Be real, Iâm everything you all wantâŠeven those of you that vowed to never date a white dude. I mean I didnât always used to be white, but over the past few years Iâve learned to embrace it and all the privileges that come with it. Itâs crazy to think itâs been 2 years since this crazy white guy tried to run me off the read because I called him out on his racist BS. The weights of the world needed to balance that out and gave me a chance at new lifeâŠ.and a new career path as hole for pay.
Psh itâs not like itâs hard. You all think youâre so much better than straight men, rising above their horned up thinking and misogyny but youâre no better. Starting an OF in this body only proved I was right. I was hot before but now the racists want me because Iâm as milky complected and light haired as they are. It was never about how hot it was, it was how different I was.
So yeah preventing him from killing my old body was the right thing to do. Night in and night out you can catch me with a new stud. Each more diverse from the last, just to remind him whoâs driving his body now. Iâm sure he doesnât mind since it pays sooooo well. I used to be able to sense him there, whimpering about losing control of the body he was born into. But pretty early on in my possession of his alabaster physique, those cries went away when me and my first boyfriend broke up. I chalked it up to him giving up during our breakup hookup. God could that man go and go and go. Our hatred made that moment and unforgettable one. A lay so incredible, when it ended I thought a loud pop of fireworks went off in my head. We moaned in unison, each rock back and forth perfectly coordinated to collide back into each other. As if to confirm with our bodies that we were perfectly made for each other.
After that and two more failed attempts at love I just turned off that want in my head and pursued happiness through money. Every day would become a routine of lust. Wake up to work out. Gotta look good each video. Shower than eat a specific calculated and mundane breakfast. Gotta look good each video. Edit thirst traps before the hook up arrives. Shoot the newest video. Say bye to the hook up, find a protein, go for a run, shower, then eat a mundane protein dense dinner. Old me would have hated the new me. But fuck it I have money, people want me, I look good for a white guy. Whatâs there to worry about.
So anyways Iâm going to this influencer event. The themes all fancy so I canât go half naked like I usually want to. Gotta show off the goods, ya know?
The event was bland, and I quickly realized it was a hollow influencer event with no one there for substance. As I walked back to my room in the nearby resort hotel, I dropped the room key. I quickly bent down to pick it up as a man came around the corner just as I get back up with the original vigor. Our heads colliding at full steam. I get a first look at his impacted face on my way down to my firm buttock.
Iâm only now starting to realize I began living his life as an adult star and forgot to keep up with my body in its coma?!
It turns out that loud pop all those years ago wasnât just an incredible climax, it was a final push getting him out of this body. But what I didnât know then was that all souls trapped on this plane of existence have to go somewhere. No nefarious one made its way into my old body, it turns out the fates wanted to balance their scales for real. Making the racist bigot inhabit everything he hated.
The once racist bigot was surrounded by a community of love and family he never truly had in his life before. They showed him how to be human, empathetic, selfless, and all, or so I convinced myself. Something I began to lose along the way living this lonely life. Once the throbbing stopped he collected himself and realized who now stood before him.
We walked over to a nearby 24/7 diner and just caught up. Where I found success selling his body, he found the same in mi-âhisâ over the years. But whereas I sold lust, he sold practical masculine gym bro guidance.
It was like meeting a whole new person seeing him inside there. He wore the cocky straight white male confidence that I could never. He embodied it because he lived it and I only emulated it. There was an allure to it but maybe thatâs just because I always found myself attractive. From the outside itâd probably look like another white guy with a fetish, but between us there was a palpable lust to knowâŠ.to acknowledge. He may have been a racist in the past, but we bother shared a desire to lay with ourselves. It was erotic and wrongâŠbut one thing led to another and before long we were inside my room.
I was so used to having to take charge that I wasnât expecting what happened next. That natural aura returned. He was shorter than my body now but he was more versed with using all those muscles in a practical way. He pushed me against the wall with a satisfying thud. I was winded in shock that he was handling me the way Iâd always wanted to be. He made me feel small and petite despite my creamy 6â2â muscled stature.
Our mouths explored each others until he decided he wanted to escalate.
With a forceful nudge down that somehow mixed condescension and romance he locked eyes with me as I got on my knees. Once I reached where he wanted me, I was reacquainted with my old thicker friend. I had never seen myself from this angle and I could only imagine his fans that heâd thirst trap for ever got to see this. I closed my eyes and just opened to take it. His hands once again guiding me to match what he wanted. I was lost in his impression of me. I tried to live the role. Pretending I was just swooned by my old body and he was gifting me with his salty and girthy presence. This energy felt familiarâŠâŠooooohhhh thatâs what it was. This felt like it did with my exâŠ..pureeeeee ecstasy.
I followed his lead as he guided me to a bed and told me to lie on my back, head over the edge of the bed. He made himself home in my throat, rocking back and forth keeping me full. I couldnât tell if I was dazed or surrounded in bliss as his moans began erupting out. I donât think I ever did that, mustâve been something he brought over with him. I was lost thinking about all the ways he was now portraying me as. How cliche too, a POC sleeping with a white guyâŠ.I got lost in my thoughts as my former body continued using me. Then I was ripped right back into the moment as he began to say he was going toâŠ.when I felt it coat my mouth. I passed out hearing him laugh in enjoyment.
I woke up the following morning to see him putting on workout clothes I brought for me. A moment of silence ended by the most chilling words Iâd ever heard in my life.
âThanks for the fit dude. You know I gotta thank you for all this. Now that I think about it, itâs sick being biracial. Iâm Asian and Latino, I can say shit that wouldâve got me so cancelled before. This is such a life hack dude. Anyway Imma hit you up anytime I wanna do this again. I already texted slurs to my phone from yours. So if you ever want to say no, just remember I could bring down your little adult video empire by cancelling you. Also thanks for letting me record last night, maybe Iâll start and OF of myself. It was a pretty hot collab. Calling me by your name? Nice touch.â
There was a man named Joel who was a handsome, but was passive and lacked integrity in character, once went to high school, full of potential and opportunities that were set before him since birth, coming from a wealthy family.
Due to his unrealistic expectations of people and lack of practical thinking as well as being privileged with good looks, many people didnât take him seriously and envied.
However, due to him being too easy going, Joel would be on bullies radars which as time progressed got him beat up and name called.
Now he wasnât the type of guy who was too weak to defend himself or couldnât fight back, he was capable of standing his ground if he actually applied himself to do so.
But due to his family strong religious beliefs, they were strict to follow them to a T, even enforcing them on their kids, which sheltered there real world knowledge they could have gained through experience.
One of these were to turn the other cheek, and if they hit that one, well the give them the other again and forgive them, which he took as literally forget about it.
This alone was enough to cause bullies to keep provoking him, knowing he wasnât going to do shit being too easy passive and easy.
However, he wasnât without any defense for he had a friend named Butcher who by his name meant business.
Now butcher was Joel polar opposite in a way for he didnât hold the same values that Joel had.
Butcher was born in a middle class family who went to churches, but it was more of a special event, nothing too strict or serious. He had to work hard to get what he had in life and as time grew would take pride in it.
He worked out and did what he needed to get by in school and wasnât afraid to speak his mind if something didnât make sense.
He meet his friend Joel when he was middle school when he was playing football. He saw how Joel got humiliated when they picked a fight with him between classes.
Seeing him get beat up set off a trigger that made him wrathful which lead to him beating them up, saving Joel from further injury.
From this day, they became friends and honestly his personal bodyguard.
Now they did things together like play video games and workout, which made Joel pretty strong physically on top of his good looks as time progressed making him more desirable for the ladies.
However, his chances of any real relationship continued to fall since he would have these bullies that caused problems in his personal life.
Butcher as time passed got tired of seeing his Joel get bullied, not the bullies alone but Joel passiveness.
âBro you need to learn to fight back, there gonna keep picking fights with you because they see you as easy targetâ, said Butcher.
You know that Iâm not allowed to fight back due to my religion code, said Joel.
That doesnât mean that people should step over you and I canât always fight for you, said Butcher.
These words came to past one day when Butcher was walking to work at noon and a speeding car that ignored the stop sign, hit him at over 80 miles an hour which caused instant death.
Now this was the beginning of Butcher new life as a phantom who can move among the living and not be bound to a body.
He continued to watch his friend Joel for the remainder of his school year, now 18. He hoped that his death would have at least inspired a spark inside him to stand his ground, but the years past after graduation and then college.
Over the past 5 years, he still allowed people to push over him, enduring there abuse and itâs not even physical anymore, he didnât even speak with a sense of authority, only always apologized to them when he did no wrong.
Maybe 2 years I could understand but 5 and he still doesnât fight back,
If I was alive again, I would not allow this, Joel is wasting his life with his body, said Butcher.
This is when a light bulb went off in Butcher head to possess Joelâs body.
Now Butcher remember stories about how people would possess bodies to become another person, he kinda enjoyed it as a quink.
He thought to attempt it on his old friend Joel.
One night, when Joel went home and smoked pot that he could before going to bed high, Butcher put his plans in motion.
Maybe I should go through the cock or mouth, so many possibilities, but Iâmma have some fun with it, said Butcher as he phase through Joel cock slit and started pushing his ectoplasm form through.
The complications cause Joel to wake up in a startle wide awake wondering frantically why his feelings exotic euphoria in his penis.
Before he could react it was too late, for Butcher was already half way through as Joel started to spasm like a man who has intense hypothermia from the cold.
Joel cock was rock hard, and thought if he could get his hand there, he could stroke this spirit out of him, but when he realized that masturbation is a sin also, he lost control of his hands to move.
Meanwhile, Butcher was working his ectoplasm form into Joel whole body, stretching out each limb and after inserting his head through his neck, everything went black for a few minutes.
Eventually, Butcher awakened and was in full control of Joelâs body.
Whatâs going on, give me back my body, said Joel.
No can do man, said Butcher confidently.
Who are you, why did you do this to me, said Joel.
Because you are a waste of life, said Butcher.
