Sin título

[hairy-bothered]

The Exception

This story is a spin-off of Body Swap Roulette

Tom could not stop thinking about his brief experience as a middle-aged daddy that one fateful night he played Body Swap Roulette with his friends. He often returned to his online profile and looked at the man who had messaged him - the man he briefly became for one glorious evening.

The photograph waited beneath the username: a rugged man in his mid-forties, dark hair escaping beneath a baseball cap, salt-and-pepper beard, chest hair spreading across a broad, solid torso.

Brian - the name was not listed in the app, but instead it was seared into his mind from the experience - an indelible part of his own consciousness - and a side-effect of playing the game he had not anticipated. Brian was the body Tom had worn for one impossible night during the roulette.

He had hated changing back. For weeks afterward, Tom kept remembering the weight of Brian’s arms, the scrape of his beard, the confident way he felt when he hooked-up with a younger man in Brian's body - his new dick thicker, his urges keen, sharp, with a hint of closeted desperation. Even the softness around his waist had felt substantial rather than imperfect. He had occupied space without apologizing for it.

What Tom had not expected to miss were the other things Brian had left in his mind. A woman laughing somewhere behind him. Two children arguing over a television remote. A suburban kitchen glowing at dawn. The pressure of a wedding ring that had never actually appeared on his finger and never truthfully belonged there to begin with. They were not memories exactly. More like emotional bruises left behind by a life he had touched.

At nine thirty on a Friday night, Tom sat alone at his kitchen table wearing the same red polo he had worn during the first game. He stared at Brian’s photograph until the screen dimmed. He had debated revisiting Brian’s body for weeks - but it was against the rules of the game he had agreed to with his friends. Too risky to do alone. Too much a chance of losing yourself in the shuffle.

Tom couldn’t stand it anymore - he needed to feel Brian again. Needed to feel his weight. Wanted to rub a hand through his scruff. Wanted to see his pouty eyes looking back at him in the mirror. Wanted to feel the weight of his dick in his hand. Most of all - Tom wanted to better understand Brian. So against the rules and his better judgement, Tom waited for Brian’s name to appear with a green dot then he restored his profile and pinged Brian. As soon as Brian responded Tom knew he sealed the deal.

The change began in his hands. His fingers thickened against the phone. Dark hair rose over his knuckles and forearms. The sleeves of the polo tightened as his biceps grew heavier, less sculpted than Don’s gym-built arms but more naturally powerful. His shoulders widened. A warm pressure filled his chest, followed by the familiar prickling spread of hair beneath the fabric.

Tom stood too quickly. The kitchen tilted as several inches of youth seemed to settle downward into weight. His waist thickened. His stomach pressed against the polo, not huge, but unmistakably middle-aged. His thighs filled his khakis. His belt dug in.

Then his face began to pull. He gripped the counter while his jaw broadened and his cheeks roughened. Brown and gray whiskers pushed across his skin, forming the same dense beard he had admired the first time. His hairline shifted. Fine creases gathered beside his eyes.

When the transformation released him, Tom looked into the dark reflection of the kitchen window. Brian looked back.

“God, I’m so fucking hot.” Tom whispered, hearing the older man’s voice come from his throat.

A second voice answered inside him. Not words. Wanting. The thought of a quiet bar off the interstate. A corner booth. Whiskey ordered without checking the price. The certainty that Brian went there when he needed an hour no one in his family could account for. Tom knew where to find him.

⸻

Brian was alone when Tom entered the bar.

He sat beneath a muted television, wearing a navy button-down with the sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows. A pale mark circled the finger where he had removed his wedding band. Tom felt the sight of it before he understood it: guilt, relief, and an old practiced sadness.

Brian looked up. His glass stopped halfway to his mouth. For several seconds neither man moved. Then Brian lowered the drink and said, “What the fuck!?”

Tom slid into the opposite side of the booth. Up close, the resemblance was exact. The same brown eyes. The same gray threaded through the beard. The same vertical line appearing between their brows.

Brian stared as though he had found a crack in reality and was trying to decide whether looking directly into it would make things worse.

Tom offered a nervous wide smile.

Brian’s expression changed with it. “You have my teeth.”

“I have more than that” he said gesturing downward with a stupid grin.

Brian glanced toward the bartender, then leaned across the table. “Who are you?”

“My name is Tom.”

“That doesn’t answer fucking anything.”

“No. It’s just the easiest part.”

Tom explained the body swap roulette as plainly as he could. Four friends. Four profiles. One night in borrowed bodies. He did not mention every detail, especially how much he had enjoyed Brian’s shape, or that he had fucked another man with Brian’s dick, but Brian seemed to understand it anyway.

“You chose to do this again,” Brian said.

“Yes.”

“Why me?”

Tom looked down at his thick, hairy hands. “Because look at yourself! Because I missed having all of this” he said as he moved one hand across his scruff and the other down to his pants.

Brian gave a humorless laugh. “You missed being a married man with a mortgage and two teenagers?”

“I missed feeling like you.”

“You don’t know what that feels like.”

Tom met his eyes. “Your daughter pretends she hates the old songs you play in the car, but you caught her singing one in the kitchen last Tuesday.”

Brian went still.

“Your son only calls you ‘Dad’ when he wants something. The rest of the time it’s ‘Brian’ because he knows it annoys you.”

“Stop.”

“You keep your wedding ring in the coin pocket of your jeans when you come here. You tell yourself removing it is more honest than wearing it.”

Brian’s face drained of color. Tom felt fear flare through both of them.

“I didn’t go looking for those things,” Tom said quietly. “They came with you.”

Brian’s hand closed around his glass. “What else?”

“That you’ve stood outside three gay bars and never gone in.”

The silence between them changed. The television crowd cheered soundlessly overhead.

Brian looked toward the window. “You need to leave.”

Tom started to rise then Brian caught his wrist.

The contact startled them both. Brian’s fingers encircled a wrist identical to his own. He turned it over and felt the palm of Tom’s hand. Rough. With hair encroaching from the wrist and across the knuckles.

“Wait,” he said.

Tom sat again. Brian studied him with a concentration that felt almost intimate. His gaze traveled over Tom’s face, then lowered to the open collar of the red polo, where dark chest hair showed above the top button.

“I don’t wear red,” Brian said.

“I do,” Tom replied.

“It looks better on me than I expected.”

Tom smiled. “You’re welcome.”

Brian’s mouth twitched despite himself, and his forehead creased as he looked Tom over. “It’s so surreal seeing my body from the outside. Do I really carry myself like that?” His eyes moved over the familiar breadth of Tom’s shoulders, the thickness through his waist, the gray threaded unevenly through the beard. “I never realized how dark the skin around my eyes had become, or how tired I look. Back in college I ran track and played soccer. I was lean enough that I could eat whatever I wanted and still see every muscle in my stomach. Even after I got married, I kept it up for a while. Morning runs, weekend leagues, lifting in the garage.” He gave a small, embarrassed shrug. “Then work got busier. The kids came. There was always something more important than going for a run, and eventually I stopped pretending I’d start again on Monday. Now my knees ache, my stomach hangs over my belt when I sit, and half the hair on my body is turning gray.” He studied Tom’s borrowed face with open disbelief. “How could you find me attractive like this?”

Tom glanced down at the body he was wearing, not critically but almost fondly. He spread one of Brian’s broad hands over the slightly soft weight at his middle, then looked back up. “Because none of that looks like failure to me.” Brian’s expression tightened, but Tom continued. “You look lived-in. Solid. Like you’ve spent years becoming someone instead of trying to stay twenty-five forever. I like the gray in your beard. I like the lines around your eyes. I like that your body is strong without looking like you built it for strangers to admire.” He flexed Brian’s fingers once, watching the tendons move beneath the hair on the back of the hand. “And I’ve always been attracted to older men. Not just because they’re older, but because they usually seem more comfortable taking up space.”

Brian let out a quiet laugh. “Comfortable? You’ve been inside my head. You know better than that.”

“I know you don’t feel comfortable,” Tom said. “That’s different from how you look.” He leaned forward slightly. “When I became you, I felt heavier, but I also felt grounded. I didn’t feel like I had to prove I belonged in the room. People looked at me and assumed I knew what I was doing. And when I looked in the mirror…” Tom paused, almost shy now. “I liked what I saw. The chest hair, the beard, the thicker waist, your hairy dick…all of it. I didn’t see some washed-up version of who you used to be. I saw a handsome man in his forties who has no idea how much of him is still worth wanting.”

Brian’s eyes dropped to the table. “You make it sound better than it is.”

“Maybe you’ve been describing yourself badly for so long that hearing the truth sounds exaggerated.”

That small surrender loosened something. Brian asked questions. Some were practical—how long the change lasted, whether Tom could control it, whether anyone else knew. Others were harder.

“Do you feel what I’m feeling right now?”

“Pieces of it.”

“What pieces?”

Tom considered lying. “You’re frightened.”

“Obviously.”

“You’re angry that I know you.”

Brian nodded once.

“And you want to kiss me.”

Brian’s eyes snapped to his.

Tom leaned back. “That part is fairly loud.”

For a moment Brian appeared offended. Then he glanced at Tom’s mouth. “It would be like kissing myself,” he said.

“Not exactly…” Tom replied.

“But you look exactly like me!”

“Maybe but I’m still mostly another man.”

Brian rubbed a thumb along the condensation on his half empty glass. “Technically.”

Tom laughed. “Technically?”

“If you are me—”

“I’m not.”

“—or close enough to me, then it’s not exactly cheating.”

“You took off your wedding ring before I arrived. You were ready to cheat…”

Brian looked down at his bare finger and Tom felt the shame move through him like a cold draft. It belonged to Brian, but it hurt in Tom’s chest.

“I’m not here to judge you,” Tom said.

“That makes one of us.”

“You don’t have to do anything.”

Brian looked at the duplicate sitting across from him. “That’s the problem. I do.”

⸻

Brian followed Tom home in his own car. He had texted his wife from the parking lot, saying an early unexpected Saturday client meeting made it easier to stay near the office for the night.

At Tom’s house, Brian wandered through the rooms slowly while Tom got the two men a drink. There was nothing remarkable about Tom’s house. A mismatched couch. Framed photographs. Shoes kicked beneath a table. A picture of Tom with Phil, Don, and Ralph at Pride, all four men sunburned and grinning.

Brian picked it up. “You just leave this out?”

“It’s my house.”

“Someone could see it.”

“Who? And why would I care if they did?”

Brian had no answer.

Tom came closer. Their shoulders nearly touched. “There aren’t any hidden compartments in my life,” he said.

Brian returned the frame to the shelf with unusual care. “That must be nice.”

Tom felt the ache beneath the words because some of it still lived inside him. He touched Brian’s cheek. Brian did not pull away. Their first kiss was hesitant, almost absurdly cautious for two men wearing the same face. Then Brian gripped the back of Tom’s neck and kissed him again with a hunger that belonged entirely to himself.

Later, in the bedroom, Brian paused beside the bed. “You said you might change back.”

“While I’m asleep.”

“What will you look like?”

“Twenty-five. Brown hair. Clean-shaven.”

“Handsome?”

“Devastatingly.”

Brian rolled his eyes, but his nervousness remained.

Tom took his hand. “You pinged my profile on Scruff. Do you remember? I’m assuming that meant you were into me. You can still leave.”

Brian looked from their joined hands to Tom’s face - his own face. “I spent forty-six years leaving, tonight I’m going to stay” he said. “Besides. When else will a get a chance to fuck myself?” Then he planted a kiss deeply onto Tom’s mouth.

“So you think you’re the top tonight?” Tom replied smirking at the opportunity that presented itself.

“I have been my entire life” Tom scoffed in between kissing Tom.

“We’ll see” Tom said with a grin while he slowly began to unbutton Brian’s shirt - sliding it over his shoulders and exposing Brian’s chest. He ran his hands through the older man’s chest hair - pulling himself closer as they kissed.

Brian then reached over to Tom’s red polo and reciprocated by lifting it over his head and rubbing Tom’s chest. He then reached a hand down to Tom’s cock and grabbed it through his khakis before unbuckling the belt and lowering the zipper - letting the duplicate of Brian’s thick uncut cock flop out of Tom’s pants.

“Sorry,” Tom smirked. “No underwear.”

Brian looked down to the fully erect version of his dick staring at him on another man's body. He lowered to his knees - hungry for the intimacy he had long desired but never acted on. He smiled up at Tom.

Tom placed a hand on Brian’s head guiding the man onto his cock. Brian took the head into his mouth and placed a hand along the shaft. He slowly moved his hand up and down the base while sucking lightly on the head.

“Whoa,” Tom said. “Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

Brian grinned and pulled his mouth off Tom’s dick while still pumping the shaft. “It’s my dick. You think I don’t know what it likes?”

“That’s fair…” Tom replied. “But I don’t recall giving you permission to stop.” He then grabbed Brian’s head with both hands and thrust his borrowed dick deep into Brian’s mouth.

What followed was not gentle. It was tender in flashes and anxious in others, charged by the knowledge of their shared body between them. Tom leaned into the fantasy with a kind of defiant intensity, letting Brian see and experience what he wanted, letting himself feel the strange power of being desired through another man’s outline.

Before long Tom had Brian naked on his back on the the bed taking a turning sucking his cock. He then spread Brian's cheeks and began to eat his asshole - the rough short beard scratching Brian and causing him to giggle.

“You think that’s funny?” Tom growled with the older man’s voice. Beginning to lose himself in the blur of desire. “Let’s see how you feel when I fuck you with your own dick, daddy.”

Brian stopped laughing and began to protest “Ohh, I don’t know about ….” but it was too late. Tom stood up, pulled Brian to the edge of the bed, lined up the tip of his older dick and began to push it into Brian’s tight virgin asshole.

“Uhhhh” was all Brian could get out before Tom pushed fully into his ass. Brian squeezed his eyes shut as the pain from penetration shook through his body.

After a few hard thrusts, Brian started to gently moan as Tom settled into a more steady rhythm. Tom pushed Brian further onto the bed and climbed on - leaning forward into missionary position so he could watch Brian’s face - but more importantly so that Brian could see as clear as day that he was being fucked by himself.

“Open your eyes” Tom commanded. “Do you like this? Do you like the feeling of getting fucked by your own big hairy dick?” Tom whispered.

Brian let out a soft moan as he scanned the man above him from bottom to top - his thick bush, his soft but still muscled midsection, his hairy chest, before settling into his own brown eyes. “Yes, sir” was all he could get out between the surge of pain and pleasure overwhelming his body.

“Good” Tom smirked. “Because I like fucking you with your own daddy cock. I like looking down on you beneath me, powerless, as I take your asshole’s virginity. I like you looking up at me and seeing yourself. And most of all, I like the idea of cumming so deep inside you you’ll carry it home with you tomorrow morning.”

Tom’s pace gradually quickened as Brian reached a hand down to his own dick and started jerking off. Just as Tom reached climax and shot his load deep into the mirror image of the ass he wore, Brian followed suit - spewing rope after rope of cum on his hairy chest.

The two men collapsed into a pile of sweat and testosterone. Brian’s sticky cum resting between their torsos. They stayed like that for several minutes listening as their breathing gradually slowed.

Tom pushed up into his hands and looked Brian in the eyes. “I told you we’d see if you were a top.” The two men then shared a brief laugh and kiss before settling into position to sleep - Brian getting to be the little spoon for the first time in his life.

As Brian drifted to sleep with Tom’s arms wrapped around him he felt overwhelmed with a feeling of fullness - both the fullness of having been filled by another man - cum still leaking out of his asshole - and the fullness of finally acting on a desire he had kept deep inside himself for 30 years. Where he would go from here remained to be seen...

⸻

Tom woke sometime in the night without opening his eyes. Brian’s borrowed body was dissolving. His beard receded into his skin. His jaw narrowed. The weight around his middle softened, then vanished. His chest contracted beneath Brian’s sleeping arm, the dense hair thinning to the lighter growth of his own body.

The strangest part was the silence inside him. Brian’s emotions loosened their hold. The family kitchen faded. The remembered pressure of a ring disappeared. Tom was left with sympathy rather than possession, knowledge without instinct. He became himself again and slipped back into sleep.

Later, morning light filled the room. Brian woke first. Tom surfaced to the sharp movement of the mattress and found Brian sitting upright, staring down at him.

The older man had pulled the sheet across his waist. Panic hardened his face.

Recognition arrived slowly. “Tom?”

“Still me.”

Brian stared at his real face. Tom suddenly felt very young beneath the inspection. Without Brian’s beard and bulk, he had lost the authority that had carried him through the previous night.

“You’re different,” Brian said.

“I warned you.”

“I know.”

“You can go if you want.”

Brian glanced toward the bedroom door, but he did not move.

Tom sat up, keeping a careful distance between them. “The man you came home with isn’t here anymore - not totally anyway.”

Brian looked down at his hands. “Last night, I told myself it wasn’t really another man.”

Tom waited.

“That was the excuse,” Brian said. “Not the reason.”

“What was the reason?”

Brian raised his eyes to Tom’s. “You looked at me like you already knew everything ugly about me and hadn’t decided to leave.”

“I didn’t think it was ugly.”

“You were wearing my face. That made it easier to believe you.”

Tom swallowed. “And now?”

Brian reached toward him, hesitated, then placed his palm against Tom’s smooth cheek.

“Now I have to believe you.”

He kissed Tom again. This kiss was quieter than the ones they had shared the night before. There was no mirror in it. No technical loophole. Brian touched a younger man with a different face and knew exactly what he was doing.

Afterward, still naked, except for a cap Tom had playfully put on his head before he left the bedroom because it “made him look like a baseball daddy,” Brian made coffee in the kitchen. Tom looked through his closet for a more comfortable shirt than the button-up Brian came in that might fit the larger man. Having failed, he gathered Brian's clothes from the night before.

When Tom entered the kitchen with Brian’s clothes he found Brian playfully flexing for him in the morning sunlight.

“Be honest,” Brian said. “In the light of day, without my face on you, do I still look good?”

Tom let his gaze linger. “Brian, I liked your body enough to borrow it twice. That should answer the question.”

The two men shared a laugh as Brian reached for his pants and his button up that Tom brought him.

Later at the kitchen counter while they were drinking their coffee, Brian folded a dish towel into a precise square.

“You always do that,” Tom said.

Brian looked down. “Do what?”

“Make yourself useful when you’re uncomfortable.”

“Did you learn that from becoming me?”

“Yes.”

“I’m beginning to resent how much you know.”

“You liked it last night," Tom replied with a wink.

“You were more respectful when you had my face.”

“I don’t think anything we did last night would be classified as respectful! But I also had your repression. It slowed the real me down. I was giving it like 50 percent.”

Brian laughed before he could stop himself. Then his phone buzzed on the counter and the laughter disappeared. Tom watched him read the message in silence.

“I need to go home,” Brian said.

“I know.”

At the front door, Brian hesitated. “Can you become me again?”

“Probably.”

“Can I see you again?”

Tom looked at the older man he had wanted so badly to inhabit. “Yes,” he said. “But I don’t want that to be the only version of me you’ll come here for.”

