Influenced (Patreon)

“Well, so much for that,” Mark sighed, disappointed.  He’d been thrilled to come home from work and find the large box from Influenced waiting on his porch.  When the acceptance email had arrived the week before it had felt like a dream come true.

Like most of his peers in their mid-twenties, the frustrated young man had been trying for years to develop a following on social media.  He jumped on bandwagons, he mimicked popular posts, he tried to find niche markets, and he even went the shitposting route for a while, but nothing seemed to land.  No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find the formula that would propel him from obscurity into the online spotlight.  He’d known all along that it would be an uphill battle as there was nothing particularly remarkable about him.  And while there isn’t anything particularly remarkable about most social media influencers, what they lack in thought and originality they make up for with their appearance.  If all else fails, show some skin.

Mark didn’t have that option.  Technically he did, but even if he’d been able to muster the confidence to bare it all, the somewhat doughy blonde didn’t think his barely-average frame and soft belly would bring the attention he craved.  It wasn’t that he was unattractive.  Mark sometimes wished that his looks were actually worse than they were since a unique appearance would give him something to work with.  As it stood, though, he was painfully average: average height, average build, average features, average life.  He had a job in middle management and a cozy little house in the suburbs.  He liked video games and watching sports, though he’d never played any, and had miserable track records when it came to both meeting women and using his gym membership.  He didn’t have a tiny house or go on exotic trips or engage in photogenic hobbies like rock climbing and urban exploration.  He didn’t even craft or cook or build things.

So when Mark came across Influenced it seemed like a way to get his foot in the door.  It was a monthly subscription for a blind box of products that he’d receive for free in exchange for his promotion.  The program touted itself as having a massive following and listed several prominent influencers across the social media spectrum as previous members who’d gotten their start with the service.  In exchange for the products, all members had to do was put up a few posts per week featuring one or all of them and wait for their inevitable breakthroughs.

Scrolling through the feed on Influenced, Mark was encouraged by the numbers and the amount of engagement he saw, and he recognized a few faces from the more mainstream apps.  It felt like a legitimate service, and while a part of him cringed at the thought of such overt, capitalistic shilling, he didn’t see the harm in giving it a try.  The only catch was that members didn’t know what would be arriving.  The welcome email had specifically said to avoid hard expectations, that success didn’t always come in the form they thought it would, but no amount of open-mindedness could have prepared Mark for what he found inside.

The items were packed in a layered fashion, with each box of products being described as a “journey” for the budding influencers to undertake.  Which all sounded like great marketing speak on paper until Mark opened a box of useless items.  Directly on top was the ring-light and tripod he’d paid for, but beneath that the first tier held a bottle of scalp moisturizer for bald men, and skipping ahead to the second tier revealed a crimson jockstrap that looked at least two sizes too large along with a few sample packets of protein powder.  Based on the box’s weight Mark could only guess at what the other tiers held, but at the moment it was hard to focus on anything other than his disappointment.

“Should’ve known it was too good to be true,” he grumbled, turning away from the box and trudging towards his bedroom to change out of his office attire.  He popped the buttons on his shirt and pants as he walked, shucking both and giving them a frustrated toss into the hamper.  Clad in only a dingy undershirt and worn boxers, Mark gave another long, disappointed sigh as he looked down at his unremarkable frame.  His chest was a slightly sagging outline against the thin cotton, his midsection a soft spare tire, and there wasn’t nearly as large a bulge in the underwear that hung loose around his flat bottom and spindly thighs as he wished for.  He sucked in his stomach and flexed instinctively, trying to make himself feel better, but the sight of his shapeless arms provided little comfort.  “Might be time to face the fact that I’m just a…nobody…”

Mark trailed off, his pulse quickening when he looked up at his reflection in the mirror above his dresser.  At first he thought it was just a trick of the light that made his cropped blonde hair appear odd, but as he walked closer there was no denying that a change actually had taken place.  His hairline now pulled back significantly, exposing more of his forehead, and what should have been a thick shock of golden strands was noticeably thinner.

“What the…fuck!” he yelped, reaching up and feeling a prominent bald spot at the back of his head.  This was followed by another series of panicked exclamations as the slightest brush from his fingers sent clumps of hair falling away.  “Shit!  Shit! No no no no no…” Mark whimpered, his eyes going wide when the last scraps drifted slowly to the ground and his frantic palms slid over a perfectly smooth scalp.  He went pale, then a deep, embarrassed red as he looked at his altered appearance.  The lack of hair seemed to have aged him at least a decade, and with nothing else on his head to pull focus it drew further attention to his beakish nose, thin lips, and soft chin.