Iâve never did anything bad to anyone and always avoided fight, I also never started fights either so there no reason why this should happen to me, said Joel.
Exactly, thatâs why your here, Joel, you never did anything.
Your passive and to soft for this world, but Iâm hard and will make use of this life more than you have, besides I always protect and looked over you in hope that you might take action and stand up for yourself, but you choice passivity instead of practicality,
Is that you, Butcher, said Joel.
Yes, and now I am Joel, said Butcher.
You wonât get away with this, I have the power to repel spirits by the âpower of Christâ, and I cast you out, said Joel with intent.
Yea, thatâs not how that actually works, in fact, I shouldnât exist by that logic, you were always a dreamer who never understood reality.
Before I let you go remember this,
âA soft man, canât do a hard man workâ, said Butcher as he drowned Joel in the deepest parts of his consciousness.
(Breath heavily)
Butcher then gets up to go to a mirror, checking out his new body with the mirror close to the bed.
Damn, he always did take good care of his health, Iâll give him credit for that.
This face is just peak masculinity, a pleasant surprise to wake up to in the morning, said Butcher as he stood halfway up at the bed.
He then leans on the side of his bed, taking in the morning sunlight as he hit his near beautiful naked tan skin basking in the moment as though he was born again.
In a way, he was for the first time in years since he was in flesh again since his untimely death.
After a while, he slowly got out of bed, wanting to get a clear, fresh display of his body while standing in front of the bathroom mirror.
Butcher now Joel, stands and flex his lean muscles, feeling every vein and muscle as he near perfect control of his body.
He then begins flexing his pec as he bounces each of them, posing in the mirror and then proceeds to feel his well defined abs and the side of his oblique.
These tattoos look real good, makes you look dangerously sexy, though tattoos arenât even allowed in your religion, hell Iâm not judging, said Butcher.
His hands continue to go further down feeling up his new growth between his legs. As soon as he felt the thick rod, Butcher begins to lose himself as he stroked it not taking long before reaching climax and almost slipped losing balance until he quickly caught himself, leaning back on the side of the mirror.
Panting and breathing from the euphoria, Butcher said,
âWoah, thatâs one sensitive piece of cock you got here, bro, hehe.â
Shortly after, he felt up his glutes, loving how smooth his butt was.
Damn, I see a lot of dick coming in your future, said Butcher.
After a while, he heads back to the bed, laying back in the cover a bit, while the sunlight gazed upon saying,
You know, before I died, I was actually wanting to experience another side of myself, SSA, or same sex attraction to other men.
I couldnât do it sadly I died, but now I wonât be the only hard man who gets to be inside you, Joel.
But donât worry, I took care of you when you were alive, that will never change even now.
This is the start of a new and daring Joel and he will sure as hell fit the part.
âAfter all, a soft man, canât play hard ball.â
You were just 21 years old, 184 cm tall, 72 kg, with a lean, smooth body and short dark hair. Most would call you cute. When you looked me in the eyes and made your wish, your voice was full of longing:
âI want to be a hairy hunk.â
I smiled. Wishes like that were my favorite. I granted it, but I always take payment. This time, I decided age would be the price.
The transformation began instantly.
A strange tingling started at the top of your head. Your short dark hair loosened and began to fall out in thick clumps, drifting to the floor as your scalp smoothed out completely, there was not even a hit of any hair. You were now fully bald, your head shining under the light. At the same time, your face began to change. Stubble pushed out rapidly, thickening into a full, dense, jet-black beard that covered his cheeks, chin, and upper lip. Your jaw squared off under your new beard, becoming stronger and more masculine, while subtle lines and wrinkles formed around your eyes and forehead.
Your body was next.
A deep, powerful heat exploded in your chest. Your pecs swelled dramatically, pushing forward into two thick, heavy slabs of muscle that stretched his shirt to the limit before it ripped open down the front. Dark, coarse hair erupted across the expanding pecs, spreading like wildfire, thick, curly, and masculine, until your entire torso was covered in a dense pelt. The hair continued downward, blanketing your stomach and thickening around his nipples, which had grown larger and more sensitive.
âOh my god,â you moaned, voice cracking and dropping into a deep, gravelly rumble, the voice of a real man.
Your shoulders broadened with loud cracks, traps rising high as his arms ballooned outward. Biceps and triceps swelled into thick, powerful peaks, veins snaking across the muscle as dark hair sprouted along his forearms. Your back widened into a powerful V-taper, while your stomach tightened into a solid, masculine core with just enough softness to look powerful rather than shredded.
Your lower body transformed just as dramatically. Your ass plumping up into two thick, meaty globes. Your thighs exploded with size, quads and hamstrings bulging heavily, covered in the same thick fur as the rest of your growing body. Even your cock and balls grew heavier, thicker, and more virile, now almost double the size they were and straining against your underwear.
But the years kept adding.l, I wasnât stopping there.
You shot through his 20s and 30s in moments. As your skin took on a more mature texture. The lines on your face deepened slightly. By the time the changes slowed, you had settled comfortably into his mid-50s, a fully grown, experienced man.
When it finally stopped, you sat on the chair breathing heavily, staring down at your newly transformed body in awe. Your massive, hairy shoulders moving up and down with each heavy breath, along with your huge chest.
Bright orange briefs barely contained your new thick bulge and muscular thighs, the fabric stretched tight over his hairy legs.
Your big, strong hands slowly over his body, squeezing your dense beard, groping your hairy pecs, rubbing the thick pelt that covered your chest and stomach. Every touch made you groan with pleasure.
âFuck. I am bald. And old,â your growled in that deep, commanding voice, flexing one massive arm. The muscle peaked powerfully. âI am way older than my own father now, but look at me.â
You stood up, towering and imposing, every inch the hairy hunk you had wished to become, just with a few extra decades added as my little payment.
You turned toward the mirror, admiring the bald, bearded, massively hairy muscle bear staring back at you.
The only good thing about a hospital tends to be the food, and even that is hit or miss these days! All that sickness, all that pain, all that misery, so depressing. Fleshies canât stand it, and itâs even more irksome to ghosts. I go outta my way to avoid em at all costs.
But I caught a glimpse of this sexy male nurse walking into the employee entrance today and I couldnât ignore my boner. I followed him into the bathroom as he changed into his sexy black scrubs, revealing a godlike hunky body. I knew heâd be tight but fuuuuuuck he was so mine!
As he revealed his tight speedo underwear, I couldnât hold my lust any longer. I grabbed his meaty hips as he gasped feeling my hands. I shoved my fat head right through the speedo and through his plump bubble ass cheeks. My head shoved into his warm tight hole with a pop as he shot up and yelped.
I proceeded to shove my bulbous form inside as he danced around, wiggling, swinging and shimmying his body, especially his ass, all over. Grunting and moaning as he felt more and more full of my fatty ectoplasm. He tried multiple times to reach back and grab my tail to pull me out but he just slipped on me and it felt like an erotic massage egging me further.
I finally managed to shove my tail up into his juicy ass with a pop as he yelped and jumped. He grabbed his grotesquely paunch belly feeling me trying to spread out into his sexy tattooed body. Thrashing and flailing around with his mouth stuffed with plasm. I was chuckling deviously as I slipped into each limb like putting on a sexy suit.
Arms, then legs, then hips and torso, one by one they were mine. He came to a stop and his head was swirling around making him dizzy. It came to a stop looking straight forward as he felt me trying for the final takeover. Through my ectoplasm like he was gargling, he gasped and with his last words, he sighed, âHubba hubba.â
He instantly swallowed my ectoplasm with a thunderous squelch as it settled in my new gut which had reverted to cobblestone abs. I let out a victorious burp and tasted hints of cum and food on my breath from a previous adventure. I was elated and started flexing before the mirror and groping my new host.
I slipped on my sexy black scrubs and clipped on my identification badge. âDante, hehe, what a sexy name,â I chuckled to myself. âI guess it would be strange going by Fatso, so thisâll do.â I flashed myself a sexy smile and blew my reflection kisses, loving my new scruff. I wished I could fuck myself, literally!
I heard a buzz from the loudspeaker out in the hallway just as I groped my new ass and gave my cock a few tugs. âPaging Nurse Dante, Nurse Dante youâre needed in ICU 5.â I chuckled to myself and winked. âIâm on break and need to get food ASAP! Canât help others unless I help myself first!,â I rubbed my new abs and headed out and was cafeteria bound!
*A huge thank-you to thepossessionmaster for helping me to brainstorm this sexy little story and bring it to life!*
An AMAZING AI-inspired masterpiece courtesy of the phenomenal zachghost770! Please feel free to give his outstanding content and page a visit and show him some love and support!
Fatsoâs Practice Round with Josh Allen:
Thatâs when the air in the living room shiftedâthick, humid, and rank. A low, greedy chuckle rolled across the space. âUhhh yeahhh, thatâs the kinda meal Iâve been cravingâŠâ Fatsoâs booming, hungry voice oozed from the shadows.
Josh sat up, confused. âWho the hellâs there?â His deep athlete voice carried authority, but his brows furrowed when the room grew hotter, the lights flickering. The ghost coalescedâ neon blue, gelatinous, dripping like ectoplasm, eyes glowing with hunger. Fatso licked his spectral lips, drool already stringing down his chin.
Josh stood up, chest heaving, ready to defend himself. âI donât know what the hell you are, but you need toââ âShut that big NFL mouth, fleshie,â Fatso rumbled, saliva stretching between his ghostly lips. ââCause Iâm cominâ right in.â
Before Josh could react, Fatso opened his gaping maw, wider, widerâcomically so, stretching like a cartoon. Joshâs eyes went wide as he staggered back, but too lateâthe ghost lunged forward and slammed his wet, slimy mouth over Joshâs entire face.
Joshâs muffled scream echoed through the house: âMMMMMMPHHHH!â His arms flailed as the ghost suctioned onto him, drool pouring down his neck. Fatsoâs huge ectoplasmic tongue slithered between Joshâs lips, prying his jaw open with brutal force. Josh gagged hard as the gooey tongue swirled around against his and continued to push deeper inside.