Brian’s gaze moved over Tom’s real face. “It isn’t. I mean, it won't be.”

“Then next time, come here to see me.”

Brian nodded, though the answer frightened him.

[aindomen]

Gio is up at it again

Stella stepped out of her late-night brand photoshoot in a sleek Jakarta studio, still glowing in her coquette aesthetic — soft pink satin dress hugging her dainty figure, delicate bows in her hair, and a touch of elegant makeup that screamed “feminine princess.” She called a Bluebird taxi, exhausted but satisfied with the content she’d captured. Her loyal, gentle boyfriend Gio had texted her earlier saying he couldn't pick her up because the meeting with this British client of his extended. She had no idea that it was a lie and he was already tracking her via Find My iPhone, his mind burning with the urge to surprise her with their darkest shared fantasy.

The Bluebird taxi arrived. The driver is a handsome, muscular young man in his blue uniform shirt. He looked slightly sweaty, but otherwise nice and polite as he greeted her.

“Selamat malam, Mbak. Tujuan Pluit ya?” (Evening ma'am. Goes to Pluit, right?)

Stella smiled sweetly and settled in the back seat. The car merged onto the highway, city lights blurring past. Unbeknownst to her, Gio had initiated the astral projection without warning. His consciousness slammed into the driver’s body in seconds, shoving the real polite young taxi driver's mind deep into the background. Gio now controlled the strong, sweaty frame completely.

For the first twenty minutes, he played the part perfectly — calm voice, safe driving, even making small talk about the weather and traffic. Stella relaxed, scrolling through her Instagram feed of elegant photos.

Then the taxi suddenly took an unfamiliar exit ramp.

Stella sat up. “Pak, ini bukan jalan biasa. Kenapa keluar di sini?” (This is not the usual way. Why are we out from here?)

The driver (Gio) glanced at her through the rearview mirror, his voice still gentle. “Jalan pintas Mbak, tenang aja, saya tau jalan, percaya aja" (It's a shortcut ma'am, calm down, I know how to get around, trust me)

Stella’s heart raced. “No, turn back! This isn’t the way home!” she said in a sudden enraged switch to English as she's panicking

The car continued deeper into a dimly lit industrial area. Streetlights grew sparse. Gio kept the nice act going a little longer, enjoying the slow build of fear in her voice. “Tenang, Mbak. Saya cuma mau bawa Mbak ke tujuan. Jangan panik.” (Relax ma'am. I just want to bring you to the destination. Don't be panic)

He pulled into an abandoned parking lot behind an old warehouse. The engine died. The doors locked with a click. Gio stepped out of the driver’s seat, his muscular body moving with predatory grace, blue Bluebird shirt clinging to his sweat-glistened abs. He opened the back door and slid in beside her.

Stella pressed against the seat, eyes wide. “What are you doing?! Let me out!”

Gio’s eyes glinted with dark mischief — the exact look Stella knew too well. But the crude words that came next shattered the illusion of the pious driver.

“Tujuan di maps mungkin memang Pluit. Tapi tujuan sebenarnya adalah kamu sampe klimaks dan saya bikin Mbak crot kemana-mana. Saya udah pengalaman sama banyak lonte di deket depo, saya tahu cara bikin memek cewek crot dengan cepet kalau Mbak khawatir ditungguin orang rumah," (Yes your destination on the maps might be Pluit, but the real destination is your climax as you squirt your tasty coquette pussy juices. I have plenty of experience with whores near the taxi depot, I know how to make you reach there quick if your concern is people at home is waiting for you)

Stella froze. The crude shift, the filthy confidence — that glint in his eyes. It's Gio. Her gentle boyfriend had possessed this Bluebird driver without telling her. Relief mixed with a rush of filthy arousal. She decided to play along fully, letting terror melt into desperate submission.

“P-please… don’t hurt me…” she whimpered, acting terrified even as her thighs squeezed together.

Gio (in the driver’s body) laughed low and grabbed her chin roughly with his strong hand.

He slapped her pretty face lightly, then harder. “Diem, memek! Emang pelacur ya lho, dideketin sama supir taksi ditengah jalan bukannya beneran marah dan ngelawan, lo malah nyerah gitu aja," (Shut the fuck up, cunt! You're one little whore, getting approached and cornered by a rogue taxi driver and instead of getting angry, you just give up and get wet???)

Stella just whimpered as she can sense the relentless penetration of the slick fingers into her anal. One finger quickly turned two, then three, and she's started to lose it as her legs trembled. Stella moaned even louder as Gio up the ante with his whispers, her elegant dress riding up. Gio yanked the zipper of his black pants down and pulled out the driver’s thick, veiny cock — already rock hard and musky from the long night shift. He slapped the heavy cock across her lips and cheeks as he teased how smelly it must be as he's been driving since 6 AM all sweaty and baked with the sun

Stella whimpered in fake fear before eagerly licking and sucking, her dainty hands wrapping around the shaft. Gio groaned loudly, pushing deeper into her mouth.

“HHHNNNGHGG!! Isep kontol abang, lonte. Emang dasar perempuan bejat ya lo, punya fantasi kayak orang sakit, ini supir rajin shalat gak pernah nyentuh memek siapa-siapa, eh lo suruh pacar cabul lu itu ngendaliin badan dia. Emang sakit sih lo. LAH JING, BISA NELEN GAK SIH LO? RILEKS DONG TENGGOROKANNYA, INI KONTOL MASIH ADA SEJENGKAL LAGI WOE!" (Suck my dick, whore. You are indeed one indecent woman, such a sick fantasy, like seriously this driver is a fucking pious man that never skipped his prayer nor actually near any of those little sluts nearby the depot, but then you have to tell your boyfriend to control and corrupt his body. HEY, OPEN UP THAT THROAT, RELAX! THERE'S AT LEAST ONE PALM-LENGTH LEFT!)

He pulled her up by the hair, ripped her pink dress open at the front, exposing her perky breasts, and shoved her face-down across the back seat. Her lace panties were torn aside in one rough motion.

“Basah banget ini memek lu, anjing!” (Your pussy is so wet, bitch!) He slapped her pussy hard, Plak! Plak! “Sok princess, sok pure di Instagram, sok woman empowerment, girls girls, tapi paling sange kalau dientot mendadak sama orang-orang gak have. Suka dientot di parkiran sepi sama sopir Bluebird. Emang cewek tolol," (You feminist snob, heck, you are acting all feminist and empowered, but the moment a girthy thick cock split you open, you turned dumb and needy! You enjoyed getting dicked down by poor people or some lowly taxi driver in an abandoned parking lot, you dumb bitch!)

Without warning, Gio slammed the thick cock balls-deep into her soaked pussy.

"UNGGHHHHHAAAHHHH!!” he groaned as he started pounding her mercilessly. The car rocked with every brutal thrust. His blue Bluebird shirt rubbed against her back, sweat dripping onto her soft skin.

Stella cried out, fully dropping the terrified act into raw pleasure. “I’m… I’m just a filthy hypocrite coquette! A fake dainty whore who gets wet being used by a taxi driver!”

The abandoned lot was silent except for the wet slapping sounds and Stella’s broken moans. Gio kept degrading her in crude Indonesian, his voice raw and low-class.

Stella comes violently, her body convulsing around his cock, screaming in ecstasy. Gio just doesn't stop. He pulled out, flipped her onto her back, and drove back in even deeper, legs over his shoulders.

“Lihat muka lu yang cantik ini, pelacur. Riasan coquette lu luntur semua gara-gara kontol abang. Lu cuma lonte murahan yang suka dihina!” (Look at this pretty face of yours. All a trainwreck because of my cock! You're nothing but a protesting cheap whore) He choked her lightly while pounding, his muscular Bluebird-clad body dominating her completely.

Another orgasm ripped through Stella. She was lost in the pleasure, all pretense gone. “Yes… use me… I’m your braindead whore…”

Gio growled, thrusting faster. With a final deep groan, he buried himself to the hilt and filled her completely, hot cum flooding her pussy. Stella trembled through another climax, ruined and satisfied.

They stayed locked together for a moment, breathing heavily. Gio leaned down, still in the driver’s body, and whispered one last crude line with a smirk.

“Besok kalau lu naik Bluebird lagi, ingat abang yang bikin memek lu ngocor ini. Ngerti, lonte coquette?” (If you ever ride Bluebird again, remember how I fucked you on the backseat ya)

Slowly, Gio withdrew his consciousness, leaving the real pious driver confused and disoriented. He made sure Stella is safe before returning to his own body at home.

Stella lay there in the back seat, dress torn, makeup ruined, cum leaking down her thighs, smiling dreamily. The contrast between her elegant influencer image and this raw, degrading taxi encounter is everything she craved. She already cannot wait for Gio’s next surprise possession. In the meantime, this taxi driver passed out upon being used as the conduit for Gio's fucked up kink.

As his soul slammed back to his body, Gio texted Stella

"Kok belum nyampe-nyampe yang?" (Why haven't you arrived, babe?)

He knows Stella will leak one more time upon reading such text as he heads out to pick her up

[aindomen]

Outside of the camera frame, Broto Dharmawan's very own son, Jati, is busy sucking and worshipping his father's fresh-from-work sweaty-socked feet. It's a perfect arrangement for Jati. His gaming account gained virality as people tuned in to watch the late 40s fit buff daddy beat the asses of the much younger players and while at the same time he has quality time with his father and his boyfriend. Where's the boyfriend in the equation? Well......let's just say, the Broto Dharmawan on screen is not necessarily the real Broto Dharmawan as there's just no way in hell the well-known law firm partner can spend hours playing video games with the amount of responsibility and client roster he handled. But it's not like the viewers know who the fuck is Pak Broto Dharmawan, and it's not like his father is a very public person so people cannot pinpoint him that easily. All they see is a hunky Indonesian muscle daddy on screen with his deep baritone voice that sounded so eargasmic under a random name that they wouldn't even care to decipher its meaning......

So while the real Broto buried himself with work, his 19 years old only son and children feeling some sort of daddy issues decided that maybe his boyfriend could fill in the daddy role he sorely missed by putting on the enchanted clothing piece that belonged to the real Pak Broto. At first, Narendra thought that Jati turned delusional or something with the outlandish claim, so when Narendra put on Jati's father's shorts, he went for it skeptical.

But once his quads exploded upon putting on Pak Broto's shorts, Narendra stared back at Jati in awe and quickly grabbed the rest of the clothes to make the process faster as he fills in the white tanktop and starts to get older too in the process, hairline slowly receding and facial structure started to reshape itself

"Well, it's official. We're going to stream with camera on every month and while you played pretend as my dad on screen, I'll be down there doing all sort of things to you, do you understand that, Daddy?"

"Oh yeah boy, definitely. You're saying that you'll worship my stinky feet or get choked on my cock while I put on the appearance for an hour or two gathering coins and behaving all straight to attract all spectrum of viewers that want to take a peek at the hunky muscleman,"

"Naren! You're making me hard with that speech! Stop taking this so seriously so earl---UMMPPHHHH" Jati said before being silenced as the meaty hand of his dad closed his mouth and the towering figure of Broto Dharmawan himself literally cornered him to the wall

"Is that how you speak to your father, whore? And why do you call me with your fruity friend's names? Yeah, I know about you two, I'm a fucking lawyer, I read people, your closet is literally transparent boy, and this hard cock clearly proved it," Narendra in his Broto form said, grabbing Jati's hardening bulge as he is several centimeters taller and completely utilized his frame to dominate. That interaction caused Jati to practically cummed on the spot.

That was 2 months ago. Nowadays, such interaction is common between the "father" and son before the camera rolled. So far, no one noticed anything amiss about the daddy they see on screen and since he doesn't answer questions about personal life, everyone stopped asking anyway. The viewers are also unaware of the activity below the frame and Jati would love to keep such arrangement going......

[agginthabag]

Hot Shower

[fantasyvessels]

MEMORY REWRITE

My older step brother Roy got into a motorcycle accident that led to a serious head injury, but with our parents out of town on vacation I was the only family member on call to see him. When I got to the hospital Roy was laying in bed asleep, he looked peaceful actually. The doctor explained to me exactly what happened and the potential memory loss he may have suffered. He still hadn’t woken up from his surgery. They said they didn’t know for sure how bad the accident damaged his memory but that he was very lucky to even be alive with only some scars on the back of his head. I thanked the doctor and waited by Roy’s bedside.

To be honest me and Roy didn’t even like each other, in fact I couldn’t stand him. He hated me because I was gay and I hated him because he was an asshole. He’s done nothing but give me crap since his mom and my dad married and living with him was no walk in the park. He’s knocked me to the ground on more than one occasion in one of his drunken fits. In fact I wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t been drinking before riding his bike which got him in this situation. I talked to my parents on the phone and told them what the doctor told me and that I’d wait for him to wake up.

I waited for hours almost falling asleep in the chair, then right before I dozed off Roy’s eyes blinked open.

“Hey.. Uh Roy, how do you feel?” I asked as he looked around the room with puzzled look on his face.

“Where am I?” He asked sounding lost.

“You’re in the hospital Roy, the doctors said you might not remember how you got here, I’m gonna go get a doctor I’ll be right back.” I said standing up and getting ready to leave the room.

“Who are you? And who is Roy?” Roy asked with a serious look of confusion. I stopped in my tracks and spun back around. He was serious, the doctors said he might not remember the accident but it looked more like he didn’t remember anything.

“You’re Roy, Roy Martin? You don’t know who you are?” I asked.

He shook his head, “My names Roy? Roy Martin? Then who are you?” He asked.

“I’m your..” I stopped myself as an idea clicked in my head. I know it’s probably morally fucked up to take advantage of someone who had a head injury but this was Roy. He was not a good guy, and not just to me. He beat up several kids when we were in high school, he’s cheated on practically all of his girlfriends, and he has caused nothing but trouble for our parents growing up. And you know what, I wanted revenge but more than that, I wanted to fulfill some of my deepest darkest sexual fantasies with him, and I might have an opportunity here.

“Wow you really don’t remember anything.” I said faking my concern, “You’re in the hospital Roy you got into a motorcycle accident coming to see me, I’m your.. Well it’s gonna be hard to believe but in your secret boyfriend.” I lied.

“Accident? Secret boyfriend? Wait, I’m gay?” He asked still confused.

“Yeah, but you’re not exactly comfortable with your sexuality yet that’s why we’ve kept his thing between you and I a secret. Not only to protect your sexuality but also so out parents don’t find out. See, we fell in love in high school but then our parents got married to each other and now you’re also my step brother, which makes it even more complicated.” Wow this story I was making up was starting to sound like a sop opera.

“You’re my brother too?” He asked.

“Step.” I corrected. “Don’t worry you’re going I come home with me and I’ll help you remember everything about your old life.” I said putting a hand on his shoulder to test the waters. He didn’t pull back or anything.

“Thank you I need that. I can’t believe I could forget about all that. And you’re sure I’m gay? Shouldn’t I get, ya know horny just looking at you then?” He asked.

Crap, “That’s the thing you love having sex with guys it’s just you have to think about girls first, but you don’t actually want to have sex wit a girl it’s just the thought you use so you can have sex with me.” I lied quickly grabbing a magazine and showing him a picture of a model, “look at this picture and imagine this girl in your head.” I told him as he stared at the magazine intently. I reached my hand under his blanket and started massaging his cock. He didn’t stop me, I finally got to feel that big cock of his I’d fantasized about. I felt it grow and harem in my hand.

“I think it’s working.” He said excitedly and I leaned down and kissed him, he returned the favor sticking his tongue in my mouth in sure he still had memories of his past exploits somewhere in his subconscious that made him kiss me like that.

“Now let’s check and take a look to make sure it really worked. I want you to stand up for me Roy, and I want you to pull that hard dick of yours out of your pants for me to see.” I commanded him feeling powerful.

“Ok sure.” He said standing up and pulling out his erection for me to inspect, “Like that?” He asked for my approval, pointing at his monster sized cock.

“Perfect!” I exclaimed admiring his body now that he was standing his muscular body exposed with out the hospital sheets covering it up.

I came over to him and sat on the bed I front of him. I took his cock in my hand and licked my tongue across his shaft.

“Now what are you doing?” He asked his eyes brows still arched in confusion, but I could see chill bumps appearing on his body.

“Reminding you why you love me.” I said grabbing socks and telling to stuff then his mouth. “I don’t want the doctors to hear us and interrupt.” He obeyed and I wrapped my mouth around his cock. He was moaning and groaning but his voice was muffled by the socks he had in his mouth. Finally he shot his load in my mouth and I swallowed it. I stood up and pulled the socks out of his mouth. He had the stupidest smile on his face, to him it was like having his very first orgasm.

“You’re gonna be okay now Roy I’m going to help you remember everything.” I said as kissed again.

“Thank you,” he smiled at me and looked down at himself, “Woah hey! I’ve got a tattoo!” He exclaimed excitedly.

“Yeah there is a lot we should talk about. I gave him a quick run down of his life, there see a lot of truths in my stories but I did add some things that involved us. I also told him not to tell the doctors that he’d lost his memories, I didn’t want them to run tests on him and poke him with needles, I convinced him he was terrified of needles. The doctor came in and completely bought it, we went home to my place where I continued to build up his new memories. In just a few days time he was acting ore like his old self to a degree, granted a lot nicer, at least in public. But when I was alone with him I’d turn on some porn of some girl getting plowed and he’d get real horny and he would burry his cock on my and ride me all night. He wasn’t the gentlest lover but it was definitely hot.

It’s funny, out parents never caught into the fact that Roy’s memories had been completely wiped and I’d basically reprogrammed him to be my secret lover.

[soul-controller]

Interpreting Your Desires

“Whoa, what the fuck” I groggly say as I turn on the bathroom light to go take a piss. When I look in the mirror, I’m no longer met with my dorky visage, but rather the stunning features of my roommate Jeremy. I quickly shuffle into Jeremy’s bedroom to find it completely empty. Looking for a phone, I quickly grab it off of his nightstand and pace back into the bathroom. I watch as it springs to life and immediately opens due to his FaceID. Unable to believe what’s going on, I pull up the camera and turn on the front camera as I stare at the shocked expression plastered across Jeremy’s flawless face. Still in awe about how I’m no longer Toby, my old self, I take a selfie and stare at Jeremy’s body. Still trying to get used to my new body, I flex my large biceps and look at the tattoos and just think about how buff and masculine I look. While staring at my puffed out pecs, I recognize the tiny crystal perfectly settled within the valley of these enormous muscles and try to think about how this all happened.

I first met Jeremy on campus when he utilized my tutoring services to help him pass his general requirements in freshman year. For years now, I’ve had a crush on him, but the attraction has only grown the closer we got. Somehow, we’ve become close friends; so much so that we’re now rooming together for our senior year. Unfortunately for me, Jeremy is painfully straight, which is always made abundantly clear based on the constant female moans I always hear echoing through the walls. When it came time for me to come out to him, Jeremy surprised me by telling me he knew and didn’t mind the fact that I was gay. In fact, he even offered to be my wingman on Friday nights when we would go bouncing between the local gay club and straight bars. He was an awesome guy, but I wanted more than just his friendship, I wanted companionship. Luckily for me, last night was Jeremy’s birthday, so I knew it was the perfect opportunity to try and make him mine. 