“This…this can’t be happening.  How the fuck am I…bald…” Mark broke off in a gasp, darting from the room and leaving a trail of hair behind him as the blonde remnants fell from his thin shoulders.  “It has to be the goddamn box.  First item is for bald guys and then my hair falls out?  No way is that a coincidence,” he muttered to himself.  “But how?  Was there some kind of powder or something when I opened it?  I didn’t see or smell anything, so how…how…oh god…” Mark froze just in front of the box, failing to notice the other changes that had begun taking place until he looked down and saw his expanding torso.

The thin cotton of his undershirt was now plastered around a broad gut and an inflating set of pecs, and the same could be said for his painfully tight boxers as they strained around now-meaty thighs and a rapidly thickening pair of cheeks.  There was a brief reprieve from the encompassing dread when Mark watched an equally-thickened log flop free through the fly, his jaw dropping at the sight of the girthy hose.  His former cock barely reached a modest five inches at its hardest, but the hefty monstrosity dangling between his expanding tree-trunks had several inches on that already, soft.

The awe was shortlived, whiplashing back into terror when his now-small clothing finally gave out.  There was a loud rip as the straining fabric exploded off his brawny new body, giving Mark an unobstructed view of his beefy frame as it settled at its impossible new size.  Far from average or doughly, the now-bald young man watched his formerly soft midsection complete its transition into a firm, prominent muscle gut, while the once-sagging chest above rested as a plump, firm shelf.  Despite his shock, Mark marveled at the set of arms that were larger than his previous thighs, though they were still considerably smaller than the chunky piledrivers that now pressed together below his waist.  And like his enlarged cock, the broad bull’s formerly absent rear had ballooned into a pair of cresting globes, completing his thick, power-lifter appearance.

“This…this can’t be real…” Mark rumbled, his deepened voice catching him off guard.  He prodded the firm, ample muscle, catching sight of his hardened new facial features in the reflection on his TV.  His soft jaw had become wide and defined, his thin lips now resting plump and full between noticeable cheekbones and below a flatter, rounder nose that better suited his rugged new looks.  His bald scalp no longer seemed so out of place, but it was the farthest from his mind as Mark pulled the crimson jockstrap from the box and absently slipped it on.  The label sat in the back center of the wide elastic band, a large square with the words “PWR BTTM” stacked on top of each other in block letters.  Mark didn’t like the implication as the label sat squarely on top of the heaping new globes that were lifted and accentuated by the straps biting into his meaty thighs, and in front the pouch that once seemed so massive now barely contained his fattened hose and equally expansive balls.

“I have to get…get help…what am I doing…” he groaned, his body on autopilot as he returned his attention back to the box.  Instead of turning and fleeing the way he wanted, Mark pulled out the protein packets that had rested next to the jock and lifted the tier, revealing the next stage in his metamorphosis.  “Oh…oh no.  Not that!  I don’t want to beeeUUNNHH…!”

Mark grunted and shuddered as he gawked at the manscaping kit.  He felt like his entire body sneezed as a wave of pressure built and released without warning, leaving his bulky new frame coated in a golden carpet.  The silky fur seemed to sprout from everywhere other than his shiny scalp, spreading across his thick new pecs before spilling up and over his cannonball shoulders while simultaneously waterfalling down his sturdy gut.  As someone who’d always been naturally smooth, Mark was horrified at the sensation of the soft forest covering his powerful new arms and legs in equal measure, seeming to leave only a small patch at the center of his wide back untouched.

“Fuck…fuck…when is this going to end,” he whimpered, a confusing throb pulsing in his straining jock as he laced his stubby fingers through the blonde pelt on his chest.  Looking at his altered face now resting beneath a dense layer of stubble, Mark could barely recognize the reflection as his own.  He hadn’t grown any taller but he’d tripled in mass, now carrying around a hairy body so large that his old self could have fit comfortably inside.  He’d always longed for the kinds of fit, muscular physiques he saw on other guys at the gym, but he’d never dreamt of having the kind of raw, unsculpted bulk that lurked beneath the prominent coating.  With his bald scalp, and wearing nothing but the now-small jockstrap, his appearance was almost cartoonishly masculine.  And there were still several layers to go.