âNNNGHHHHKHHâGAHHHHH!â His eyes bulged, spit flying as Fatsoâs whole gelatinous mass started to funnel down his throat.
The quarterback convulsed, back arching, Adamâs apple bobbing violently as gallons of ghost ectoplasm pumped into him. His abs clenched, his chest ballooning outward as the ghost stuffed itself inside. His cheeks puffed up cartoonishly, his throat expanding like a python swallowing prey.
GLURRRKKKHHâHHHHRRGHHKK! Josh choked as Fatso forced himself deeper, until finally with one last sloppy suction, the ghostâs bloated form slipped entirely inside his fleshie vessel.
Joshâs body jolted violently, his arms splaying out as he stumbled backward into the couch, mouth stretched wide, streams of drool pouring down his chin. His belly distended grotesquely for a moment, swollen as if heâd swallowed a keg wholeâthen WHOOOMPâthe mass compacted, distributing through every vein and muscle.
Josh screamed as his body spasmed, feet kicking against the floor. His shirt ripped as his chest started ballooning. His pecs inflated like pumped airbags, veins snaking over his swollen arms. His traps and shoulders surged higher, cords of muscle thickening unnaturally. His thighs flexed and split the seams of his shorts as they bloated with monstrous girth.
Then came his ass. With a deep, cartoonish POMF, Joshâs glutes inflated into perfect, round, bouncing globesâan obscene bubble butt straining against his shredded shorts. His cock tented forward, hyperspermic balls swelling like grapefruits, his cock visibly lengthening down one thigh.
âUhhhHHHHH yeeeeahhhhhh,â Fatso moaned from within, his voice now booming through Joshâs own vocal cords. Joshâs brown eyes rolled back until only the whites showed, drool cascading down his beard as he convulsed.
âFILLINâ YOU OUT, BOY⊠makinâ ya a goddamn slab of PRIME BEEF. Look at this ass, hahahaha!â Joshâs hands clawed at himself, unable to stop stroking his new pec shelf, his fingertips sinking into the cleft of his swollen bubble butt. He was trembling, leaking pre into his shorts, mumbling through a slack jaw: âFuhhhhhh⊠ohhh⊠Iâm⊠so fuckinâ jackedâŠâ
He stumbled toward the full-length mirror by the wall, flexing uncontrollably. His pecs bounced like twin meat pillows, his arms curling into veiny boulders. His shorts finally gave way with a loud RRRRIIIPPPP, exposing his cock, thick and throbbing, already streaming precum onto the hardwood.
Fatso growled through him, âHhhHHHRRRRrrrnnnghhh, so much fuckinâ CUM in these balls, boy. Youâre a fuckinâ goon machine now.â
Joshâs reflection stared back with a dumb, blissed-out gooner face. His tongue lolled out, drool cascading down his chest hair, eyes half-crossed. He slapped his pecs, moaning at the echoing smack. âFuck, these tits, bro⊠these⊠mmm⊠these are fuckinâ JUICY.â
He bent over slightly, reaching back to grab his swollen ass cheeks with both hands, spreading them and groaning as he felt the taut, bouncing flesh. His cock twitched violently, spraying precum onto the mirror.
âLookit this bubble butt, hahahhhahhhhhh! Big NFL ass turned into a fuckinâ cock-sink. Youâre my perfect plaything now.â Fatsoâs voice mixed with Joshâs grunts.
Josh drooled harder, flexing in the mirror, moaning to himself. âDuuuuude⊠Iâm⊠Iâm such a⊠fuckinâ⊠meathead slut⊠I canât stop flexinâ⊠I canât stopââ
His cock erupted, ropes of thick, hyperspermic cum painting the mirror, floor, and his own feet. He didnât even stopâhe just kept stroking, kept flexing, kept moaning dumb gooner babble. His entire body shuddered, every flex timed with another spurt.
Fatso made him speak in a low, filthy tone: âYeeeahhh, youâre mine now, quarterback⊠Iâm keepinâ this body, makinâ it BIGGER, makinâ it HORNIER, makinâ it STUPID. Youâre a goon toy, and Iâm never leavinâ.â
Joshânow fully Fatsoâslapped his thighs, his veiny cock still pumping precum. He slobbered, drooled onto his pecs, eyes crossed as he bounced his massive bubble butt in the mirror. He tilted his head back, laughing dumbly, jerking himself raw, completely lost to the cartoonishly exaggerated goon state Fatso had forced onto him.
The house echoed with his low growls, his dumb chuckles, the sound of flesh slapping, and the endless splatter of cum. And Fatsoâburied deep in Josh Allenâs perfect bodyâwas only getting started. He knew that heâd be paying Josh more than just one visit in the future!
HUGE shout out again to zachghost770 for his amazing help with this collab!!
Miguel always felt like he was miles behind other guys his age. He was short, skinny, and practically hairless from the eyebrows down. He kept hoping, praying he would hit his growth spurt like all the other boys around him. If any god was listening, none thought he was worth their time.Â
âMini-guelâ The nickname he got back in middle school. It started out as light hearted teasing, but as time went on this turned into something more malicious. By the time he graduated high school, everyone knew that the nickname wasnât just referring to his height.Â
Now at 25 years old, Miguel had only grown a few more inches leaving him at 5â3â. Still skinny, hairless, and lacking in the meat department, he found dating to be nearly impossible. He tried every dating app out there with no luck. The only messages he received were from predatory men interested in his âyouthfulâ appearance. And considering his appearance, they always assumed he would bottom for them. Despite still being a virgin, Miguel knew bottoming was not for him. All those late night self-discovery sessions were evidence enough for him to know that.Â
It was Friday night. Miguelâs friends decided to go clubbing. He reluctantly went along with them, having skipped out on too many outings already. Going out with his friends had just become inconvenient, often being accused of using a fake ID at the clubs and bars they would frequent. Once he managed to get in, he almost always just faded into the crowd, ignored in the sea of men âbetterâ than him.Â
Miguel stood off to the side, gazing at all the men on the dancefloor. One guy in particular caught his attention. This man was everything Miguel wanted to be. Ruggedly handsome, full beard, huge muscles, a sexy pelt of chest hair. The man was wearing tight shorts that left nothing to the imagination. A large bulge clearly advertising his package to any and every man hungry for a taste. Miguel was so distracted by the hunkâs majestic junk that he didnât see that the man was now looking right at him.
"You got a problem?" growled the hunk as he walked towards Miguel, snapping him out of his trance.
Miguel's head snapped up to meet the man's eyes. Legs shaking, palms sweating, mouth going dry. He opened his mouth to apologize but nothing came out. The man now stood right in front of Miguel, towering over him. The top of Miguel's head barely reaching the bottom of the hunks chest. Having this walking testosterone factory so close had him both frightened and aroused. Having backed Miguel into a corner the hunk got right in his face.
"I'm just messing with you," he laughed. "I'm Leo. I saw you staring so I figured I'd give you a closer look." He grabbed Miguel's hands and placed them on his chest.
"I'm sorry. You're just everything I've been praying to be like," said Miguel staring at the ground. "I'm just tired of feeling infererior to every man I meet."
Leo smirked. "Why don't you come to my place and we can sort that out for you."
Miguel hesitated for a second. Not wanting to be pressured into bottoming for a man, a man who had him scared to death less than a minute ago. However, the hunk's musk was affecting him. He found it harder and harder to resist Leo's invitation. Soon he was following the hunk into his car.
They shortly arrived at Leo's apartment. It was the typical bachelor pad. Laundry everywhere, mattress on the floor, and almost no furniture. The smell of Leoâs musk was even stronger in the apartment leaving Miguel dizzy and even more aroused.Â
âSo you said you want to be like me, huh?â Leo asked while flexing his biceps, exposing his hairy armpits and wafting more musk into the room.Â
âYes⊠I doâŠâ slurred Miguel, his arousal slowly becoming more intense.Â
âThen listen to everything Iâm about to tell you. Can you do that?â
âYes, anything!â Miguel panted desperately.
Leo gave a wicked smile before giving his first command.âFirst, strip.â
Miguel froze. His mind was torn between wanting to obey and hiding his embarrassing (lack of) endowment. He looked at Leo with pleading eyes. âE-Everything?â he asked barely above a whisper.Â
âYes, everything. You wonât be needing them once weâre done anyways.â
After Miguel stripped out of his clothes, it was Leoâs turn. First he undid the button on his shorts and slowly pulled them down making a show out of it for Miguel. Bit by bit his underwear was revealed. Bright yellow briefs filled to bursting with a meaty package. Now free from its denim prison, Leoâs bulge swelled even bigger. Now tenting and dripping through the fabric, Leo gave a satisfied sigh.Â
âLooks like it's time to pass down this blessing.â moaned Leo as he pulled down the briefs and stepped out of them. His massive member leaking right onto the floor. He hands the soaked briefs to Miguel. âPut this on.â
Miguel pauses, his mind overwhelmed by the naked beast of a man in front of him. Snapping back to reality, he pulls the briefs on. On his tiny frame, the briefs look comically large. He feels Leoâs Intense stare and considers putting his clothes back on and leaving.Â
He starts reaching for his own underwear when he feels it. A pulse of something stopping him in his tracks. Then, a warmth. It starts with his bulge. His cock starts swelling, reaching his full length at 3â. He isnât getting hard; it keeps growing until he reaches 8â soft. His balls follow suit. Churning, swelling, and churning again until they rival large eggs. They start flooding his body with male hormones and testosterone, kickstarting the next part of his transformation.