Due to my hopeless desire to be with him, I was willing to try anything, so I spent several weeks scouring the internet for weeks looking for various spells. Of course, nothing worked due to the fact that spells aren’t real, so I just continued searching for any glimmer of possibility of my fantasy being fulfilled. One late night, I eventually came across a website that was selling several enchanted items. Looking at the various possibilities, I found myself intensely drawn towards this two-piece crystal necklace set. When clicking the link, the website stated that when both the purchaser and the subject wear their corresponding necklace, their inner most desires will be fulfilled. Looking at the crystal charm on the necklace one more time, I decided to bite the bullet and send this random website my $59.99 + shipping just on the off-chance that my desires could actually come true.

“But bro, why am I Jeremy instead of him being my boyfriend…” I say out loud, quickly coming back to reality. Still not used to hearing his voice coming out of my mouth and also confused by my use of words like “bro”, my hands instinctively reach for my throat as my mind still gets confused trying to wrap my brain around it all. Curious about what happened to my body, I turn out of the bathroom and walk down the hallway, eventually finding myself outside my old room. Quickly knocking on the door, I wait until the door opens and I’m greeted to my old body. 

“Whoa, how am I staring at myself” my old body cries out, the understandable state of shock spreading across his face. “Uh bro, I kind of ordered a magical necklace that said it would fulfill our inner desires. I thought it was going to be a waste of time, but I guess it worked…” I quickly say, watching as my old face tries to register what I just said. “So, what was your desire then?” I hear him say in his now higher voice. “Uh, well, I really liked you and wanted to be closer to you.” Toby’s face goes blank as he understands the whole reason of the necklace present and finally connects the dots. Somewhat afraid of the power the necklace seemingly has, Toby quickly took off his necklace and threw it across the room in fear. Still curious about why we swapped bodies instead of him just becoming gay and finding me attractive, I quickly ponder “Well, what was your desire then?” 

His eyes quickly dart down as he tilts his head down in shame.

“Well, I kind of wished to be more like you. I always wished I was smarter like you and wasn’t such an idiot at school… I mean, I always felt so dumb next to you whenever you had to teach me about Psychology and math.” Toby says, which causes me to realize that his desire was what caused this. My obsession with Jeremy’s body and his desire to be smart like me just caused the necklaces to swap our bodies since that was the easiest fix. While thinking about our friendship, I struggle to remember any of my days as a tutor. In fact, thinking about tutoring only gives me memories of where I met Toby and he spent hours trying to teach me the simplest ideas. “Whoa, you really did take my intelligence bro.” I say, leaning against the doorway as I close my eyes and rub my head. I continue to try to force myself to think about my previous education. However, I struggle to pull up any information from the various classes I took in my old body. In fact, I stumble to even remember simple math problems as I think back to my high school days. When I begin to think about science and experiments, the only thing that comes to mind is various exercises and diet information such as portioning food and various diets to help me gain muscle.

Watching me in curiosity, Toby pulls his glasses down and stares as he heads over to his desk and pulls out his textbook. “Well, I suppose if I do have this newfound knowledge, I better take advantage of it!” He says as he grabs a notebook on the desk and begins working. “So like, you don’t want to swap back bro? What about your body?” I say, confused about how to proceed. His total acceptance of his situation has left me even more off-balance as I try to get adjusted to my new body. Toby turns to look at me before matter-of-factly saying “Well, I obviously loved my body since I spent so much time working on it. But, I do think it’s a no-brainer to sacrifice it to get all of this intelligence. Like, Jeremy, you had a full job lined up as Toby after graduating where you’d be making six figures. My old body had no aspirations other than working out and fucking nonstop.” He says with a light chuckle. I look at him in confusion as he smiles at me and asks “Are you happy with this?”

Thinking about his question, I begin to ponder if this is actually a blessing in disguise. I had no passion for that career Toby mentioned anyway, so I like the idea of having tons of possibilities in terms of what I can do after graduating. I mean, sure I’m a lot dumber and struggle in college, but at least it’s my senior year and I already helped Jeremy take the hard classes prior to the swap. So now, I can just cruise by with these last few classes and be free from the embarrassment of college learning. I start to smile as I imagine the possible paths my future can go now. I could become a personal trainer and help people get as buff as me, or I could even go harder with these gains and start professionally bodybuilding. “You know what, you’re right dude!” I say with a laugh. “This is fucking rad!” I continue as I start flexing my muscles and get turned on thinking about waking up as Jeremy every day. Toby looks up from his textbook and flashes a quick smile and says “Well, I’m glad it’s settled then”, before quickly diving back into his studies.

Ready to get out of this apartment and explore the town with my new body, I quickly turn around and head out of Toby’s room and towards my new room. I scan the room and pick up the various clothes strewn across the floor. Standing out to me, I quickly grab a light blue tank top and some shorts along with my phone. I run down the hallway with ease as my muscular body suffers no strain from the fast jog. I’ve had to run down the hallway multiple times when I was running late for classes, and in my old body, I was constantly out of breath with just that short distance. While running past Toby’s room, I quickly scream out to him, “See you later Toby, I’m going out!” As I get into the living room and start putting on my sneakers, I watch as his door opens as he quickly peeks his head out. He quickly says “Alright, see you later” and slams the door. I laugh and think happily about how great he feels with his new body. I didn’t expect him to take it so well, but I’m glad it didn’t lead to tons of drama. I mean, personally, I wouldn’t want to be stuck studying smart shit in those various textbooks all day, but if that’s what makes him happy, I’m glad I could help somehow. Happily thinking about how nice it is to be freed from my intelligence in exchange for this body, I hop into my car and speed off. It’s impossible to keep my tight shorts from tenting as I drive and keep thinking about how many of those twinks will be throwing themselves at me once I get to the gay club. I quickly pull out my phone and download Grindr. I snap a few pictures of my swole muscles and post one onto the new account, eager to see how many messages I can receive once I reach my destination.

I suppose Toby was right, we truly did get what we’ve always desired…

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[mtfstuff]

Detective Mark

It was largely a standard mission. To infiltrate and arrest criminals and drug dealers. Not a big thing.

The problem is that they've managed to get their hands on one of those body possession machines. Thats how they managed to get out of prison. According to the latest report, they have taken teenagers in possession. After that mission everything changed, but let me tell you about it from the start.

I was making myself something to eat as my boss walked in to talk to me.

"I got a new mission for you, Mark. Top secret, if you agree to do it.", he said.

"I'm listening. What should I do?", I answered.

"Criminals escaped the prison. Kenny Miller and Dan Schwarz. You know them?"

"Of course. I was the one who brought them behind bars. How did they escape?"

"Body possession. They got two guards which we later found unconscious 2 miles next to the prison."

"And my mission is to arrest them?"

"Roughly, yes. According to our latest reports they've managed to possess bodies of teenagers on a high school to start selling drugs again."

Now I knew what he wanted.

"I wont do that. You know I'm not into that.", I said.

"Top secret,  remember Mark. You're in.", he answered with a grin.

I let out a deep breath.

"Who will I take over?", I asked.

"The adoptive son of my dead sister.  He goes to the same school and was friends with the possessed victims. He is ready, so if you could follow me."

My boss walks away and I follow him through a door into the next room. The machine took almost the entire space of the room and by the looks of it, it was ready to use.

In front of it was a young guy, probably my new body. He turns around to reveal his thick glasses. He has to be almost blind without them, I thought.

"Hi, I'm Eric.", he said reaching forward to shake my hand. I felt how he checked me out. How he glanced at my arms, my beard and my boots.

I shook his hand.

"I'm Mark. I'll be the one you're swapping bodies with.", I said.

I saw how his eyes lightened up until my boss started talking.

"Not really.", he said. "As Mark needs your knowledge about the school Eric, we'll place his consciousness over yours."

"So we'll be two guys in one body?", I asked.

"Correct.", he answered.

Eric and I sit down at the opposite ends of the machine. Arms, legs and head are tied to the machine. We both give the sign that we are ready. I close my eyes and count to 3. As I open them again, everything looks blurry.

"I cant see shit!", I said with a high pitched voice.

Cant wait to have my body back soon, this body is not made for a man like me, I thought.

I'm sorry that you dont like my body but you agreed to do this mission, I heard the high pitched voice in my head. Erics voice.

Off to a great start, didnt know we could hear each others thoughts, I thought. This time Eric stayed quiet.

Someone put myself glasses on. We got untied and I stood up. It was weird to control such a lean body. I looked over to my real body, laying unconscious in the seat. I missed it already but that it was unconscious was better than someone else walking around as me. Last time I switched bodies for work it was with a 70 year old man. My body was sticky when I got it back and my bathroom and some of my clothes were full with cum. So disgusting to think of someone jerking off in my body. Especially when it was a 70 year old.

In the evening I got driven to the school where I should arrest Kenny and Dan.

Two days later I finished the mission and got driven back to the police station. I entered the room with the machine again and saw my old body still laying there as if it wasnt moved. I was so happy to see it again. I sat down on the seat, closed my eyes and counted to 3. I felt my real body again. The warm leather jacket, my tight pants and shirt on my muscles. I wiggled my toes in my leather boots. It felt so great not wearing those Chucks anymore.

I opened my eyes to see that I was still tied to the machine.

"You can untie me now, guys.", I said. It was so great to hear my deep voice again.

Only now I noticed that something wasnt right. The only person with me and Eric in the room was my boss. Normally, multiple people would operate the machine.

I looked at my boss who was talking to Eric. Both whispered.

"Is everything alright?", I asked.

Both of them looked at me and Eric chuckled.

"My nephew said that you were quiet cocky in his body. You made nasty remarks about his clothes, his looks and so on. As compensation, he'll use your body for some time", my boss said.

I was shocked. I never thought something like this would happen.

"Wait, no. This is not true!", I shouted. "I never said something like this."

But it was to late. My boss pressed the button again and I felt how Erics soul entered my body. It was a cold feeling, causing me to shiver. I tried to push him back into his own body but through the help of the machine he overpowered me. I felt how I lost control of my limbs, my muscular body.

Its a pleasure to use this body, I heard Erics voice in my head.

My boss looked at me with a dark grin as he said:"Codename."

"Exodus", I heard myself answer.

"Good it worked.", my boss said as he untied my body.

I had no control over my body as it stood up and my arms started to touch my body. Eric took off my leather jacket and sniffed it. He let out a moan and grabbed my dick. I felt how my dick raised and I couldnt do anything.

"You have 30 minutes for yourself in the bathroom. Here are some clothes we took from his home.", my boss said as he took out a black sportsbag. He opened it to give us a look.

"I see you in 35 minutes in my bureau, Mark.", he said leaving the room.

Eric grabbed the bag and went through the other door into the bathroom. We were alone.

He started to sniff my sweaty armpits and to lick my biceps. He rubbed my cock in my jeans while flexing my muscles in the mirror.

I felt how pre-cum started to drip into my jockstrap and I couldnt do anything against it.

Eric opened my belt and took my dick out of my jockstrap. He wanked it off but he didnt manage to shoot my load. He wanked so hard that he started to stumble. He looked down at my feet. At my black leather boots.

I always wanted to wear boots like this, even though I have to learn how to properly walk in them, his thoughts said.

Eric sat down on a toilet seat and pulled both boots off. He wiggled with my toes in my gold toe socks as he raised the first boot to my nose and put my dick into the second. I could smell the warm, worn leather and the sweat and I felt how that turned Eric on.

I felt how he pressed the top of my dick against the sole of my boot right as my body shot my first load. Eric opened my mouth and let out a loud moan. I was deeply embarrassed.

He switched boots so that I could smell the sweet cum inside my boot which caused me to shoot my second load right into my other boot.

He took off my Red shirt and wrapped it around my dick.

"Watch this.", he said.

He put both boots, with the cum inside, back on. I felt how my socks started to soak it up, it felt disgusting. Like wet socks. But this caused me to shoot my last load and probably the biggest I've ever had into my shirt.

Satisfied with what he did he looked at my watch.

10 minutes left. Time to dress up again, he thought.

He took my jockstrap and my pants off while walking back to the bag.

He looked inside and took a black jeans, jockstrap and a blue shirt out. He put the shirt on, letting my fingertips glide over my abs. He lifted my booted foot to put on my new jockstrap when I heard his thoughts. I dont need this, the jeans will feel great too. So he grabbed my black jeans and put it on. He put on my belt, my gun and my badge. At last he lifted my leather jacket from the bag, sniffed it one last time and put it on. He stuffed the old clothes into the bag and left the bathroom.

He walked into the bureau of my boss.

"Looking good, my son.", my boss said.

"Mark. We're not alone.", Eric answered. He crossed his arms. "What now?"

"First, we just got called to a crime scene. Ready up, we're driving in 5 minutes." He made a sign to come closer and Eric walked around the desk to stand next to him.

"After that, we'll test that body to the max at home.", my boss whispered.

"Sounds good.", Eric answered.

The whole trip to the crime scene was torture. I had to see Erics thoughts about my naked body and the one of my boss. So gross. He also looked through my memories. I tried to stop him but I was too weak.

Arriving at the crime scene I felt how my heart started to beat faster. Eric was nervously looking through my memories how to act as me. I didnt bother to stop him as I got weaker every time I tried and as I had to think about what gruesome night stood before me. I had to make peace that he will be me forever.

----------------------------------------------------------

This story as a commission from a friend.

[makingrealalphas-deactivated202]

Request: My Sister’s Type

 A request from anonymous

My sister dislike preppy, town guy like Chad Rodney but she is forced to married him to ensure that our ranch is not going to be closed. He can paid the debt as long as my sister willing to marry him, and now I’m inside Chad Rodney.

I take a look at my new reflection, savoring and enjoying every moment slowly. I take a picture of myself and then I lift my cap and inhale the smell of it, I instantly have a hard-on as the mixture of sweat, his natural musk and his shampoo hit my nose at once. Then, I played along with his face, making expression and also enjoying the funny feeling from having an unshaven beard. Then, I traced on the biceps and triceps, enjoying the slick sweat from previous working out he has finished before I possessed him and then going on to one of the main prize, his pit. I take a whiff of each pit, precum started leaking from my dick that begging to be released from the tight briefs that imprisoned it. Be patient a little bit, will ya? I continued my exploration over my brother in law body by lifting his tank, revealing a nice set of pecs that completed with defined six pack abs with dust of hair that will lead me to the grand prize, the infamous Chad Rodney’s dick. I slowly slid my shorts down and take a deep breath…..okay, now there is only this Calvin Klein brief that separated me from grabbing the throbbing cock underneath. I lifted it and let it snapped back again, fuck this dick still can get harder. After rubbing it while pinching my pink nipples for several minutes, I finally unleash the beast and start beating it off right there. I don’t care if this car will smelled pungent and rich with cum, it’s the best fragrant ever, especially coming from such preppy, almost kinda OCD guy like Chad here. I howled, shouted and groaned like I’m on fire and finally after a 5 minutes of sweaty, self-indulging moment, I release the load that spewed all over the car, the seat, the dashboard, the mirror, everywhere, but mostly the cum rested on my toned body, filling out the spaces between one abs and the other. Yeah, my body, not Chad’s, since I shot the first load, the fate has been locked, I’m Chad Rodney’s inside and outside. I rested myself in the car, listening to hard core music instead of his classical jazz, while enjoying the detail of Chad’s life implanted on my mind slowly yet surely.  In a few hours, brand new Chad will emerge, a cocky, self-centered, aggressive and dominant alpha male, perfect to satisfy my sister real need.

[mtfstuff]

Enough is enough

This is me. I'm stuck with my annoying roommate Ryan because of this stupid pandemic. Before all of this happened, he let me go. He ignored me. We shared an appartement because both of us studied. I was searching for a place to stay and he allowed it as long as I'm paying part of the rent.

Now with the pandemic, everything changed. He annoys me and threatens me to kick me out if I'm not doing his exercises for his course of studies. I comply as he is this typical jock you know. Probably played football in highschool.

I, on the other hand, am a scrawny nerd. Not as tall as him, definitely no muscles and so on.

But one day he went to far. He brought me new tasks even though I was already behind with my own tasks.

"You'll do them for me as I'm leaving soon. Going on a date.", he said. He was already dressed for it.

"On a date? Again? This is the fifth girl you hooked up in only three days. Dont you think it is wrong to do this right now in the middle of a pandemic?", I replied. I knew that I could get in trouble because of this, but I had an ace up my sleeve is something goes south.

His expression cjanged fro  happiness to anger.

"Listen close, scrawny! My lovelife isnt something you should think about. Finish my tasksand you'll be fine. One more remark and I'll kick you out.", he shouted.

That was it. I jumped towards him and managed to bring him down. I kicked him in the nuts and knocked him out.

I never saw him unconscious before and I realized again why he gets so many women. He was incredibly handsome. He could wear a trashbag and still look good.

I never dared to tell him that I was gay. Of course I also had fantasies ablut him. I thought that he would kick me out if he knew it.

I opened the website I found about body hopping. I followed the instructions and took off my clothes. After that I stripped him.

I took of his beautiful brown dress shoes and his black socks. Followed by his grey jeans and underpants. I stripped him off his jacket and pullover. I unbuttoned his shirt and took it off as well as his watch.

I followed the instructions further and laid straight on top of him. The tips of our dicks had to touch. I put my arms around his back, closed my eyes and rolled us around.

As I opened my eyes I was looking at the floor. As I stood up I saw Ryans arms. It worked, I was now in Ryans body.

I put his clothes back on and cancelled my date. I downloaded Grindr onto Ryans phone and took a nice pic to use. I knew I'd hook up with a cute gay jock tonight.

[kylecrusoe-captions]

Looks like another morning in Dad's body for me. I'm not sure of the details, but apparently Dad pissed off some mystic force or something and got swapped into my body as some sort of karmic consequence. I'm guessing he's got a lesson to learn as me but he is stubborn as hell.

Oh well. It's not that I mind. No, you see I've actually gotten quite comfortable with being my Dad. It's funny, Dad didn't want anyone finding out about the swap so he has insisted on living out each other's lives and playing our body's roles. And I've gotta say I like being the Dad.

I sip my coffee (something I've grown to appreciate in my Dad's body) and set it aside. I run my hands down Dad's hairy torso and flex his muscles. I groan in his sexy deep voice as I twist his nipple. "Fuck, Dad, you're so sensitive," I whisper just to hear his voice.

I feel his cock straining against the tight briefs I had put on and place my other hand over my bulge. "So big," I murmer as I cup my father's hefty cock through the fabric. I grind against my hand for a bit then look to the mirror hanging from Dad's closet. I swing my big, hairy dad legs up and sit in view of the mirror.

"Fuckin handsome bastard," I say and wink at the reflection, my cock twitching as I saw my hot Dad's image in the mirror do as I did. I stood up and did a little strip tease with Dad's briefs before standing fully nude in front of the mirror.