Mark wished he could close his eyes, or at least stop groping a meaty pec, as he lifted the tray free.  He’d been telling himself that it couldn’t get worse, but he was immediately proven wrong by the array of tattoo-specific moisturizers and upkeep creams that waited for him.  Before he could even process the implications, Mark’s body began to tingle from head to toe, as if a cloud of insects buzzed beneath his furry new flesh.

The colorful markings began to appear immediately after, peppering his expanded bulk from head to toe in a variety of obvious locations.  All Mark could do was stare in mortified horror, any hope that he’d be able to conceal the unwanted ink shattered as soon as the word “BEEF” appeared across the knuckles of his right hand and “CAKE” apparated on the knuckles of his left.  This was followed by a lewd, wrist-to-shoulder sleeve on his left arm depicting a series of naked men engaged in all manner of intimate acts, the bright colors popping off his skin in a way that made the suggestive art impossible to ignore.  Similar men appeared on his legs, though only one apiece, and were rendered in finer detail, marking each thigh with a flexing Adonis whose lower halves would be poking out of whatever shorts Mark wore going forward.  The words “BOY” and “TOY” formed next in cursive script above and below his navel, while “SQUEEZE” and “HERE” were stamped above respective nipples.  Meanwhile, a skull-and-crossbones, the bones having been replaced by rigid cocks, sprouted on his lower back, hovering just above the furry globes that jutted beneath.  Not wanting to miss out, the left cheek was now adorned with a “FOR RENT” sign, and the right with a large heart bearing the rainbow colors of a Pride flag.

Mark wanted to scream.  He’d already been terrified by the thought of having to parade his furry, hulking new body around in front of everyone, and the salacious ink made that exponentially worse.  He was as far from an exhibitionist as a person could get, not even liking to go around shirtless when he was home alone, and the idea that there would be no hiding his burly body, ample fur, or apparent new interests was humiliating.

It was those new interests that were the focus of the next tier.  Mark’s twitching cock shot to attention as soon as he saw the lube, dildo, and silicone sleeve nestled into the following tray, springing from the stuffed pouch and rocketing to its full, ten-and-a-half-inch length.  “Ohhhhh no…oh no…what am I supposed to do with these,” he cried, his body already answering the question as one meaty new hand reached around to begin toying with his sensitive hole.  An unfamiliar ache throbbed from his inflated backside, nearly bringing him to his knees while he examined the intimidatingly large slab of silicone and the suction cup at the bottom.

It wasn’t the thought of suddenly being attracted to men that made Mark’s heart race.  He’d never had a problem with gay guys, nor had he had much success in meeting women, so the idea that his desires had been flipped was actually one of the easiest elements of the bizarre transformation to wrap his head around.  What made him blush was the thought of actually using the foreign objects, let alone using them in a public manner.  Mark was as vanilla as they came, never one to experiment during the few sexual encounters he’d experienced or while pleasuring himself at home.  He was a pump-until-he-popped kind of guy, and even if he’d been curious about toys before he never would have been able to muster the courage to actually buy any, let alone get off with them.

His new body clearly had other ideas.  For the first time since he’d returned to it, Mark found himself turning away from the box.  There was a brief flash of hope that agency had finally been returned to him, but it was short lived as, instead of running from the room, he casually walked over to the far wall and affixed the rubber organ, somehow knowing exactly what height to place it at, before returning to examine the fleshy sleeve.  An excited shiver ran down his spine as Mark pictured himself thrusting in and out while simultaneously working his fattened cheeks against the wall, and for the first time he began to feel his dread start to thaw.  He’d absently wrapped a hand around his massive new cock, the hefty weight and comforting warmth making him question why he was so worked up in the first place.

He gave it a few tugs then let go to scratch his hairy muscle gut, a sudden sensation of falling causing him to steady himself against the table.  It was the same plummeting he sometimes felt just on the edge of sleep, but Mark knew this was no dream.  He tried his best to cling to the embarrassed terror that had been welling inside him, but the fear and humiliation slipped away like grimy water draining from a bathtub.  And it happened just as fast.  One moment Mark felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack, and the next he was grinning from ear-to-ear as he lifted the final tray.

That grin never faltered as he pulled out a tiny pair of olive green shorts and equally small heather gray muscle shirt, both made from a tissue-thin knit material.  Underneath was a cardstock flier informing him of his free, 30-Day trial subscription to FurFkr, the premier hookup app for beefy, hairy men.

