Male Body Possessor

[permanenttrade]

Can't Come Down

Leo stood in the middle of the crowd at the festival grounds outside Melbourne, dust kicking up around his boots every time someone shifted. The main stage was pumping some deep house set, lights cutting through the late afternoon haze. Maya was next to him, bouncing a bit on her toes, her short denim shorts riding up as she moved. She’d been hyped all week about this one.

“You ready for the good stuff?” she said, leaning in close so he could hear over the bass.

Leo grinned. “What’ve you got?”

She pulled a small plastic bag from her pocket, two pale pink pills inside. “MD. But special. Body swap. Wears off by morning. Thought we could try it.”

He stared at the bag. “You’re kidding.”

“Nah. Mate of a mate from Sydney sorted it. Proper stuff. You up for it or what?”

Leo laughed, the sound half lost in the music. “That’s fucking wild. Yeah. I’m in. Let’s do it.”

They found a quieter spot near the edge of the dancefloor, under one of the big trees. Maya split the pills, handed one over. Leo swallowed his with a mouthful of water from her bottle. She did the same, eyes bright.

“How long?” he asked.

“Twenty minutes, maybe half hour. We’ll feel it.”

They headed back into the thick of it. The set kept rolling. Leo felt the usual festival buzz—sweat on his neck, the press of bodies, the bass in his chest. Maya kept close, her hand brushing his arm now and then.

It started slow. First the warmth under his skin, that MDMA roll kicking in proper. Everything softened. The lights looked sharper. He felt loose, happy, like he could talk to anyone. Maya was smiling wide next to him, her shoulders moving to the beat.

Then something else layered over it. A second set of feelings that weren’t his. He could sense her heart rate picking up, the way the music was hitting her, a light ache in her left foot from the boots she’d worn all day. At the same time he knew she was getting his side—the tightness in his shoulders from carrying the esky earlier, the buzz of the high building in his gut.

“Fuck,” Maya said, turning to him. Her voice sounded in his head at the same time it came out of her mouth. “You feel that?”

“Yeah. Like I’m in two places.”

They stood there for a bit, just letting it wash through. Shared thoughts flickering back and forth without trying. He caught a flash of her looking at a guy near the front—tall, tattoos down one arm—and felt the little spark of interest that went with it. She got his sudden awareness of how her top was sticking to her back with sweat.

The high kept climbing. Everything felt good. Connected. Leo laughed out loud when Maya’s giggle hit him from inside as well as out.

“This is mental,” he said.

“Told you.”

They danced for a while longer, bodies moving easy, the shared consciousness making every touch land twice. When their arms brushed it sent a double wave of warmth. Leo could feel how the bass was vibrating through her chest at the same time it hit his.

The set changed. Crowds shifted. Maya leaned in. “I need a piss. Coming?”

“Nah, I’ll hold the spot. Don’t be long.”

She nodded and slipped off through the people, heading toward the long line of portaloos at the far side of the grounds.

Leo kept moving to the music, eyes half-closed, riding the high. The shared feeling was still strong—he could sense her walking, the way the ground felt under her boots, the mild urgency in her bladder. Then it sharpened. A sudden jolt as the swap locked in fully.

He opened his eyes and looked down.

His hands were smaller. Nails painted a chipped dark red. The denim shorts sat higher on his hips than his own jeans ever did. A light crop top left a strip of stomach bare. He lifted one hand and ran it over his chest—soft, no flat muscle, just the shape of Maya’s body.

“Shit,” he said, and the voice that came out was hers.

Making his way out of the portaloo, Leo—now in Maya’s body—stood for a second, hands on the bare strip of stomach, feeling the lighter frame and the way the crop top sat. The high was rolling hard though. Everything felt warm and loose. The music was still thumping from the main stage and his feet—her feet—started moving on their own.

He pushed back into the crowd. People were denser now, the sun dropping lower, lights kicking up brighter. A guy next to him offered a sip from a water bottle and Leo took it without thinking, smiling wide. The shared consciousness from earlier had thinned out once the distance grew. He could still catch faint edges of what Maya was feeling somewhere across the grounds—tall, solid, the weight of his own body—but it was background noise. Mostly he was just high and happy in this new skin.

The shorts rode up when he danced. He didn’t care. Someone bumped into him and laughed, hand lingering a second on his waist. Leo grinned back, hip swaying harder to the beat. The high made every touch land nice. He could feel the air on his bare midriff, the bounce of his chest when he jumped with the drop. It was fun. Proper fun. He forgot about looking for Maya for a stretch, just rode the music and the roll, laughing when a group nearby pulled him into their circle for a song.

Time got slippery. Another drink appeared in his hand from somewhere—cider, cold. He drank it. Danced more. The lights blurred a bit in the best way. At one point he ended up near the front, closer to the stage, arms up, singing along even though he only half knew the words. A girl next to him yelled something in his ear about the set and he yelled back, voice still Maya’s, higher and lighter than his own. They both cracked up.

Eventually the need to find her cut back in. Not urgent, just a thought through the haze. He drifted away from the stage, scanning faces, moving with the flow of people between the food stalls and the smaller tents. The high kept him smiling the whole way. Every now and then he’d catch a reflection in a mirrored sign or a phone screen—Maya’s face, flushed, eyes wide and shiny—and it just made him laugh again.

