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unexpected-possessions

Swapped bodies with the bouncer...

unexpected-possessions

A local swapped bodies with the tourist...

itstransformingtime

Hi. Can you tf me pls? We can chat in dm

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:

“I want to be a hairy hunk.”

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.

“Oh my god,” 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 wasn’t 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.

“Fuck. I am bald. And old,” your growled in that deep, commanding voice, flexing one massive arm. The muscle peaked powerfully. “I am way older than my own father now, but look at me.”

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.

I hope it was worth it.

ghostinthedude-deactivated20200

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 can’t stand it, and it’s 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 couldn’t ignore my boner. I followed him into the bathroom as he changed into his sexy black scrubs, revealing a godlike hunky body. I knew he’d be tight but fuuuuuuck he was so mine!

As he revealed his tight speedo underwear, I couldn’t 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, “Hubba hubba.”

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. “Dante, hehe, what a sexy name,” I chuckled to myself. “I guess it would be strange going by Fatso, so this’ll do.” 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. “Paging Nurse Dante, Nurse Dante you’re needed in ICU 5.” I chuckled to myself and winked. “I’m on break and need to get food ASAP! Can’t help others unless I help myself first!,” 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!*

thepossessionmaster

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!

Fatso’s Practice Round with Josh Allen:

That’s when the air in the living room shifted—thick, humid, and rank. A low, greedy chuckle rolled across the space. “Uhhh yeahhh, that’s the kinda meal I’ve been craving…” Fatso’s booming, hungry voice oozed from the shadows.

Josh sat up, confused. “Who the hell’s there?” His deep athlete voice carried authority, but his brows furrowed when the room grew hotter, the lights flickering. The ghost coalesced— 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. “I don’t know what the hell you are, but you need to—” “Shut that big NFL mouth, fleshie,” Fatso rumbled, saliva stretching between his ghostly lips. “’Cause I’m comin’ right in.”

Before Josh could react, Fatso opened his gaping maw, wider, wider—comically so, stretching like a cartoon. Josh’s eyes went wide as he staggered back, but too late—the ghost lunged forward and slammed his wet, slimy mouth over Josh’s entire face.

Josh’s muffled scream echoed through the house: “MMMMMMPHHHH!” His arms flailed as the ghost suctioned onto him, drool pouring down his neck. Fatso’s huge ectoplasmic tongue slithered between Josh’s 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.

“NNNGHHHHKHH—GAHHHHH!” His eyes bulged, spit flying as Fatso’s whole gelatinous mass started to funnel down his throat.

The quarterback convulsed, back arching, Adam’s 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.

GLURRRKKKHH—HHHHRRGHHKK! Josh choked as Fatso forced himself deeper, until finally with one last sloppy suction, the ghost’s bloated form slipped entirely inside his fleshie vessel.

Josh’s 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 he’d swallowed a keg whole—then WHOOOMP—the 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, Josh’s glutes inflated into perfect, round, bouncing globes—an obscene bubble butt straining against his shredded shorts. His cock tented forward, hyperspermic balls swelling like grapefruits, his cock visibly lengthening down one thigh.

“UhhhHHHHH yeeeeahhhhhh,” Fatso moaned from within, his voice now booming through Josh’s own vocal cords. Josh’s brown eyes rolled back until only the whites showed, drool cascading down his beard as he convulsed.

“FILLIN’ YOU OUT, BOY… makin’ ya a goddamn slab of PRIME BEEF. Look at this ass, hahahaha!” Josh’s 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: “Fuhhhhhh… ohhh… I’m… so fuckin’ jacked…”

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, “HhhHHHRRRRrrrnnnghhh, so much fuckin’ CUM in these balls, boy. You’re a fuckin’ goon machine now.”

Josh’s 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. “Fuck, these tits, bro… these… mmm… these are fuckin’ JUICY.”

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.

“Lookit this bubble butt, hahahhhahhhhhh! Big NFL ass turned into a fuckin’ cock-sink. You’re my perfect plaything now.” Fatso’s voice mixed with Josh’s grunts.