"Daddy's so turned on," I said as I started to jack off my father's cock, his big hands mine to command. My other hand wandered back to Dad’s nipple and I felt the twin pleasure of his cock pair nicely. I felt pleasure building, slower than in my younger body but steady and strong. When I finally couldn't hold it, I released Dad's load all over the mirror. Fuck, Dad's cock cums so much!

I still felt heady in the glow of Dad's orgasm and leaned in and began licking the thick dad spunk off the mirror. I made eye contact with my stolen reflection and felt Dad's cock already hardening at the sight of my father's face greedily licking up his own cum.

Oh yes, I think I'll be just fine being Dad for a while.

[verus-veritas]

The Black Hole

(AI Assisted - Finally got around to finishing the next story from the poll, and this one is inspired by the short film "THE BLACK HOLE" from 2008. I recommend watching the short film first to get a sense of its concept!

Also, a fair bit of warning, this story focuses a lot on the humiliation kink and being trapped in someone much bigger, heavier, and hairier. Which I'm sure some of you might really enjoy! /Verus)

The chemistry lab at Westview College felt like a forgotten corner of the world during lunch break. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, their cold glow casting long, harsh shadows across the scuffed linoleum floor. The air hung heavy with the acrid bite of sulfur mixed with the sharp sting of ethanol, scents that seeped into my clothes and lingered on my skin. I sat hunched over our cluttered workstation, my fingers tinted a deep blue from the chemical compounds I had been carefully mixing for our science assignment. It was due in Mr. Clarke's class later that afternoon, and the pressure weighed on me like an invisible hand.

Across from me, Dan lounged in his chair with that effortless slouch of his, his dark hair falling messily over his forehead. He swirled a beaker with a lazy flick of his wrist, his face scrunched up in clear annoyance. 

"Man, Clarke's such an asshole!" Dan muttered, his voice low and edged with frustration. "He piles on these assignments just because we don't kiss his ass in class like the other kids do. Thinks he's some big shot, strutting around with that hairy broad chest straining against his shirt, barely squeezing through the doorways without turning sideways."

He snorted, leaning back and mimicking Mr. Clarke's stiff, wide posture, puffing out his own chest in exaggeration. "You ever hear that poor office chair creak every time he plants his big ass down? It's gonna snap one day, I swear. I can picture it now, him tumbling to the floor in front of the whole class and everyone laughing at his dumb face."

I nodded absently, my gaze locked on the bubbling mixture in my own beaker, watching the colors swirl and shift. But my mind wandered far from the experiment. Dan's rants about our science professor, Bruce Clarke, had become a familiar soundtrack to our lab sessions. It was always the same litany of complaints about his strict rules, his uptight personality, his biting criticism that could cut like a knife. Around town, Mr. Clarke was famously known as "The Cruel Giant," a man who barely let his students scrape by with passing grades and demanded nothing short of perfection from everyone. Stories circulated about how he would chew out cashiers for hours if they shortchanged him by a penny, or chase after elderly folks on the street to lecture them about public decency just for coughing too loudly in his presence.

To Dan, Mr. Clarke was nothing more than an uptight mean old man, a tall, burly middle-aged man whose khaki pants and tight dress shirts always seemed on the verge of bursting over his massive frame. But I stayed quiet, my agreement only half-hearted at best, because admitting the truth to Dan or even to myself felt utterly mortifying. Over the past few months, I had developed a secret crush on Mr. Clarke, a shameful attraction that I buried deep inside, praying it would fade away by the time graduation rolled around and I could escape this small town.

His huge body strangely captivated me in ways I could barely understand myself. And Mr. Clarke wasn't the slob Dan painted him to be. Sure, he carried a slight soft layer around his midsection, a gentle curve that pressed outward against his shirts, and I often imagined he could easily crush a watermelon just by sitting on it with that large, plump ass of his. But there was a commanding solidity to him that made my pulse quicken. He stood at 6'8", one of the tallest and largest men in our small town, with broad, wide shoulders that seemed to fill any room he entered, and thick, powerful arms that bent the space around them. During class, I would steal glances, my eyes tracing the vast expanse of his broad back as he wrote equations on the board, or lingering on the way his khaki pants clung to his rounded, muscular ass when he bent down to collect our tests.

His brown beard, often flecked with crumbs from a hurried lunch or faint stains from his morning coffee, framed a ruggedly handsome face that could make me blush even when he was yelling at the class for being late. I remembered the times his coffee-scented breath had washed over me during those scoldings, warm and authoritative, leaving me flustered. In my private fantasies, I imagined pressing my face into the hairy massive chest that peeked through his open collar, feeling the warmth of his bulk envelop me completely. I envied his genetics, how he was so effortlessly tall, hairy, and thick without ever needing to lift a weight or step foot in a gym. It was as if his body was a natural force, untamed and powerful.

I told myself it was just a phase, a silly teenage crush that would dissolve once college was behind me. I was just a scrawny senior, barely noticeable among the sea of students in Mr. Clarke's classes, and the very idea of confessing my feelings to anyone, especially Dan, made my stomach twist into knots. So I locked those thoughts away, letting them simmer quietly as I stirred my chemicals, my mind drifting into a hazy fantasy of running my hands over Mr. Clarke's broad, hairy chest, feeling the coarse hairs tickle my palms, the heat of his skin seeping into mine.

"Yo, Noah, you even listening to me?" Dan's voice snapped me back to reality, sharp and insistent.

I blinked, realizing I had been staring blankly at the beaker for far too long, the mixture now frothing a bit too vigorously.

"Huh? Yeah, sorry," I mumbled, shaking my head to clear the fog.

But before I could say more, my elbow caught the edge of a glass container filled with unknown chemicals, sending it toppling over into Dan's mixture. The liquids collided with a violent hiss, merging in a chaotic fizz that sent sparks flying. Dan yelped, jumping back from the table, his gloves and shirt miraculously untouched.

"Shit, Noah, watch it!" he shouted, his eyes wide as we both retreated a few meters away. 

We stood there frozen, hearts pounding, as acrid smoke billowed upward from the workstation, the table sizzling in a way that sounded almost alive.

"What the hell was that?" Dan hissed, his voice laced with panic, glancing at me accusingly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," I stammered, my heart racing as the smoke thickened, obscuring the mess we had made.

But as the haze slowly cleared, the sizzling faded, revealing something impossible on the table's surface: a perfectly round black hole, its edges shimmering faintly like heat waves on asphalt. It was wide enough for a small person to fit through, a void that seemed to devour the light around it, pulling at the air with an eerie silence.

We stared at it, speechless, the lab suddenly feeling colder despite the lingering chemical warmth.

"What is that thing?" I whispered, my voice barely audible, stepping closer but not daring to touch it.

Dan shook his head, his bravado completely evaporated. "No clue, man. But we're totally screwed if Clarke sees this. We just destroyed school property, and you know how he gets about that."

With lunch break nearly over, panic surged through us like electricity. We scrambled to clean up the spill, me sweeping up the shattered glass shards from the floor while Dan wiped down the table with frantic swipes. As he brushed near the hole, his hand accidentally nudged its rim, and the anomaly shifted, folding slightly like a piece of flexible fabric.

"Noah, get over here quick!" Dan called, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and excitement.

I hurried over, my jaw dropping as he gripped the edge of the hole and lifted it effortlessly off the table, holding it like a sheet of black paper, weightless and rippling faintly in the air.

"What the fuck?" I breathed, stepping even closer, my eyes wide. Dan, now grinning despite the shock, placed the hole back on the table and tentatively reached into it, his arm vanishing up to the elbow into the void. His face lit up with astonishment as he pulled his hand back, completely unharmed.

"Dude, this is freaky!" he exclaimed, his voice shaking with glee. 

He grabbed the hole again, striding over to a locked cabinet across the room, and slapped it against the door. Reaching through, he pulled out a beaker from inside the cabinet, holding it up triumphantly. "Holy shit, Noah! We made a freaking portal! This thing lets you reach into anything!"

We marveled at the anomaly we had accidentally created, a defiance of every law of physics we had learned in class. Dan's eyes gleamed with endless possibilities, his mind already racing ahead.

"We've got something way better than a boring assignment for Clarke now," he said, carefully rolling the hole up like a poster and stuffing it into his backpack. "And I've got an idea to test this thing out later. You in?"

I nodded, unsure but intrigued, my mind still reeling from the impossibility of it all. "Yeah, I guess. But we have to be careful, Dan. This could be dangerous..."

—

Two classes dragged by in a blur, and during the break before chemistry, Dan pulled me aside with a mischievous grin. He led me down the echoing hallways to the gym locker rooms, the distant shouts from jocks in the gymnasium grating on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

"What are we doing here, Dan?" I asked, glancing around nervously at the rows of metal lockers, the air thick with the smell of sweat and old sneakers.

He smirked, his eyes glinting with that reckless spark I knew all too well. "Just trust me. Keep watch for a second."

He scanned the lockers until he stopped at one labeled "Austin," our school's star athlete and the resident bully who had made our lives hell more than once.

I hissed a protest, my voice low. "Dan, no way. That's Austin's locker. We can't just..."

But he ignored me, pressing the black hole against the locker door with a soft thud. Reaching through the void, he rummaged around inside and pulled out a sweaty jockstrap, its fabric damp and musky from recent use.

"Dude!" I exclaimed, horrified, my cheeks burning as I glanced over my shoulder to make sure no one was coming.

Dan laughed, holding it up like a trophy before pressing it to his face and inhaling deeply. "Smells pretty good for a douchebag like Austin," he said, grinning wickedly. "Come on, Noah, lighten up. It's just a prank."

I rolled my eyes, my face flushing even hotter. "That's gross, man. Put it back."

He chuckled, rolling up the hole and tucking it, along with the jockstrap, into his backpack. "Imagine what else we can do with this thing. Vending machines, locked doors, even ATMs. It's not really stealing if it's just sitting there, right? We could take whatever we want without anyone knowing."

I frowned, unease twisting in my gut. "It's still stealing, Dan. And what if we get caught? This isn't a game."

Before we could argue further, Coach's voice boomed from the gymnasium entrance, demanding to know what we were doing in the locker room. "Hey! You two! What are you up to in there?"

Panic hit us like a wave, and we bolted, our sneakers squeaking against the tile floor as we fled down the hall, hearts pounding.

—

Fifteen minutes later, we were back in the chemistry lab, seated at our workstation as our classmates tricked in, chatting and laughing. Dan bounced in his seat like a kid on Christmas morning, barely containing his excitement about showing off the black hole. My stomach churned with nerves, both from the upcoming presentation and the looming presence of Mr. Clarke himself.

When he finally entered the room, his broad shoulders barely clearing the doorway, I felt my breath catch. His khaki pants hugged his thick calves, and his dress shirt clung to his hairy chest, the top button undone just enough to tease the coarse hairs beneath.

Our eyes met briefly as he scanned the room, and I saw a flicker of disappointment, perhaps even disgust, in his gaze before he turned away. 

"Settle down, everyone," he barked, his deep voice rumbling through the lab like thunder. "We've got presentations today, and I expect you all to take this seriously. No excuses, no half-baked efforts."

Class dragged on with Mr. Clarke's usual loud and demeaning criticism, his beard twitching with every sharp word he directed at struggling students.

"That's incorrect, Miss Thompson. Do you even read the textbook, or do you just guess?" he snapped at one girl, making her shrink in her seat.

Finally, it was time for presentations. Dan shot up from his chair, waving his hand eagerly. "Mr. Clarke, can we go first? We've got something amazing."

Mr. Clarke eyed him skeptically, adjusting the square reading glasses that framed his piercing eyes. "Fine, but make it quick. And it better not be another one of your jokes, Daniel."

We stood at the front, explaining how we had mixed the chemicals accidentally, creating a black hole that defied all known physics. Dan's voice was infectious, building up the drama. "It's like a portal, sir. You can reach through anything with it."

But before we could pull out the anomaly to demonstrate, Mr. Clarke cut us off sharply. "That's enough of this nonsense," he snapped, his face reddening with anger. "You're slandering the very foundations of science in my classroom, and I won't tolerate it. Sit down, both of you."

Dan protested, his voice rising. "But sir, we can prove it! Just let us show you!"

"I said sit down!" Mr. Clarke shouted, his voice shaking the room, making the beakers rattle on the shelves.

Humiliated, we slunk back to our seats amid the laughter of the class. The jocks in the back called out, "Losers!" and the girls whispered "freaks" under their breath. I felt Mr. Clarke's glare burning into us, his stoic face flushed with irritation.

Dan muttered spitefully under his breath as we sat. "They don't deserve to see it anyway. I'll show them later, when it matters."

The rest of class passed in a miserable haze, with other students presenting their projects while I replayed Mr. Clarke's words over and over in my mind, my crush twisting into a knot of embarrassment. When the bell finally rang, signaling the end of the day, Dan and I joined the rush to leave, eager to escape. But a heavy hand suddenly gripped my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks.

"You two, stay behind," Mr. Clarke's gruff voice ordered, his fingers like steel.

My heart sank as we sat at the front desks, facing his massive wooden desk. I couldn't stop my eyes from wandering to the chest hair peeking from his shirt, my crush flaring up despite the tension in the air.

Mr. Clarke's eyes narrowed as he caught my gaze lingering. "Noah," he began, his tone icy and measured, "I've noticed you staring at me these past months. It's inappropriate, and I don't appreciate it one bit. You need to focus on your studies, not whatever perverse fantasies you're indulging in during my class."

My face burned with shame, heat flooding my cheeks. I hadn't realized he had noticed, and the accusation left me speechless, my mouth dry. "I... I'm sorry, sir," I managed to whisper, staring at the floor.

Dan spoke up, his voice sharp and defensive. "That's not cool, Mr. Clarke. You can't just accuse him like that."

But the professor ignored him, turning his attention to Dan. "And you, with your ridiculous stunt today. If you keep this up, you'll fail my class and amount to nothing in life. Is that what you want?"

Dan's jaw tightened, anger flashing in his eyes. "We weren't lying, sir. We really created something incredible."

Mr. Clarke's scowl deepened. "Enough. I don't have time for your games."

Fed up, Dan reached into his backpack and pulled out the rolled-up black hole. "See for yourself then."

Mr. Clarke dismissed it with a wave. "That's just a piece of black paper. Put it away."

Dan, his patience snapping, strode to the locked cabinet in the corner. "Watch this," he said, slapping the hole onto the door. He reached through and pulled out beakers, tools, and supplies, dumping them onto Mr. Clarke's desk with a clatter.

The professor's expression shifted from annoyance to shock, his eyes widening. "What are you doing? How did you...?"

Dan grinned, placing the hole flat on the desk. "Try it yourself, sir. Reach in and grab something from under your desk."

Hesitantly, Mr. Clarke reached into the void, his thick fingers disappearing. He pulled out pens, paperclips, and notebooks from beneath his desk, his shock turning to fascination as his fingers trembled.

"This... this is impossible," he murmured, his voice softening for the first time.

But Dan snatched the hole away, rolling it up quickly. "Told you we weren't lying," he said, smirking as he stood to leave. "Come on, Noah."

As Dan headed for the door, I fumbled with my bag, noticing a dark glint in Mr. Clarke's eyes, something like greed or ambition flickering there. The air in the room grew thick with tension, and suddenly, he lunged forward with surprising speed for a man of his size. His meaty hand closed around Dan's wrist, fingers like iron clamps, pinning Dan's arm in place.

Dan yelped, his voice sharp with panic. "What the hell, man? Let go!"

"You boys have no idea what you're holding," Mr. Clarke growled, his voice low and laced with a hunger that made my skin crawl. His massive frame loomed over Dan, his broad shoulders casting a shadow that swallowed my friend whole. Sweat beaded on Mr. Clarke's forehead, glistening under the lights, his dress shirt growing damp under the armpits, clinging to the curve of his massive chest and broad back. "Leave such things to responsible adults like me."

Dan struggled, his face turning red, both hands clutching the rolled-up black hole, his knuckles white. "Get off me! This isn't yours!"

Mr. Clarke's other hand reached for it, his thick fingers brushing the anomaly, his breath coming in heavy pants from the exertion. The room felt stifling, the air thick with the scent of his sweat, a musky blend of coffee and raw masculinity that hit me like a wave, stirring my shameful crush even as fear gripped my chest.

Dan's eyes met mine, wide with desperation. "Noah, help! Do something!"

I dropped my bag and rushed over, my heart pounding wildly. "Let him go, sir!" I shouted, grabbing at the black hole, my fingers brushing against Dan's and Mr. Clarke's in the chaos. The three of us were locked in a frantic tug-of-war, pulling and yanking.

Mr. Clarke's strength was staggering, his arm like a steel cable, pulling with a force that made my muscles burn. "Let go, you fools!" he roared, his voice booming through the room, his face flushed red, small beads of sweat dripping down his temples.

Dan and I pulled together, our combined effort barely budging the anomaly from his grasp. "We can't let him have it!" Dan gasped, his face contorted with effort.

My hands slipped on the smooth, otherworldly surface, my palms slick with nervous sweat. "He's too strong," I panted, feeling insignificant next to his towering bulk, my slim arms trembling against his power. His dress shirt strained further, the seams creaking, his neck muscles shifting with each heave, his khaki pants tight around his thick thighs.

We tugged one last time, a desperate heave that sent us all stumbling. The black hole slipped from our fingers, but Mr. Clarke's sweaty palm fumbled it, the slick roll escaping his grip. It unfolded mid-air, a dark, rippling sheet, and sailed toward his chest. Time seemed to slow as it adhered with a soft, wet slap, the void pulsing against his shirt, centered over his broad chest.

His eyes widened in horror, a gasp escaping his lips.

"What... no!" he stammered, his hands clawing at the hole, trying to rip it free. Then his massive body suddenly shuddered, his pupils rolling back, and he collapsed, his heavy frame crashing to the hardwood floor with a thunderous thud that shook the entire room.

Dan and I stood panting, staring at the black hole pulsing on Mr. Clarke's chest, his unconscious body still, his bearded face slack.

"Oh god, we killed him," I whispered, my voice trembling, my legs feeling like jelly.

Dan knelt beside him, pressing fingers to his neck. "No, he's alive… just out cold," he said, his voice unsteady. He poked at the hole, his fingers disappearing inside. "Woah... he's hollow now. Like he's completely empty inside."

He reached deeper, his expression shifting to confusion. "Weird, I feel crevices inside, it’s like paths leading to his arms or neck. He's like a big hollow tree stump..."

I paced the room, panic clawing at my chest, my mind racing with the implications. "We never thought about using it on a person... What have we done?"

A few minutes passed of me restlessly pacing around while Dan stared curiously at the hole on Clarke's chest, his mind seemingly thinking hard about how to get us out of this mess. Then suddenly Dan's eyes lit up with a reckless idea. "What if one of us climbs inside? Maybe we can move him, sort of like a big meatsuit. We could access his office, fix our grades and make him give us A's, then get out before he wakes up."

"That's insane, Dan," I said, but the idea took hold, fueled by fear of failing yet another course and a bizarre curiosity about climbing inside Mr. Clarke's big body, the man I had secretly admired for so long. "You really think that would work?"

