anonymous asked:

I would love for Chris Pratt to get transformed into a suit (either regular or from Guardians of the Galaxy) and then transform me into him

“And…that’s a wrap. Okay, everyone take twenty.” Chris Pratt sighed, putting the drink down and wiping the smirk from his face, he had just been doing another photoshoot for Guardians of the Galaxy 2, this time on set since it seemed most of the promotional photos and teasers would have to be rushed. He found himself in the back, taking off his outfit for just a moment. He had been stuffed in there for hours on end, and felt somewhat relieved when he hung his Peter Quill outfit up on the clothing rack, stretching his muscular body only now in his underwear as he walked around the small room, checking himself in the mirror, making sure he was ready for the next scene.

As Chris turned around to pick up his outfit once more, he was confused, furrowed brows reflecting in the silver lining of the clothes rack as he realized his outfit was gone. Nobody came into the room in the short span of five minutes and he definitely placed them on the clothing rack, but even still he couldn’t see it anywhere. As he began browsing through the different clothes, trying to look for his outfit, he decided to head out, asking someone else in the costume department if they had a spare he could use for the next scene.

His cold hand touched the door and instantly he couldn’t open, looking down at his fingers, he watched them fall flat around the door, his fingers unable to curl or move as he glanced down again, watching his fingers slowly begin to fuse into each other, the same with his other hand as he raised up his arm, looking horrified at the red leathery texture that was slowly spreading down his limbs. He went to pound at the door, but as he did, he only watched his empty and hollowing arms only fall flat against the door, his biceps losing their muscle as he glanced down at himself horrified.

“Hey! Someone- please help!” Chris cried as he tried to stop himself. He tried to see if he could somehow get to his phone, left on the table by the mirror but as he rushed forward, he felt his legs collapse, becoming empty and hollow like his arms as he watched his body lose its muscular abs, becoming skinnier as he murmured pleas on the floor, still trying to nudge himself towards the desk as he felt his own cock, which had become erect, start to slowly sink in, now becoming a bulge that was ripe for the teasing, his vision receded, darkening as he could only think about begging someone to wear him.

It had been ten minutes when you went to go check on Chris Pratt, knocking on the room door before you entered, the door shutting behind you as you were greeted with a Peter Quill costume on the floor. Before you could do anything, the costume suddenly lurched up to you, the costume suddenly sneaking its way through your clothes, somehow making them disappear, even your own underwear. As you feel the outfit suddenly fit over one of your arms, you’re surprised when your own arm feels numb, suddenly coming to palm at your cock, groans and whimpers escaping your lips as you try to stop, as you try to use one arm to grab the other.

But part of you doesn’t want it to stop, at least that’s what it seems the outfit is telling you, you almost hear the faint voice of Chris Pratt asking you not to stop as your other arm is covered, the costume making its way to fit through your legs, and as the zip at the back suddenly came to zip itself up, it was only then you noticed that your moans and groans were sounding more like the voice of Chris Pratt.

In fact even as you palmed yourself, you only now realized that your fingers were thickening, digits moving on their own as your hands both had grown to accommodate the size of your growing biceps, the outfit suddenly raising your arms and making you flex much to your surprise. You can’t control yourself, as your dick throbs against the outfit, feeling your feet begin to grow as your toes stretch and flex, boots suddenly come to fit them, perfectly fitting your new larger feet.

You can’t help but continue flexing, with every flex your abs begin to push out more and more, defining themselves pushing forward much to your surprise as your own cock is now reasonably thicker, gripped in your meaty hands as you heard the voice urging you to cum, you felt it, cum spill all over your hand and floor, groaning loudly as your face cracked and popped, shifting into Chris Pratt.

“Okay everyone back to filming!” You heard, glancing at your face as the wet patch at your bulge, and the cum on the floor was gone, the outfit still on you, and teasing you, rubbing against your cock and nipples. You tried to explain before you felt the outfit force you to walk back to the set, confused as you found your mouth unable to form the right words to tell anyone what was going on, that you weren’t the real Chris Pratt.

But what if you were?

You found yourself on the set, and at the call of action, you immediately strode into the bar, your mannerisms and body language being compelling controlled, sauntering in as you said your lines perfectly,

“The name’s Peter Quill, but I stick with Starlord, way more badass.”

You’re unable to stop yourself, with every line you say, every scene you film, you find yourself becoming more like the actor, remembering your lines, your cues, your directions, pulling them all off perfectly with little to no second takes besides the moments you lose your train of thought, trying to resist, but ultimately unable to.

You have to face the facts, you’re Chris Pratt now, and you always have been, no matter how hard you try to resist it (but it’s not like you want to anyway).

Jack had stolen supplies from my office, from The Craftsman Studio and had simply assumed that I didn’t notice. But, I did and for his punishment I let him go ahead with his plan. Him and a friend, Lucas, spent their time, preparing themselves on the night of The Hunger Games: Mockingjay premier. Jack wanted wanted Liam Hemsworth, the perfect match for him. They began preparing the incantation, muttering under their breath and poof - nothing happened.

