pecs jiggled slightly with each step. His thighs pushed against the fabric of his lounge shorts, and the waistband dug just beneath the curve of his soft, furred gut. Warm, round, and lightly swaying, his belly brushed the counter’s edge as he pivoted toward the living room. 

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The Space Bears (chapters 1-3)

I’ve expanded My short story from 2023 into a full-length transformation epic. Read the first three chapters here.

Chapter 1: The Golden Ticket 

I had been based out of Artemis Station for nearly a decade, working long-haul cargo routes to neglected outposts and failed experiments in galactic living. Six months to Vesta. Fourteen to New Rockall. The occasional ten-week jog to Hyperion. Interstellar freight isn’t glamorous, but the solitude suited me. The pay was steady. And when you’re in deep sleep for most of the journey, the years barely touch you. 

Some guys can’t handle it—waking up decades older than their friends, missing birthdays, funerals, and civilizations. Me? I had nothing waiting for me planetside. No lovers, no obligations. I liked it that way. 

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The Space Bears

Joseph Cole thought he was just signing up for a nine-month cargo run from Artemis Station to Earth. Instead, he found himself locked, trained, and transformed by Bradford and Chapman, the legendary “space bears” whose reputation for rough camaraderie and extreme bonding rituals precedes them across the stars. 

Stranded aboard the aging freighter Berengaria, trapped in a relentless program of sweat, muscle, and total control, Joseph is dragged into a brotherhood he never saw coming, and soon never wants to leave. 

Chastity devices, enforced masculinity, muscular transformation, sweaty bear bonding, and irreversible submission drive this high-heat, high-grit space saga. Once you’re aboard, there’s no way out—not that you’ll want one. 

The Space Bears is a 7,900-word short story. It is a full-length, complete, and expanded version of Jay Hypno’s original Space Bears series, now revised and filthy as ever. All content in this story is fictional and depicts activities between consenting, unrelated adults who are 18+. 

Spent Casings

Will Reed walked into the firing range looking for clarity. What he found was Burke Lawson—gruff, grounded, and impossibly unreadable. As Will trades curated dinners and performative politics for steel, sweat, and submission, a new identity begins to form—one built on quiet control, earned respect, and the searing gravity of command.

But Burke isn’t just a mentor. He’s a man with his own edge—one that wants to yield, if only someone would take him.

Spent Casings is a 9,900-word slow-burn gay romance of masculine transformation, power exchanged in silence, and desire forged in smoke and spent brass. For readers who crave rough tenderness, reverent obedience, and the kind of devotion that kneels without shame.

All content in this story is fictional and depicts activities between consenting, unrelated adults who are 18+.

Spent casings (chapters 1 and 2)

Chapter 1 

The inside of U-Shoot-It Firing Range and Supply smelled like oil, sweat, and scorched earth, like the air after a lightning storm, but heavier. Will Reed hesitated outside the doorway, one hand resting awkwardly on his hip like he didn’t know what to do with it. The front desk guy had given him a clipboard and a set of eye and hearing protection without looking up. Standing outside the range’s heavy double doors, he realized he had no idea what came next. The rules were pinned bold, red, and unapologetic to the wall: No rapid fire. Always point downrange. Cross-lane shooting is explicitly forbidden. 

The flannel shirt he’d pulled from the rack at the discount store itched against his skin. It still smelled of sizing spray and had the price tag on the inside of the left armpit. He owned the shirt since he paid for it, but it was still just a costume for him. Instead of wearing it, the shirt wore him. He stretched the hearing protection over his head and settled the pads over his ears, then adjusted the baseball cap he’d bought on a whim last week. The brim was too stiff, and the logo too clean. 

He looked wrong in this place, and he knew it. 

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The Everweight Club

Caden adjusted the collar of his tight black shirt, letting his fingers trace the line of the perfectly tailored fabric. His reflection stared back at him in the full-length bedroom mirror, a mix of confidence and vanity gleaming in his pale green eyes. His body was his trophy, earned through long, sweaty hours at the gym and an unrelenting diet of grilled chicken, kale smoothies, and tequila shots—the latter strictly for social purposes, of course. 

