Eda, a twenty-year-old mountain of a dude, stood at 6'3" and packed a solid 220 pounds. Forget subtle. Every move he made was a little too much – too loud, too strong. His shaved head was already slick with sweat after waking up from some seriously freaky dream.

He needed to piss, so Eda hauled himself out of bed and headed for the bathroom. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and froze. Right there, above his junk, was a tattoo. A weird one. "Shit! Those goddamn assholes!"

Last night was a blur of hanging with his jock buddies and way too many joints. He tried to piece it together... Had he made some ridiculously stupid bet? He couldn't remember a damn thing. Fuck, what if I did something I'm gonna regret?

Just as he was about to text his buddy, Mark, the tattoo started to glow. Red, with a little purple creeping in. Creepy as hell.

Eda: "What the actual fuck did I get into last night?" He growled, his voice thick with confusion.

Then, a voice. Right in his head, like someone was chilling next to him. "Hey there, sleepyhead~!"

Eda: "Who's there?! What the—" He yelped, completely freaked out.

"Welcome to your new life, honey! It's me, the tattoo. Chill out, I'm not gonna hurt you. It's more like... the opposite. Now, let me get to work."

Eda: "I've gotta be high as a kite still..." He shook his head, trying to clear it.

"It's me, remember? The tattoo. You can call me Ink. I'm your new bestie, here to help you find your, uh... purpose. We're, like, designed to help guys like you... expand their horizons. And we love a good boy who listens." Ink's voice was dripping with sass.

Eda: "Wait, what? Am I hallucinating?" He splashed water on his face, desperate for this to be a dream.

Ink: "Oh, honey, I can tell you're a virgin. Don't sweat it, sweetie, you'll get plenty of practice. I'm your new BFF, whether you like it or not. Though, maybe not quite as much as... well, you know."

Suddenly, his body shifted.

Eda: "Fuck! What's happening?!" He stumbled, dropping to his knees, the pain starting to kick in.

Ink: "Okay, bitch, your pussy's a virgin, so we gotta get you ready. Think of it as... pre-gaming. We'll start with the outside. You've got the body – 6'3", 220, a killer ass that'd make any guy drool. But that ass... needs a little... something." The way Ink talked, so flippant and nasty, made Eda want to puke.

Eda: "What are you? Why me?!" He was shaking, totally lost, and terrified.

Ink: "I'm a womb tattoo, duh. The one that's gonna show you what you're really meant for. And you'll never have to worry about condoms again. Bonus! Now, shut up and let me work. This is gonna take a while."

Ink: "Boobs. Gotta have 'em. Think ripe melons. Smooth, hairless, plump like a baby's butt, and a nice, bright pink. And the nipples? Oh, honey, they'll be the most sensitive things you've ever felt. Begging for attention." As Ink spoke, his chest swelled, the nipples hardening and turning a shocking pink. But the tattoo wasn't even close to being finished.

Eda was trapped, mortified, turning into a living, breathing sex toy. He was disgusted and terrified, but his protests were useless.

"Please, stop! I didn't do anything to deserve this!" Eda pleaded, tears welling up.

Ink paused, taking a metaphorical deep breath. Then, the real work began. First, his asshole. It became slick, almost... ready. Then, it stretched, opening wider, like it was designed for something big. Finally, deep inside, a new sensitivity, a musky scent that would make any guy's balls tighten. He was dripping, reeking of sex.

Ink chuckled, a cruel sound in Eda's head. "Look, buddy, I'm not making you do anything. I'm just giving you what you need – dick. And trust me, once you get a taste, you'll be crawling back for more. You'll be begging."

The changes continued, reshaping Eda inside and out, turning him into the ultimate object of desire. His muscles got even bigger, his shoulders wider, his legs long and lean.

Ink: "All done. Have fun. And try not to be a stubborn ass. That's my advice. See ya later!" The tattoo went dark, silent.

Eda was... different. The strong, take-charge guy was gone. He was a walking, talking cum dumpster, ready for anything. Still 6'3" and 200 pounds, but... slutty. Huge tits, a curvy ass – all designed for one thing. He could barely process it.

His hole... it wasn't his hole anymore. Pink, puckered, glistening with slime. His ass had spread, ready for anything. Inside, it felt like a goddamn Fleshlight. And the smell... a musky, overpowering scent that would follow him everywhere. Like a bitch in heat.

A week. The worst week of his life. The tattoo, the changes – they were still there. He'd tried to ignore it, to go on like normal. It was too much to handle, so he told himself it was all a nightmare. He'd just go to bed and hope it would all be gone in the morning.

But his pussy growled. It was hungry. He was on the rugby team, and every practice, that sweaty, jock pussy twitched. Nonstop. All through class, all through practice. It was driving him insane. He thought he could hide it, that tiny pink pucker buried between those massive glutes, but it was torture. Sometimes, he had to reach down and rub it, just to get some relief. Rubbing and slapping helped, a little, but it made him whimper, so he could only do it at home, alone.

And the tattoo had given him another "gift." He could see, in his mind's eye, every detail of every guy's cock he was near. Size, shape, hardness... everything.

After a week, he knew every cock on the team. He could practically taste them and knew how to make them explode. It was all burned into his brain. His body knew what it wanted. But he was fighting it. He was still Eda, dammit. He wasn't going to give in.

But he was cracking. He might break sooner than he thought.