“Well that was a waste of time,” muttered Lucas bitterly. Jack was confused, his furrowed brows looking down.

“What the - It should have worked,” said Jack, looking around to see if anything was different. Lucas sighed.

“Well don’t give up just yet, look, you’re changing already,” Lucas pointed to the darkening colour appearing on Jack’s arm.  Jack looked up at him, visibly growing more confused. “Look, you’re already starting to get a suit, on your arm, look.” Jack looked down, horrified as he moved his arm up, only to watch it flop down.

“The suit isn’t growing on my arm, it is my arm!” cried Jack as he attempted to hold his darkening hands, watching the underside become a pale white as he got up, rushing to the door. “We have to go talk to that Craftsman guy, quick, help me!” Jack rushed to the door, tripping up as he looked down at his feet, scared and groaning as he felt them elongate as they darkened, becoming hollow and shiny before they fell off his feet, clopping to the ground as dress shoes. “Oh no! Oh fuck!” Jack cried as he wriggled his toes, feeling the shoes move to the side a little before they didn’t move altogether.

Jack crawled on his weakening knees, reaching for the door handle, and just as his hands clutched it, he was shocked as he couldn’t move his fingers, watching them twitch slightly before they began to darken and regress. He was horrified, groaning as he felt his dick starting to become erect, he was liking the idea, wanting to be worn like good clothes. No! He couldn’t get it out of his head, he didn’t want to be a suit! Or did he…?

He found himself, writhing on groaning on the floor, calling for help but unable to as he felt his dick throb against him, his own body shrinking as the darkening…comfortable texture raced up his neck, his mouth melting into his face, with the rest of his body, forming a collar as his eyes became half-lidded and he felt himself cum, again and again, moaning loudly for one last time as with his cum, his dick flopped after lengthening to form a clear black bowtie.

Lucas looked at his friend, confused as to what happened, but at the same time almost enamoured. He stepped closer, watching the suit, the tie twitching somewhat.

“Jack?” Lucas murmured. “What happened?” He got his answer. The suit suddenly clung onto him. The belt quickly whipped itself around Lucas’ arms, a bowtie stuffed itself in Lucas’ mouth, almost tasting like a cock as the suit took its time wrapping and wearing Lucas, disrobing him of his own clothes. As the shoes jumped on Lucas’ bare feet, he groaned as he felt his feet lengthen, growing as his toes stretched and the feet perfectly fitted the dress shoes. The pants climbed up Lucas’ legs, brushing them, making them thicker, more hairy and with muscular calves as they buttoned and zipped themselves on him. They rubbed at his underwear, turning them into Calvin Klein boxers which groped and squeezed at his penis, stretching it, making it thicker causing him to cum. Lucas felt himself groan loudly into the bowtie, groaning in a different voice and manner entirely.

“Pl-Please…” Lucas found himself moaning into the tie, blushing as the belt began to caress his face, Lucas found hair growing on his jaw which became more chiselled, morphing his facial features as his lips became larger, more able to expertly take the bowtie in his mouth. “Oh fuck…” Lucas, or Liam Hemsworth, groaned as the white shirt and black blazer wrapped itself around his body, he felt his chest grow, abdominal muscles pushing out, as his biceps thickened and his hands grew with brown hair growing on the back of his arms and on his chest, reaching down the navel.

His cock erupted for a second time and Liam moaned, his dick didn’t stop, he felt the bowtie leave his mouth and he almost whined in orgasm as he felt himself cum again, and again, it was only by the fifth time when he could only see a blinding light that Liam stumbled slightly, many cameras blinding his vision. He held his hand out slightly, his eyes somewhat narrower as he blinked and found himself, ready for the premier of The Hunger Games: Mockingjay.

Needless to say, the preparations for the premier was probably better than the movie itself.

anonymous asked:

I'd love to either be Ryan Guzman or be a pair of his boxers. Just being close to his perfect body would be amazing...

Ah, welcome to The Craftsman Studio, my humble abode. Now you want to be part of somebody, well that can certainly be arranged. As you feel your skin begin to feel numb, your fingers and toes now crunching for the last time as they disappear, you may resist and try to scream but feel your own mouth begin to feel somewhat empty, air still going through it, your heart still beating and mind racing with the euphoria of transformation, you’re alive and concious. Though as your body will fold in, you’ll realize you are alive only speaking through your thoughts.

That’s when you feel it, it begins as a groan as Guzman touches you delicately, his weather beaten fingers wrapping around you, stretching you open as he slowly slides you up one of this legs, feeling the muscular calves and definition from them as he does so. Then imagine the same going on with the other. You only reach the jackpot as you feel his large dick outlined against you, twitching somewhat as it meets your comforting texture.

Needless to say during the day you can do nothing but groan, knowing Guzman can hear your every thoughts as you’re a part of him. Oh but don’t worry, as he takes off his underwear for the day, you feel yourself changing, your texture and entire body changing shape until you form to fit a speedo, a new pair of boxers, etc. You’ll always be a part of him, no matter what underwear he wears and as you feel his dick pressed up against you, you could do nothing but relish the feeling of orgasm repeating in you, forever.

Originally posted by wmuse