He spotted his old body near one of the side stages. Shirt off, skin already a bit pink from the sun and the dancing. Maya was in there, moving easy, arms loose, hips rolling to the bass. A couple of blokes were dancing near her, one of them saying something that made her throw her head back and laugh. The muscles in his old shoulders flexed when she lifted her arms. Sweat shone on the chest. She looked completely into it, grinning, not a care.

Leo stopped at the edge of the crowd and just watched for a second, the high still humming through him.

Leo pushed through the last few people and stopped right in front of her. Maya looked down—his old face looking down at him now—and her grin got wider.

“Fuck, look at you,” she said, voice low and rough in his body. “You're so sexy.”

Leo felt the heat climb straight up his neck. He laughed, the sound coming out lighter. “You’re one to talk. Shirt’s gone already.”

“Needed to happen I reckon. Hot out here.” She rolled her shoulders, the muscles in his old chest shifting. “Come dance.”

He stepped in closer. The high was still thick in both of them. Maya’s hand—his old hand—settled on his waist, fingers brushing the bare skin above the waistband of the shorts. Leo let himself lean into it. She was bi, he was gay, and right now the bodies matched up in a way that just worked. Every time she pulled him in a bit tighter he felt it twice—once in the new body and once as a leftover echo of the shared high.

They stayed near the side stage for the next couple of sets. Maya kept finding reasons to touch him. A hand on the small of his back when the crowd surged. Fingers tracing the edge of the crop top when they both reached for the same water bottle. Leo gave it back just as easy—sliding a hand over the bare chest in front of him, feeling the familiar shape of his own nipples under someone else’s skin, watching her breath catch.

“You’re properly into this,” he said against her ear at one point.

“Yeah. You are too.” She turned her head so their faces were close. “That top’s riding up every time you move. Not complaining.”

The flirting stayed constant. Quick comments, longer looks, the kind of touches that weren’t accidental anymore. When a slower track came on she pulled him in properly, one arm around his shoulders, the height difference putting his face against the side of her neck. Leo could smell his own deodorant still on the skin. It should’ve been weird. Instead it just made the roll hit harder.

By the time the final headliner finished the sky was fully dark and the grounds were starting to thin. Maya steered them toward the exit, still shirtless, Leo’s old jeans sitting low on her hips. Once they were clear of the main crush she stopped, turned, and reached down. Her fingers—thicker than Maya’s usual ones—gathered the longer hair that had fallen across Leo’s face and tucked it carefully behind his ear.

“What do you say we head back to yours,” she said. The words came out steady, no joke in them.

Leo didn’t need it spelled out. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

They caught an Uber from the taxi rank. The drive back into the city took about forty minutes. Maya kept a hand on his thigh the whole way, thumb moving slow circles. Leo’s new body reacted fast—heat pooling low, the shorts suddenly feeling too tight. He didn’t try to hide it.

At his place they barely got the door shut. Maya pushed him back against it, mouth on his, the height and weight of his old body pinning him there. Leo kissed back hard, hands already on the bare chest, then lower, undoing the button of the jeans. She helped, shoving them down. His own cock sprang free, already thick and hard in her grip.

Leo dropped to his knees on the hallway floor. The angle was different in this body—smaller hands, different reach—but he knew exactly how he liked it. He took the head into his mouth, tongue working the underside the way he always did to himself on quiet nights. Maya’s hand settled in his hair, not pushing, just holding. A low sound came out of her throat.

He stayed there until she pulled him up again. They made it to the bedroom in a messy line of discarded clothes. Maya got the crop top off him first, then the shorts and the thin underwear underneath.

Leo spread his legs without being asked. Maya settled between them, mouth trailing down his stomach, then lower. The first proper lick made his hips jump. Two fingers slid in while her tongue kept working, and Leo’s hands fisted in the sheets.

She didn’t stop. Just wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, crawled up, and lined his old cock against him. Leo reached down and guided it in. The stretch was new, full, exactly what the body wanted. Maya started slow, watching his face, then picked up once he nodded.

They fucked like that for a long time—her on top, then him rolled onto his stomach, then back face to face. Maya kept talking, low and filthy, telling him how good he felt, how tight, how she could feel every twitch. Leo answered with his hands and his mouth, biting at the shoulder that used to be his, scratching down the back he knew every freckle on.

When she finally came it was with a deep sound and her whole weight pressing him into the mattress. Leo followed a few seconds later, the second orgasm pulling longer, leaving him gasping against her neck.

They stayed locked together until the shaking stopped. Maya eventually rolled off, one arm still heavy across his waist. The festival noise was a distant memory. The room smelled like sweat and sex. Leo closed his eyes, still high, still in her body, and let the quiet settle.

Leo woke up to the grey light coming through the blinds. His head felt thick, the last of the high still sitting behind his eyes. He stretched and felt the lighter body around him—the softer chest, the longer hair against the pillow. Maya’s body. Right.

He reached for the phone on the bedside table. It was hers, the case with the little sticker of a sun on the back. The screen lit up with a new message from a number he didn’t recognise.