Miguel was already satisfied with his changes so far. He went to embrace Leo to thank him. But as soon as he moved, he fell over in pain. His bones started lengthening leaving him at a height of 6â8â. As it stopped he stood and walked up to Leo. To his surprise. Miguel was now taller than Leo.Â
âYou might want to be in front of a mirror for this next part,â said Leo, leading Miguel to the bedroom.Â
As soon as they reached the bedroom door, Miguel began sweating buckets. The heat he felt earlier returned. Now it was focused on his chest. His nonexistent pecs suddenly ballooned into a perfect pair of meaty, juicy muscle tits. His nipples thickened and expanded, becoming extremely sensitive. The growth spread outwards. His torso becoming thick with powerful musclegut. His shoulders so wide that most doorways will be his worst enemy. His biceps arms swelling to massive peaks. His legs expanding thicker than most menâs waists.Â
While Miguel admires his new muscles in the mirror, he feels an itch across his whole body. Bit by bit, he grows a sexy dusting of hair along his body, accentuating his muscles and filling with his new musky scent. Smelling his own musk drove Miguel wild. He began stroking his cock while burying his face in his own pit. New thoughts filled his head. He realized he didnât mind bottoming if it was for Leo. In fact, he found that he craves Leoâs cock just as much as his perfect ass. With those images flooding his mind, he came with a loud roar. His seed covering the entire mirror and himself. Miguel turned towards Leo, breathless but still horny.Â
âThank you for this. I look incredible, I feel incredible!â Marcus said, attacking Leo with a sloppy kiss.Â
âI knew youâd take to it well,â said Leo as he rubbed and squeezed Miguelâs new muscles.Â
Soon they were both enjoying each other. The briefs were discarded on the floor next to the rest of Leoâs dirty laundry. Both men were now enjoying their blessings. Obtaining the bodies they desire and the relationship they were searching for.Â
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after such a long time just rebloging i finally wrote my own story. this is the first time i write something like this so i apologize if there's anything wrong with grammar/formatting. i hope to improve as i get more practice and experience.
thanks again ^^
CONTENT WARNING: This story includes themes of transformation and body control with a suggestive approach. If this type of narrative is not to your liking or you do not meet the recommended age, we suggest you do not continue. All images used (if any) belong to their respective owners. I claim no authorship over them and they are only used for illustrative purposes. All the stories features only adult characters. If you decide to go ahead, welcome to Possessed Desires, where mind and body are never completely under your control.
Heartstealer
Ben Hope hated Nick Nelson with all his heart.
Why? He had no shortage of reasons: That flawless face, that hair golden as sunlight, broad shoulders and a big chest. And he had Charlie. He. HIS Charlie.
I mean... It wasn't as if Ben was ever going to come out of the closet, let alone start treating Charlie Spring well; he wasn't gay. But the guy was his â his property â and Nicholas had come along and snatched him away.
All that perfection, top grades, rugby, a perfect romance, surrounded by friends and adored by all of Truham, it was all bullshit.
But the final straw came when Ben finally got to university, trying for a fresh start; heâd left Truham to get away from the whole Charlie-and-Nick scene and find his own path. Which hadn't exactly... Gone well. His new college had felt like starting the race late: Strangers, zero friends, and certainly no curly-haired twink dying for him and letting him treat him like a toy.
Shit!
University could finally be that reset, a horizon far away from all the assholes at Truham. Heâd be a new student like everyone else; he could join a sports team, maybe track, or even rugby. Build up his biceps a bit, get more ripped. He had the looks; it was just a matter of getting sexier, and heâd have as many people as he wanted lining up for him.
Heâd chosen one of the furthest universities so there wouldn't be a single chance of running into Charlie, Tao, or that whole bunch of his freakish friends again. It was going to be his year â His fucking fresh start.
Until he came face-to-face with Nick Nelson again in Leeds.
And not just that, in the exact same fucking degree program.
They shared everything. Lecture halls, classes, extracurricular workshops, nearby tables in the cafeteria... Even though Ben was no longer the outcast heâd been a year ago â and had managed to make a few friends â Bile would always rise in his throat whenever he glanced over and saw Nicholas right there.
Participating in class, joining the school committee, returning to the rugby team. Nick, Nick, Nick, NICK, NICK. Everywhere. It was enough to drive him mad. Oh, and that wasn't even the worst part, ha!Â
If Nick was there, it meant it would only take a year for Charlie to find his place there too, in his beefy boyfriendâs fucking arms, rubbing up against him like a cat in heat, oozing sweetness and showing off their perfect love.
Ben wasn't going to let that happen; heâd let it happen before, heâd given up. Heâd even apologized (though only because he wanted to see if Charlie would come crawling back to his arms â I mean, Nick Nelson might be attractive and fucking muscular like Michelangeloâs David, but HE had that special spark).Â
He thought that would get his lapdog back â Or at least make him so fucking desperate to be with him again that heâd cheat on Nick just to have him for five minutes. But no, heâd just ended up looking like an asshole who had to swallow his "apology".Â
He didn't care if Charlie was a good person, or if he wanted to be like the two of them, even if he wanted anything at all.
Charles Spring was right about one thing: control.
Ben loved control like nothing else in the world; it was an intoxicating elixir, the most delicious placebo imaginable. Ordering someone else to do whatever you wanted, and then just sitting back and watching them do it.Â
He still had such fucking crazy, vivid dreams where Charlie came crawling back like the dog he was â Ready to serve him, head hung low, tongue lolling out, eyes vacant before his one and only master â while Nicholas watched, teary-eyed, as his beloved boyfriend spread his legs for a REAL man.
But upon waking, he was alone in bed again, tangled in the sheets, with a hard, aching throb in his groin.
He had tried dating other guys: Skinny, chubby, insecure ones, nerds, guys who didn't yet have the courage to come out of the closet; the kind who would die for a moment of attention, for someone more attractive than them to be "hovering" nearby.
But no matter the kisses, the "I love yous", the "I need yous", or the midnight pleas, it wasn't enough.
Ben wanted Charlie. Not just any toy â HIS toy.
â Fucking... shit⊠â Ben muttered, feeling raindrops begin to fall around him, drenching his straight brown hair until it plastered against his skull. He barely lifted his feet off the pavement, staggering as he clutched a bottle wrapped in brown paper, the bitter taste of barley searing itself onto his taste buds. Maybe it was too early to be drinking, considering it was only Monday.
Everything was shit; it was barely the middle of the college year, and he was already guaranteed to face final exams in some subjects, he even failed others due to absences. Heâd never managed to make the track team, and his romantic âinterestsâ lasted barely a week â not because they dumped him, but⊠It didnât feel right; it felt too easy, almost like tying oneâs shoelaces. He wanted something more, and it didnât help that this âsomething moreâ was already claimed by someone else.Â
That stupid blond guy⊠He couldn't concentrate in class because of that irritatingly deep voice answering every question the teacher asked, or that laugh echoing in the hallways, always bragging about his beloved Charlie: How Charlie was coming to visit, Charlie this, Charlie that. How long were they going to keep ruining his life?!
Ben kept walking aimlessly; he was so dizzy heâd mistaken the path to his dorm for the rugby pitches, and the weather was getting worse by the minute. The rain was coming down hard, with massive, heavy drops blurring his already hazy vision. He kept moving until he spotted someoneâs broad, sturdy back.
A green shirt with white stripes, massive biceps; the guy seemed to be picking up practice cones all by himself. His hair was wet, water dripping off him like a magazine model; his skin was slightly pale, glowing gold under the fieldâs floodlights. Benâs blood began to boil just as lightning lit up the sky, as if warning of an impending catastrophe.
â Hey, Nelson! â The words came out slurred. The bottle fell to the ground, shattering and soaking the bag with a mixture of beer and rainwater, but Ben managed to stumble onto the field.
â What do you want, Ben? â He muttered, annoyed. He didnât have time for this; he already had enough on his plate, having been ordered by the coach to clear away all the practice gear as punishment for his lackluster performance over the last few days. He wasn't nervous, but that was the effect Charlie had on him.
They had gone nearly six months without seeing each other, which was a⊠Massive challenge. They still texted constantly, video-called, and played games online, anything that might help them feel closer.
But nothing could replace the feeling of being in the same room: The electric touch of their fingers brushing against one another, their lips locked in a passionate kiss, Charlieâs slender arms trying to wrap around his sturdy frame, his scent⊠Everything.
And finally, that weekend, he would be there. It would only be for a couple of days, but his mind was so lost in the daydream of finally having the love of his life back by his side that he couldn't focus on where the ball landed.
Did Charlie know Ben was in Leeds too? Yes. Did either of them care? No. Ben was a thing of the past, just some idiot who had toyed with his boyfriendâs sweet heart and who, luckily for Nick, had let him go, leaving the path clear for him.
Nick bent down to pick up one of the last remaining cones; he still had a couple of chores to do and, on top of that, needed to finish Charlieâs gift. He had put together a letter filled with photos, memorable moments, clippings from their early dates, and other details; he still had to glue a few things down and write the final section. Ben Hope couldn't ruin his night â Just a few more days and his boyfriend would be there with him. Just four more days; that was all he had to hold out for.
â Itâs all your fucking fault â A hiccup escaped his lips; it was a miracle he was still managing to stay upright â First Charlie, then Truham, now rugby, college. Itâs all your fucking fault, Nelson.
The blond guy clenched his fists as he picked up the last orange cone; another crack of thunder broke the silence. He inhaled and exhaled, feeling his chest muscles expand against his soaked T-shirt from the momentum of his body.
â Have a good night, Ben.
He pressed his lips together and walked straight toward the locker room. Ben glared at him with pure hatred; his stomach churned, and his heart felt as though it were on the verge of oozing black blood. Another peal of thunder rang out, even closer than the last.
â Answer me when I'm talking to you, shithead.
He swung his arm, striking Nick across the cheek with the back of his hand; a sharp smack echoed, like a massive drop of water hitting a face. Ben stumbled slightly before regaining his footing, swaying unsteadily.
The rugby playerâs expression hardened as he turned back to face him. His fingernails dug into his palms, his thick fingers coiled tight, tense and ready to throw a punch if necessary. He tried to breathe, to relax, to calm down; nothing could ruin this weekend.
â It takes two to start a fight.
â And it only takes one to break your nose â He let out a mocking laugh that made Nickâs composure waver â Or what? Don't you ever wonder if Charlie misses me? That every time you kiss him, you have to taste me? And please, haha. Let's be honest: he definitely still remembers me. You have no idea how he used to beg for "more".