Instead of the frantic scrambling that came with the previous tiers, Mark just pursed his plumped lips and raised an eyebrow as he looked over the card, already reaching for his phone to download the app.  Like the rest of the impossible changes he’d gone through, he found the program not only loaded but already up on the screen, with a completed account bearing his current likeness.  There were even messages waiting for him.

Mark shook off the unexpected rush of nerves as he set up the light and tripod, unsure why he was second guessing himself.  He’d filmed countless videos for other platforms before, and he’d been brimming with excitement to make his first “InflueXXXed” post.  The standard “Influenced” program seemed cute, but that wasn’t what he was after.  Not with a body like his.  He told himself it was just the adrenaline that came with performing that was making him edgy, not his former existence screaming frantically in his brain as he hit record.

“Hey guys,” he said, standing close to the camera so that only his smug grin and the top of his furry chest and shoulders were visible in the frame.  “I just got my first box and I can’t tell you how excited I am about all this stuff.  I can show you, though, ” he laughed, stepping back to reveal his exposed bulk and the still-rigid cock poking out of the jockstrap.  He wagged the thick girder and gave its underside a few slaps before picking up the bottle of scalp moisturizer and turning his attention back to the camera.  “Seriously, there are some fantastic products here.  Like this Bald Bull scalp cream.  Personally, I like to moisturize by getting a group of three or four guys together and having them deliver some cream straight from the tap, but I guess this’ll do in a pinch,” he winked.  “All kidding aside, if you’re like me and lost your hair early, you know it’s not as easy to keep the dome looking fresh as most people would think.  But with this?  No hair, don’t care.”

Mark put a small dab of the cream in his hands, flexing his powerful new arms and shoulders as he slowly worked it into his smooth scalp.  He closed his eyes and pursed his lips again, knowing full well that people didn’t care about the moisturizer in the least.  That voice in his head kept telling him he shouldn’t be flaunting his baldness, but Mark ignored it as he leaned in and put his glistening, hairless head in front of the camera.  “See?  Slick and shiny.  No grease or tacky feeling or anything.  Just light and free.  And speaking of feeling light and free,” he said, adjusting the camera so that it focused on his beefy midsection and exposed package.  “These jocks from Power Bottom are faaaaaaantastic.  They come in large sizes for thicker guys like us, the colors are great, and they’re super soft,” he said, hooking his thumbs in the waist and giving it a few loud snaps as he turned in a slow circle.  “Oh!  I almost forgot,” he laughed, a packet of protein powder entering the frame as it rested on his solid cock like a shelf.  “You’re going to need those bigger sizes if you start drinking this stuff.  Holy shit.  You want gains like mine, this stuff’ll get you there.  No clumps or chalky taste, either.  Goes down smooth,” he rumbled, leaving it ambiguous as to whether he was talking about his girthy member or the supplement.  “Look, the bottom line is that if you’ve got a lot of meat on you, and you will if you drink GainR, regular underwear isn’t always the most comfortable.  I mean, trying to fit an ass like mine and a piece like this into plain old boxers or briefs?  Forget it.  Those are for little boys with their chicken legs.  You want something for a real man?  This is it.”

Mark gave his thick log a squeeze for the camera before tilting it back up and zooming out again.  “And if you’re a real man, chances are you’re going to need one or both of these,” he grinned, holding the manscaping kit in one hand and the tattoo cream in the other.  “You know how quick a carpet like this can get out of hand, but luckily these trimmers can cut through just about anything.  For real.  Maintaining a luxurious pelt like this used to be an ordeal, but now I can have myself ready for company in just a few minutes,” he said, running a hand through the dense, golden forest at the center of his chest.  “And if you’ve got some ink under all that fur, nothing makes it stand out like this tattoo cream.  Just a dab keeps your art looking as vibrant as the day you got it, and it doesn’t leave your hair all matted and gross, either.”

The voice in Mark’s head died away in a whimper as he began working the cream into his various tattoos.  As with his scalp, it was obvious that the lotion was just an excuse for Mark to grope himself on screen.  He sighed and squirmed as he applied it to the tattoos on his chest, squeezing and tweaking each of the large nipples before working his hands all over his broad muscle gut.  His sighs turned into gentle moans as he worked it up the lewd sleeve on his arm and turned around, kneading and bouncing his furry cheeks when he rubbed the cream into his oversized rear.