He opened it.

A photo first. Mirror selfie, bathroom tiles in the background. A guy, maybe late twenties, dark curly hair, short beard and moustache, gold hoop in one ear. Shirtless, solid muscle, thick dark hair across the chest and down the stomach. He was holding the phone up, the other hand resting low near his cock. Completely naked. Looking straight at the camera with a half-smile.

Underneath the photo the text read:

hey sorry about this. i know it’s fucked. but i really liked being a bloke and this guy was so sexy. he offered me this special version of that MDMA that doesn’t wear off. you have to take it again if you want to switch back. oh and he lives in London and his flight is this afternoon. looks like i’m keeping him for a while. hope you understand. x

Leo stared at the screen. His stomach dropped.

He turned his head.

The body next to him in the bed was still his own—same shoulders, same chest hair, same face relaxed in sleep. But it wasn’t Maya in there.

The swap wasn’t wearing off.

Leo’s mind was still stuck on the photo and the message when the body next to him shifted. The guy—whoever he was—was lying there with one arm stretched out, looking down at the chest and arms that used to be Leo’s. Fingers tracing the lines of muscle, the edge of a tattoo on the shoulder.

Then he stopped.

He rolled over, propped himself up on one elbow, and looked at Leo properly. No words. Just a slow smile and a hand sliding down Leo’s side, over the hip, between the legs.

Leo’s breath caught. The hand was sure, already knowing what worked. Two fingers pushed inside him, curling, and the rest of the world went fuzzy at the edges. The phone slipped out of his grip onto the sheets.

The guy moved over him, heavy and warm, and lined up. He pushed in with one smooth stroke. Leo’s head tipped back. The stretch, the heat, the way the body on top of him held him down—it wiped everything else out.

He came once almost straight away, shaking, and the guy just kept going, steady and deep, mouth against Leo’s neck. Every thrust pulled another sound out of him. The anger, the confusion, the name that had been sitting on the tip of his tongue—all of it slid away. There was only the weight of this solid, sexy bloke above him, the thick cock filling him, the single clear purpose of making him feel good.

Leo held on and let it take him.

[oliverorsomething]

This Damn Hog

This college guy with daddy’s money had been hogging the pec fly at the gym for almost an hour. I’m gonna take him for a spin around campus. I’m sure there’s someone who’s gonna wanna tap this ass. Let’s see if he keeps being a such a dick when I turn him into the school slut.

[guyinthegreycloak]

The Great Reveal: Body Hoppers Live Amongst us

The entire world knows of our existence. It's thought one of our own betrayed his fellow hopper kind. Now, many of us are on the run, some hiding in bodies that are yet to be vaccinated against our powers. It allows people to fight more easily against us. Only the strongest of Body hoppers can hope to survive. As most of the population is already treated with it, for a hopper like myself I have to sneakily possess a body without taking control. Once the host sleeps, I can skip the fighting and acclimate to my new life in the morning.

Nick's body is quite dreamy. He's not gay, but I am. So, I should keep my new body in the closet to not put a target on my new back.

Oh I felt terrible. That vaccine made Nick sweat so much. In truth, the vaccine isn't much of one. It's more of a spiritual stimulus that strengthens spiritual roots in a body, but it also helps me too, so the effects are a wild card that give people a equal chance that would make a possession dance on the street a big scene. Making patience a real virtue for the often sex hungry body hopper community.

Looking at my reflection, "Come on, why does this body lack energy? And would it have killed you to workout more? I'm going to have to build up my new body. Starting with this decent ass!" as I slapped my butt. And started jacking off the new dick. It was a really nice package. Been a while since I could access such a pleasurable host.

Suddenly, I felt a massive pressure headache. And then it happened. Nick woke up. Hoping he wouldn't notice me. I willingly gave him back the control of his body. Nick looked around... "Why is there cum on me? Did I drink alcohol yesterday? I don't recall or would I? Maybe I just was sleepwalking and jacked off during it..." Nick showered off, got dressed, then went and grabbed his car keys, and headed to a Coffee Shop called Awe Addicts. He purchased some sort of caffeine smoothie. It was really good. Wish he didn't give us a brain freeze.

As soon as Nick got home, he started messaging a girl he likes, of which I am not thrilled as a gay man. But if I take control and fail, he'll call 911 and who knows what my fate will become of me. And fuck no--- She's coming over... and Nick is fantasizing about sex with her.

They immediately started kissing and going to the bedroom. But as soon as things got down to it, he couldn't get hard for her. I think my disgust is affecting our package. And the girl, Veronica I think, Screamed, "Ugh, men suck! They can't even get hard anymore. Stupid erectile dysfunction!" and she left the house.

Nick began to cry from disappointment. I really felt bad for him. But I am also glad I didn't have to experience that. He eventually took a nap after crying. And that's when I stepped into the driver seat of being Nick.

Finally, I can have some "me" time. Patting my bulge for staying down, I figured I didn't want to wake Nick by anything too stimulating. So, I went through his phone. And saw some current news about a group of body hoppers being captured and sent to a laboratory prison for forced manual transfers into prisoners' bodies.