â He hates you, Ben. Don't you remember?
â Thereâs a fine line between love and hate. So don't get too excited, blondie; I know he still craves this â He gestured with his hands in front of his hips, slowly rocking back and forth â You have no idea how he used to beg me to treat him like the piece of trash he is.
That was the last straw.
The veins in his neck bulged, his rugby gear went flying to crash against the ground, and his heavy, menacing footsteps thundered across the turf.
â You want a fight? Fine, let's do it. Nobody talks about Charl-
He was about to finish the sentence when a bolt of lightning struck the rugby field directly; the roar was deafening, accompanied by a blinding flash. The ground shook violently as the electricity surged across the wet grass.
The current raced forward like a shockwave until it hit them both, slamming into their legs with brutal force. Their eyes rolled back in shock, turning completely white; Benâs neck snapped to the right with a sound like a branch being broken in half, while Nickâs fists clenched and unclenched as he felt the energy coursing through his body.
Stifled groans and grunts were drowned out by the thunderous noise and the relentless downpour of the storm. Their bodies shook with involuntary tremors and spasms until, finally, the electric charge dissipated outward.
Both collapsed onto the grass, completely limp. Their clothes were soaked through; the jacket hung a bit loose on Ben, while Nickâs uniform clung to his body like a sheer veil that left little to the imagination. Thick, lightly furred thighs; white socks stained brown and green from practice; hot, sweaty, and stinking feet trapped inside cleated boots. His massive torso, bulging biceps, large hands, and heavy, thick pectorals lay still... then slowly began to rise and fall like living mountains.
Water droplets still covered his face, and his hair was completely wet; they could have been lying on the grass for mere minutes or nearly three hours.
Nick opened his eyes in confusion; the world was spinning, his head throbbed painfully, and his entire body felt numb and tingling.
â Holy... shit, ugh â he felt as if heâd torn his muscles â Damn it...
He could barely move; the light hurt his eyes, and his muscles felt heavy, exhausted, and so... Big?
The blond guy slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position on the damp grass. He felt a chill. Where had his jacket gone? And... Oh, holy shit.
His gaze soon fell upon his pectorals â massive, with hardened nipples pressing against his sports shirt. The horizontal green and white stripes only made him look even more huge than he already was, with water droplets running down his skin as if he were a god fresh from a sacred river. He brought his hands forward slowly, a faint trace of confusion lingering, and began to squeeze â gently at first, as if afraid to break the spell. But the more he felt and touched, the more pressure he applied, sinking his fingers into that spongy surface; he wanted more.
â Fuck, no way, haha⊠â he whispered, a cocky grin playing on his lips â Is this real?
He inhaled, trying to steady himself, but the deeper he breathed, the more keenly his new nose picked up every scent around him: Wet grass, earth, the smell of rain, his own reeking armpits, the testosterone in his sweat, his cologne, and the deodorant that hadn't really done much good.
He slowly rose to his feet, feeling his thick thighs doing all the work to keep him upright; he stumbled a little â He felt like a fucking giant â And it took a moment for his center of gravity to stabilize. Then, he let out a mocking chuckle.
â You wanted a fight, didn't you? â Nick licked his lips â Shit, I can't believe this is real. Am I dreaming?
He slowly lowered his hands to slide them over the wet fabric, tracing the line of his abs down to his hips; he began moving them in circles, then back and forth, all while feeling the wet shorts clinging to his legs, outlining the...
â Oh shit, haha! â The rugby player shamelessly jiggled the bulge in his pants, watching as the thick obelisk slowly began to rise; you had to be kidding! Hahaha! That thing was so thick and huge, like a fucking slab of meat. How big was it? Almost 20cm? 18cm? That thing was twice the size of his own!
He slipped his hand back in, making sure to run it along the entire shaft before pulling it out and pressing it against his nose; the scent was... Shit, fucking intoxicating. A mix of raw masculinity, an earthy musk, sweat, and something else, like pool chlorine.
â Well, well, who wouldâve thought? Nick Nelson, fondling himself before practice? And wearing this kind of gear? What? Want your ass hanging out so everyone gets a better view? â He reached for the elastic band at the back of the jockstrap, pulling it and letting it snap against his own glute, letting out a soft gasp of satisfaction.
He was about to go back to admiring his new body when he noticed something just a few steps away: A figure lying motionless on the ground, barely breathing. The person was wearing a huge brown jacket, tight, soaked jeans, and worn-out sneakers; straight brown hair lay plastered across their forehead.
Nick took a couple of steps forward, staring for a few seconds with a completely dazed look. Was that... His body? Was it still alive? Shit, was he dead?
He crouched down slightly to bring his fingers to the neck, trying to find a pulse. It was... Faint, almost imperceptible, but he could feel the chest rising and falling steadily; the body was still breathing.
But if he was standing there, and his body was lying on the ground... Who was inside it? A mocking smile played across his lips again as he rose to deliver a hard kick to the ribs, harnessing all the new strength and power he felt coursing through his muscles. His old body let out a gasp mixed with a strange, high-pitched wheeze.
He gathered some saliva and spat it right in the face, making sure it landed squarely and left a slimy trail down the cheek, letting out an almost wicked little chuckle.
â Shit, Nelson. I always imagined your body was in good shape, but I never thought it was this good⊠â He slowly flexed his arms, feeling the T-shirt sleeve strain against his bulging biceps, and took a quick whiff of his own reeking armpits â And I certainly never imagined Iâd have it as my puppet, doing whatever I wanted with it. Huh? And the cherry on top: having you out of the way so you can't interfere.
Slowly, his hands moved down to the waistband of his shorts and jockstrap to pull them down; he grasped his thick member between his fingers, ready to leave a "little souvenir".
â Wha... What's happening?
He heard a voice.
He quickly pulled his pants back up, thinking someone might be nearby; he loved the idea of ââhumiliating that moron Nelson, but he didn't want to cut the fun short just yet. He scanned the area: The bleachers, the rest of the field, the entrance, and the distance, but there was no one there except him and that old body.
â Hello? â he asked aloud, feeling his chest reverberate once more.
â Where am I? What is this? Hello?! Is anyone there?!
He remained confused by the unfamiliar voice until he stopped to listen more closely: It was a deep tone, the voice that irritated him so much. But if he wasn't outside, that meant...
â Ha, are you in there, Nelson?
â Wh-what? Who are you? Why can't I move!?Â
â Cause Iâm the one in charge of YOUR body now, blondie. Ha, I thought itâd be fun for you to watch everything from inside my old body while I rubbed it in your face, but, shit! This is way better! You literally canât miss a thing; itâs a front-row seat. Huh?
â Ben?!
â Nah, I think itâs more like "Nicholas" now, don't you?
â No! Of course not! Get out of my body right now!
â And leave all the fun to you? Nah, of course not â Ben stretched out his new, sturdy body, delighted by all the power, all the fucking possibilities... But especially by finally getting the revenge heâd wanted so badly.
â Shit, aren't you like a G-cup or something? I can't believe these things don't even fit in your hands, haha! â Ben let out a laugh, never taking his eyes off the mirror. As he flexed his pectorals, the areolas were already swollen and red from how much heâd been pinching them; there were reddish streaks on his fair skin, too, and his chest ached from all the friction.Â
He had come straight from the rugby pitch to Nicholasâs room. But how had he figured out where he was, or which keys to use? Simple. He had threatened to send Charlie a message saying they were over, that he disgusted him, and that he never wanted to see him again.
He blurted out the information in near-desperation, begging him to stop.
â P-Please, Ben. Get out... i-it's my body.
â And that makes it more fun, asshole â He lifted his hips a little higher to admire his backside, plump and soft like freshly baked buns; didn't those things clap together with every single step?
He kept watching and admiring himself until something shiny on the desk caught his eye.
He stepped forward a little, curious.
â Whatâs that?
â Put that down! Itâs none of your business!
Ben picked it up with his thick, newly calloused fingers, hardened by training, and flashed a mischievous grin when he noticed all the glitter and the gel pen script on the paper.
â Aww, is it a love letter? â He took in the cutouts scattered across the table, the scissors, the drawings, the sparkles; there were even love song lyrics on the computer screen, ready to be printed or copied out â You make me sick, Nelson.
He grabbed the letter by both ends, ready to tear the paper, but his eyes caught more details. There were pre-cut photos lying around, blank spaces on the paper waiting to be filled, and the glue.
â Oh, so someone isn't finished yet, huh? Don't worry, I'll help you out. Though this glue looks cheap. We need something stickier, don't you think?
Little by little, he slid down the jockstrap â The only thing he was still wearing, aside from his damp, sticky white socks; he loved the way his feet and calves looked in them.
It took just a couple of tugs to wake the beast. It immediately began to swell and grow a few centimeters beyond its already impressive size; it felt so... sensitive. Even the air made him shudder against that thick, bright pink head. He licked his lips, wrapping his right hand around it, though even that wasn't enough to cover the entire shaft.
He could feel his balls â heavy and full â swinging with the momentum of his movements. His head fell back as his breathing grew heavy, his eyes rolling slightly upward.
Of course, heâd had experiences like this with his own body before, but, damn. This was different. So... electric. He licked his lips and placed both hands on the shaft, moving them up and down at an initially slow rhythm before picking up speed like a newly started engine, pistons firing rapidly from top to bottom.
He gripped the flesh tighter, growling; veins stood out from base to tip, he had never seen one so big, so imposing... Like a stallionâs.
"Nick" flexed his arm, unable to get enough of the sight of those bulging muscles, all his, and achieved without ever lifting a single weight. Big, thick, powerful... He raised his arm a little higher, then stuck out his tongue, desperately licking the entire hollow between his legs, sucking at the skin and the hair nestled there, savoring that musky, bitter, potent scent and taste that clouded his mind.
So intoxicating... That was what a real man smelled like.