Josh drooled harder, flexing in the mirror, moaning to himself. “Duuuuude… I’m… I’m such a… fuckin’… meathead slut… I can’t stop flexin’… I can’t stop—”

His cock erupted, ropes of thick, hyperspermic cum painting the mirror, floor, and his own feet. He didn’t even stop—he 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: “Yeeeahhh, you’re mine now, quarterback… I’m keepin’ this body, makin’ it BIGGER, makin’ it HORNIER, makin’ it STUPID. You’re a goon toy, and I’m never leavin’.”

Josh—now fully Fatso—slapped 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 Fatso—buried deep in Josh Allen’s perfect body—was only getting started. He knew that he’d be paying Josh more than just one visit in the future!

HUGE shout out again to zachghost770 for his amazing help with this collab!!

bara-du-des

Yellow (Answered Prayers)

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.

“Mini-guel” 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 wasn’t just referring to his height.

Now at 25 years old, Miguel had only grown a few more inches leaving him at 5’3”. 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 “youthful” 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.

It was Friday night. Miguel’s 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 “better” than him.

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 hunk’s majestic junk that he didn’t 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 Leo’s musk was even stronger in the apartment leaving Miguel dizzy and even more aroused.

“So you said you want to be like me, huh?” Leo asked while flexing his biceps, exposing his hairy armpits and wafting more musk into the room.

“Yes… I do…” slurred Miguel, his arousal slowly becoming more intense.

“Then listen to everything I’m about to tell you. Can you do that?”

“Yes, anything!” Miguel panted desperately.

Leo gave a wicked smile before giving his first command.”First, strip.”

Miguel froze. His mind was torn between wanting to obey and hiding his embarrassing (lack of) endowment. He looked at Leo with pleading eyes. “E-Everything?” he asked barely above a whisper.

“Yes, everything. You won’t be needing them once we’re done anyways.”

After Miguel stripped out of his clothes, it was Leo’s 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, Leo’s bulge swelled even bigger. Now tenting and dripping through the fabric, Leo gave a satisfied sigh.

“Looks like it's time to pass down this blessing.” 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. “Put this on.”

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 Leo’s Intense stare and considers putting his clothes back on and leaving.

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 3”. He isn’t getting hard; it keeps growing until he reaches 8’ 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 6’8”. As it stopped he stood and walked up to Leo. To his surprise. Miguel was now taller than Leo.

“You might want to be in front of a mirror for this next part,” said Leo, leading Miguel to the bedroom.

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 men’s waists.

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 didn’t mind bottoming if it was for Leo. In fact, he found that he craves Leo’s 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.

“Thank you for this. I look incredible, I feel incredible!” Marcus said, attacking Leo with a sloppy kiss.

“I knew you’d take to it well,” said Leo as he rubbed and squeezed Miguel’s new muscles.

Soon they were both enjoying each other. The briefs were discarded on the floor next to the rest of Leo’s dirty laundry. Both men were now enjoying their blessings. Obtaining the bodies they desire and the relationship they were searching for.

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

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 ^^

possessedesires

Heartstealer

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 – his property – 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; he’d 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. He’d 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 he’d have as many people as he wanted lining up for him.

He’d 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 – 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 he’d been a year ago – and had managed to make a few friends – 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!

If Nick was there, it meant it would only take a year for Charlie to find his place there too, in his beefy boyfriend’s 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; he’d let it happen before, he’d given up. He’d even apologized (though only because he wanted to see if Charlie would come crawling back to his arms – I mean, Nick Nelson might be attractive and fucking muscular like Michelangelo’s David, but HE had that special spark).

He thought that would get his lapdog back – Or at least make him so fucking desperate to be with him again that he’d cheat on Nick just to have him for five minutes. But no, he’d just ended up looking like an asshole who had to swallow his "apology".

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.

He still had such fucking crazy, vivid dreams where Charlie came crawling back like the dog he was – Ready to serve him, head hung low, tongue lolling out, eyes vacant before his one and only master – 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 – HIS toy.

— Fucking... shit… – 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. He’d never managed to make the track team, and his romantic “interests” lasted barely a week – not because they dumped him, but… It didn’t feel right; it felt too easy, almost like tying one’s shoelaces. He wanted something more, and it didn’t help that this “something more” was already claimed by someone else.

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 he’d 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 someone’s 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 field’s floodlights. Ben’s blood began to boil just as lightning lit up the sky, as if warning of an impending catastrophe.

— Hey, Nelson! – 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.