I can't let that happen to me... anxiety about my future made my heart race. I felt the pressure headache coming back again, and I freaked out, dropped the phone as it fell off the bed. And I let Nick drive his body once more.

"My head is killing me-- wait. Where's my phone?" He looked around for it. Found it. And saw what I was looking at. "How this happen? I swear.. sometimes I feel like I've been body hopped, but if I was, I wouldn't be in control." Nick proceeded look up, "how to know if I've been hopped?" And the results were interesting. "You'd know", "You'd be in a coma state for the duration before the semi hopper vaccine." Or "You'd be fighting".

I honestly thought he'd never wake up after the first night. But this vaccine must be working differently for Nick. A strong spirit perhaps.

Nick started acting up. He was testing himself to see if he had been hopped into somehow. And after he beat himself up about the thought. My plan is to conserve my energy, as to have a sharp and quick takeover when I challenge my sexy host for control and it'll be permanent if I win and don't get caught. All about good timing.

2 weeks later.

Likely, due to my mental opposition to it, Nick has been unable to get hard for a woman. He's failed many times. But then a cute guy came around, and he got a full hard on. A typical but unexpected friends to lovers trope for sure. Or at least, I had hoped. Nick is feeling my feelings. Feelings might actually be contagious. But he doesn't want to be gay. But he's helplessly horny.

Nick goes home that night. But only I planned to drive this body for more than 10 minutes. It's time. He drifts off to sleep. And I immediately surge for control. Nick shocked, snaps awake. He's making a mess, knocking over an old alarm clock. And I finally speak to him directly, "Sorry, for taking so long. I wanted a clean takeover." And Nick pleads and screams, "Please don't. Get outta me!!!!" I replied, 'Sorry, you seem like a nice guy, but you're my hot ticket to freedom."

The process is complete. I'm Nick and my head felt clear. But the problem didn't stop there. Someone heard Nick yell. And called the police and they arrived with a hopper detection unit. I got dressed and made a run for it. But it got worse...

I was being threatened with a device aiming at the base of my skull. She said, "This can systematically destroy magic reservoirs for hopping between bodies."

I can't catch a break. I tried lying, "Okay? Go ahead. Not possessed, so it shouldn't hurt. Already had the vaccine." And she replied, "Actually, it's lethal for those who aren't possessed. It erodes lifeforce energy if there isn't a magical coating over it. Come with me. Why did you run?" She demanded to know.

I sighed, "I think I might be gay. It started with erectile dysfunction and girls being unhappy. I don't know. Maybe I'm bisexual? And I thought maybe the police might actually like the church, and accuse of there being a demon inside me or something with everything going on in the news. That's why I ran. I panicked."

She smirked, "Damn. Impressive liar." I was knocked out. And upon waking up, this is what I saw... I saw Nick who I'm supposed to be. Nick was being searched and told, "The Body seems to be in excellent condition, sir."

Nick just started talking, "I wanted to thank you personally for both your hopper powers and Nick's body here. Once the elite class became aware of your kind, we had to obtain it for ourselves. Hence why body hopper-kind being enemy #1. I wanted to live forever. And now I can with the help of the antidote to the vaccine we created. I will always be grateful. And as a show of gratitude, choose your last meal."

I breathed heavily trying to think, "Last meal? Oh... I'm going to be executed. Then, I request to suck Nick's dick..." I said it, hoping I have one small magic trick left... Body hopper magic is inherently spiritual which means select magic belongs to an initial owner. It'll only work if I managed to keep enough of it.

The magnetic body of Nick laughed, "Odd request... Fine. I'll allow it." He shoved it into my face. And I tried to pull the energy back. I was struggling. He tried to pull out. I grabbed on it with both hands preventing his removal. And he started punching me. He erupted the last of his cum, allowing me to gather enough of my hopper energy to return to what is mine.

I hopped back inside Nick's body. And the old guy freaked out. But his soul was forced to exit through my dick as bodies have a limited capacity. He was returned to his former shell. And I walked out. I said, "I'm done." to some men outside. He was dead and gone.

Men in suits started asking me questions, "Where do you want the suit for the new body, Sir?" And "There's a charming man outside asking about a date you setup using a dating app."

Things are finally turning up after that near death experience. I'm powerful, rich, and of course still hot. Anyway, wouldn't want to keep my date waiting. Hopefully, the previous wannabe inhabitant of Nick had good taste.

And the date was in fact, enchanting.

[mrnobody1010-deactivated2020123]

“You really think I can’t pull of being you?” I looked at the young man I use to be, I applied a cuff link and laughed in that professional loud laugh I had heard Mr. Reyes do so many times before.