He used to love control, though he knew it had really just been about cunning. Sweet words here, flattery there, and manipulation in all its glory. But this, oh man... This was so much better. This was pure control.
Who could resist those biceps? That reek of a stinking male, the length hidden in his trousers, even those massive globes attached to his backside?
He didn't just have the wit and charisma; now he had the whole package.
And better yet, a direct path to what he wanted.
His gaze fixed on a photograph of the two of them: Charlieâs innocent smile, the way his curls fell over his forehead, the shy posture that always accompanied him, those cheekbones, the deep dimples, those lips...
Ben quickened his pace, slamming his hands against the base of his new tool and growling as he felt sweat begin to run down his lower back, his forehead, and his biceps. His whole body glistened with the drive to finally win. So many months spent longing to have him back, to put him in his place at his feet, to humiliate him, to make him watch that feeling of perfect love, security, and hope vanish. To have him under his control again, like his fucking lapdog.
â MGGHHH, sh-shit, mghhhh!!!! â Torrents upon torrents of thick white fluid splattered everywhere: On the floor, the desk; some even landed on the letter, to the horror of Nick, who was weeping silently within his own mind. Powerless and weak, unable to lift a finger, he was forced to watch a movie in which he had no voice and no say.
The new Nick was breathing heavily, his chest heaving like massive, towering peaks, his manhood oozing and throbbing for more. He was certain he could go at least three consecutive rounds without tiring â All that athletic stamina... He moved one hand toward the edge of the table where a white glob lay, picking it up between his fingers; with his other hand, he grabbed one of the photographs, smearing his seed onto the back before pressing it against the paper.
One by one, the photos were stuck to the paper, which now reeked of sourness and dampness, a stench that would only worsen as the days went by.
Ben gazed proudly at his creation: Nickâs love, corrupted by his own perversion. Hours of effort and dedication â a warm, thoughtful gesture â now tainted (and not just literally), steeped in that dark desire, that absolute control and jealous desperation.
And that was just the beginning... Leeds, and the whole world, had better be ready for what was coming; the kind, warm, handsome "himbo" that Nicholas Nelson used to be was a thing of the past.
Kind? Yeah, right. Helpful? That was what others had to be for a god like him. Faithful? Weâll see about that...
But the person he was most eager to "surprise" with his newly discovered self was undoubtedly his poor, foolish boyfriend... Oh, poor and innocent Charlie.
He wouldn't even see the blow coming.
He was definitely going to break his heart. Hahahaha!
----
Hey everyone!
I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you liked it, don't forget to follow it and share it so more people can discover it.
I know it took me a while to post this fanfic, haha. But Iâm really happy with how it turned out. Thanks so much to everyone who voted for this option.
I feel like the plot and narrative of Heartstopper (and this story, of course) really lend themselves to further exploring themes of possession and the "dark and twisted" desires of a certain resentful ex-boyfriend.
Thatâs why Iâll be uploading it to my Patreon this coming Wednesday, August 12th. So keep an eye out for that!
You can sign up for my basic plan for just $5 a month; it gives you access to this story and 150 others, plus updates three times a week and other perks! What are you waiting for?
You can find the link in the pinned post on my profile.
Now, without further ado: what did you think? Did you enjoy the story? Were you expecting something else?
Itâs my first time writing a fanfic, haha. So⊠I don't know, based on this one, would you like to see more?
Would you like to see more fanfics on the blog?
Yes! Please
50/50
Not really. Just stick with the original stories.
Remaining time: 8 minutes
I'm always open to suggestions and ideas, so if you have any fantasy or scenario in mind, let me know in the comments or in messages. See you in the next story... Who knows what body you will occupy this time?
It was the best feeling in the world. Picture this: a simple spread of the legs in the summer heat, sweat dripping from your forehead. You feel a cool, slick touch slide down your inner thigh. It feels almost slimy, though it leaves no residue as it inches toward your taint and ever closer to your rear. You gasp as it circles the tight hole, as if an expert were rimming you with their cold, wet tongue. Then, quickly, a gentle thrust. You feel it enter you, slithering slowly, intentionally. It begins to fill you, that frosty ooze spreading all throughout your body. Your breath is laboured, as you begin to contort and expand as it is overtaken, washed and inundated with this foreign substance bubbling beneath your skin. It pushes up your throat, choking you, taking the last of your breath away before it presses at the top palate of your mouth. It would feel almost like drowning, though your sensations only fire endorphin after endorphin of euphoria. Pressure builds as it presses harder and harder, until... pop. The hard palate gives way as it rushes and balloons into your head. Thoughts and stresses fade away, and you're left in a state of total ecstasy as your body begins to move on its own.
Fuckin' amazing, am I right? Well, guess what? I get that incomprehensible experience whenever the hell I want. Perks of living in a haunted apartment! Confused? Let me explain.
I moved to New Orleans a year ago, give or take a couple of months. I graduated college, and after testing out a couple of places that didn't really pan out for me, I landed in the cement swamp in the height of the summer. I'd just left Salt Lake City, so coming from the tepid air of Utah to the brick wall humidity of Louisiana was a lot. Yet, I was determined to make the best of this one. I'd secured a low-level office gig at a non-profit, and rented out a cheap two bedroom just outside the French Quarter. The house was one of those old shotgun-style places. It wasn't well maintained, frankly incomprehensibly so to be up to purpose for a tenant, though I was still paying an arm and a leg.
The first few nights, I didn't sleep super well. It was hot, I was sleeping on a hard air mattress, and the tall ceilings and old wooden floors made every little creak and groan of the house sound like some demonic entity moaning in the darkness just out of sight. At the time, I was resolved to believe such a rational theory. After all, ghosts aren't real. That recent college graduate sensibility: anything can be rationalized. Looking back, I scoff at what I thought I knew compared to what I know now. But that skeptic within me was what I relied on. It got me through my courses, it got me my job, it is what guided me through the insanity of life. So, as more peculiar occurrences began to happen, that is precisely the lens with which I saw the world.
When things started to go missing: my trusty running shoes, a pair of underwear, my gold chain, my laptop, even my keys, it was just me being forgetful. I took my Adderall and just ordered new things. I hunkered down and just focused on my work. When I heard scratching in the walls at night, footsteps down my hallway, quiet breaths echoing in the shadows... I was just sleep deprived, I took my Xanax and zonked myself out. Those dark shadows that crept around the corners just on the edge of my peripherals? Eye floaters, nothing more. Though, after about two weeks of just a miserable living experience, I finally experienced something I couldn't rationalize.
It was after a soul sucking day at the office, having spent all day sifting through piles of meaningless paperwork to the grating click clack of my coworkers silently typing on their keyboards like mindless drones. I'd gone into overtime that day, and after five or six cups of coffee, I can't say I was even remotely physically tired that evening. My mind, of course, was entirely devoid of functionality. Walking through my front door, tossing my keys in the little dish by the door, I collapsed onto my couch and just scrolled through Netflix, looking for nothing in particular. That's when I saw it. I'd turned to grab my vape pen from the side table, and my glance had grazed past the mirror which hung above my mantle. Floating behind me, clear as day in the mirror, was a figure. It was larger than I, big broad shoulders and pecs, tapering down to a narrow waist, flanked on either side by two muscled arms. It's face was chiseled and sharp, brows furrowed, golden eyes narrowed and full lips twisted in a mischievous smirk. It had no legs; rather, its body was condensed into a long whippy tail. Most notably, I would argue, was the... well... rather sizeable phallus which stood erect above it's navel, with two grapefruit sized balls hanging beneath it.
I sat frozen, unable to look away from it sizing me up in the mirror's reflection. All the other things I could make sense of in my head were obliterated at the sight of what was merely inches behind me, and inches above the floor. I finally found the strength to merely exhale, letting a soft billowing cloud of breath out of my mouth. It was the middle of June, and perhaps 91 Fahrenheit outside. It was impossible. Everything about what my eyes were seeing was impossible. As it began to creep toward me, I fully expected to spin around and like every haunted house movie of all time, there would be nothing there. Though as I whipped my head to look behind, no such luck. I was face to face with it. It was grinning as we were nose to nose. Bringing it's cool, ghostly hand to my cheek, it caressed it with the back of its fingers and winked at me.
"Hey there." It's voice boomed like a timpani, yet it's timbre was gravelly and suave. I couldn't help myself. In a primal state of panic, I shrieked a terrified scream. It didn't last long. The spirit seized the opportunity I was entirely unaware I had given it- quickly shoving it's head into my open mouth. The force by which it had taken me was overwhelming, though I suppose with it's sheer size, in retrospect it makes perfect sense. I was flung down into the cushions of the couch, as it pushed itself into me. I grasped at my throat, which was bulging from the thing which was now flooding down my gaping maw. I could hear it laugh from within me as it squeezed itself in, it's massive upper body condensing in on itself and slowly pushing deep into my gut. My stomach ballooned out, stretching as if it were rubber while it's tail whipped aimlessly against my face before it slipped between my lips.
This was the first time I felt the sensation. The euphoria. The cascading waterfall of endorphins as my body was contorting and stretching as the ghost slipped me on like a suit. I could feel it thrusting it's hands into my arms which expanded and stretched to accommodate the spirit's size. I could feel my chest burst through my shirt, with two jiggling pecs now engorged with it's essence. I could feel my thighs and calves swell with thick muscle, and my feet lengthen and explode through my socks. It was as if someone had taken a water hose and filled me like a balloon, and as I felt it's head rising up my throat one last time and slither into my head, I can't say I wasn't in the throws of intense and indescribable bliss. My eyes opened, I was no longer in the driver's seat.