He nodded eagerly. "Think about it, Noah. You're smaller than me, scrawny frame and all. You'd fit easily through the hole. Come on, it's our only shot right now."

After a heated debate, with me protesting, "This could go so wrong," and Dan countering, "But what if it goes right? We could turn this around," I swallowed hard, gazing at Mr. Clarke's unconscious giant form. His bearded face looked almost serene, his massive hairy chest rising and falling despite the gaping hole. My crush twisted into something darker, a fascination with the impossible intimacy of it all.

Dan locked the classroom door with a click. "Okay, let's do this. I'll keep watch."

I stood over Mr. Clarke, my pulse racing like a drum. His body was a mountain compared to mine, his shoulders twice as wide as my own, his chest a broad expanse of power, his gut a soft curve that spoke of both strength and years of indulgence. I kicked off my shoes, a strange gesture of respect, and hesitated, my breath shallow. The black hole pulsed invitingly, its edges shimmering, beckoning me forward.

"Be careful," Dan whispered, his voice tense.

I nodded, stepping forward, one foot hovering over the void. "Here goes nothing."

I lowered myself in slowly, the sensation immediate and overwhelming, a warm, squishy embrace that enveloped my foot like sinking into a heated waterbed, but alive, pulsating gently. The inside of Mr. Clarke's body was soft and yielding, yet unnervingly organic, the walls slick and warm against my skin, almost caressing me as I descended.

My foot sank into a crevice, what I assumed was the path to his thick leg, and I felt a gentle resistance, as if the space was molding itself to me, adapting to my shape. I was scrawny, barely 5'6" and 130 pounds, but Mr. Clarke was a giant, well over 6'8" and easily 250 pounds, his bulk dwarfing me entirely. Yet the hole seemed to adjust seamlessly, my leg sliding into his thigh, stopping abruptly as if fitted perfectly, despite the vast size difference.

"How does it feel?" Dan asked, his voice hushed, watching intently.

"It's... warm," I replied, my voice shaky. "Like it's hugging me, tightly yet firmly." 

I lowered myself further, my other leg finding its place, the sensation of his massive thighs enveloping my own, heavy and warm, like pulling on a suit far too large yet impossibly snug. My hips settled into his, my slim frame sinking into the broad expanse of his pelvis, the weight of his ass pressing down beneath me, a dense, plump mass that felt alien and grounding all at once.

I pushed my arms through next, feeling the crevices widen for his thick biceps and forearms, my hands slipping into his, the fingers blunt and calloused, so unlike my own slender ones.

"My arms... they're in his now," I murmured, flexing experimentally, yet straining under the heavy weight of them.

The inside of his chest stretched tight as I pushed myself further down, the flesh straining with a soft creak, and I felt the dampness of his simmering sweat enveloping me, a musky scent that filled my senses, both repellent and intoxicating in its rawness.

"Keep going," Dan encouraged, his eyes wide. "You're almost there."

I pulled myself deeper, my chest sinking into his, the soft flesh brushing against my skin inside, a sensation so intimate it made my face burn with heat. The black hole's warmth enveloped my torso completely, and I bent my neck forward, sliding my head down into the darkness and then through a tight, slick passage that must have been his throat.

"It's so tight here," I gasped, darkness closing in, warm and suffocating, as I aligned my body with his.

For a moment, I panicked, blind and breathless, but then vision flickered to life, and I saw through Mr. Clarke's eye sockets, the world sharper, larger, as if my eyes now perceived everything as he did. Air rushed through his nostrils and into my lungs, filling me with a strange vitality. I pushed myself up slowly, his bulk around me loose and heavy, a staggering weight that made my movements slow and uncoordinated.

"God, he's so fucking heavy," I said, Mr. Clarke's deep timbre somehow resonated through me, a bizarre mixture of his voice and mine that boomed in the room.

I gripped the desk for support, my thick fingers leaving sweaty prints on the wood, and stood, feeling the floor creak beneath his mass. My legs, inside his now, felt like heavy pillars, each step a lumbering effort, his thighs rubbing together with a soft friction, khaki pants wrapped snugly around them. His hairy chest rose and fell with each breath I took inside, and his broad shoulders strained the dress shirt, the seams taut against the power beneath.

Dan gaped at me, his mouth open in awe. "Holy shit, Noah. You're wearing him! You look just like Clarke, but... it's you in there controlling him!"

"Yeah," I replied, my voice still that strange mixture of ours combined. "It's me. But god it feels strange being in here, like everything too big and heavy..."

Dan stepped closer, peering at my new bearded face. "How are you breathing? Seeing? It looks completely normal from out here."

"It feels like looking through a one-way mask," I explained, touching my cheek experimentally, and somehow feeling the scratchy beard poking me from the inside. "Like my eyes are hidden behind his, invisible from outside. And I'm breathing through his nostrils, the air flowing right to me. Sounds vibrate from his eardrums and fill this space I'm in. And my mouth, my tongue... they've slipped into his like a thick, larger sleeve. It's so freaky how this actually worked..."

"Damn," Dan said, reaching out to poke my arm, squeezing the thick flesh. "Can you feel that?"

"Barely," I admitted, the sensation dulled by the layer of Mr. Clarke's heavy flesh encasing me. "It's really like I'm wearing a big heavy skinsuit..."

But then he tried to reach into the hole on Mr. Clarke’s chest, his fingers brushed my real chest inside, tickling me lightly. "Hey, stop that!" I laughed, swatting him away, my voice booming louder than intended.

He grinned, then slapped my ass playfully, the thick flesh bouncing slightly, sending a jolt through me, a mix of embarrassment and a strange thrill at feeling this body respond under my control. "Damn... guess you're the one with the thick massive ass now, huh? How's it feel to have all that junk in the trunk?"

"Shut up, Dan," I said, but I couldn't help a small chuckle, shifting my weight and feeling the dense anchor pull me down. "It's weird. Heavy, but... powerful."

Then, noticing the clock on the wall, Dan's expression turned serious. "We need to hurry. The hall might fill up soon. I’ll unlock the door and check if it's clear. Remember, our plan is to get to the professor's office, change our grades on his computer, and then we’ll come back and I’ll help you climb back out."

I nodded before shuffling toward the door, each step slow and unfamiliar, but stopped when I reached the nearby cabinet.

Catching Mr. Clarke's reflection in the glass, I froze. His handsome, bearded face stared back, but the sternness was gone, replaced by my own shock and fascination in his eyes. His body was a colossus, shoulders a broad wall, chest heaving with each breath, and his ass a soft curve that shifted sensually with every movement. But then I saw the gaping black hole on the chest, a glaring void that would draw immediate questions from other students and faculty members.

"Wait," I said, my deep voice echoing. "I can't walk out like this. The hole's too obvious. The other professors would freak out seeing Mr. Clarke like this. Maybe I can just take it off for a while…"

Dan seemed preoccupied with checking the hallway outside. "Yeah yeah, whatever. Just hurry up. The coast is clear now."

Without thinking of the implications or consequences, my hands, now inside Mr. Clarke's thick, rugged hands, gripped the rim of the black hole. The surface was smooth, almost liquid under my fingers, and I pulled gently, peeling it away from the damp dress shirt. The moment it detached, a searing heat erupted around me, a burning wave that consumed every nerve, every fiber.

"Noah? What did you do?!" Dan asked, his voice rising in alarm as he turned his attention back to me.

I realized too late my mistake. The warm squishy walls inside of Mr. Clarke's body tightened suddenly, compressing around me like a vice, as if his flesh was collapsing inward, crushing my scrawny frame.

"No... it- it hurts!!" I gasped, my skin burning, my bones aching under the pressure. I felt my body, my real body inside, being crushed, warped, and dissolved into the vastness of Mr. Clarke's thick flesh, and then as if I was being wrung and dispersed throughout every pore and cell that was Mr. Clarke. The room spun wildly, Dan's scream echoing in my ears as my vision darkened. "Dan... help..." 

My last thought was a desperate wish for Mr. Clarke to forgive me for what we had done to him…

—

–

-

"Hey! Wake up! Noah, wake up!" Dan's voice pierced through the fog, his hands shaking my shoulders with desperate force.

I groaned, my body feeling like it had been crushed under a boulder, heavy and unresponsive. My eyes fluttered open, vision swimming as the chemistry lab's fluorescent lights stabbed into my skull like knives. I pushed myself up slowly, sitting on the cold hardwood floor, every muscle screaming in protest. My limbs felt sluggish, foreign, like they belonged to someone else entirely.

Dan knelt before me, his face pale, eyes wide with fear and uncertainty. "Is it you, Noah? Or is it Clarke? Say something, please."

I frowned, my head throbbing with a dull ache pulsing behind my eyes. "What do you mean?" I croaked, but the sound stopped me cold.

The voice was no longer a strange mixture; my original reedy tone of a college senior was completely gone without a trace. It was now deep, gruff, resonant, the voice I had heard barking orders in class, laced with coffee and unyielding authority. Mr. Clarke's fully complete voice.

My hand shot to my throat, fingers brushing a thick, muscular neck, the skin rough with coarse stubble that trailed downward. I froze, my breath catching as I felt the unfamiliar texture, the sheer bulk of it. "Dan... why does my voice sound like this?"

"Noah, is it really you?" Dan urged, his voice cracking with tension. "Please tell me it's you."

"It's me, dude. Noah," I said, but hearing that booming timbre again made my stomach drop.

I opened my mouth to speak more, but my gaze dropped to my hands, and the realization finally hit me. They felt massive now, rugged with blunt fingers and knuckles dusted with dark hair. I turned them over, palms up, staring at the calloused skin, the deep lines etched from years of grading papers and handling lab equipment.

"What the fuck?" I whispered, Mr. Clarke's voice booming out, alien and wrong coming from my thoughts. Somehow it no longer felt like I was wearing an oversized suit of flesh, but instead every breath, every sensation, every movement felt like it was my own flesh and blood.

I touched my face, fingers trembling as they encountered a scratchy beard, a strong jaw, thinning hair atop a broad skull. My other hand pressed against my chest, feeling the solid mass, the faint give of flesh, a heartbeat that thrummed powerfully but wasn't mine. I shifted, the floor creaking beneath my weight, my hips and thighs spreading wider than I had ever known, the sensation of bulk overwhelming and inescapable.

"Dan, what happened? Where's the hole, and why am I still inside Mr. Clarke?" I asked, my voice shaking despite its depth, each word a reminder of the flesh I now controlled completely.

Dan swallowed hard, his eyes darting to the black hole lying crumpled on the floor, its edges still faintly shimmering. "When you pulled the hole off, you screamed and collapsed. I rushed over and reattached it to your chest, hoping I could pull you out like before. But when I reached inside... there was nothing. Just emptiness, like it was before you climbed in. Your real body, Noah... I think it's gone. Like completely gone."

I stared at him, my mind refusing to process the words. "Gone? What do you mean, gone?" I demanded, my voice rising, filling the room with Mr. Clarke's commanding timbre.

Dan flinched slightly, raising his hands to calm me. "I think when you took the hole off, something triggered. Your real body was still inside Clarke's, and without the hole to keep you two separate… I think you fused with him. You became his flesh, his organs, his nerves, and maybe even his brain now. For all intents and purposes, Noah... I think you're Bruce Clarke now. Permanently."

The words shattered my reality like fragile glass.

"No..." I whispered, shaking my head slowly, the motion feeling heavy and unfamiliar as the coarse beard scratched against the collar of my damp dress shirt.

I grabbed at my thick arms, tugging desperately at the muscled flesh beneath the fabric as if I could somehow peel it away and reveal my old scrawny self hiding underneath. But the skin was undeniably real, warm and alive, every pinch sending sharp jolts through nerves that now belonged entirely to this body. I pressed both hands firmly against my broad chest, feeling the dense thickness of it, the coarse hairs curling under my palms, the heavy weight shifting with each ragged breath I took.

"I’m stuck…?" I murmured, the deep gruff voice choking in my throat. "I’m… Professor Clarke now?"

I was no longer a senior, just months away from graduation, with a future full of freedom stretching out before me like an open road. Instead, I had become a man in his late forties, a college science professor infamous for his unrelenting sternness and biting criticism. And, as Dan had always joked in the lab, the man with the thickest ass in town, a massive rounded backside that strained every pair of khaki pants he owned. The thought of my secret crush on Mr. Clarke, now twisted into my permanent reality, made my stomach churn with a sickening mix of horror and disbelief. I had admired this body from afar for months, stealing glances and fantasizing about its power and presence. But living in it, trapped forever inside its overwhelming bulk, was nothing I could ever have prepared myself for. It felt like a cruel joke, the object of my desire turned into an inescapable prison of flesh and weight.

"Come on, Noah. Sit down for a second. You look like you're about to pass out again." Dan stepped closer, his expression a blend of pity and lingering shock.

He guided me toward Mr. Clarke's office chair behind the desk, the one we had mocked so many times in our whispers. I lowered myself carefully, the wooden frame groaning immediately under the sudden load of my new mass. The chair creaked loudly, a long, protesting sound that seemed to mock me as I settled into it, my thick thighs spreading wide, my heavy gut pressing forward against the edge of the desk.

I ran my rugged hands over my face, fingers tracing the scratchy texture of the full beard, the deep-set eyes that now held my panicked gaze, the thinning hair on top that felt slick with fresh sweat. The sensations were all so alien, so rugged and scratchy, nothing like the old skin I had known just hours ago. My broad shoulders slumped as the reality sank deeper, the dress shirt pulling tight across my back.

"Dan, please," I pleaded, my voice cracking despite its depth, coming out as a quiet, desperate whimper from Mr. Clarke's lips. It felt so strange, so wrong, to hear that authoritative rumble reduced to begging. "You have to help me... I can’t be stuck like this forever... I can't live as him..."

Dan opened his mouth to respond, his eyes soft with sympathy. "We'll figure it out, I swear. We'll—"

Right as the words left his mouth, I shifted uncomfortably in the chair, trying to find a position that didn't feel so foreign and constricting. My massive frame didn't move lightly; the simple adjustment sent my weight rocking backward, my thick ass pressing down harder into the seat. There was a sharp, ominous crack, like wood splitting under too much strain, followed immediately by a loud pop as one of the supports gave way completely.

The chair collapsed beneath me in an instant. The back legs buckled, the seat tilted violently, and I tumbled backward with absolutely no grace. My heavy body hit the hardwood floor with a thunderous thud that echoed through the empty classroom, the impact jarring every bone in this giant frame. My broad back slammed down first, followed by the dense weight of my ass and thighs, sending a shockwave through me. Papers scattered from the desk, a beaker wobbled precariously on a nearby shelf, and the air rushed out of my lungs in a deep, involuntary grunt from Mr. Clarke's chest.

For a moment, I just lay there sprawled on the floor, stunned and breathless, staring up at the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. My khaki pants had ridden up slightly from the fall, exposing thick, hairy calves. My dress shirt had untucked in places, revealing a strip of soft gut and the dark trail of hair leading downward. My bearded face burned hot with flush, sweat beading anew on my forehead as humiliation flooded through me like fire.

We had always joked about this exact thing in the lab. Dan and I had whispered about how Mr. Clarke's poor office chair creaked every time he sat down, how one day surely his big heavy ass would finally snap it in half and send him crashing to the floor in front of everyone. We had laughed about imagining the scene, the uptight professor reduced to an embarrassing heap in front of the class. But I never, in my worst nightmares, imagined I would be the one inside his body when it actually happened. I never thought I would feel the sheer mortifying weight of it all from the inside. The way his massive frame made every movement so consequential, the way this thick, powerful ass that I had secretly admired was now the very thing that had caused my downfall.

"Shit, Mr. Clarke... I mean, Noah... are you okay?" Dan asked, rushing around the desk, his voice caught between concern and barely suppressed laughter as he looked down at me.

I groaned, trying to push myself up on my elbows, but the impact stung and made it awkward and slow. My thick arms strained, my gut shifted heavily, and I felt every pound of this body resisting the effort. Looking up at Dan from the floor with my flushed bearded face tilted upward in helpless vulnerability, only deepened the humiliation. The man who commanded fear and respect from the entire school was now sprawled helplessly like a toppled statue, and I was the one living it.

"Don't... don't laugh," I muttered, my deep voice rumbling with embarrassment as I finally rolled to my side and heaved myself upright, the floor creaking again under my rising weight. But even as I said it, I could feel the heat in my cheeks, the way this body's natural authority clashed with the ridiculous position I had landed in. It was so wrong, so utterly humiliating, and yet buried somewhere beneath the shame was that perverse flicker of sensation, the raw physicality of it all, the undeniable presence of this massive, hairy form that was now mine.

Dan offered a hand to help steady me as I stood, brushing off my rumpled shirt. "Sorry, man. But... we really did always say that chair wouldn't last much longer."

"Yeah," I replied quietly, adjusting my pants and feeling the dense curve of my ass settle back into place. "Just never thought I'd be the one to break it."

The words hung heavy, a stark reminder that every joke we had made about Mr. Clarke's body was now my reality, every flaw and excess now mine to carry, to feel, to live with from today on.

—

The next hour was a nightmare, a desperate scramble to reverse the impossible. We stayed late in the school lab, the black hole's shimmering void mocking me from the floor as it lay there like a discarded shadow, its edges rippling faintly under the fluorescent lights. Dan paced back and forth, his sneakers squeaking on the linoleum, while I stood there in Mr. Clarke's towering body, feeling every inch of its heavy presence pulling me down.

"Okay, Noah, let's think this through," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Maybe we can have you climb into another body. Like one of the jocks or another student. At least you wouldn't be stuck as this old lumbering giant forever."

I nodded eagerly, a spark of hope flickering in my chest, making my thick beard twitch as I spoke. "Yes, please. Let's try that. Anything but this. I can't stay like him, Dan. His body feels so... overwhelming. So heavy and thick everywhere." My deep voice rumbled with desperation, and I glanced down at my broad frame, the dress shirt still clinging damply to my hairy chest from the earlier sweat.

Dan picked up the black hole carefully, unrolling it like a fragile map. "Alright, hold still. I'll place it on the floor, and you try to squeeze through. Imagine slipping into one of the jock's bodies or another student. We could grab one of them after practice or something."

He laid it flat, the void pulsing invitingly, and I lowered myself awkwardly, my massive knees creaking as they hit the ground. I positioned my large callused hand at the rim first, feeling the warm, squishy pull of the anomaly, but as I tried to push my arm in deeper, the resistance built immediately. 

"It's tight already," I grunted, my rugged face flushing with effort. My broad shoulders caught painfully against the edge, the void stretching slightly but refusing to yield to my width. I twisted, sweat beading on my forehead and dripping into my beard, my thick chest heaving as I pushed harder.

"Keep going, Noah. You can do it," Dan encouraged, kneeling beside me, his voice tense. "Suck in your chest or something."

I tried, inhaling deeply, feeling the firm curve of my chest compress slightly, but it was no use. My thick chest, matted with coarse hair under the shirt, refused to squeeze through the narrow rim, the fabric straining as I wedged myself further. Pain shot through my shoulders, and I gasped, pulling back with a frustrated roar. "Damn it, it's not working. Clarke’s shoulders are too wide. This body is built like a wall."