He really is going to sit here and protest I can’t be him, that i don’t know anything about him, yet when i manifested this months ago I made sure to know everything he knew. When I was manifesting myself as Mr. Reyes I throughly visioned this moment, waking up in his bed, my consciousness and desires encased in his scruffy body for me to touch and rub. I made sure to be thankful for the day when I would wake up in Mr. Reyes’ perfect body, I’d go to his mirror and use his products to care for his sexy beard, I’d use his nice gel to style his thick perfect hair and all in front of the mirror. Today happened to be that day, and I couldn’t be anymore happier than for this experience of a lifetime. I went to his closet and picked out his favorite suit also the one I loved seeing him wear. I picked the maroon colored shirt it hugs this body in all the right place as i buttoned it up and it’s nice fabrics caressed this bulky and hairy body. I grabbed one of his watches from his nice little collection of name brand watches. I grabbed some nice dress socks and slid them up these thick size 12 feet and they hugged my massive hairy calves and i applied my garters, i use to be a size 8 in shoes so I’m going to enjoy wearing his shined loafers I wiggled these beefy toes in the nice silk dress socks and grinned. I grabbed his boxer briefs and pulled them to my noes and deeply inhaled.

I had imagined this scenario so many times and now I’m finally living it, and there was Mr. Reyes in my cute little body, appalled, unable to do anything other than to watch his body behave in a way he’d never seen but there was a slight submission in his face that was trying to hold back the sexual urges he was feeling in my youthful body. I continued to talk to him, gloating how good this body feels and continuously being grateful for receiving this body. I continued to get dressed, I grabbed a tie, grabbed a cologne and gave a few spritz on the neck and the wrists and smelled them knowing i smell just as good as Mr. Reyes.

Before I put on the dress pants and suit coat, I walked over to my cute body, he gulped, he was sweating, all that confidence gone and reduced to a cute little college boy, i stood in front of him, just watching, not saying anything then i lightly grabbed that limp wrist i use to use and put his hand on my chest, i told him to play with my nipples, and my new body reacted to that really well, i felt electricity from the nipple to the big feet keeping me grounded, i felt my new thick cock getting hard and i pushed his face into my bulge and he gave into this body swap sexual experience going on, he inhaled and kept inhaling all while caressing my big chest and perfect nipples and i was definitely enjoying this.

I’m really in Mr. Reyes’ home on a Monday morning getting ready for work, wearing his body along with his clothes and my former body is sexually pleasuring me and I’m moaning in my new deep voice without even thinking i have him fish my cock out and put his warm mouth around it and begin to suck on my new thick veiny uncut cock, I quickly make him gag on my new cock, every sensation is on fire, and i feel like I’m woven into every fiber of Mr. Reyes’ body, spirit and mind, everything that i use to know about “me” feels less “me” and everything that is “Mr. Reyes” feels more familiar to me as this young fucking college boy continues to suck the fuck out of my cock and I’m moaning deep voices and that cute college kid is moaning and gagging with such a light voice, i can’t believe that use to be me god i sounded so high pitched but not anymore “keep sucking boy” god it feels so fucking good to say that, the words so deep, so heavy and they came from my throat I’m getting so close to climax and this body just feels so real to me now, it feels like home, I’ve finally got this body and i blow my load so deep into the throat of a man I use to be, life is good.

[immortalmrwavell]

Swapping with a college professor never gets old tbh

[transformhim]

Saving the Team

—

Tumblr yoinked the first post of this, but holy fuck I loved writing this story so much that I refuse to let it die. Here’s one with more toned down pics lol

—

Coach Martin was scouring the university gym’s locker room for any kind of fresh talent. He had been coach of the university wrestling team for a while, but after several mediocre seasons, declining viewership, and general loss of interest, the school was thinking about cutting the budget for his team for the next fiscal year. He’d gotten used to this sort of thing happening to the liberal arts departments, but at his large, notoriously ‘party school’ university, athletics were always the highest financial priority! Coach Martin knew he couldn’t let that happen. No, not after all of the years he spent building up the team.

He knew there were plenty of talented bodies in the gym, but rarely anyone with the willingness to sign up for the team. ‘I don’t have the time,’ ‘My schedule is too tight,’ ‘Sorry, my studies come first;’ these were all the common lines Coach Martin heard from those he asked. Never mind that he knew for a fact that these boys were out every night drinking and partying every weekend, getting their dick wet at every opportunity. He couldn’t really blame them, after all it is a college. But sure, ‘scheduling conflicts,’ let’s go with that excuse. Anyways, it didn’t matter anymore. Coach Martin had his own ways of dealing with his predicament, and they began with finding a worthy candidate’s clothing.

He searched through lockers, flipping open wallets and checking IDs, hoping to find any kind of viable candidate for his plight. Older faculty members, soft/grungy liberal arts majors, exchange students, lab assistants… He searched and searched but was disappointed by the IDs he found. He passed by one of the rows of lockers and was nearly stopped in his tracks by the tangy bouquet emanating from one of the metal boxes. He took a few steps backwards and could immediately tell which locker the odor belonged to. Even before he opened it, he could smell the intoxicating stench wafting out.

He opened it quickly and his sense of smell was blitzed. A heavy, mixed stench of body odor, cologne, and sex poured out of the locker, a hefty gym bag being the only occupant. He didn’t want to get too confident, but Coach Martin was pretty sure he’d found his candidate.

He opened the bag, huffing out laughter as he was further assaulted by the rank smell that puffed out, and fished around for any kind of ID. He found a thin, dark leather wallet and flipped it open, producing the university’s familiar student ID card: Jabari Jefferson was the name printed underneath with a smiling picture of a thick-necked student over it, emblazoned by a holographic stamp of the university’s crest. Not only did he look like a natural athlete with enough confidence to actually smile in his picture—so many of these jocks thought a smile was a sign of weakness—but he had a certain.. something about him.

