Vivian Divinfyre's library of the meticulously recorded tales of those who have changed.  Transformations, sex, body horror, and twisted journeys of the mind are contained within.

Careless Sport: Chapter 5

Careless Sport: Chapter 5


Author's Note: These stories were commissioned by TGF, who also did the incredible 3D work for them.  TGF's profile can be found HERE.


Brooke woke up feeling strangely calm, if not slightly heavy.  It was still dark all around her, though the sky had started to lighten with coming dawn.  The house was absolutely silent.  The only noise came from the wind outside her apartment window.  She breathed in deeply.  Her dreams had been comprised of hot and muddled fragments of memories and surreal visions.  She remembered being incredibly aroused through them all.

She stretched her legs, reveling in the feeling of the sheets and the sofa on her feet.  The fire of arousal was still burning within her from the night before, but all signs of pain had faded.  She breathed in and out again, slowly.

As Brooke’s body began to awaken properly, she realized how odd everything felt.  She felt too big for the couch.  She felt long, and strong.  When she moved her legs, she felt something strange between her legs.  She was hard.  She had morning wood.

Brooke groaned as her arousal doubled in strength.  She felt her “cock” twitch.  It disgusted her to refer to it like that, but after what she had seen last night, there was no other way she could think about her newly formed genitals. 

Brooke felt her cock twitch.  She gingerly slid the blankets aside and slid her pants and underwear down.  Her cock sprung out, sending a shock of pleasure into her core.  Her calm was instantly obliterated.  The organ which had been small last night now bulged straight upright, a full five inches. 

Brooke twisted her face in dismay, but the arousal pounded on despite her.  Pushed forward by a mixture of curiosity and arousal, she moved her hand down to explore the new organ.

She had a foreskin covering what had once been her clitoris.  Now it was quite fully phallic, with a small opening at the top.  It was dark red in color, engorged with blood, and from around the ridge of her cock head there were thousands of sensitive bumps.

The feeling of her fingers exploring her new penis only increased her arousal.  She grew harder, so much so that she began to see veins bulging along the length of her organ.  Her hand looked so different as she wrapped it around her cock.  Her hand was stronger, heavier, less fair. 

The feeling of her hand wrapping around her cock sent her head spinning.  It was incredible.  She needed more.

Nothing says I can’t make the best of a bad situation, right?  I’ll never be able to think straight today if I don’t clear this insane arousal. 

Brooke struggled to think about anything but sex.  She knew this was wrong, but she just couldn’t bring her mind to think straight about anything with her organ throbbing right before her eyes.  She slid her pants and underwear off completely. 

Carefully, she slid her new foreskin back and forth over the head of her cock.  She wasn’t quite sure how to actually use her cock properly, so she was operating on very base instinct.  As she stroked herself in this way, she arched her back.  The pleasure was intense.  She needed this.

I’m only doing this because I have to…

Brooke recalled that there was a bottle of lotion on the coffee table and she reached for it, squeezing out a generous amount onto her hand.  She slathered the lotion all over her cock, and in the process sent herself even deeper into lust.  The slick feeling of her hand sliding across her organ was beyond intense.

In addition, her feet seemed to be alive with pleasure as well.  She slid them back and forth against one another beneath the blankets.  She wanted more.  She stroked her cock, now properly lubricated, tightly with her hand.  The pleasure made her thrust her pelvis involuntarily. 

With each stroke, lust took her mind more.  She couldn’t resist.  Her mind was filling with images of sex, and her inhibitions were failing her.  Images of fucking Grayson came into her mind.  She was on top, pounding him doggy style, slamming into his tight ass.  She imagined him caressing her feet as she came, spurting her cum all over him. 

In her mind, at first she saw herself as she’d always remembered herself:  A girl, with breasts and curves and petite form.  As the images continued, however, she saw her mental picture change.  She saw herself strong, muscular, with angular features, broad shoulders, and a flat, muscular chest. 

Following her fantasies in her mind, she lifted her shirt.  She should have been shocked to find her breasts had shrunken a complete cup size, but, instead, she just found it further arousing.  In her lust, she had abandoned all sense of restraint.  Her fantasies ran wild. 

Brooke kicked off the blanket and looked down at her feet.  The urge to have her toes sucked overwhelmed her.  She curled herself up on the couch and brought her toes to her mouth.  She’d never indulged her fetish in this way.

Stroking her cock, she pleasured her toes with her tongue, creating a symphony of novel pleasures.  She didn’t feel like herself, but she loved how she felt.  The strange organ in her hand felt hard and wonderful.  With each stroke of pleasure, she grew closer and closer to climax. 