His lean frame was a masterwork—a canvas of sharp angles and taut, tanned skin. His chest was broad but not overbuilt, his waist narrow and cutting a sharp V into his low-slung trousers. His jawline, always adorned with just the right amount of stubble, was one of his best features, or so he’d been told. Caden knew how to use his looks—whether that meant an easy smirk that won over a bartender or the slow, deliberate way he unbuttoned a shirt when he knew someone was watching. 

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ThinkTech (chapter 7)

Catch up on chapter 6 before reading on…

Rick and Zach sat on the worn leather couch in Rick’s dimly lit living room. The blinds were drawn, shutting out the world, casting the room in an artificial darkness illuminated only by the faint blue glow of a ThinkTech logo blinking across the screen. They were clad head to toe in tight, shiny leather that hugged every curve, the material creaking softly whenever one of them shifted, though they rarely did. 

Rick’s hands, gloved in smooth, polished leather, lay slack on his knees. His face was blank, his mouth slightly open, jaw loose, lips parted in a dull, unfeeling line. Beside him, Zach sat in the same stillness, his once-vibrant eyes now dulled, staring vacantly at the flickering screen. The same powerful chest that had once radiated confidence now rose and fell in shallow, empty breaths, his broad shoulders slumped. His beard was still thick and well kept, but it only served to heighten the emptiness in his expression—a man still physically imposing, yet now a shell, hollowed out and stripped of any presence. 

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ThinkTech (chapter 5)

Catch up on chapter 4 before reading on…

Rick’s days blurred into a bleak rhythm as his financial reality closed in on him. He’d maxed out every credit card and drained every last dollar, and still, the inescapable weight of ThinkTech’s debt loomed over him. The essentials-only plan was all he could afford, but it was a mere shadow of what he’d experienced. The prompts came rarely, and even when they did, they were blunt and basic. He longed for the smooth, intuitive guidance of ThinkTech Premium, but after depleting his cash and credit reserves, it was out of the question. 

Without ThinkTech’s steady influence, Rick felt stripped down, raw, and exposed. Experiences that had once flared with confidence and charm now felt distant and dulled, as if he were experiencing the world inside a fishbowl. His thoughts were muddled and sluggish, like static buzzing in his head, making it nearly impossible to respond naturally in conversation. When he struggled to think fast enough, his mind would short circuit, and he’d fall back on repeating the last thing the other person had said—a cheap trick that only occasionally worked and left him feeling hollow and robotic every time. 

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The new recruit

Taking a break from ThinkTech to publish this twisted short story just in time for Christmas. 

Chapter 1

Snow swirled outside the frosted windows of Santa’s workshop, glinting like glitter under cones of light cast by a row of red and white striped lampposts. Inside, however, chaos reigned. Elves scurried to and fro, arms laden with partially wrapped toys, tangles of ribbon trailing behind them. Somewhere in the distance, a train whistle tooted frantically. The reindeer were braying, eager to embark on their annual marathon journey.  

Santa Claus, as he strutted through the workshop with a commanding air, wasn’t the jolly, rotund old man depicted in Christmas cards. No, this Santa was a man on a mission. Broad shouldered and barrel chested, he nearly burst the seams of his iconic red suit. His snugly tailored crimson coat accentuated a robust torso with pecs like Christmas hams and arms that bulged beneath the thick, white fur trim. The buttons strained just enough to tease his robust build beneath.  

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ThinkTech (chapter 4)

Catch up on chapter 3 before reading on…

For the next few days, Rick felt unstoppable.  

ThinkTech Premium turned the spark of the free trial into an inferno. Every word he spoke, every smile he flashed, and every movement he made was meticulously calibrated to enthrall Zach and anyone lucky enough to cross his path. The surge of power was electrifying—Rick’s mind crackled with razor-sharp wit, magnetic charisma, and an almost supernatural attunement to the world around him. Each morning, he awoke with an unstoppable drive, his thoughts snapping into alignment like precision-engineered cogs, propelling him toward a brilliance he’d only ever imagined.  

With ThinkTech shaping his every move, Rick’s nights with Zach became the stuff of fantasies—charged, intimate, and unforgettable. Date night at the leather bar was pure alchemy as ThinkTech whispered the perfect cues into his mind. The prompts told him how to stand—broad shoulders back, chin tilted just so—and when to unleash a sly grin that drew Zach closer into his orbit. When Zach growled with laughter at Rick’s jokes, ThinkTech nudged Rick to lean even closer, delivering just the right compliment into his ear.  

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