You ever see those kinds of people who look like they would be the natural life of the party? People who, just from first impression, looked like everyone would either want to be with them or want to be them? How about people who—for whatever reason you call it—look like they’re the type of person who could fuck your right? Just really use any tools at their disposal—mouth, lips, chest, cock, ass, thighs, feet, take your pick—to make sure you walk away feeling like their trophy spouse? That, Coach Martin thought, was the exact vibe he got from Mr. Jabari Jefferson. He checked all of Coach Martin’s boxes and more.

He opened his phone and went into the school staff’s student directory to look him up. After flipping through the expansive list of students by the last name ‘Jefferson,’ until he landed on his guy. Jabari’s smiling picture looked back up at him, and Coach Martin’s knees went weak simply imagining Jabari giving him a slight wink. He was from way out of state, practically across the country, he was freshly 21, he was a social work major… So he didn’t have any immediate family around, he was young and exceptionally fit, and he had a compassionate and empathetic demeanor… Check, check, check. He was, in every way, a perfect fit! ‘Bingo,’ Coach Martin thought, a chill of excitement spreading through his body from his chest.

Coach Martin prayed to anyone that was listening that he could find something to take with him, anything. He knew by the smell that there had to be something in there that fit the job, he just needed to find it. He fished around in the bag some more for anything he could take with him, anything that wouldn’t be immediately noticeable as missing. His eyes landed on it—well, actually his hand landed on it first—and his nose identified it as one of the sources, if not the source, of the smell. Coach Martin grinned and lifted a dirty jock strap out of the bag.

He passed it between his hands a few times, its fabric feeling a tad moist from the last time it was used, and reeking of sweat. He looked into the pouch where its user’s dick would go—where Jabari’s dick would go, noting that it was a sizable pouch indeed—and saw that there was something wet still there. He looked closer and saw that it was limpid and thick, so he reached inside to feel it, half expecting it to be what he thought it was. As soon as his finger touched it and felt the webby, sticky, tacky substance between his fingers, his suspicions were confirmed—it was pre.

Coach Martin couldn’t help himself, he knew he needed a taste, just a tiny taste. He knew he’d have innumerable chances to taste it later, but he was caught up in the moment. He brought it to his face, inhaled deeply, and quickly stuck his tongue out to sample his finding.

His shorts, which were already massively tented, now had a dark spot blooming near the tip of his cock, and he knew that he should just leave before blowing his load in the locker room. No, there would be plenty of load-blowing later. He stuffed the jock strap in his pocket, rushed to his office to gather his hat and keys, and hurried out to his car, his messenger bag slung over his shoulder in such a way that it obscured the front of his torso, hiding the bouncing stiffy in his gym shorts.

Keep reading

[jockbender]

Day to Remember

This is an old one from the archives that never got reposted when I restored my account. Enjoy!

Since Cody and I got hold of the Ring of Change, we’ve had the best sex ever.  Today, Cody sugested we use it to transform ourselves into the Dirk, hot guy from next door and his twinkish son Brad and I immediately agreed.  The thought of spending the day as a muscle daddy and his sexy boy was a massive turn on!

It was Cody’s turn to go first with The Ring and I wondered which role he’d select for me today.  I didn’t have to wait long.  As soon as he slipped The Ring onto his fingers, I began to feel my thickly muscled bulk dwindling into the familiar, willowy body of Brad and gasped in shock at the sudden feeling of extreme horniness that enveloped me.  My now baggy boxers quickly grew out into navy slacks and a pair of black dress shoes popped into place on my slender new feet completing the look.  I gave Cody a quick twirl in my new body and gently caressed my nipples, biting my lip seductively as I reached over to slide the ring off Cody’s finger.

Popping the ring onto my own finger, I imagined Dirk’s beefy, hairy body and in a matter of seconds Cody inflated into the image of our neighbour, my hot muscle daddy, complete with a smart pair of dress slacks, red tie and a fitted white shirt that showed his thickly muscled arms beautifully.  My heart fluttered as he rubbed his dense new beard seductively and growled at me, easily hefting me onto our bed and positioning me over his rapidly inflating cock.

As I loosened Daddy’s tie and gently touched the thick new fur on his face, he gazed back at me with warm smiling eyes that made my heart skip a beat and a hot, tingling feeling pulse in my increasingly eager ass.  Repositioning my eager boipussy against the firm cock I could feel through his slacks, I knew that Daddy’d definitely make this a day to remember!