Her foot was pulsing with stimulation.  Wave after wave of pleasure shot outwards from her well-cared-for, clean toes, which now looked stronger, bigger, more manly.  The waves of pleasure crashed against those emanating from her cock, leading her to moan loudly against her will.  Her voice sounded huskier than she expected. 

Previously taboo images of sex filled her mind.  As the orgasmic pleasure coursed through her nerves, from her cock to her toes to her brain, a single sequence filled her mind.  Grayson kissing her feet, then her legs, then taking her cock in his mouth and…

Brooke was cumming.  It hit her faster and harder than she expected.  As her mind filled with images of cumming all over Grayson’s lips, she bucked in orgasm, crying out into the silence of the house.  She slid her toes out of her mouth and arched her back.  Her voice did not sound like she thought.  It sounded almost like Grayson’s. 

She felt a contraction of muscles she had never felt before, right underneath her new ballsack.  Her balls lifted up, and in an explosion of pleasure, she came.  Brooke came and came and came.  A fountain of white hot cum shot upwards, splashing across her hands, her thighs, and her belly.  As she felt her muscles pumping the cum out onto her skin, she felt something else, something truly strange.

She stopped feeling like a her.  With each pump, each load of cum that shot out onto her skin, she felt less and less like a woman.  Finally, the last contraction spurted a hot sticky burst of cum out of the tip of Brooke’s cock, and with it, the last of Brooke’s femininity was spilled out onto his hairy crotch and belly.

Brooke gasped.  Fear was now lurking at the edges of his still-reeling mind.  It was then that he heard a noise on the other side of the living room.  Snapped from the blur of orgasm and change, he frantically scanned the room, locking eyes with none other than Grayson, who now stood at the bottom of the stairs, staring in horror.

Brooke yanked the sheet over himself. 

“Grayson…” Brooke said, struggling to hide his still-erect, slick cock under the covers.

“What the hell?”

Grayson’s expression did not reveal even half the confusion he was experiencing.  On the couch was someone who he undeniably knew.  It was Brooke’s face but changed.  It was angular, wide-jawed, and masculine.  The chest and belly, revealed above the sheet, were flat and muscular.  Much of the curvature that Grayson had always known was gone, flattened out into the more squared form of a masculine body. 

Grayson could see something poking out from the sheet above groin of the person on the couch.  Though Grayson knew in his heart that it was Brooke who laid upon the couch, he couldn’t bring himself to accept it.  He couldn’t equate the cock tenting the sheet with his mind’s vision of who Brooke had always been.

Both Brooke and Grayson found themselves at a loss for words.  They stared at each other in silence.  Long moments stretched on with Grayson simply looking up and down Brooke’s body.  Finally, Grayson stepped towards the couch and spoke.

“I don’t know what is going on,” Grayson said, “I’m confused.  What happened?”

Brooke couldn’t even answer.

Conflict wracked Grayson’s mind.  On one side, he recognized his partner and wanted to understand.  On the other, he saw a masculine and foreign body opposite to everything he had ever known himself to like. 

Brooke tried to adjust the sheet, but ended up only losing control of it and revealing more of herself.  Grayson witnessed all of this.  He saw, beneath the sheet, an erect, slick cock surrounded by hair and light musculature.  He saw familiar features turned towards the masculine.  He was disgusted.

And he was aroused.  He had never liked men.  He had never thought himself even slightly bisexual, yet as he looked on the masculinized body of his once girlfriend, he couldn’t help but grow hard at the sight.  Brooke’s tight body somehow appealed to him.  Brooke’s hairy armpits, legs, happy trail, and pubic area all aroused him, despite his immediate and instinctual rejection of masculinity.

Grayson found himself reddening.  He was embarrassed by his own arousal.

“Grayson, it’s me, Brooke,” Brooke said, feeling an odd twinge of emotion at hearing his feminine name, “I’m your boy…girlfriend!  You know me!”

Brooke found that his mind now rejected his old name.  “Brooke” no longer fit him.  He knew it was his name, and yet, something was simply wrong about it, something was unfitting.  Unintentionally, Brooke began to toy with other names.  Masculine names.

“How?” Grayson asked, “You don’t look…anything like I remember.”

Brooke lifted a hand to his face and rubbed his eyes.  He was unable to ignore how different his face felt beneath his hand. 

“I…don’t know.  I think that woman did something to me.  I think she cursed me or something.”

Grayson wore an expression of utter disbelief.  He couldn’t help but feel this was some sort of prank or nightmare.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” he said, “I don’t understand.”

Brooke sat up on the couch and adjusted the sheet.