— What do you want, Ben? – He muttered, annoyed. He didn’t 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, Charlie’s 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 boyfriend’s 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 Charlie’s 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 – 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.

— It’s all your fucking fault – A hiccup escaped his lips; it was a miracle he was still managing to stay upright – First Charlie, then Truham, now rugby, college. It’s 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.

— 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.

— 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 player’s 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.

— It takes two to start a fight.

— And it only takes one to break your nose – He let out a mocking laugh that made Nick’s composure waver – 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".

— He hates you, Ben. Don't you remember?

— There’s a fine line between love and hate. So don't get too excited, blondie; I know he still craves this – He gestured with his hands in front of his hips, slowly rocking back and forth – 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.

— 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; Ben’s neck snapped to the right with a sound like a branch being broken in half, while Nick’s 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 Nick’s 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.

idesofrevolution

My Best Friend, the Ghost

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?

maningup

The Witch's Hut

“Ugh! What the fuck?” Maverick muttered under his breath, behind a tree, staring across the street at the big sweaty man watering Mrs. Girshawn’s 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. “Where the hell had he come from?”

Mrs. Girshawn’s 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.

“Mav?” A voice came from behind the onlooker, causing Maverick to fall back on his ass in the grass.

“Don’t scare me like that Joe!” He whispered harshly.

Joseph looked out at the direction Maverick had been, “Why are you watching Mrs. Girshawn’s new gardener? I mean he’s hot but—

“I don’t care about that,” Maverick got back up hiding behind the tree. He pulled Joseph in closer, “You know how everyone at school says she’s a witch?”

“They say that about every old lady,” Joe rolled his eyes “Remember when Inez’s grandmother was a ‘witch’ because the cookies she sent Inez to class with were too good.”

“That’s baby stuff,” Maverick dismissed waving his hand, “but Mrs. Girshawn is a real Bonafide witch.”

“Dude, I’ve been her neighbor since I was a baby,” Joe stated, “I think I’d know if she was a witch. You didn’t even know she had a gardener.”

“Who cares about the gardener? All I want is for Logan to come out with her spell book already?

“Maverick, you didn’t,” Joe sighed.

“Didn’t what? Kindly ask Logan to sneak in and get it. Of course, why would I take my chances with the witch?”

Joseph shot him an annoyed look.

lucaisonsns

Morning Jog

‎Who 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… doesn’t it suit him perfectly?

‎God, 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. I’m getting off on how wrong it feels, my arrogant older brother jogging in public like this, completely unaware that I’m the one puppeteering his body and enjoying every filthy second of it.

‎With his body, I barely break a sweat. I could run for hours… and I just might, because possessing him feels way too fucking good.

infinitebodies-tf

Shrinking down was only temporary… the real transformation was waiting underneath. ✨

After hours of squeezing into a smaller shape, it’s finally time for Gustavo to let the disguise fade away. The changes come fast — the extra height, the bigger frame, the fuller shape — every inch returning until there’s nowhere left to hide.

Sometimes the most satisfying transformation is becoming exactly who you were meant to be. 😏

gay-possession-stories

GAY GHOST RESORT - PERFECT OPPORTUNITY

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.

beuxwhoyouare

Screw Racists

Be for real. I’m a catch. If you saw my headless torso on Grindr you’d immediately hit me up and tap my profile. That is…unless you had a “preference” also known as being racist. It’s 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 you’ve been raised with as the dream by your friends or the media, there’s 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. That’s 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.

“I don’t usually get with Asians but you’re almost making me rethink that.”

I was stopped in my tracks. To blatantly just minimize me and my culture and insinuate I wasn’t 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 didn’t 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 room…I could hear the vitals but I couldn’t 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 bed…coma 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. That’s when he pulled a syringe out and began to motion toward my IV. I’m 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 couldn’t move. We were voicing echoing sentiments but he couldn’t hear me. I wasn’t 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. That’s when I felt a chill and shiver. I was in control, I’m 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 I’ve 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 I’m not into white men, I’m strictly open for business for men of color only. While I’m at it, let’s start up an onlyfans and social media account proudly flaunting how much of a d*ck pig I am now.

lvxrvi

max-the-many

Just watching him try some outfits after slippin' into that hunk...

alimpbanana

Night Body Hunting

Me and my friend are really just normal college students. We go to lectures, play beerpong at the local bar, and just do things people our age like to do. But we both have a secret. We're actually both well versed in body possession. Ever since we were both kids, we've always had the ability to jump into other people's bodies and control them. Heck, the only reason we know each other was because I watched him hop into my dad at the playground while I was in his. Since then, the two of us have been inseparable, because as far as we know, we're the only one's in the world capable of it. We would just hang out as other people while goofing off. But as we grew up, a problem began to emerge. There's only so many times you can jump into Mr. Woodsmith during his bathroom break or mess with the professor's assistant. Eventually, you've already been in every body in the town. So we struck a deal.