We tried again, Dan suggesting I go feet first this time. "Maybe start with your legs. Your thighs are huge, but the hole might stretch."

I lay on my back, the floor cool against my broad shoulders, and slid one thick, hairy leg toward the void. The sensation was strange, the anomaly enveloping my calf with that familiar warm embrace, but as my massive backside approached, it jammed, the dense muscle and fat bunching up against the rim.

"Push harder," Dan said, grabbing my other leg to help guide me. "Come on, Noah, you're almost there."

I groaned, my deep voice echoing in the empty lab, sweat now soaking through the back of my shirt as I strained. "It hurts, Dan. These thighs and this ass are too damn big! It's like trying to force a tree trunk through a keyhole." After minutes of grunting and twisting, I yanked my leg free, panting heavily, my beard damp and itchy from the exertion.

We made a third attempt, this time with me on my side, but each try left me more exhausted, my beard dripping beads of sweat onto the floor as I gasped for air.

"Enough," I finally said, slumping against the desk, my thick frame trembling. "It's not working. I'm too fucking big now. Clarke's body is never going to fit that small hole..."

Dan shook his head in defeat, his face pale. "Damn it. Okay, plan B. What about recreating the chemical reaction? Maybe make another bigger hole or find a way to reverse the fusion somehow."

I nodded wearily, my rugged hands trembling as I stood up, feeling the weight of my ass shift with the movement. "Let's try. Anything to get me out of this."

For the next hour and a half we gathered beakers and compounds from the shelves, Dan reading off measurements while I poured with my blunt fingers, the liquids hissing as they mixed.

"Add more sulfur this time," Dan instructed, peering into the beaker. "That might be what triggered it before."

I complied, but the mixture just bubbled harmlessly, no void forming, no anomaly appearing. We tried variation after variation, frantically adjusting ratios, but without the exact accidental formula, it was futile. 

"This isn't the right combination," I said after the tenth failed batch, my hands shaking as I set down the beaker, the reality sinking in deeper like a stone in my thick chest. Each failure cemented my fate deeper, the reality sinking in that I was stuck as Bruce Clarke for the unforeseeable future.

"Shit, Noah," Dan whispered, leaning against the table. "I don't know what else to do right now…"

"I can't go home like this," I said finally, my voice exhausted and defeated after hours of trying. "My parents would freak out if I showed up looking like our science professor. What do I do now, Dan?"

Dan thought for a moment, rubbing his chin. "We leave it for today and try again tomorrow when we're fresh. I heard Clarke lives alone, in an apartment a town over. Maybe… you could go there, and just pretend to be him until we fix this. It's not ideal, but it's something, I guess…"

The words felt like a death sentence, the idea of stepping fully into Mr. Clarke's life making my hairy chest tighten. "Pretend to be him? Dan, I am him now. But... fine," I agreed reluctantly, my deep voice heavy with resignation. "I don't have a choice. Just promise you'll help me tomorrow. We meet back here first thing?"

"I promise," Dan said, clapping me on the shoulder, though his hand barely made an impact on my thick frame. "We'll figure this out, Noah. You're still my buddy."

We shared an awkward hug, my massive arms enveloping him easily, the powerful scent of Mr. Clarke's sweat and cologne filling the air between us. "Thanks, Dan. See you tomorrow," I murmured, pulling away.

"Take care... Mr. Clarke," he joked weakly, trying to lighten the mood, but it only made my bearded face flush deeper as I nodded and headed out.

—

After saying goodbye to Dan, I decided to take the bus instead of daring to drive Mr. Clarke's car, unsure if I could even handle the pedals with these thick legs or fit inside comfortably with this towering body. The evening air was muggy as I waited at the stop, my dress shirt already sticking to my broad back. When the bus arrived, I ducked my head to board, my broad shoulders brushing the doorframe, and lumbered to the back, the vehicle dipping slightly under my weight. Sitting on the bus without any air-conditioning, I felt stuffed and hot, the seat creaking loudly as I lowered my massive frame into it, my thick ass spreading wide and filling the space meant for two. Mr. Clarke's body started sweating profusely almost immediately, and I felt the back of the dress shirt and my armpits soaked through with his musky sweat, the fabric clinging uncomfortably to my hairy skin, outlining every curve of my chest and back.

A group of college jocks from our school boarded a few stops later, recognizing me instantly. They stared, pointing, and laughing quietly among themselves. "Look at Clarke taking up the whole backseat," one whispered, snickering. "Guy's like a tank. Bet he could crush the seat if he bounces."

At first, I thought it would feel absolutely humiliating, my cheeks flushing hot under the scruffy beard, the heat making my sweat drip faster. I shifted awkwardly, feeling the dense weight of my thighs rub together, the khaki pants damp and tight.

Yet, for some strange reason, a flicker of arousal stirred within me, warm and unexpected, building in my core as their eyes lingered on my bulk. Instead of shying away, I stared back at the jocks with a stern glare, channeling Mr. Clarke's authority.

"Something funny, boys?" I boomed, my voice deep and commanding, rumbling through the bus like thunder.

The jocks went quiet immediately, their laughter dying as they looked away in fear, mumbling apologies under their breath. "Sorry, Mr. Clarke…" one said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

There were perks to being big, scary, and having authority after all, I realized, a small thrill running through me as I shifted in the seat again, feeling the power in my bulk ripple through my muscles. The arousal lingered, a warm pulse in my thick crotch, making the ride feel strangely empowering despite the discomfort.

—

At the apartment, I fumbled with his keys at the door, my thick fingers clumsy and uncoordinated at first, the metal slipping twice before I finally turned the lock and entered. The space was clean and masculine, smelling of cedar and faint coffee, but it struck me how minimalistic it all was. The furniture was sparse: a plain wooden table in the kitchen with two mismatched chairs, a worn leather couch in the living room facing a small TV on a simple stand, and bare walls except for a few shelves holding books on chemistry and physics. No decorations, no clutter, just functional and stark, like the home of a man who lived for his work and little else.

I wandered the rooms slowly, my heavy footsteps thudding on the hardwood floors, exploring this new life that was now mine. In the living room, photo frames on a side table caught my eye. I picked one up with my rugged hands, staring at the unfamiliar faces: a group of people at a family gathering, smiling warmly, with Mr. Clarke in the center, his arm around an older woman who must have been his mother. 

"Who are you all?" I whispered, my deep voice soft in the quiet space.

Another photo showed him with friends at a bar, laughing, beers in hand, a side of him I had never imagined. And on the wall in the hallway, diplomas hung framed: his bachelor's in chemistry, master's in education, awards for teaching excellence.

"All these achievements... and they're all mine now?" I murmured, tracing the glass with a thick finger, feeling a strange mix of awe and intrusion.

The closet in the bedroom was equally plain and boring, filled with rows of identical khaki pants, tight dress shirts in neutral colors, and a few pairs of sensible shoes. No flair, no variety, just practical clothes that strained over his massive frame.

"This is what I have to wear every day?" I said aloud, pulling out a shirt and holding it up, imagining buttoning it over my hairy chest.

Finally, exhausted, I collapsed onto the bed, the frame creaking loudly under my weight like a protest, the mattress sinking deeply beneath my bulk. I peeled off the sticky shirt slowly, button by button, exposing the broad, hairy chest and thick gut inch by inch. The air felt cool against the damp skin, but the heat from my body lingered. My hands roamed tentatively, tracing the unfamiliar terrain, a mix of revulsion and fascination washing over me as my fingers sank into the soft give of my belly, then up to the dense mat of coarse hair covering my pecs. This was my prison now, a body I had day-dreamed about from afar, now mine possibly forever.

That's when I realized this was the first time I had ever seen Mr. Clarke shirtless, even if it was my own view now. A mix of horror and fascination gripped me as I stared down at the insanely hairy chest and thick legs, the coarse hairs curling thickly over the skin, dark and wild.

"This is me now…" I whispered to myself, running my hands through the furry chest, feeling the texture rough and warm under my palms. I gave my own pecs a firm squeeze, the flesh yielding softly under my grip, sending a shiver through my new body, the hairs tickling my fingers sensually.

I had to come to terms with the fact that I was Bruce Clarke now, forced to take on his identity and career as a college science professor, infamous for being cruel and barely fitting through door frames. 

"Bruce... I said aloud, testing the name on my tongue, my deep voice making it sound natural. The thought that I would have to live with this giant hairy body for the rest of my life still horrified me, but at the same time, a strange thrill emerged, building slowly like a fire kindling in my core. I had secretly always admired Mr. Clarke's body, the way it moved with such commanding presence, the sheer mass of it filling every space. 

"Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all…" I murmured, my hands pressing harder into the hairy expanse, feeling the sweat-slicked skin respond.

My hands drifted lower, unbuckling the khaki pants with deliberate slowness, the belt loosening with a soft click, sliding them down over my impossibly thick thighs, the fabric brushing against the hairy legs. The air felt cool against the newly exposed skin, but the warmth from within built steadily, a pulsing heat in my heavy crotch. I explored further, my fingers brushing the unfamiliar weight there, Mr. Clarke’s cock thick and responsive, stirring under my touch, growing heavier and warmer in my palm.

"Oh god…" I murmured, my deep voice husky now, laced with building desire as I wrapped my hand around it fully, feeling the alien yet intoxicating sensations build with each slow stroke. It was slow, sensual, each movement drawing out the twisted acceptance of my fate, the veiny length thickening in my grip, the hairy base brushing my knuckles.

I lay there fondling myself, grappling with the knowledge that I had to take on the identity of Mr. Clarke from now on, even calling myself by the name of Bruce. "I'm Bruce Clarke…" I whispered repeatedly, the words sinking in as my strokes grew firmer, the pleasure coiling tighter in my thick frame. In the darkness of my new bedroom, I surrendered to the body's pull, my fingers tightening around the shaft, my breaths coming deeper and more ragged, slowly embracing the thick, hairy middle-aged professor I had become.

The slow realization deepened: I could be stuck as Bruce forever, this sweaty, heavy, hairy, and impossibly thick body my permanent home. The thought sent waves of conflicting emotion through me, a mixture of horror at the loss of my youth, yet the thrill at the power and sensuality of this form. The pleasure mounted gradually, waves of it washing over me, building to an unbearable peak until I arched my broad back off the bed, a low groan escaping my bearded lips.

My massive frame shuddered violently, the climax ripping through me, sending spurts of Mr. Clarke’s semen arcing onto the floor, coating my thick hairy thighs in warm, sticky trails, and some residue even splattering upward to get stuck in the scruffy brown beard, clinging to the coarse hairs like dew.

I lay there panting, the afterglow settling over my bulk, sealing my new reality in a haze of reluctant ecstasy.

- Epilogue -

Three years had passed since the accident in the chemistry lab, three years since my life as Noah, the scrawny college senior, dissolved completely into the void of a black hole and left me forever trapped in the massive, hairy body of Bruce Clarke, Westview High’s infamous uptight and cruel science professor.

The classroom, once a place of quiet dread and stolen glances, had become my domain, its fluorescent lights humming softly overhead, the sharp tang of chemicals as familiar now as the constant, grounding weight of my own thick frame. I stood at the front of the classroom each day, chalk dust coating my blunt fingers, my deep voice rumbling through the space as I lectured a new batch of students on molecular bonds and atomic structures that I barely knew anything about myself.

My dress shirts, always custom-tailored larger to accommodate the broad expanse of my chest and the soft curve of my gut, pulled snugly across the coarse hair beneath. My khaki pants hugged my powerful thighs and rounded ass, the fabric stretching with every deliberate step I took across the linoleum floor, a sensual reminder of the man I had fully become.

In the beginning, Dan and I had spent frantic weeks trying to undo the impossible fusion, experimenting late into the nights in the empty lab, recreating mixtures and testing the black hole on objects, animals, anything we could think of. But every attempt failed, and by the end of the first month, exhaustion and resignation settled over us like a heavy blanket. 

“It’s no use, dude,” Dan had said one evening, his voice quiet as he rolled the anomaly back up. “I don’t think you’re getting out of that big body. Ever...”

I nodded slowly, feeling the beard scratch against my collar, the weight of my chest shifting as I breathed deeply, and something inside me had quietly surrendered.

Eventually, Dan and I drifted apart, the strain of our changed dynamic too much to bear. He could not look at Mr. Clarke’s rugged face without flinching, could not hear that gruff voice without remembering the professor he had despised, even though he knew it was me trapped inside.

“It’s just too weird, man,” he confessed one afternoon in the empty classroom, his eyes fixed on the floor as the black hole sat rolled up in his backpack. “I hate that I still feel angry when I see you. It’s not fair to you, but I can’t help it.”

I understood, my massive hand resting gently on his shoulder, the touch heavy and paternal in a way that made us both uncomfortable. After that, our meetings grew shorter, rarer, until they stopped altogether.

I had no choice but to settle fully into Bruce Clarke’s life, his quiet apartment, his solitary routines, his very identity. The first months were a slow, deliberate adjustment, each day a lesson in inhabiting this towering body. I learned the rhythm of his mornings: the hot shower where steam clung to the thick hair on my chest and back, the way my heavy cock and balls swayed as I toweled off, the satisfying stretch of my broad shoulders as I buttoned a fresh shirt. I navigated grocery stores with my wide frame, feeling eyes linger on my bulk, my ass filling the seat of my small car. I graded papers late into the evening, my calloused fingers gripping the red pen, the creak of my new reinforced desk chair a constant companion beneath my spreading weight.

But as seasons turned, resistance melted into familiarity, then into something warmer, deeper. I began to crave the sensations of this body, the way sweat gathered in the dense fur of my chest on warm days, the powerful thud of my footsteps, the delicious heft of my thighs when I sat. 

Alone in the apartment, I found myself drawn to mirrors more and more. I would strip slowly, savoring the slide of fabric over hairy skin, standing naked before the full-length glass in the bedroom. The reflection mesmerized me: a stereotypical lumberjack of a man, 6’8” of solid mass, chest broad and forested with dark curls that trailed all the way down to my crotch. I ran my thick hands over it all, palms sinking into warm flesh, thumbs circling nipples buried in fur, feeling them harden under my touch. My arms, thick and strong, flexed as I explored, veins standing out beneath the hair-dusted skin. Lower still, my cock hung heavy between muscular thighs, stirring as I cupped the weight of my balls, the musky scent of the day rising warmly.

Yet it was my ass that truly captivated me, that massive, rounded mound of muscle and softness that shifted with every movement. I turned sideways, watching it in the mirror, reaching back to grip the cheeks, fingers digging deep into the dense flesh, spreading them slightly to feel the heat within. It jiggled subtly when I walked, filled my pants to bursting, and in those private moments I reveled in its size, its power, its sheer sensuality. This body, once a prison of shame and loss, had become a source of dark, intoxicating pleasure. I was no longer Noah. I was Bruce Clarke, and I slowly grew to love every heavy, sweaty, hairy inch of my new self.

Then, months later and right before graduation, Dan reappeared suddenly, his eyes burning with a wild, desperate hunger. He cornered me after school in the lab, the black hole clutched tightly in his hands. 

“I want it,” he said, voice trembling with excitement. “I want Austin’s body. All of it. The looks, the strength, the privileges. You have to help me, Noah. Please!”

I hesitated, memories of my own irreversible mistake flooding back, but the plea in his eyes, the years of torment we had endured from Austin and his crew, wore down my resistance. Against every instinct, I agreed.

That afternoon I lured Austin to the classroom under the pretense of discussing his borderline grades, my deep voice calm and authoritative as I gestured for him to sit. While the jock slouched defiantly, bragging about his athletic scholarship, Dan emerged silently from the supply closet behind him. In one swift motion, he slapped the black hole onto Austin’s broad, muscular back. The star athlete stiffened, a shocked scream escaping his lips before his perfect body went limp, collapsing forward onto the desk.

I watched, heart pounding in my thick chest, as Dan stripped off his shirt and climbed eagerly into the void, his slim frame disappearing inch by inch into Austin’s chiseled form. The sight stirred something dark in me, arousal mixing with guilt. When Dan was fully inside, eyes fluttering open behind Austin’s handsome face, he grinned wickedly and nodded. Without a word, I reached forward and ripped the black hole away, sealing his fate just as mine had been sealed years before.

The void came free with a soft, wet sound before Austin’s body shuddered and fell onto the floor, convulsing violently for a few minutes before returning to normal, although now permanently inhabited by my old friend.

“Holy shit,” the new Austin breathed, flexing powerful arms, running hands over sculpted abs. “It worked. I’m freakin’ Austin now!”

That evening, the new Austin insisted on coming over to the apartment, his voice over the phone laced with that cocky drawl he had already mastered. I could only agree, my deep rumble quiet and resigned, even though I knew exactly what dark intentions burned in his eyes. He arrived just after dusk, filling the doorway with his perfect athletic frame, shirt stretched tight over sculpted pecs, jeans hugging powerful thighs. The contrast hit me immediately: his smooth, golden skin against my hairy bulk as he stepped inside, grinning like he owned the place.

We barely spoke before he pushed me back toward the bedroom, hands greedy on my broad chest, tugging at my shirt buttons until they popped free. Clothes fell away in a heated rush, and soon he had me bent over, my thick palms pressed against the full-length bedroom mirror, my bearded face inches from the glass. Cool air kissed my sweaty skin as he positioned himself behind me, his hard cock sliding teasingly between my heavy cheeks before pressing in slow and deep. The stretch burned deliciously, and I groaned, the sound rumbling from my hairy chest as he buried himself fully in Mr. Clarke’s thick ass.

The mirror in front of us showed everything: Austin’s flawless chiseled body gleaming with sweat, muscles rippling with every thrust, while my massive, hairy form rocked forward, broad shoulders flexing, thick flesh shifting under coarse fur across my back and chest. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room, my big ass bouncing loudly with each powerful drive, while the sound echoing off the walls like thunder.

“Look at you, Mr. Clarke,” he growled, voice dripping with triumphant venom as he gripped my wide hips harder, pulling me back onto his cock. “Always acting like you were better than everyone, barking orders in that stupid deep voice. Now you’re just a thick hairy daddy taking my dick like you were born for it.”

I moaned, eyes locked on my own reflection, mesmerized by the flushed bearded face staring back, mouth open in helpless pleasure, sweat dripping from my brow into the scruffy hair.

“That’s right, you massive old lumberjack,” he continued, slowing his thrusts to long, deliberate strokes that made my thick thighs tremble. “Feel this perfect cock stretching your hairy hole. I’ve got the body you could only dream of: tight abs, big arms, perfect skin. And you? You’re just a big, heavy brute with fur everywhere. Look at all that coarse hair on your chest. Bet it traps all your sweat like the thick bear you are.”

He laughed, reaching around to tug roughly at the dense mat on my chest, pinching a nipple hard enough to make me gasp. “God, these heavy pecs are huge under all that fur. And this trail running down your thick gut,” he traced it with mocking fingers, “leading straight to that musky crotch like the bearded giant you are.”