[jockbender]

Cop Control

I sighed as the flashing lights came on behind us. Jordan always drove like an idiot and now the two of us would be late for the party plus, as usual, I’d be expected to sort out the mess so he didn’t get another ticket and get grounded by his old man. Jordan looked at me with a hopeful expression, grinned and said “You know what to do dude! Sort this one out for me and I’ll make it worth your while.” I gave him a weary look and punched him on his meaty arm to show I was annoyed but of course I agreed to help out and he indicated to pull over onto the shoulder. As soon as we’d stopped, the cop car pulled in behind us and to my surprise, instead of the grizzled fat old guy that usually hefted themselves out of the car, a fucking hot young cop got out and swaggered over to the Jordan’s window. I began to think that I might get some pleasure out of this after all and prepared to make my move. “License and registration please, Sir.” Said the cop in a sexy bass, leaning in, his hand on the window frame presumably to sniff out any pot we might have in the car. As Jordan fumbled in the glove box and pulled out his documents, I prepared to make my move. At the moment, he handed the papers to the cop, I touched my hand against Jordan’s right arm and pushed myself through his body, forcing his hand to reach out and grab the cop’s wrist. Before the cop could pull back, I completed my move and with an exhilarating, rushing sensation, I surged through Jordan’s body and into the cop in one quick move. Instantly, my perspective changed and I felt the cop’s constricting uniform pressing against my body, the bulk of his utility belt at my waist and, most pleasurable of all, a significant package sitting in my boxer shorts. Stretching myself out inside the cops head, I assumed control of his mind, body and memories and then winked at Jordan and give him a shit eating grin. “Did it work?” he asked. “Of course it worked!” I replied. “But Sir, you’re in some deep shit” I said putting on a no nonsense, gruff tone of voice. “The only way you’re getting out of this ticket” I continued “is if you, uh, do me a little uh, favour.” Jordan looked puzzled. “A favour. What do you mean? And what about the cop’s partner in the car bro?” Jordan asked nodding his head in the direction of the car parked behind him with its lights still flashing. “I’m on solo patrol today Sir” I replied curtly. “So there’s no one else here but me. And sleeping beauty of course” I said, indicating towards my unconscious body slumped to one side on the passenger seat as if dozing peacefully. Deciding to take control of the situation, I unzipped the flies on my uniform pants and feeling the cops, sizeable cock coming to life, pulled it out through the opening in his boxer shorts and waved it enticingly in Jordan’s face. Jordan licked his lips. “Well, uh, officer,” he said, leaning forward and grinning at me “In that case, I guess I’ve got no choice have I?” I moved closed to the car, my heavy boots planted firmly on the asphalt and my cock squeezed pleasurably through the confining opening of my uniform pants. In a moment the driver side door was open and I felt my best bro’s hot lips against my waiting cock head before I thrust deftly into the warm waiting caress of his mouth and let him work my hot cop load out with his eager tongue. Perhaps Jordan’s bad driving wasn’t such a big deal after all!

[takeovertales]

Office Shenanigans

“No. I can’t let you do that.” I whispered to the invisible space in front of me. While everyone else couldn’t see the ghost of my best friend and ex-co-worker, I was staring directly at him. His friend floated right behind him, patting him on the shoulder.

Keep reading

[greyswap]

OFFICE WHORE

I’d been an intern for about six months at one of the largest law firms in the country, and I was a damn hard worker. Graduated from Harvard, top of my class. Professional. Achieved every benchmark put in front of me. My future was bright and I was climbing the ladder exactly as I’d planned. That’s until Dominique Marcum found out I was gay.

Marcum is the head of the company, a powerful man who could destroy my life with a phone call. He hated anybody different from him, and even though he was a HUGE dickhead homophobe, he didn’t mind blackmailing me for the occasional blowjob. It’s not that I hated it. He was a handsome, powerful man in expensive suits. A little older than I normally go for, but very alpha male and incredibly sexy. Yeah, I may have been into him and enjoyed it, but being forced to choke his huge cock down because he had my future in the palm of his hands made it torture.

I started to think about my backup plan. Maybe look for positions at other firms, but it’s a small community and he’d have blackballed me before I could turn in my resignation. That’s when I ran into THE SHOP. It was almost as if it came out of nowhere, and I could’ve sworn I’d never seen it before, but there it was … an old, super creepy potions and spells shop. I thought it was a gag gift store until I walked in, the old woman behind the counter knowing everything about me before I could say a word. She handed me a small pouch of powder and told me to put in in his morning coffee and my life would change forever.

Long story short, the next morning Marcum was downing whatever was in that pouch and I was waiting to see what would happen. I know it’s crazy to believe in shit like that, but about an hour later, something remarkable happened. One minute I’m in the file room and the next I’m sitting in Marcum’s office … sitting at his desk.

His assistant, Kimberly, walked in and I stood, ready to come up with some kind of explanation.

“I know I shouldn’t be in here, but–”

“Don’t worry, your meeting got moved,” she said, placing a few folders on the desk in front of me. I didn’t know how to respond as she grabbed the cold coffee off the desk. “You need anything else, Mr. Marcum?”

I shook my head as she raised an eyebrow and turned, closing the door behind her.

“Mr. Marcum?” I said, suddenly noticing my voice was much different, yet familiar. I glanced down at my hands, noticed the expensive three-piece suit complete with expensive cufflinks and watch. I stepped over to the bar, the mirror on the wall revealing what I’d already figured out.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” I said, Dominique Marcum staring back at me. Reaching up, I touched the stubble on his face … on my face. I ran his strong fingers over his lips, my hands over his receding hairline before I straightened my tie with a smirk. “I’m Dominque Marcum,” I repeated, the weight of what had happen settling in. The entire experience was surreal, and I felt my new cock getting hard. May as well take it out and give it a spin, right?

