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“Yeah... That’s what I want,” he groans to himself. The newly-minted male grabs his shirt and lifts it up over his head, tossing the ruined thing aside, leaving himself to stare at his new form, his new incredible body—so manly and hairy and strong. He’s just like the kind of men he used to admire—back when he was a woman, but now that he has that testosterone pumping through him. All that’s really left to get rid of are those all-too-small shoes. And when he does, he groans in delight, falling back on his bed, letting the cold sheets caress his tough and rugged form.

He picks himself up by the shoulders and stares at that towering cock before him, his eyes transfixed on the pillar of manliness that he now possesses. He licks his lips and places his hands on his chest, running them down along his expansive pectorals to trace the muscles hidden under the forest of hair. He then teases over that wild bush, chuckling to himself as he thinks about how he’ll never have to worry about shaving that shit again now that he’s a dude. Fuck. Things are so much easier, aren’t they? Was this something he had always wanted? It’s hard to think about what his life could have been if this strange transformation hadn’t happened, but he concentrates, trying to get past this haze of sex and desire.

He squeezes his eyes shut, groaning as his need fights his will to want to think. He rolls onto his side, running a hand through his hair, and another hand moves down past his pubic mound and touches the root of his dick. Immediately, a surge of feeling shoots up straight to his brain stem, triggering that monkey brain neuron activation. Holy fuck, is this what dudes feel when they touch themselves? And it can happen all the fucking time?

He wraps his hand around the thick cock, his breaths coming out as panting groans now as he looks down over his body. He hardly even touches the thing and already feels the immediate results of delight. What if he presses his palm to the thing and strokes slowly upward.

“O… oh … ha… ah… fuck…” His eyes roll back. Just from the stroke, he’s feeling delight. It would have taken him so much longer to feel before. Was it because this was a novel experience, or is this because this is just how men feel. Few, if any, would be able to answer this question. But he’s sure that he can one day, and perhaps one day soon.

The speed at which he jerks slowly increases, and his mind wanders away from the task. Instead, it moves toward thinking about what he could do with this thing. In his mind, he isn’t lying on the side of his bed, pumping away. Instead, he’s found a guy, and not just any guy, oh, a guy just as manly as him. He has this man bent over a table, and he has this cock shoved up that guy’s ass, and he is pounding him over and over again!

Sandy stops stroking himself, and instead, he holds his hand still. He thrusts forward, letting his hips do the work, making his fingers a facsimile of the holes he fantasizes about.

And does it have to just be fantasy? Indeed, now that he’s a dude, he can find people to plow? But wait….

He slows down, panting, a dollop of precum pearling at the tip. His breath quickens as he thinks about it. How can he find people here in the middle of Genville, where everyone is super fucking conservative? Everyone here is homophobic, right?”

“Well… I’m not,” he resolves. “I’m gonna find some bottom, and I’m gonna blast his ass!” With that resolve, he picks back up his pace, fucking his hand, squeezing tighter to make it feel better, letting the oozing precum provide better lubrication and making his thrusting go faster and faster.

Soon, he throws his head back and lets out a groaning cry. Arching his back, he shoots out stream and stream of cum, the stuff falling onto his bed in a pool of pearly wonderfulness.

Sandy collapses, sweating, his heart beating a mile a minute. He pushes himself off and rolls off the bed, sitting there, taking a deep breath, and calming himself down. Soon, he can pick himself up and roll his neck. Stepping into his closet, he looks for what he can wear to try and make his way through town to get to the store. After all, if he’s gonna be a guy, he must dress the part.

A pair of sweatpants were always baggy on her. They’re pretty tight on him, showing off his package. Guess he’ll have to worry about “no shirt, no shoes, no service” later. Still, for now, he has to get going and hope he doesn’t get a raging hard-on or run into anyone he knows, so he steps out of his room, not even thinking about the fact that his family is still in the house, sound asleep.

Or so they said…”