My cock throbbed harder at the degradation, leaking steadily onto the floor as I pushed back against him, craving more despite the shame. I moaned loudly, voice shaking as my broad back arched.

“Yeah, moan for me, Clarke,” he taunted, flexing one bicep beside my head so I could see it in the mirror, kissing the hard bicep while slamming deeper. “This is what real power feels like. I’m the star now, the perfect jock, and you’re just the thick hairy professor begging for my cock. Say it. Tell me how much better I am.”

“You… you’re better,” I rasped, voice thick and broken, staring at my own hairy bulk submitting so completely. “You’re perfect… young… strong…”

“Louder, you thick brute,” he demanded, slapping my ass hard, the cheek rippling wildly.

“I- I’m nothing like you,” I groaned louder, the words spilling out as he thrust harder, forcing them from me. “I’m just a big, hairy middle-aged college professor with a fat heavy ass!”

“That’s it, keep going, professor,” he laughed, pounding faster. “Now say how much you love watching your own reflection get fucked like this. Admit you’re just a hairy perverted man who deserves it for looking down on me all those years.”

“I love it,” I confessed breathlessly, the sight of my bearded face twisted in ecstasy pulling more words from me. “I love seeing my big hairy thick reflection being fucked against the mirror. This heavy old body I’m stuck in forever, jiggling and sweating in this small town as the uptight middle-aged professor who can barely fit anywhere.”

He reached climax then, roaring as he flexed both arms, veins popping. Hot pulses filled me, spilling down my thick thighs. “Fuck yeah! I’m Austin McCormack! Star athlete, perfect body, blowing my load deep in the science professor’s hairy ass! Look at these guns!”

The overwhelming sensation pushed me over too. My cock erupted untouched, thick ropes splattering the mirror, streaking down over my reflected chest and fur. I whimpered pathetically, mimicking him in broken surrender. “I-I’m Bruce Clarke… just a middle-aged college professor… with a big hairy body and thick ass… stuck in this small town forever…”

He pulled out slowly, laughing as my hole gaped and leaked, then slapped my ass one last time, watching it bounce against the impact. “Fuck, this ass is unreal. So big and juicy and hairy, like two thick muscular pillows. No wonder you could barely fit through doors. Remember that day you sat down and broke the damn chair? Crack, boom, big bad Mr. Clarke sprawled on the floor like a toppled tree, fat ass in the air, face red as a tomato. Bet the whole school would’ve paid to see that. And now here it is, bouncing beautifully while I fuck it raw.”

I whimpered, the memory burning hot through me, my reflection showing Mr. Clarke’s stern eyes now soft and pleading, filled with lust. Without pause, he spun me around, shoved me onto the bed, and climbed over me, sliding back in with ease. “But we’re not done, old man. I’m fucking you all night. Years of payback in one evening.”

“Dan,” I gasped as he started thrusting again, my voice trembling. I thought we were just role-playing, but now I wasn’t so sure. “It’s still me inside, you know... Noah, your friend.”

He paused for a split second, then laughed coldly, gripping my beard and forcing my head back. “Friend? Nah, I don’t see Noah anymore. I see a thick bearded daddy, the uptight stern professor who always looked down on me. And look at you, loving every second of watching your own hairy thick reflection get railed. There’s no way we’ll ever be friends, you old perverted man. This is my final goodbye to you, one last fuck from a stud like me. You’re Bruce Clarke now, and I’m Austin McCormack, the prom king and aspiring athlete. Enjoy that big hairy body and your boring small-town life.”

And he did fuck me relentlessly through the night: position after position, hour after hour, he took me on my back with my thick legs over his shoulders, on my side with his arm around my broad chest, on all fours again while he pulled my beard and whispered more humiliating truths about my thickness, my hair, my heavy build. Each time he came, he proclaimed his new identity louder, flexing and posing, while I whimpered mine in quiet defeat, spilling over my own hairy torso again and again, our former bond shattered irreparably, cementing us forever in these new identities and lives.

By morning, he was gone. No note, no goodbye, just the lingering ache in my body and the sticky evidence on the sheets.

I learned later he had left town right after graduation, the black hole vanished with him, off to live the perfect life of Austin McCormack: scholarships, trust funds, and endless possibilities. I did not blame him. He had everything he ever wanted, while I remained the middle-aged science professor with the big, hairy body and the quiet unassuming life.

The disappearance of Dan and the black hole sealed my fate irrevocably. There would be no reversal, no climbing into a new body. My old life as Noah was gone forever, with no hopes of ever returning. But as I stood in the shower that morning, hot water cascading over my broad back, running down through the dense hair, down the curve of my big ass and between my thick thighs, a profound peace settled over me. I ran my hands over myself slowly, possessively, feeling every inch of this magnificent form.

Later, dressed in fresh khakis and a snug shirt, I sat at my desk with coffee and papers, the reinforced chair creaking comfortably beneath my weight, my ass spreading wide and familiar.

I was Bruce Clarke now, completely and without reservation. Science professor, hairy giant, and infamous owner of the biggest ass in town. And in the quiet moments, before the mirror or alone in bed, I celebrated this mature body with slow, worshipful touches, reveling in its size, its hair, its unrelenting presence. The black hole had taken everything from my old life, but it had given me this, a deep, sensual love for the man I had ultimately become.

The End?

[unexpected-possessions]

[permanent-swaps-deactivated2026]

Visitors

I’d lived alone in my flat in Madrid for almost eight years. It was a beautiful bachelor pad — high ceilings, big windows overlooking the city, a sleek modern kitchen I barely used, and a rooftop terrace perfect for evening drinks. At 45, I had a good life. Successful job, nice things, plenty of freedom. But lately the place had started to feel too quiet. Too empty.

So I signed up to host an exchange student. Why not? I figured it would be nice to have some energy in the house again. Give a young college kid a proper Madrid experience.

The agency matched me with Mark Rossi.

Nineteen years old. Columbia University. Italian-American from New York (real Italian though, like his parents were from Turin). When his profile photo popped up, I actually paused. He was ridiculously good-looking in that effortless, boy-next-door way — warm brown eyes, thick dark hair that fell a little messy, a bright smile, and smooth, tanned skin that suggested he spent time outside. He looked innocent, almost sweet. But when we video-called, his personality came through immediately: confident, frat-bro energy mixed with that natural Italian charm. Funny, outgoing, quick with the jokes, but polite and respectful.

He arrived on a warm September afternoon.

I opened the door and there he was, rolling a big suitcase behind him, backpack slung over one shoulder. He was even better looking in person — about 5'11", athletic build, wearing a tight Columbia t-shirt that showed off nice arms and a broad chest, and a pair of shorts that revealed strong legs.

“Juan! Man, it’s so good to finally meet you,” he said with a big grin, stepping forward to give me a firm handshake that turned into a quick bro hug. “This place is insane. Thank you again for letting me stay here.”

We clicked right away. Within the first few days, it felt like we’d known each other longer than we had. Mark was easy to live with. He helped cook, kept his stuff organized, and had this infectious energy that filled up the flat. We’d sit on the terrace drinking wine in the evenings, talking about everything — his classes at the university in Madrid, life in New York, my travels, girls he’d dated, the crazy parties he went to. He had that perfect mix: American warmth and humor with a European confidence and flirtiness that made him magnetic.

I was getting used to having someone else around. Enjoying it, even.

Then, about ten days after he moved in, something weird started to happen.

---

At first I was really confused.

I woke up in the middle of the night, heart racing for no reason. I could have sworn I was in one of the guest beds. The mattress felt different under me, the layout of the room slightly off in the dark. But that didn’t make any sense. I always slept in my own room. I rolled over, mutter to myself, and fall back asleep. When I woke up, I was in my room still.

A few nights later it happened again. This time I woke up convinced I wasn’t in my own bed. The sheets felt wrong. The pillows were different. I blinked into the darkness, confused, before sleep pulled me under again.

Then, a few nights after that, I woke up drenched in sweat. My heart was pounding hard. I reached up instinctively and ran my hand over my bare chest.

It was smooth.

Completely smooth.

Where the hell was all my chest hair? Where was the thin gold necklace I’d worn every night for fifteen years? My fingers kept moving across the unfamiliar flat, toned skin, searching for something that wasn’t there. Panic flickered in my chest, but before I could fully process it, exhaustion won and I drifted off again.

The next time it happened, I woke up properly.

I sat up in bed, disoriented, I was definitely in one of the guest rooms. I stumbled over to the mirror on the wall. The streetlights outside cast just enough glow for me to see my reflection.

Mark stared back at me.

His handsome, boyish face. His messy dark hair. His smooth, athletic torso. I was in Mark’s body.

I froze, eyes wide. My — his — hands flew up to touch my face, my jaw, my chest. This wasn’t a dream. I could feel everything. The lighter weight of his frame, the absence of my usual bulk, the way his cock sat differently in the loose boxer briefs I was wearing.

“What the fuck…” I whispered in Mark’s voice.

A strange mix of panic and arousal hit me all at once. I was freaked out, heart hammering, but I also couldn’t ignore the low throb of excitement looking at Mark’s reflection — my reflection right now. I looked good. Really fucking good.

I stumbled back to the bed and lay down, staring at the ceiling, breathing hard. Eventually I must have passed out again.

When I woke up the next morning, I was back in my own body. In my own room. The familiar weight, the chest hair, the necklace against my skin. Everything was normal.

Mark was already in the kitchen making coffee like nothing had happened. He looked up when I walked in and gave me his usual bright smile.

“Morning, Juan. You sleep okay? You look a little tired, man.”

I stared at him for a second, searching his face for any sign that he knew.

“Yeah,” I said finally, forcing a casual tone. “Slept fine.”

He nodded, none the wiser, and slid a mug of coffee toward me across the counter.

I took it, my hand slightly unsteady.

Whatever the hell was going on… Mark didn’t seem to have any idea it had even happened.

---

The next night I went to bed with a strange idea in my head.

As I laid there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, I thought about Mark. About his body. His face. His energy. I focused hard, willing it to happen again. I didn’t know if it would work, but I tried anyway.

A few hours later, I woke up.

The room felt different. The bed felt different. I sat up slowly and looked down at my hands — younger, smoother, with a light dusting of dark hair on the forearms. I touched my face. Sharp jaw, no stubble yet, thick messy hair falling over my forehead.

I was in Mark’s body again.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood in front of the mirror. Mark’s reflection stared back at me, wide-eyed. I opened my mouth and spoke.

“Holy shit… this is real.”

The words came out in a clear American accent. Then, I tried again in Spanish.

“¿Qué coño está pasando?”

It sounded rusty, clumsy. The words felt heavy on my tongue and came out with a strong Italian accent. I switched to Italian without thinking and the sentence flowed perfectly, natural and fluent.

“Porca puttana… funziona davvero.”

I laughed in disbelief, hearing Mark’s lighter, younger voice. The contrast was surreal.

Over the next several nights, I started doing it on purpose. I’d lie in bed, think about Mark, focus on his body, and more often than not, I would wake up a few hours later inside him.

Some nights I would just lie there in his bed, exploring. I’d run my hands over his smooth chest and abs, feeling the lean muscle. Other nights I’d get too turned on and end up jerking off slowly in his room, watching Mark’s handsome face in the mirror as I stroked his cock. The orgasms felt incredible — sharper, quicker, almost addictive.

A couple of times I even went for late-night walks in his body. It felt incredible — young, light on my feet, full of energy.

But no matter what I did, by the time morning came I would always get overwhelmingly tired. I’d crawl back into his bed, close my eyes, and wake up back in my own heavier, older body.

Mark never said a word about it. He’d greet me cheerfully every morning, completely unaware that I had spent half the night living in his skin.

---

A few weeks went by like that. I kept waking up in Mark’s body most nights, sometimes on purpose, sometimes not. I explored, I jerked off in front of his mirror, I took late-night walks through Chueca feeling young and alive. Every morning I’d wake up back in my own heavier body, and Mark would act completely normal, like nothing strange had ever happened.

Then Pedro came to visit from Bilbao.

Pedro had been my best friend for almost fifteen years. Thirty-nine, sharp-featured, always well-dressed, with that effortless charisma that turned heads wherever he went. I’d had a crush on him for most of that time. A quiet, hopeless kind of crush. I knew I was a good-looking guy — people told me constantly — but Pedro had never seen me that way. Not once.

He was a bit of a fuckboy. Always chasing younger guys. Twenties, early thirties at most. It verged on problematic sometimes, but he never crossed any real lines. He just loved being worshipped by hot, eager younger men. Over the years I had pushed those feelings for him down as deep as they would go. I told myself I was over it.

The day he arrived at the flat, he dropped his bag in the hallway and gave me a big hug.

“Juanito! Fuck, it’s good to see you, man.”

Then Mark walked out of the kitchen carrying two glasses of water, wearing a tight Columbia t-shirt and shorts.

Pedro’s eyes locked onto him immediately. I saw the shift in his posture, the way his gaze lingered. He tried to play it cool, aloof, but I knew him too well. He was captivated.

“Pedro, this is Mark. My exchange student from New York,” I said.

Mark flashed that bright, boyish smile and shook Pedro’s hand. “Nice to meet you, man. Juan’s told me a lot about you.”

They started talking, and I could see it happening right in front of me. Pedro was interested. Mark, for his part, wasn’t exactly discouraging it. He laughed at Pedro’s jokes, held eye contact a little longer than necessary, and gave him that charming, slightly flirty energy. Not over the top, but enough to make Pedro work for it. It didn’t feel like a straight guy just being polite. Mark was definitely into the attention.

I felt a sharp twist of jealousy in my chest.

Here I was, a good-looking, successful 45-year-old man who had wanted Pedro for years… and this 19-year-old kid was getting his attention in five minutes flat. It was frustrating as hell.

That night, after we all had a few drinks on the terrace, I went to bed earlier than usual. As I drifted off, I found myself thinking about Mark again. Thinking about his body. About how Pedro had looked at him.

A few hours later, I woke up.

I was in Mark’s bed again. In Mark’s body.

I lay there in the dark for a moment, heart beating fast, already knowing what I was going to do.

---

The next night we all went down the street to watch the Madrid derby at a local bar. The place was loud, packed with fans, and the energy was electric. We drank a few beers, yelled at the TV, and laughed the whole time. Mark was in his element — loud, charming, cracking jokes. Pedro couldn’t keep his eyes off him.

When we got back to the flat it was already past midnight. We kept hanging out in the living room, talking and drinking wine. Eventually I started feeling tired and headed to bed.

“Night guys,” I said, trying to sound casual.

“Night, Juan,” Mark replied.

Pedro just gave me a small nod, his attention clearly elsewhere.

I lay in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling. I could hear them still talking and laughing in the living room. Then the voices got quieter. Lower. More intimate. The sound of movement. A soft laugh from Mark. The unmistakable creak of the guest room door closing.

I tried to ignore it, but I couldn’t. Even with the door shut I could hear them. The low murmurs. The rustling of clothes. The quiet, wet sounds of kissing. Then the rhythmic creaking of the bed and Mark’s muffled moans.

Pedro was fucking him.

I lay there listening, a painful mix of jealousy, arousal, and frustration twisting in my gut. Eventually I closed my eyes and focused hard on Mark again — on his body, his face, the way he felt — as I drifted off to sleep.

I woke up a few hours later.

It was 3:17 AM. I was no longer in my own bed.

I was lying on my side in the guest room, completely naked, with Pedro’s warm, muscular body pressed against my back. His arm was draped heavily over my waist, his hand resting possessively on my stomach. I could feel his soft cock nestled against my ass, still slightly sticky.

Fuck.

My heart started racing. Pedro was spooning me tightly, breathing slow and deep in sleep. I stayed perfectly still for a moment, just feeling the heat of his body, the weight of his arm, the scratch of his beard against the back of my neck.

I needed to see all of him.

Carefully, I turned over in his arms. Pedro made a sleepy sound but didn’t wake up. Now facing him, I could finally take him in. His handsome face relaxed in sleep, the strong line of his jaw, his broad chest rising and falling, his intricate tattoos, the dark hair trailing down his stomach. His cock rested thick and heavy against his thigh.

I stared at him, drinking in every detail. This was the man I’d wanted for years. And right now, in Mark’s younger, tighter body, I was the one lying naked in his arms.

My cock — Mark’s cock — started to harden against Pedro’s hip.

Pedro stirred, his eyes still closed but his hand sliding down my stomach until he felt how hard I — Mark — was.

“Oh… seems like someone’s ready for round two,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep and lust.

In one smooth, powerful motion he rolled onto his back and pulled me on top of him. I straddled his hips as he gripped my waist and guided me down onto his thick cock. I gasped as he slid back inside me, still slick from his load earlier. The stretch was intense.

I started riding him slowly at first, then faster, grinding down hard. Pedro pulled me forward into a deep, hungry kiss, tongue sliding into my mouth as he thrust up to meet me.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned against my lips.

He flipped me onto all fours and fucked me deep in doggy style, his hips slapping loudly against my ass. Then he pulled me up so my back was against his chest, one arm wrapped around my torso while he kissed and bit at my neck and shoulder from behind. His other hand roamed greedily over my toned abs and obliques.

“Speak Italian for me,” he growled, still thrusting steadily.

I moaned in Mark’s voice, the words coming out naturally, “Ti sto scopando così bene… mi fai impazzire…”

“Such a good boy,” Pedro praised, his hand stroking my cock in time with his thrusts. “So fucking tight for me.”

He flipped me onto my back and pushed my legs up, fucking me in missionary. His eyes locked onto mine, slack-jawed, pupils blown wide with pleasure. He looked completely lost in it, like he was drunk on how good Mark’s body felt.

The orgasm hit me like a freight train.

My whole body seized up. Waves of intense, shuddering pleasure crashed through me, stronger than anything I’d ever felt in my own body. My cock pulsed hard between us, shooting thick ropes of cum across my smooth chest and stomach in powerful spurts. I cried out, hole clenching rhythmically around Pedro’s cock as the orgasm seemed to go on forever.

Pedro’s eyes widened with raw lust. He greedily scooped up a big glob of my cum with his fingers and licked it off his hand without breaking eye contact.

“Mmm… not bad,” he said, voice rough. “Sweet. A little salty. Tastes like a young guy should.”

He scooped up more and brought his fingers to my lips. I hesitated for half a second, but he pushed them into my mouth anyway.

“Open. Taste yourself,” he ordered.

I sucked his fingers clean, tasting my own cum while he kept fucking me slow and deep.

“Not too bad for a kid who’s only tried girls before,” Pedro said with a wicked grin. “Glad I could be the first cock to fuck that tight little ass. Next time I’m gonna pull out and shoot my whole load all over that pretty face.”

He fucked me harder for another minute, then buried himself deep and came with a low groan, filling me again.

We collapsed together, sweaty and exhausted, and fell asleep tangled in each other’s arms.

When I woke up, sunlight was streaming through the window.

I was still curled up against Pedro’s warm body. Still in Mark’s body.

Holy shit.

I carefully slipped out of bed, heart racing, and snuck into the kitchen wearing only a pair of Mark’s boxer briefs.

