Another Forced-Masc Fantasy: Oh, Bro! Oh, No, Bro! You've Slipped And Fallen Into A Vat Of Testosterone Cypionate
It's like that thing of where a sexy lady pratfalls and her bosoms sproing out of her business top, but for turning into a boy by accident
|Oct 30||Public post|| 33||5|
Hey, bro! Oh, hey bro, watch out – you gotta be watching out over there! Oh, whoa, no, you’re going to trip and fall on that big, slick puddle of testosterone cypionate and that’s going to send you bouncing into a masculine transition by accident! Watch out, bro! Just step to the side real quick and careful and you can be a nice, serious girl, no messarounds, shirt and pants both on. You don’t want to get testosterone all over you and have to turn into a man in front of everybody!! That would be so embarrassing!
Bro! Bro! You’re continuing on your path, disregarding my warnaments! Okay, it’s for sure okay, just swerve at the last possible second so that no back muscles start bulging their way forth out of your shoulders, pressing your flesh into idealized male body proportions! Oh, bro, watch it, you’re slipping and falling and starting to jut into divine proportions! Hang on, all the other guys are coming to pull you back before you fall in, so they can pull you back and tuck you you tidily into an ovary hammock and send you back to Dreamland — just hang on another second and your woman’s arms will be so safe, for sure. They’re all around you! They’re running to help, pumping their calves up and down and hunting down the wind to come to your aid!
Oh, bro, I’m so sorry, but you slipped before anyone got there! You slipped and now you’re absolutely coated in testosterone cypionate, 100mg/mL, totally gleaming and tawny in the sun and busting out into planar symmetries! Your pecs are absolutely busting out of your flimsy old businesswoman’s shirt, real and warm and hard like the heart of the absolutely best bird there is, and your bra is just tumbling uselessly to the floor and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop it! Oh, my gosh, bro, you’re swelling into contrapposto, displaying a plasticity of form and divine beauty, bearing most of your weight on one foot so your upper body curves away from the axis of the hips and legs. Oh, bro, it’s so dynamic! Oh, bro, your skirt fell off, revealing the iliac crest resting along the axial plane of the pelvic cradle, holding the dynamic tension of your divine pose, that which combines ponderation with engagement! Bro, the masculine curves of your new body are so sinuous and carry the impression of movement recently concluded and more movement yet to come, in the erotic athleticism of stillness! Bro, your pose is so balanced, so flush with harmony, so even and yet so vital, the ideal, vigorous, centered expression of man, bro! Oh, no, your lithe and full-blooded proportions are now bustling with a ruddy topcoat of body hair, blooming and swirling up from your tight little ankles to the crest of your jaw! Bro, don’t panic, but your body-hairline is licking up the sides of your face and into the curls on your crown, like you’ve been kissed all-body-over by the hairiness of God!
Oh, bro, I’m so sorry, I tried to run over and help, but I was too late, and all the other guys were too late too, and now there’s nothing we can do but stand on the edge of the puddle of testosterone you slipped in and shout affirmations about the golden triangles of your newly-appointed body! Bro, the fat redistribution throughout your body is totally unstoppable at this point, and you need to stop fighting it! Just let the girdle of your chest expand, your shoulders broaden and meatpack into your upper back, let the wings of your lats fall open! Let the veins in your forearms pop up in little blue rivers down to your fingertips, let your wrists encase themselves in marble! It’s totally okay, bro! It was an accident! Nobody thinks it’s your fault, nobody’s judging you for it! Okay, bro, here comes the last parts – it’s almost over – you’re gonna feel an outcropping in your brow bone and your throat and beneath the iliac crest, and it’s fine, it’s all part of the masco-anatomizing process, just let your silhouette do all the work! Let your body be remapped by the topology of desire, bro! It’s okay – it’s okay – you’re furred and ruddy now, you’re popped and meat-strengthened, you’re vein-ridged and boy-dripping, it was an accident and we’re all here to help, bro! Bro!