The pretense was forgotten altogether shortly after as Mark began spreading the hairy mounds and toying with his hole for the camera.  “Always gets me worked up,” he panted, the picture going blurry when he grabbed the tripod and carried it over to the far wall.  He zoomed in on the massive dildo while he lubed it up, batting his own cock against it a few times in the process.  “And when I get worked up like that, there’s only one thing that gets the job done.  Well, two things,” he chuckled, slipping the sleeve over his oozing pole.  “For starters, this lube is fantastic.  It’s warming, easy to clean, and even tastes good.  Great to share with a friend, or for when you’re keeping yourself occupied at home.”

Mark stared at the camera as he spread his cheeks and slowly backed up against the wall, his smug grin falling into an open mouth groan as he impaled himself on the slick toy.  “HOOoooooohhhhhh guuuuuuys,” he groaned, his bald head falling back against the wall.  “If you don’t have one of these you are missing out.  They come in all shapes and sizes and I guarantee they’ll get the job done,” he said, steadily working his hips back and forth as he spoke.  There was as dull thudding sound as Mark slammed his heavy new bottom into the wall over and over, a series of deep whimpers falling out of his slack jaw.  “You…you can use ‘em wherever, too.  In bed, in the sh…shower…or, my favorite, on the wall.  This suction cup is…is great.  You can ride the hell out of it and it won’t come loose.”  To prove his point, Mark started swiveling and bucking his hips.  He bent his knees and went up on his toes, writhing in a frenzy against the unmoving log.  “S…see?  And if you…you want the full experience, you have to get one of these guys to work your meat at the same time,” he grunted, giving the sleeve a few tugs.  “GGGNNHH…fuuuuck yeessss you guys,” he moaned, throwing his chunky cheeks back against the wall while simultaneously thrusting in and out of the silicone holster.

Mark resumed groping his furry bulk with his free hand, unsure if he went at himself for seconds, minutes or hours.  He could hear his frenzied grunts growing louder and louder, drowning out the dull pounding against the wall and the wet slicking sound coming from the sleeve, along with the remnants of the shattered voice in his head.  Its pointless dread couldn’t even begin to compete with the ecstasy that Mark felt as his burly new bulk shook and bounced and rubbed against itself, the fur acting as a soft contrast to the firm flesh underneath.  Far from being humiliating, the knowledge that countless people would be watching his lustful display filled Mark with a kind of satisfaction he’d never felt before.  He finally had the audience he’d always wanted, and it was better than he ever could have imagined.

He sagged against the wall when he finally came, letting out a roar that everyone in the neighborhood would be able to hear.  “You…guys…” he gasped, grinning bashfully for the camera.  “You have got to give this a try.  I mean…listen…I love dudes, and I love dick, but I’d be perfectly content on a desert island as long as I had these two with me,” he sighed, shivering as he pulled the sleeve free and slipped it over the dildo.  He grabbed a tissue from a nearby table and wiped his softening monster clean, perking back up as he stuffed himself back into the pouch.  “Oh, and remember how I said these jocks were super comfortable?  They’re also super functional.  I mean, I just did all that and didn’t even have to take it off.

There was another blurred scene as Mark moved the tripod back to the table.  “But if you’re one of those guys who wants the real thing, you’re going to need our last few items.  First, look at this shirt and these shorts,” he said, pulling the thin muscle shirt over his broad shoulders.  The knit material clung to his beefy torso, stopping just above his navel and outlining everything underneath in such detail that it might as well have been see through.  The same went for the shorts that fit like a pair of briefs, leaving the top and bottom of Mark’s hairy new rear exposed while wedging so high into his thighs that the stuffed bulge in front was more accentuated than hidden.  “Dude, these are so soft they’re like wearing nothing.  Which is exactly what you’ll be doing about ten minutes after logging into your FurFkr account.  Guys, I’m not even joking.  I just set this thing up earlier and I’ve got over a dozen messages already.  And the men on here…oh my…” he whistled.  “If you’re a thick bear like me or just want to get with one, you honestly can’t do better.  As an added bonus for those of you who sign up, you can find me at MarkyMeat95 if you want to trade pics.  And hey, if you’re in the area maybe we could even get together?”  Mark grinned and shook his head, his stubby thumbs hammering into his phone as he sent his address to a furry mountain of a man who’d messaged him.  “Alright fellas, hope you enjoyed a look at this month’s box.  I’ll post more in depth reviews of each of these over the next few weeks, so make sure you subscribe and stick around so you don’t miss anything.  But, uh, right now,” he grinned, waving the FurFkr app in front of the camera, “I’ve got company coming over so I need to clean this place up.”