“It’s been going on all week since she blew that powder in my face.  I’ve been growing hair, I’ve been changing.  Everything she said would happen has happened.  Even the part about my feet.”

Grayson nodded at this.

“I noticed that part actually…” he said, “I thought you were just being coy by intentionally indulging in foot stuff.”

Grayson couldn’t believe he was actually allowing this discussion.  This was madness.  The man sitting on the couch before him could not be his girlfriend, no matter how much like her he looked.  Grayson didn’t believe in magic.

“No,” Brooke replied, “No it actually felt amazing, more so than ever before.  I mean, I was never opposed to using my feet, of course, as we know from the trip to New Hampshire…”

The man on the couch was smiling sadly.  Grayson was floored.  If this was a con of some sort, the details had been well researched.  Only Brooke would know that they had snuck out of town one weekend after Grayson got his first contract to go to a lodge in New Hampshire and that they had indulged in various of their kinks and fetishes after drinking an expensive bottle of wine.  With horror, Grayson finally internalized the truth.  His girlfriend had become a man.

Brooke noticed Grayson’s expression shift.  He was going pale.

“Grayson?” Brooke said, “are you alright?”

Grayson didn’t respond immediately.  Instead, he sat down on the armchair to the side of the couch and sighed.

“No,” he said after some time, “No, I am not alright.”

Brooke’s heartbeat picked up.  He couldn’t stand to see Grayson feeling so distraught.  He reached out to comfort his boyfriend but was shocked to see him pull his arm away.  Tears welled up in Brooke’s eyes.

Grayson shook his head.

“This is all wrong,” he said, “I have a game to win today.  I cannot sort through this right now.”

Grayson looked up and saw tears streaming down the familiar face across from him.

“I’m sorry.  This is just insane and strange and I can’t let this ruin my game.  I promise when I get home that I’ll figure this all out.”

Brooke wiped his eyes and then shook his head affirmatively.

“I’ll just rest here today then?” Brooke asked.

“I guess that would be best…”

“But I wanted to see you play!”

Grayson grimaced.  He didn’t intend to, but the thought of having a guy show up to cheer for him at his big game just didn’t fit with his image of how the day was supposed to go.  It occurred to Grayson that he was being too cruel.

“Well,” he started, “look I really don’t know how to process all this.  I just need to play my game and then when I come back I’ll be able to devote my mind to processing this.  You can come if you want, just I think it would be best if you maybe kept it on the down low.”

Brooke was heartbroken.  This was exactly what he had been afraid of.  Grayson was going to abandon him.  Brooke searched Grayson’s face for a sign of mercy or understanding, but his face was unreadable.  Brooke’s own expression was pained, twisted, ugly from crying.  Brooke moved to wipe his eyes, and when he did, the sheet fell, revealing his now diminutive chest.

Grayson couldn’t take his eyes away from the sight before him.  He knew that chest, as shrunken and masculinized as it was.  He knew that face, crying in agony.  Though the shape was slightly different, the frame heavier, this was someone he had shared countless special moments with.

“Hey,” Grayson said, unable to use his once-girlfriend’s name, “Don’t be sad.  Don’t worry.  I don’t want you to cry or be in pain.  I just don’t want things to get more complex or worse for you or I.”

Brooke didn’t feel much better.  At least he knew Grayson would talk to him before he dropped him.  All Brooke wanted was to be held again.  To snuggle in bed with Grayson once more.  He couldn’t resist asking.

“Please,” he said, “before you go, can’t we just lay together?  I just want to know you still love me.”

Grayson looked sad and distraught.  He didn’t like the idea of snuggling someone so manly.  He hadn’t minded the little bit of hair, or even Brooke’s slow slight change in appearance, but this had gone too far.  The man in front of him was just that – a man.

Despite all of Grayson’s emotional blocks, a part of him wanted to do it.  Some part of him he had never known to exist desired to climb on the couch and snuggle with this surprisingly attractive man who had once been his girlfriend.  Against Grayson’s will, his mind wandered to the inevitable acts that followed snuggling.  He imagined caressing Brooke’s strong, firm body, feeling the muscles on his body, feeling his cock press against Brooke’s tight ass.

To Grayson’s horror, he was growing harder than ever, visibly so in his boxers.  Grayson caught Brooke staring down at his rising bulge.  He quickly stood.

“Ah,” he started, before clearing his throat, “I don’t think I’m ready for that.  I…just need to go get ready and meet the guys.”

Grayson was grimacing again.  The thought of the guys finding out he had a boyfriend had just crossed his mind.  That would be torture, impossible to deal with.  There’s no way he could ever “come out” to them; after all, he wasn’t gay.