As I turned the corner and looked up, I was shocked to see my old body was already sitting at the kitchen table, wearing my favorite robe, sipping coffee. He looked up at me with a calm, slightly amused expression.

“Morning,” he said casually, in my voice.

Who's body would you want?

Juan

Mark

Pedro

Voting ended onJun 10

[unexpected-possessions]

[allwhitebriefs]

[ladofadad]

Go Fuck Yourself

Henry got in a fight with his girlfriend last night. In anger he yelled, “I wish I could just be with someone more like me!” His girlfriend stormed out angrily telling him to go fuck himself.

When Henry awoke the next morning, there was a man who looked just like him sitting in the window sill. It had to be a prank, he thought. Someone that his now ex girlfriend hired to mess with him. But this man looked exactly like him. It wasn’t possible, especially on such short notice.

Snapping him out of his trance, the man who was scrolling his phone and playing with his growing bulge asked, “Babe, I’m getting horny, can we fuck?”

“Fuck you man, suck my dick,” said Henry still thinking that this was some sort of conspiracy.

“Okay,” said the mysterious man coming over presumably to give Henry the blowjob which he facetiously asked for.

“But you really should be nicer to your boyfriend,” said the man as he was on his hands and knees pulling down Henry’s tighty whities.

Henry’s cock grew hard. He’d gotten blown by men before, not that he’d ever told his recent girlfriend that. He could deal with the fact that this guy thought they were boyfriends after about a half an hour when he would bust his nut down the stranger’s throat.

The man identical to Henry was giving him the best blowjob of his life. Sure, he knew men were better at it in general, but it was like this guy knew *exactly* how he liked it. It was a little creepy but it was such a good blow, Henry didn’t give a fuck. The lookalike was playing with his own hard cock as he serviced Henry. ‘Whatever makes you happy faggot,’ thought Henry.

As he was getting closer to cumming, the imposter man got up and threw Henry face down on the bed. Henry was about to object when he felt the man’s tongue start lapping at his hole hungrily. He barely stifled a moan. None of Henry’s ex girlfriends had ever eaten his booty before, and apparently he liked it a lot. The man’s beard felt so good and despite himself, Henry closed his eyes and couldn’t help but smile mouth agape and moan.

The mystery man worked Henry over for a while and then threw himself on the bed on his back, reached and grabbed his own feet to present his underwear clad ass to Henry, behging in a good boy boice,

“Now can I have what I want?”

What was Henry doing entertaining this fag? He should be kicking the weirdo out of his apartment. But his cock raged from all of the foreplay with this stranger.. And he had to admit, the man’s white cotton covered ass was intriguingly enticing. Before he could second guess his own actions, Henry scrambled for the lube in his nightstand drawer. The clone removed his undies and prepared to be fucked.

Henry stuck his meaty veiny erection into the stranger’s fuzzy bottom. The walls were so tight. It was nothing like fucking a vagina. He knew he wouldn’t last long after so much foreplay and with such a tight unfamiliar hole, so he began fucking him hard and fast. The doppelgänger could see that Henry wasn’t going to last long, so he started furiously masturbating his own dick. The two moaned in different tones with identical voices. One distinctly the moans of a man being fucked.

As Henry got close to climax he began making out with the man. This action surprised him, but the man didn’t seem surprised at all, as if they had made out a million times. He forced his tongue down the stranger’s throat even though his mouth tasted like Henry’s own cock. He came hard and then felt the man’s spray his load all over both of their stomachs and chests.

Afterwards, Henry didn’t kick the man out like he had planned. They showered together, played some games and watched some of their favorite shows and even cuddled in bed that night. Henry didn’t know where this mysterious clone boyfriend came from, but he was in no hurry to send him back.

[verus-veritas]

The Final Command

(Unused GIF for the story, but just had to include it for its hotness!)

—

Jake had been sitting on the other side of the restaurant for at least 45 minutes before he watched Callum and his girlfriend talk about leaving. As Callum’s girlfriend stood up and went to the ladies’ room, Jake knew it was the last opportunity he would have to be alone with Callum. He stood up and slowly made his way towards the corner where the other man sat. As soon as their eyes met Callum’s eyes grew wide with rage and disgust.

“What the fuck are you doing here?! I told you to stay away from me, you faggot!!!” Callum yelled as he stood up and clenched his fist. Memories flashed through his mind.

“Yo dude! Chill out! I just wanna chat!” Jake proclaimed with his hands up and visible, showing he meant no harm. Although he never stopped his advance towards the hunk.

“Chat?! CHAT?!! The last time we “chatted” I lost and entire week of my life! Had it not been for my buddy finding us in the club bathroom… with me on my knees sucking you off… I would still be under your fucked up control!” Callum’s face grew red with anger as he spat on the floor in front of him. “Took him almost a month to find another hypnotist and undo whatever fucked up thing you did to me!”

“I’m truly sorry for that. I really am! It’s just that the first time I laid my eyes on you I just fell absolutely in love with your body. You’re just so my type. So when you reciprocated my advances with hatred and violence I just had to resort to some tricks up my sleeves.” Jake said calmly as he inched even closer to his object of desire.

“BY TURNING ME INTO YOUR PERSONAL DUM DUMP?!” Callum yelled, completely lost in his rage and disgust towards the other man.

“Well, you were more than that. I actually made you into my perfect lover and had you tell me your entire life story as I plowed your ass ever night. God how amazing that was…” Jake smirked.

“WHAT THE F-” Callum managed to say before Jake grabbed hold of his collarbone. As if a switch had suddenly been flipped his entire body relaxed and his arms slumped down to his sides. His red flushed face lost its color, his eyes glazed over and his mouth dropped agape.

“Listen to my voice Callum and listen well, as this will be the final command I’ll ever give you. Do you understand?” Jake leaned forward and began whispering directly into Callum’s ear.

“Uuugh…. yes… sir…..” Callum answered drowsily, every word coming out slurred and monotone.

“Everything I’m about to say now is the absolute truth. There’s no denying it and you won’t even question how or when it happened.” Jake smiled, his final plan finally coming to fruition.

“Absoluute…. truuuth…”

“You see, somehow we’ve had our bodies switched for the last hours or so. You’re actually Jake and I’m the real Callum. We don’t know how it happened or why, just that it did and it’s completely real.”

“Switched… bodies…”

“Yes, that’s right. And the fact is; you feel incredibly guilty for being in that body. My body. Every second spent as Callum makes you feel more and more guilt.”

“Guuuilty….” Callum’s eyes rolled back as more and more information were processed into his weakened mind.

“Very much so… Because you know deep down that that handsome face of yours, those tight abs you have under the shirt, that thick cock in your pants and even down to that sexy accent of yours - you don’t deserve them. Why? Because they’ve never belonged to you. No, they have always belonged to me.” Jake smirked as he wiped the drool coming from the other man’s open mouth, before licking the very same wet fingers with his own. Delicious.

“Don’t… deserve……”

“Yes… and because of that you’ll do anything in your power to get us back into our “original” bodies. Even if it takes you your entire life and all your fortune.” Jake grinned deviously as he dug out a paper from his pocket and shoved it into Callum’s. 

“Worry not though, ‘Jakey boy’, because on this piece of paper here you’ll find the number to one of the world’s most famous shamans. You’ll contact him, convincingly reassure him that our body switch is absolutely real and then pay him the hefty cost with the money from “my” bank account.” Jake said with conviction, as he had taken the time to realize that if he couldn’t have Callum’s affection for himself then he’d at least own the only other thing he desired from Callum - his amazing body.

“Convince…. shaman….” Callum slowly nodded, his eyes flickering back and forth as every single word embedded itself deeply into his mind.

“And then, in a week’s time and during this year’s only Total Solar Eclipse, we’ll meet back up and the shaman shall help us perform the sacred ritual to “reverse” this body switch. Our minds shall be ripped from our bodies and placed “back” in our rightful ones. We’ll finally be in the bodies we’re supposed to be in.”

“Reverse… finallyyy….” Callum, or ‘Jake’ as he soon would call himself by, mimicked the words with a satisfied smile on his face.

“Now, when “my” girlfriend comes back here you’ll have to keep up the facade of being me. You’ve been trying your hardest at pretending to be me, but yet you always fuck it up. That’s why I came up to you; to scold you. You don’t want to fuck up the life I’m going to resume, do ya?” ‘Callum’ stroked his other free hand across the other man’s chin, down across his chest and then finally slipped his hand into ‘Jake’s’ pants. It was warm, wet and so so thick, just how he liked it. He couldn’t help but check out the hunk in front of him up and down, admiring all the sexiness that would someday be his.

“God… I can’t wait to “get back” into that sexy body. To call myself Callum again, to worship that body every morning I wake up, to watch myself jerk off my “little Callum” as I explode my sweet seed all over the mirror. My life will be so amazing as Callum….. again.”

With that, the new Callum gave the dazed jock in front of him a small peck on his cheek before snapping his finger in front of his face. As he let go of the other man’s collarbone, the final commands were effectively sealed permanently into the new Jake’s mind.

[manwritingtales]

Jock Roommate

Note: Some pictures were too spicy for Tumblr (this post got flagged!) so I've linked to them instead

---

You know, I was happy when I first saw my roommate. Fit, handsome, and just excruciatingly sexy. You just know he had an easy life using his looks. He'd walk down the street and men and women would stop to turn and stare at him. He was that gorgeous. Too bad he was also a complete slob. He only cares about getting fit, playing sports, and getting laid. The stereotypical jock. Several shirts thrown here and there around were fine; and I honestly didn't care—I even took a sniff or two here and there, but I didn't expect him to be such a big fucking slob.

After a month of living with him, discarded bottles were all around, energy drinks, pizza boxes, and all sorts of garbage that I couldn't even decipher. It made me mad—not just by how dirty he was, but with how he could manage to eat like a pig and still look like that. Even if he didn't shower for days, instead of getting just stinky, he exuded this strong scent that I couldn't help but secretly enjoy. It was unfair seeing how much of a pig he was and still looking like that. Every other day, he'd be dragging some chick to bang all night, and the day after, I kept telling him to quiet it down, and he'd just roll his eyes and tell me to "lighten up." It was relentless. Every day, he'd be bringing a chick, sometimes two, and they'd go at it all night. The guy was a horndog. Muscles, chicks, sports, sex. That's all he cared about.

I don't know if he knew I was gay. Maybe he did. Sometimes, he'd be back from the gym, throwing his wet shirt along the pile of laundry on the floor, he'd grin at me and tell me to clean up the place. He'd take a long shower, while I stared at the soaked shirt. I would take it, feeling the warmth and moist of it, and plunge it deep in my nose. God, he reeked. It was a smell enough to drive a man wild. I wanted it closer to me, I wanted it in me.

When I heard the shower turn off, I immediately threw it away and started cleaning up. He'd stand there, looking fresh with clean skin and black hair, letting the water hit his chiseled abs, and he'd smirk at me and leave without saying a word. It went on for months until I hit my breaking point.

It was semi-finals. I was working on several projects and I got an exam the next day. Phillip—God, even his name sounded sexy on him—brought another girl home and started making out on the sofa. I heard the girl giggling in delight as they moaned. I peeked my head out and saw Phillip kissing the girl's neck. I grew angry. "Do you mind taking it in the bedroom? I got an exam tomorrow. Don't you have class too, Phillip?"

He looked at me in annoyance. "Mind your own business," he said. He turned to her. "Don't mind him. The fag's just jealous he's not you." They both laughed and started making out again.

That was it. It was too much. The pressure from college, Phillip calling me a fag, and the deep-seated feeling that he was right—I was jealous I wasn't making out with him. Things had to change.

What I didn't mention before was that I'm studying chemical engineering. The only reason I got into this prestigious university was that I was a stellar student. I was always combining compounds even before high school, and I knew I could work on something if I work hard on it enough.

I didn't sleep for three months. I dedicated day and night trying to find the perfect compound to use on Phillip. I may have barely passed my exams, earned a warning from my professors for being late or absent, but I was dead set. I used the university lab to make my own concoction, further improving upon it during the night. I barely survived the semester and I still spent the entire break perfecting my concoction.

Time passed like a blur, but I remembered every painstaking detail. Every late night of brainstorming. I didn't care. I was angry at him. I was angry at him for being such a slob, for being a jerk to everyone, and I was angry at myself for being attracted to him. In the end, I finally released the breath I'd been holding for months. I had done it. I'd found the perfect combination.

A new semester arrived. Phillip talked to me in the living room. God, I hated how my stomach felt when he was with me. He just exuded this potent musk, and the way he looks at you is enough to make your knees fall.

"Dude. You gonna pick up around here or what?" he said, glancing at the dirty apartment. I didn't point out that he made that mess. "You know I got more important stuff to do than handle all this. And it's not easy taking care of this bod, you know?" His muscles bulged as he spoke. I stared straight at his eyes. "Try not to be completely useless, for once."

This time, I didn't get mad. I smiled at him and said, "Okay."

He looked at me strangely. I didn't care. For once in my life, I didn't feel helpless against him, helpless against my attraction for him. I had the solution.

Just as scheduled, he went to the gym first thing in the morning. When he came back, he fixed himself a drink and got on the shower. Listening carefully to the running water, I let the liquid fall into his drink. I felt calm. I was so nervous thinking about it, but doing it felt so easy. I ate breakfast as I watched him drain the drink in a single gulp.

I saw him groan and enter his room. I sat on the couch, looking at the clock as minutes passed by. Finally, he opened the door, shuffling slowly to the living room, a confused look on his face.

"I… I don't feel so good…" he mumbled, collapsing to the floor.

I looked at his unconscious body. He even got a nice bubble butt. Too bad it was wasted on a straight dude. I got the vial from my room and swallowed it down. This shouldn't take too long, but for now, I looked at his body.

I turned him around. God, he's handsome. In spite of the horndog jerk, he was so pretty to look at. I let my hand roam over his skin, then gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. He smelled clean and fresh, his skin cool. I inhaled deeply, burying my face on his neck. His potent scent filled me. I could feel my dick become harder. I looked at his face, letting my fingers trace over his abs, and I kissed his lips. I let my tongue inside him, savoring his warmth, enjoying his saliva. I lifted his arms and smelled his pits. Still fresh from his shower, I gave it a lick. A shiver ran down my spine. God, I wanted more. I needed more of him.

I felt a tingle in my chest. The vial was kicking in. I shucked off my clothes and let my naked body fall on him. I could feel his chest, his dick, and his arms. I felt my brain cloud. An odd sensation lingered on my feet. looked down and gasped as I saw my foot slowly merging into his body. This was it. It was happening. I kissed his chest, my hands moving over him as I felt more of my body sinking into him. I could feel his soft breath against me, and it drove me wild.

I felt my chest fall inside him, my arms fading into him, and then the darkness consumed me as my consciousness slipped away.

I blinked. I was looking at the ceiling. A sharp pain throbbed in my head, and I clutched it in pain. Everything felt weird. My eyesight was hazy. I blinked rapidly until it cleared.

"What the fuck…"

Phillip's voice came out. I gasped and touched my throat. I felt stubble on my cheek. Looking down at my legs, I noticed how much stronger and more defined they were.

"Holy shit," I said, the words coming out in Phillip's voice. I touched my abs, feeling how firm they are. I looked down at my arms. Holy shit. They were toned as hell. I stood up and gasped at my new weight—my new height. I stumbled into the bathroom and looked in a mirror. Phillip's handsome face stared back. He looked confused, and I raised my arms and saw Phillip in the reflection do the same. I reached out and touched my cheek.

"It… It really worked…" I felt his tongue, somehow the feeling of enunciating words and syllables felt different. I flexed his arms and saw Phillip in the reflection doing the same. "It fucking worked!"

I watched as Phillip's face lighten up, grinning, as I felt my new body. "God, Phillip. You were always so fucking hot."

Hearing Phillip talk this way was enough to make me hard. I looked at every inch of his chest, at every part of his arm, and I could no longer ignore the hardening length below me. I shoved his boxers down. Good God. Phillip was packing serious heat. The thing was seven inches long, and it was only half hard. "Damn, Phillip," I muttered, "no wonder you got a chick every night."

Just the mere fact that I'm looking at Phillip and listening to his voice was enough to make me hard. I let out a heavy breath as I watched his cock get harder, arching to a full ten inches. I gave it a tug and left out a groan. Phillip's voice was manly and needy.

"You're so hot, Phillip," I said, gasping as I took his dick in his hands. I closed my eyes and let the sensation overtake me. I was him. I'd finally done it. I gave my brand new dick a squeeze and I groaned, as loud as I can. I felt my knees buckle, warmth coursing through my body and directly to my dick. I opened my eyes and stared at my reflection, seeing Phillip with his mouth open, hand on his long, hard dick, groaning. I spit on his dick, the saliva mixing with his pre-cum. I grinned at his reflection, trying to emulate the original Phillip as much as I can. I flexed his arms, wiggling his eyebrows as I stuck his tongue out. Jesus Christ he was sexy.

I turned and looked at Phillip's hairy bubble butt in the mirror. He was perfect. I stroked his cock, feeling the overwhelming heat radiating from it. It was veiny and wet, pulsating in my hand. I stroked it faster while flexing his arms, sniffing his armpits and feeling his knees buckle from the sensation. I started stroking harder and harder. "Fuck, Phillip!" I groaned, the words coming out in his voice, sounding so damn sexy. I stroked harder, feeling his body get slick with sweat. "Ohhhh fuck yeah!" I groaned harder, letting his voice fill the room. I inhaled deeply, taking in his smell, sniffing his armpits as hard as I could. His scent was powerful. It'd never been this overwhelming. It was in me. This strong, musky scent was everywhere.

I stroked harder and harder. I looked at Phillip in the mirror, seeing his body jerk off, his hands slick with saliva as his mouth drooled. I felt my knees buckle and I let out a loud groan, massive amounts of cum spurting from his dick, splattering against the mirror. I let the sensation wash over me, the warmth still so overwhelming. I breathed in and out, my chest rising and falling.

I looked at his reflection again, then at my hand. It was slick with his cum. I stared at his reflection and watched Phillip lick his own cum from his hands.

---

I plopped down on his bed. Even his bed smelled like him. His room was a mess—clothes thrown everywhere, bottles, papers—but I didn't care. I stared at the ceiling, watching Phillip's chest rising and falling. I looked over his body, the birthmark, the veins, and all the little things I'd only began to notice now that I was in him.

"God, Phillip, why did you have to be such a dick?" I whispered in his voice. I breathed in and out, still not sure if this is real or a dream. I heard a notification from his phone, and grinned as it opened using facial recognition. It was a message from a random chick, asking when they were going to meet up.

"Well, that's not gonna happen," I whispered. "I'm gay as fuck."

Hearing Phillip say those words made me snort, a laugh escaping my lips. I tossed the phone aside and let myself enjoy the warmth of his bed. He feels so tight, so manly, and so good. I looked down at his dick, which was already getting hard again. A wave of intense horniness washed over me, then dove straight to my hardening cock. "Jesus, Phillip. Now I get why you're such a fucking horndog."