Every so often, we drive a few hours away go hunting for bodies to borrow. After we drive to the location, we each take off to scout for a suitable victim, I mean possessee. It could be anyone, spring breakers at Tampa, Atlantic City police chiefs, random suburban dads on their morning jog, anyone that we are feeling at the moment. If we both agree on a target, then the one who is closest will distract them, usually striking up a conversation, while the other sneaks up behind them, invisible to the naked eye, before jumping in.

We then have to act natural to make our way home without being noticed. Loose links are a death sentence for our operation. But once we reach our place, it's time to let loose. We usually each take turns acting as the lucky guy, just really doing whatever. It isn't uncommon to come home from lecture to see that one of us using their body to relieve themselves after a long day of classes. My personal favorite thing to do is jerking off in the quad at 3 in the morning. Even if I do get caught, I look them in the eyes, smile, and continue till I bust. It's not my actual body, so no harm comes to me after I hop out. This one girl didn't know it, but we were actually taking turns fucking her every night for a solid few weeks.

That brings us to tonight.

I was at a 24 hour gym at around 2 am while my bud was scoping the patrons at the diner across the street. There was barely anyone around. Even the staff had gone home, probably not a smart choice for them, but it sure was convenient. But honestly, the pickings weren't as good tonight. No one really stood out, just a bunch of resolutioners trying and giving up after a few sets, and then going home for the night. But there was one person that caught my eye. They were wearing a grey t shirt and gym shorts, soaked with sweat as they were intensely focused on their reps. I could see that they were not one to go for a few months and give up and their body definitely showed that dedication.

Just then, my phone vibrated in my pocket.

"Any luck? It's a total snoozefest over here."

I sneakily snap a picture from across the room.

"How about this one?"

"Oh this one is good for sure. Better than anyone in this dump."

"I'll distract him. Come over by the side entrance. All the staff already left"

I look up from my phone. Looks like he's taking a brief water break. Better not miss this chance.

"Hey are you done using that machine?"

"Oh sure man. Let me wipe it down first."

"Thanks. I'm Geff. I'm actually from out of town, so I've been looking for a new spot to work out. Honestly, there's not of people around right now, so I was surprised to see someone like you here. Your triceps are really impressive."

"Dawson...."

He eyes me suspiciously, obviously sensing something is up.

"Yeah it's just the hour. Not a lot of people around, so it's nice to focus on my lifts. I like to come after my shift."

"Must be nice to get the place to yourself."

In the corner of my eye I could see Darren sneak through the door, making sure to not be in sight of anyone. He gets into position.

"By the way, how's the weather feel in your kitchen?"

"I'm sorry? What do you-"

He pauses, before smiling and crossing his arms.

"Like a million bucks."

"Say, why don't we go check out the weather in my kitchen, see how it compares."

Me and Darren walk back to the parking lot and get in the car.

"Man we really lucked out with this guy. Imagine if we had came just a few hours earlier."

He flexes his guns, smiling.

I start the car and begin driving.

"Yeah I'd say this hunt was pretty succes-"

In the mirror I could see that Darren had already stripped himself with his hand already around his cock.

"Dude. You couldn't wait until I at least tried him on? We haven't even left the city yet, what if someone recognizes him?"

"Relax bro, it's 2 in the morning. No one will notice. Besides, did you really think I would let THIS go to waste?"

"Fine, just don't cum just yet. I just finished my dissertation and I've got a few hours of pornos with my name on it."

alimpbanana

Renting Out

Looks like this loser has been enjoying himself. He’s been going at it for a while. It must be hard not having the body of an actual god. That’s why I got this app that allows freaks like him to possess me. They’ll pay a pretty penny too for a weekend. Give them a taste of what they can’t have.

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