He had never once fantasized about a man, yet his mind was now filling with involuntary lewd thoughts about the man now in front of him.  He tried to convince himself that it was just because this man looked so much like his girlfriend, that this man was, or, at least, had been his girlfriend at one point. 

Of course I would have feelings and attraction to someone like that.  That doesn’t mean I’m gay or anything or would ever want to…

An image flashed in his mind which filled him simultaneously with disgust and arousal.  He had seen himself on all fours on the bed, with Brooke as he was now behind him, ramming inside his ass.  The thought was intolerable, yet so tempting.

Brooke was beginning to tear up.  Grayson needed to get out of the room or he would never be able to focus. 

“Please…” Brook said, pleading.

“I’m sorry,” Grayson replied, “I’m just not ready.”

He stood, turned to leave the room, and began walking up the stairs back to the room.  He hesitated half way up the stairs for a moment, tempted to turn and say something more, but thought better of it, continuing up the stairs.

Brooke was in shambles.  Tears were beginning to flood down his eyes.  He couldn’t handle all the emotions.  The shock of his body, the comedown from orgasm, the sudden rocks his relationship with Grayson had been thrown onto were all combining to make a hurricane of sickening emotions.

Brooke slid down onto the cushions and sighed. 

How am I ever going to fix this? 

Tears were still streaming down his face as he tossed and turned on the couch.  His mind was a mess.  Every thought was tinged with fear of abandonment, rejection, ugliness.  He could hear Grayson getting ready from upstairs and all he could think of was how he didn’t want Grayson to see him again before he left for the game.

The game!

Brooke focused his mind around the game.  All he had to do was stay out of the way for a bit and let Grayson focus on winning against the British team.  If he won, he’d come back in an incredible mood and would be ready to deal with the unwanted body problems Brooke had developed. 

Brooke rubbed his chest.  It was sore, and looked smaller even than it had an hour before.  Mustering all his will, he pushed away the thoughts about his body.  All of that could be sorted later that night.  All he had to do was find a way – any way – to keep himself distracted for the rest of the day until the game was over and Grayson was back. 

Brooke breathed in deeply and then wrapped himself in the sheet on the couch, now soiled with the cum he had never imagined being able to produce.  Slowly he rose and made his way to the stairs, then up into the bedroom.  He laid down on the bed with his back to the bathroom door.

A few minutes later, Grayson swung open the bathroom door and came out, his breath heavy and controlled.  Brooke knew this ritual well.  Grayson was getting himself “in the zone.”  Brooke had teased him lightly about this ritual in the past, as it looked somewhat silly to onlookers. 

Grayson threw his bag together, either not seeing or ignoring Brooke on the bed, then stood in front of the big mirror in the bathroom.  Brooke could see into the bathroom from the bed by peeking over his shoulder.  He saw Grayson stare himself in the eyes, and slow his breathing until he was barely breathing at all.  Then Grayson began to jog in place, shaking his hands as if to warm up.  Brooke knew every step of this psych-up process.

Grayson finished his ritual, and then grabbed his bag and went downstairs without a word.  Brooke did not relax until he heard the front door close behind Grayson.  The second he heard the latch clicking back into place, he rushed to the bathroom.  The feeling of uncleaned orgasmic mess had become quite unpleasant. 

Brooke showered quickly and tried to avoid the mirror.  A few glances were impossible.  He didn’t recognize himself.  His face was absolutely masculine but touched with a sort of feminine beauty.  If it had been on anyone else, Brooke would have found it incredibly attractive, but on him, it only reminded him of the trouble these changes had brought to his incredible relationship. 

His body was muscular and lean, the curves had faded further than they had earlier in the week.  His torso now appeared more rectangular, with only a slight indentation at the hips.  His ass had changed, too.  It was no longer nearly as round and fatty, instead, it was tight and muscular.  Once again, that feature would have been incredibly attractive on anyone but Brooke’s own body. 

Brooke’s feet and hands were so much larger than they had been, and he was taller than he had ever been before; he’d had to adjust the shower head for the first time in ages. Brooke found himself hesitating in front of the mirror, which was the exact opposite action he had intended to take.

His long hair looked out of place, as did his colored nails.  The moment he noticed his nails, he was struck with a sudden desire to clean the polish off.  Shortly after this desire came the desire to cut his hair.  He caught himself thinking these thoughts.

“Brooke!” he said aloud to himself, “What are you thinking!?”

It was then that he realized that the name Brooke, though familiar from years of use, was disgusting to use while confronted with the image before him.

“Brooke…Brooke…Brooke,” he said, looking himself in the eyes.