"Ahhh fuck." It's voice boomed out of my mouth as I found my body moving of it's own accord. No, rather moving of his accord. I stood up, feeling my jiggling muscles slowly firm up and tighten as I walked to the mirror. The thing which wore me as a suit was checking itself out! It had my skin, my face, but otherwise I was unrecognizable. I was indeed approaching 6' 4", my jawline was square and chiseled, my arms as large as my head, my feet probably a size 16, and my... appendage? Let's just say he was now an anaconda snaking down my thigh, his hood restored and flanked on either side by an impressive bulbous sac. "Shit, that feels nice." My voice was soft like velvet, but frayed with a coarseness which tickled the mind like sandpaper. It stretched my muscles and cracked my neck and knuckles before finally bothering to introduce itself. "Name's Antoine, nice to meet ya." My hand slinked down to my member giving it a playful tug. "Actually, tonight, your name is Antoine too, baby." He smiled with my pearly white teeth, and it would be an outright lie to deny I was not eager to see what this Antoine would be using me to do that night. We sauntered over to my bedroom, tossing shirts and pants out of my drawers before he found some shorts and a tank top that fit my new musculature whatsoever. I had but only one pair of sandals that he could force my massive feet into, but neither he nor I could care less. As walked to the front door, and stepped out into the humid New Orleans air, he took a deep breath with my borrowed lungs, sighing in satisfaction. "Aight, my man. Let's see what kind of trouble we can get in tonight."
Thus began our mutual understanding. Our partnership. Frankly, our friendship. That night was one filled with club hopping across town, hitting dancefloors right and left, drinking outrageous amounts of liquor, grinding on sexy men with our tongue down their throats... None of which I would have ever experienced on my own. It was an entire world I knew nothing about, nothing I could have ever imagined myself doing, but with Antoine it seemed like second nature. After a night of debauchery and a tryst in some leather daddy's hotel room, he returned near the crack of dawn, collapsing onto my bed in a sweaty, swampy heap. He closed my eyes and almost immediately afterward I reopened them. The sun had risen, and peering at my phone, it was then 9 AM.
For a moment, I sat there and stared at the ceiling. I waited for my body to move on his command, though when it didn't, I whipped my sheets off to see that I had returned mostly to my former stature. I did note that I had grown ever so slightly. Perhaps his presence within me had left some residual effects on my body, a pleasant fact of which I did not mind whatsoever. I sat up, stretching my arms above my head, a wet warm musk wafting from my sweaty pits and steamy feet from the night before. For the first time, I found myself rather enjoying the scent... Where it once used to make me grimace with disgust, it now made me nearly salivate at the slightest tickle on my nose. I peered to the corner of the room, where now even in broad daylight I could see Antoine's spectral self floating above the floorboards, his arms crossed and his bright smile greeting me in the morning light.
We stared at eachother for a mere moment, before I smiled back at him. It didn't take words for us to understand what was to soon come to pass. Frankly, from then on, it was an unspoken pact. An inseparable bond, bound by an awakened hedonism and carnal desire. Starting that morning, our boys night out became a regular occurrence. I'd get home from work, exhausted and tired from a thankless day of grinding in the soulless office, and we would come up with a plan for the evening. He'd take his time slipping into me, knowing full well just how much I enjoyed each breathtaking second of it. In fact, we took a Saturday to go shopping for "night clothes" which would actually fit us when he was inside me.
Antoine was a bit of a casanova, able to make any person he met swoon with a single glance. The parade of men strutting the walk of shame out of my home every morning did not go unnoticed by my neighbors, not that they particularly seemed to care. It was the spirit of New Orleans, live every day like it's your last. That sentiment was instilled in me, along with a new attitude. I began to care less and less about this dead end job which had only gotten more and more unbearable as our relationship grew. My boss began to notice this as well. He noticed that my productivity had slipped, that I'd begun to come into work with more and more tattoos (which were admittedly against company policy), that my musky scent was becoming stronger and more apparent, that I'd become more casual and laid back, that I was trying to force myself into work clothes that were increasingly more and more revealing as my body grew toned and large. This, to him at least, was unacceptable. I don't entirely recall what it was that finally set him off, though I think it may have had something to do with me having my feet up on my desk as I took calls and the delicious pheromones to which my coworkers had taken a liking to. Something to do with my cubicle mate Daniel lapping up the pungent sweat from my socks beneath my desk as I worked. Couldn't say. Either way, it was the last straw for me.
It wasn't much of a loss, as my frequent appearances at the clubs, or rather my appearance altogether, which the bar owners had taken notice of. I had a line of bartending and gogo boy offers to take up in it's stead. Though, it wouldn't be enough to cover the rent on my own. Thus, we hatched a plan. A solution to both our issues: my financial one, and a more permanent solution for Antoine.
It was an average night in the French Quarter, we were behind the bar, and there before us appeared our solution sitting on a stool near the drink well. He was a tourist, a particularly needy and rude one at that. No friends, failing every attempt to snag the attention of our regular hustlers with his more than lacklustre personality. He was perfect. It wasn't difficult to play into his inflated ego, all it took was playing into his cringeworthy advances and unwelcomed touches before he was licking our pits and nipples, ready to head to our place. A lack of a tip was the final nail in the coffin, we were ready. The 'three' of us stumbled back to our apartment, and it took merely five minutes of making out before the drunken asshole had passed out in our bed.
Walking back into the living room, Antoine regurgitated himself out of me. Feeling him exit was always a bittersweet experience, euphoric in sensation but longing in sentiment. He floated in front of me, winking as he compressed himself under the door of our bedroom, slipping in with a quiet pop. Wiping the sweat from my brow, and taking a deep whiff of my dank sneaker like degenerate scent pig I'd become, I popped open a bottle of our nicer tequila to celebrate. As the yellow liquor began to pour into the glass, I heard the delightful sounds of possession begin to loudly bellow out from behind the closed door. A shriek, followed by squeaks and rubbery creaks atop elated moaning and gasping. Taking the two glasses, I meandered over to the couch, kicking my wafting, wet feet up onto the coffee table and grabbing the bong to pack a nice bowl.
The sounds of inflation and gargling, stretching skin and growing muscle were like candy to my ears, as I wondered what Antoine would look like. The guy was less than ideal before, though as a host, the sky was the limit to how gorgeous he was going to be. I lit the bowl, taking a deep drag before blowing an adequate cloud. Antoine's moans got louder and louder, his voice all the more recognizable as it progressed. One more puff from the bong and the sound of that final pop soared through the air. The house was silent apart from the heavy panting quietly emanating from the bedroom.
I sat there for a solid moment. He always was the master of the tease, knowing full well that I awaited his reveal. I could hear his chuckling before I heard the click of the lock on the door. Slowly, I stood up and walked to the bedroom door, pressing my ear against the wood. Nothing. I grabbed ahold of the doorknob with bated breath, slowly turning it and pushing the door open. The lights were on in the bedroom, and there in front of the mirror taking a selfie with his host's phone was my Antoine.
He was better than I ever could have imagined. That lanky, sad excuse for a man was long gone and in his stead stood the dreamiest hunk I'd ever set my eyes on. Our bodies were nearly identical in stature, as over the past several months he'd completely stretched me out to his own measurements. Though, his delicious golden eyes on that gorgeous, masculine face sent me over the edge. He was stacked, he was tall, he was caramel, he was packing down there, and he wafted that buttery, salty musk that made me drool. All he needed to do was to turn to me and wink in his new body and I felt myself harden.
"What's up, baby boy?" He flexed his massive arms, seductively licking his sweaty bicep for me. Let's just say that tequila and that bowl were still there the next day. We were rather preoccupied throughout the dawn, the morning, the afternoon, the evening... Endless hours of carnal pleasures and sensual overload. Simply washing the bedsheets of our intertwined cum imbued into the very threads of the fabric took longer than expected. I imagine you get the picture, so needless to say, such days were and continue to be frequent.
I suppose that brings us to today. As I sit here and write out how we got to this very moment, waiting for an Uber to take us to our honeymoon, I'll go ahead and mention that my former boss just walked by us, feigning pleasantries as if we were old buddies. Asking if now that I had a partner, I was finally ready to knuckle down and come back to work in a 'real job.' I turned to Antoine, he turned to me, and as we found our hands sliding toward eachother's growing bulges, basking in eachother's beguiling musk while my frump of an old boss indignantly watched, I flipped him the bird.
He stomped off, I doubt I'll ever see him again. Why should I need to? I have my man, I have our future, we have all the delicious men of this raunchy city to enjoy... What else can a guy ask for?
âUgh! What the fuck?â Maverick muttered under his breath, behind a tree, staring across the street at the big sweaty man watering Mrs. Girshawnâs plants. Dark brown hair with a matching beard, full tan, light gray jean shorts, but no shoes in sight. The man had a broad back, heavy pecs, and a round ass that fed into meaty thighs and calves. âWhere the hell had he come from?â
 Mrs. Girshawnâs garden was neatly settled in the front of her house like a set. No birds or curious critters ever approaching it. Behind it lay a quaint one-story house that sat out of place from the more traditional homes around it.
âMav?â A voice came from behind the onlooker, causing Maverick to fall back on his ass in the grass.
âDonât scare me like that Joe!â He whispered harshly.
Joseph looked out at the direction Maverick had been, âWhy are you watching Mrs. Girshawnâs new gardener? I mean heâs hot butâ
âI donât care about that,â Maverick got back up hiding behind the tree. He pulled Joseph in closer, âYou know how everyone at school says sheâs a witch?â
âThey say that about every old lady,â Joe rolled his eyes âRemember when Inezâs grandmother was a âwitchâ because the cookies she sent Inez to class with were too good.â
âThatâs baby stuff,â Maverick dismissed waving his hand, âbut Mrs. Girshawn is a real Bonafide witch.â
âDude, Iâve been her neighbor since I was a baby,â Joe stated, âI think Iâd know if she was a witch. You didnât even know she had a gardener.â
âWho cares about the gardener? All I want is for Logan to come out with her spell book already?
âMaverick, you didnât,â Joe sighed.
âDidnât what? Kindly ask Logan to sneak in and get it. Of course, why would I take my chances with the witch?âÂ
Joseph shot him an annoyed look.
â
Last Night
âIâm telling you she has a spell book bro.â Maverick rambled on through the phone.â Right in her kitchen. Sheâs probably got snips, snails, and a puppy-dog's tails too. Be careful. Then bring it to me."
