Male Transformation Stories
Yes Nathan, There Really is a Santa Claus

Yes Nathan, There Really is a Santa Claus - Part I

Nathan O’Leary was a cynical son of a bitch. He had few real friends and his family had given up on him long ago. He’d had few boyfriends – they ran off as soon as they saw there was only room for one person in the relationship; Nathan.
Even his family had distanced themselves from him. Especially when they found out he was gay.

Now the thing was Nathan was a looker, 6’ 2” thick, jet black hair, muscles for days….you know the type. This was one of the reasons he’d become so self absorbed. Who wouldn’t?

Well it was nearing Christmas and Nathan had been invited to a private party through some friends. Seems it was being held at some rich old guy’s mansion in the country, maybe this was a chance to step up the ladder and find a wealthy boyfriend…..he certainly could do with the money, the job at the bank didn’t pay enough. No, he knew he was destined for better things, even if it meant using people.
What Nathan didn’t realize was the friends weren’t really friends at all. They wanted to humiliate him, so they sent him to a party they’d seen advertised at a leather bar downtown, for retired Santa’s.’

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Jim’s Story


by: UNKNOWN

I’d like to share my story with you about how much my life changed five years ago. My name’s Jim, and I’m from a small town in Texas. Both of my parents left this world when I was about ten years old, and I spent some years in a very strict, but very caring orphanage. When I was fifteen, I began living with foster parents from time to time, but I really hated it. Though I wasn’t a really bad kid, I was a little on the rebellious side. I hated having to get used to totally different house rules as I jumped from family to family, and from school to school.

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Altered States: Hipster to Nerd

by: Anonymous

           The Vinyls assembled as they did every Saturday at Dax’s loft on the southside. With a huge beard, big plugs, and beautiful tattoos. Dax was one of the most charismatic and handsome frontmen in the local music scene and the epitome of hipster style. His bassist, Vince, had mastered heroin chic, his tank top drooping off his tiny frame, his super skinny jeans hugging his legs. On drums was Julian, tan, muscular, classically handsome but with an edge. Their combination of raw talent and good looks had them playing bigger and bigger shows every week. Infamy was just around the corner.

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Cigar Monitor

by: E.S. Morwood

This story isn’t about an inanimate TF but it DOES contain one: XXX to Cigar. As such, if such material doesn’t suit your tastes, then DO NOT READ THIS. 

I was surfing the web one night looking for cigar related sites. I don’t smoke but I have a cigar fetish. I love the smell of a cigar and the look of a man whose smoking a cigar. Anyway, I stumbled across a site that wasn’t very well designed but it did have some pictures of bearded men smoking. After going through the typical “Must be over 18 years of age” warning, I entered into the site.

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The Top Hat

by: UNKNOWN

The caption of the auction listing caught my eye so I just had to check it out further; “My Great-granduncle’s Top Hat”. It turns out the item was a beautiful beaver top hat in pristine condition but what really caught my eye were the included photos of the uncle with the hat. The photos were sepia-toned and showed a tall, barrel-chested bear of a man in his mid-to-late forties wearing dress and formal fashions for the time period known as the Edwardian era, or early 1900s. I’ve always felt that bigger men looked especially good in the clothes of that era; the way the stiff collars accentuated a big neck and waistcoats with watch chains highlighted a broad belly. Theodore Roosevelt is a prime example. The pipe-smoking uncle also sported a large handlebar mustache and, in one picture showing him holding the hat, salt-and-pepper hair with a severe case of male pattern baldness. “What a handsome man,” I thought. Even if I didn’t have an interest in things of this era, I would’ve had to buy that hat just because of the man who owned it.

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The Gift

Author: Cigarmtl

The news of Dan’s death floored me. Although we had never been lovers, had never even been together intimately, there had always been a strong connection between us. I knew him to be volatile, in life and in love, while I had always been too serious for my own good. However, an undefinable link made random meetings in bars or on the street memorable. For me at least. Or so I thought.

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The Foreign Exchange Program: Day 2 - Part 2

By: Rowan

Day 1 :: Day 2: P1

NOTE: This part is INCOMPLETE and LONG. I’m only posting it to show that the story still lives.

       After breakfast is completely over, the day continued to slowly trek by. My prior commitment of planning to convince those fools is put on hold as a wave of exhaustion hits me, prompting me to toss away my apron and fall asleep in the middle of the guest room. Once again, I experience many different dreams of dad and I. Unlike my previous dreams as a pubescent kid, these of which have me being a little older; probably about 5 or 6 now. Another difference is the addition of my “brothers” Kent and Taylor. Both of them seem explicitly older than me; Kent who appears to be around 10 and Taylor who looks the same at he usually does at 17. The dreams varied between boring conversations with each other, irritating arguments, or heartfelt moments together; but overall each one consisted of us 4 going about our daily lives when we were younger. Me attending elementary school with my friends, Dad coming to and from his construction jobs, Kent and Taylor bickering about between each other; just a whole bunch of meaningless things I’ve experienced before. Nothing really struck out to me as unordinary; that is…., until I realize we’re Japanese. Kent is Japanese, Taylor is Japanese, and I am Japanese! We were all speaking Japanese and living out our pasts as ordinary Japanese children under the care of our father, Yuudai.

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Teaching is Transformative 3 - Janitor Edition

by: ChickenPaddy

Teaching is Transformative: 1 :: 2 :: 3

FRIDAY

It was evening. School had been out for hours and all the students were home for the weekend, leaving the halls of the high school empty and strangely quiet. The full moon shone through the glass front doors, shining its light on the senior lockers that lined the main hallway. The light revealed a strange, dripping trail of white paint leading along the surfaces of the lockers. The line led to a partially spray-painted caricature of a person. The caricature depicted a woman in a violet, pinstriped skirt and jacket. Instead of hair, she had a bunch of snakes sprouting from her head, and seemed to be devouring a man, blood spattered around her fang-lined mouth and at her feet.

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Teaching is Transformative 2 - The Gym Teacher

by: ChickenPaddy

Teaching is Transformative: 1 :: 2 :: 3

MONDAY

Marcus Brab had a dilemma. He had spent a good part of the previous week wondering how in the world he would make this choice. Now it was one of the most important days of his life and he was paralyzed by this momentous decision. He would have to call in an expert’s opinion.

“Marlene!” Marcus called from the bedroom. “Should I wear the white shirt with the red shorts, or the black shirt with the black workout pants?”

Marlene poked her head in the door to see Marcus in his underwear looking at two sets of clothing laid out on the bed. “Which one would you prefer?” she asked.

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Teaching is Transformative

by: ChickenPaddy

Teaching is Transformative: 1 :: 2 :: 3

MONDAY

Today was the first day of Eric Wilson’s new job. He had recently been hired as the replacement science teacher since the old one had died of a stroke a little over a month ago. Eric had gone through orientation the previous week and was now ready to start his teaching career. Well, almost ready.

Eric was in his bathroom, shaving, making sure he looked his best for his first day. He knew that new teachers often got the worst of it from the students, and being a young teacher at only 26, he needed to make the best first impression possible if he wanted any hope of survival.

He was of average height, skinny, had short-cut auburn hair, and, except for a pair of short sideburns, clean-shaven. For his first day he had chosen to wear a polo shirt, khakis, and brown leather shoes. He had almost picked out a button-up shirt and tie, but he decided that the very last thing he wanted to do was look like a door-to-door missionary.

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