Disgust, disgust, disgust.  The reaction was baffling to him.  He hadn’t expected to have such a negative reaction to his own birth name, but it was too much to handle on top of all the other stress.  He needed to minimize stress until today was over, then he and Grayson could sort everything out.

It can’t hurt right?

Brooke figured there was no harm in temporarily adopting another name.  It would be a psychological relief, at least.

But what name?

As if delivered by a spirit, the name Brandon appeared in his mind, and he knew it was the perfect fit.  It slid across his mind comfortably, producing no discomfort or disgust. 

“Brandon,” he said, “Yeah…I like this.”

“Like” may have been an overstatement, but for the first time in hours Brandon was smiling.  Despite the manly face and body in the mirror before him, he was smiling.  That is exactly what he needed to get through the day. 

Brandon left the bathroom feeling refreshed and relieved.  He flopped down on the bed and let the cool air of the room dance against his skin.  His body shimmered with moisture.

To an outside observer, Brandon was a fit and attractive man, with the light touches of feminine grace and form.  His legs were lean and his skin was perfect, despite being covered in dark hair, which spread from his calves all the way up to his thick bush and up towards his belly.  His ass was also covered in a thin layer of dark hair, but that didn’t take away from the tight, round form of it. 

Brandon could not appreciate his own appearance, but anyone else attracted to men would.  His lips were soft, and so was his skin.  He had feminine beauty spread across male body shape.  His chest was still changing but now appeared as tight pecs with soft, small mounds of flesh beneath puffy nipples, all surrounded with a light spread of hair. 

For the first time in hours, Brandon was not crying.  He was breathing.  His mind was clearing.  He slid his body against the soft sheets of the bed, relishing the cool feelings it brought to his feet, his legs, his soft cock.  The sensations on his feet and cock brought on a blood rush.  He hardened slightly.

Brandon sighed.

I can make it through the day.  I know I can.

From somewhere deep inside, Brandon managed to find motivation, even inspiration.  He stood up, he opened the door to Grayson’s closet.  He picked a few pairs of bigger clothes.  He opened Grayson’s drawer and took out a pair of boxers, then slipped them on.

Brandon couldn’t believe how strange boxers felt on his body.  They were so loose and roomy, and as he slipped on a pair of jeans, his half-hard cock brushed against the soft material of the boxers in a way that only made the problem worse.  He tried to ignore the sensation.

He found a hoodie with Grayson’s football club logo on it, and slipped that on over the shirt he’d taken.  Finally, he took some black socks from another drawer and completed the look.  After stepping in front of the mirror, he returned to the closet and swapped out jeans.  He was finding his own attraction to men helpful in dressing himself:  he just dressed in the styles he would have loved to see Grayson dress in.

Despite background fear and dislike of the situation Brandon had found himself in, he was proud of his job dressing up.  While dressing up, he had been trying his best to focus on the positives.  No one would recognize him right now.  He could walk around town and do anything and no one would even know who he was.

I could go to the game.

Brandon realized that with a hat and a pair of sunglasses no one would ever even be able to draw a resemblance to his original appearance.  He could go to the game and see Grayson play, pass the time, and…

Confront that fucking bitch who did this to me.

Brandon realized that he hadn’t considered finding the crazy girl who had cursed him again.  The girl would undoubtedly be at the game.  His mind was filling with plans.

I could talk to her, try and convince her to undo this.  Talk some sense into her, maybe.  And if that didn’t work, I could maybe try to get my hands on that powder she used on me.

Brandon realized the game that was going to begin in a few hours’ time could be the last opportunity he would have to undo all of this.  He could save his relationship.  He could save his body.  He could stop being a man and go back to being a woman.

Oddly, Brandon felt a small pang of fear at the thought of returning to womanhood, especially as he looked in the mirror and remembered how the name Brandon had come to fit him so well and so quickly.  The feeling passed quickly, though, and Brandon dismissed it as an artifact of the stressful day and the constant changes.

Just because I like that name for me as I am now, doesn’t mean I want to keep it forever.

Brandon was smiling.  He couldn’t believe he’d let himself become so overwhelmed earlier when he had not even confronted the crazy girl again.  There was no way he was going to let this opportunity pass him up.

He grabbed an extra pair of tennis shoes from Grayson’s closet and rushed downstairs before realizing his hair was totally out of place with his current outfit.  Still inspired, he quickly snatched a hairband off the coffee table and put his hair up in a masculine ponytail, then grabbed the car keys off the hook by the door.  He slipped on the borrowed shoes, put up the hoodie, and left the house at last. 

Thank god Grayson rode to the game with his friends.

Careless Sport: Chapter 6

Careless Sport: Chapter 6

Careless Sport: Chapter 4

Careless Sport: Chapter 4