âCarefulâŠalright.â He repeated to himself. Logan was never the sharpest tool in the shed. The brunette wrestler was more at home on a mat then facing social interactions. But when his crush, the cute Indian boy in his chemistry class, asked for a favor, he was too excited to say no. He knew the rumors about Mrs. Girshawn and her house. A little lovely hut for a little lovely lady. Never once did he think much of it, than in this moment when he was planning to sneak inside. He had on the darkest clothes in his wardrobe to blend in with the night.
Mrs. Girshawn pulled out of her driveway in her little buggy on the way to bingo. Logan watched until she was out of the neighborhood, then raced inside. It was crazy. It was insane. Would Maverick even like him after he did this? Oh yeah, spare key under the plotted plant by the door. And just like that he was inside.Â
No candy or brewing cauldrons in the living room. Just sickly-sweet pastel colors and an incense machine spilling out mist, while changing colors in the corner. All the scary rumors people whispered about the place didnât exist. It wasn't a secret holding cell, it was secretly homey. He stepped into the kitchen, dialing Maverick. No signal. There were quite a few books lined up on her top shelf, across from a snowstorm of flour on her counter. The oven was turned off, but the light was on, a cake in its center. A colorful egg timer sat off to the side ticking away.
Logan had to be a little curious, so he took a look at her pantry organizer. âSugar, Spice and everything nice.â He poked through chuckling to himself. Grabbing a step stool, he perused though the bookshelf, sliding them out, then back. Maverick had claimed heâd seen a purple book with the golden engraving of the sun and moon interlocked. Not a single one matched that description. Logan went to step off the ladder and slipped, slamming down hard on his back. He sat up and rubbed his head. The little chicken clucked time as the ovenâs image changed. The cake faded away revealing the exact book Maverick had described.
Perhaps if Logan had more brains than muscle, he would have seen the oddity in the book revealing itself at that moment. Excited, Logan opened the oven door and reached inside. Once his hand gripped the book, the world stopped, then sped up as an insane force sucked him inside. The oven door slammed and the chicken timer started again.
As for Logan, he wasnât pulled into an oven, per se but it did get steadily warmer. His body got hot, then began to rise like dough. Muscles fought to show off on him as his shirt split, then tore. He tried to keep it all in, but his pecs were relentless. Testing the limits until they emerged on the scene. The bulk on his back became insane as his shoulder moved apart to accommodate the masculine silhouette taking shape. His feet tore his shoes apart, slamming into the ether of the dark space. Screaming threads of the jeans gave up as they tore high above the knees, mid-thigh, as they converted to shorts. Ass popping in the back, the jeans managed to hold on. Logan balls expanded, encouraged by the heat, and his cock did too. A rush of hormones overtook him, far stronger than anything he naturally produced. His voice changed from smooth to gravelly as his vocal cords were assaulted for a thicker neck. The facial change came suddenly, years flying and flaking away. His jaw took shape, features settled in, as a beard worthy of him took root and filled in. The last to set was his tan, perfectly backed into his skin.
The chicken timer clucked one more, having been reset. A familiar purple book appeared at its side, as its last ingredient â1 curious bratâ filled itself in on the open pages before slamming shut.
â
Maverick hadn't heard from Logan all night. He called. Texted. Nothing. Didnât the dude have a crush on him? Since when were people with crushes fumbling this hard? So, he was at Mrs. Girshawn early that morning on the off chance she had called the cops on the poor fool. No cop cars in sight, but it was hard not to notice the man in cutoff shorts, standing on her front lawn.Â
The hunk looked lost as if he couldnât figure out what to do standing there blankly. Maverick watched, hard to take his eyes off truly, but hoped mainly to see Logan sneaking out. Slowly but surely the man seemed to get ready for his day, figuring out how to use the hose laying beside him. Maverick snickered to himself, the dude probably had less brains than Logan, and most of it was sitting in his chest, arms, and ass. So, Maverick watched him move around undisturbed until Joseph came along, scaring the shit out of him.
âYou shouldnât take advantage of people who you know like you, itâs mean.â Joe said.
âOh, thank you moral police, Iâll be sure to tattoo it on my ass when Iâm done.â Maverick rolled his eyes, âHow about, Loganâs a big boy and if he didn't want to do it, he could have said no.â He looked back out to the gardener, âIâve never heard of the old lady having a gardener.â
âHeâs new.â
âHow new?â
âI donât know like,â Joe stopped speaking, eyes going to the sky as he contemplated. âNew.â
âSo descriptive.â
âI donât know, it's just in my head. My parents and I were talking about it. Here let me ask.â He tried to brush past Maverick only to be pulled back.
âAre you crazy?!â
âHe literally works for my neighbor. I think weâll be fine.âÂ
âDonât you think itâs weird she gets a new gardener when Logan goes missing?â
âYou donât know that heâs missing. Maybe he realized you were taking advantage of him and stopped contact. Have you gone by his house?â
âHow am I supposed to know where he lives?â Maverick shouted a bit too loud
âHey,â a deep voice cut through their argument, two heads poked up from the bushes as the man across the street locked in on them. âYou boys keep glancing over here. Want to come inside? I think Mrs. Girshawn is always baking something.â
âWho would've thought that the weird, magical spell I found on the internet actually works and lets me possess someone. Today, I possessed my older brother for a morning jog. He's wearing the outfit I gave him as a gift, the one he never wore because he thought the color was too feminine. But look at him now⊠doesnât it suit him perfectly?
âGod, being inside him is so much better than I imagined. Every stride makes his muscles flex under my control, and I can feel the weight of his heavier body, the raw power in his legs, and the way his dick bounces and rubs against the shorts. Iâm getting off on how wrong it feels, my arrogant older brother jogging in public like this, completely unaware that Iâm the one puppeteering his body and enjoying every filthy second of it.
âWith his body, I barely break a sweat. I could run for hours⊠and I just might, because possessing him feels way too fucking good.
Shrinking down was only temporary⊠the real transformation was waiting underneath. âš
After hours of squeezing into a smaller shape, itâs finally time for Gustavo to let the disguise fade away. The changes come fast â the extra height, the bigger frame, the fuller shape â every inch returning until thereâs nowhere left to hide.
Sometimes the most satisfying transformation is becoming exactly who you were meant to be. đ
So this guy was the perfect build. I took him over the moment he made it to his room. He would never wear this speedo. Had to buy it and put it on though. It had to try to not jerk it till my husband found a body. So I sat at the pool and waited
"Hey there handsome" a man walked up to me and said. He instantly kissed me and i knew it was the hubby. We eventually broke the kiss
"Your room or mine" he asked.
"Mine" I said in my deep voice "mines bigger "
"I hope so" said my husband while rubbing his new body
We barely made it in the door. After tonight we will have to see about doing an extended stay in these bodies.
Be for real. Iâm a catch. If you saw my headless torso on Grindr youâd immediately hit me up and tap my profile. That isâŠunless you had a âpreferenceâ also known as being racist. Itâs no secret that an epidemic in the gay community is a preference to exalting white buff gay men as the epitome of the dream. The dream boyfriend, the dream husband, the dream fuck buddy. But if you know you know. Outside of the confines of what youâve been raised with as the dream by your friends or the media, thereâs a whole world of dreamy men on the other side of the street.
I moved from my safe space of fellow Asians to a big city with way less diversity. Thatâs when I realized how much that bigotry played into the gay scene. No taps and those that hit me up almost immediately back peddled when they saw Asian on my profile.
I grew up having to overcome these kinds of voices always saying I was less than or not enough. One night a hookup showed nothing but lust for me. We kinda hit it off, later I showed up for our hookup and it was such a good fuck.
Then it happened.
âI donât usually get with Asians but youâre almost making me rethink that.â
I was stopped in my tracks. To blatantly just minimize me and my culture and insinuate I wasnât good enough for the color of my skin. I had it. I chewed him out immediately calling him and that behavior so old fashioned and reprehensible.
But he didnât like that. As he approached me with his pocket knife I made my way to the door. I sped off as fast as I could, but unfortunately for me so did he. I tried to lose him but instead I just lost civilization. I was on some weird backroads in a forest when he found me and rammed me off the road. I swerved off road and into a tree as he sped away yelling slurs at me.
The next time I woke up, it was in a hospital roomâŠI could hear the vitals but I couldnât move. When I finally moved, I was lighter? I turned to see my arm and jumped when I saw straight through it.
Beep beep beep
My vitals remained unchanged. I turned around from the bed and saw my body lying there motionless. I read the chart on my bedâŠcoma from severe bodily trauma. I fell onto the floor. That fucking racist.
I walked through the halls when I saw him! He was paying off some nurses that pointed him in my direction. He was coming to finish the job!
The cool sly charm and swagger he walked with allowed him to go by without as much as a blink from the nurses and doctors. He walked by my spectral form and into the room where my body lied motionless. Thatâs when he pulled a syringe out and began to motion toward my IV. Iâm not sure what I thought I could do but I jumped at him to stop him from seemingly trying to and my life.
Before he could stab that needle into the only thing keeping me alive, I sunk into his torso and arms. I began slowly sinking in to him. I could hear him gasping in shock questioning why he couldnât move. We were voicing echoing sentiments but he couldnât hear me. I wasnât sure how it was happening but I knew it was keeping him from killing me.
It was fight or flight as he began to thrash his legs and head around. This needed to end now before nurses or security came in. I slammed my head forward which made it easier to sink my legs into his body. Thatâs when I felt a chill and shiver. I was in control, Iâm not sure where he went but I was piloting his milky white ship now. It kind of gave me the ick being in control of something Iâve despised my whole life.
Hm despised my whole life. That gave me an idea. If he found me so reprehensible before maybe I can teach him a lesson. A charity give back if you will. He may have used disgusting rhetoric towards people of color but I was about to let any man ram their way through me. All of a sudden Iâm not into white men, Iâm strictly open for business for men of color only. While Iâm at it, letâs start up an onlyfans and social media account proudly flaunting how much of a d*ck pig I am now.