After all, I was the boss now, which meant he was in my old body and would learn, firsthand, what it felt like to crave cock twenty-four-seven.

It’s been two weeks now since we swapped bodies and things have changed quite a bit. I’m running the firm, and I’m damn good at it. I’m also straight, which took some getting used to, but I love my thick new cock and eating pussy is kind of, well, I’m really fucking good at it.

What happened to the real Marcum? Well, he’s been settling into his new life, but doesn’t have the willpower I used to have. He’s become quite the little cocksucker in the break room during lunch. Best blow jobs in town. I mean, I would know … after all, I am the boss.

[fantasyvessels]

JUST US GUYS

“You boys sure you’ll be alright all weekend?” My aunt asked me and my Uncle Mick.

“Don’t worry hon, were both adults. I think we’ll manage.” Uncle Mick said as he got a beer from the fridge.

“I know that, it’s just,” she glanced back at me before leaning into whisper to my Uncle as if I was still a child, “with his parents gone the whole holiday and after what happened with his friend.” She whispered, even though we were still in the same room and I could hear everything she was saying.

My uncle stopped her with a kiss on the lips, “Relax babe, We’re gonna be just fine.” He smiled reassuringly.

Then he walked over and gave me a playful jab to the arm. “Ain’t that right bud? Just us two men all weekend some good old fashioned bonding.”

I laughed awkwardly back, “Yeah don’t worry, if Uncle Mick tries to cook something I know where the fire extinguisher is.” I teased. He pushed my head a little in a playful gesture at that, and made his way over to sit down in his armchair.

“Well, I admit it’s good to see you two actually getting along.” My aunt said with a half smile.

“Ok.. Well you two stay out of trouble.” She joked as she picked up her purse.

“Of course,” my Uncle Mick said as my aunt started picking up her bags. I glanced over just as she turned away from us and saw Uncle Mick staring at me with a devious look. He gave me a wink which sent a shiver down my spine. As my aunt turned back toward us, he took a sip of his beer casually.

“Ok well I have to go, love you guys.” She said before running out the door. As soon as the door closed behind her. I leapt out of my seat to peek our the window as I watched her get in the car and leave. When she was completely out of sight I turned around, and I was immediately face to face with my Uncle Mick who was now right in front of me.

“Thought she’d never leave.” He said as he pushed me up against the door with his massive body, and his slimey tongue entered my mouth, his lips against mine. I could taste his beer he had just been sipping as he kissed me passionately. Finally I put my hand on his chest and pushed him back a little.

“Woah easy on the tongue Allen.” I said grinning.

He let out a small laugh, “Sorry, still getting used to your Uncles body. This man is jacked with testosterone. I’m just so horny.” He growled as I felt Micks huge cock rub up against me.

“I know, but you got to cool it. Don’t want to blow your cover ya know.” I said as I softly placed my hand on his face. Feeling roughness of Micks beard across my fingers.

“Come on, your aunt is long gone plus she totally bought it, she has no idea that her husband has been body snatched by her nephews boyfriend.” Allen said through Uncle Micks deep baritone voice that was so sexy.

“I guess, which reminds me. Did you have to kiss my aunt? That was kinda gross, babe.” I said.

“I had to sell it, what? Don’t tell me you were getting jealous.” He grinned with his devious smile. My face turned red.

“No, why would I be jealous! Besides my Uncle is kind of a douche anyway. I mean after he found us together he could’ve beaten you to death.” I said, remembering how awful that night was and how terrifying my Uncle was, I turned my face. I didn’t want to look into his eyes.

“Hey,” he said softly but deep, “You’re Uncle’s not here anymore. And as far as I’m concerned I don’t want him to ever come back.” He said as I turned look back up at him. His eyes looked genuine and soft, like the person I loved.

“From now on it’s going to be me inside this body. It’s going to be weird at first, I’ll have to divorce your aunt and when the rest of your family finds out about our relationship, that’ll be rocky. But none of that matters, as long as we have each other.” He said kissing me again, this time softly, romantically.

“I love you, but are you sure you’re ok with being in the body from now on?” I asked.

“Not gonna lie, your Uncle was a douche, but he’s also really fucking hot. I mean look at this beast of a body.” He said flexing his arms for me, I admired them feel the biceps with my hands. “He’s a regular daddy, I feel powerful, not like I ever felt in my old scrawny body,” he stopped to pull the waistband from his shorts as he took a peek down them before grinning, “Yeah I could definitely get used to this.”

“Me too,” I finally admitted. And that was all the encouragement he needed to start ripping my clothes off right then and there.

We kissed as he lifted me up with his massive beefy arms and carried me to my Uncle Mick’s bedroom. I got to explore every inch of his sexy tatted up muscled body, and felt every inch of his raging hard cock as it thrust into me with more force than I’d ever felt before.

Me and my boyfriend’s sex life has never been this good. We decided to stick with the secret relationship thing for a little longer, it was kind of hot sneaking around with each other and then acting like Uncle and nephew in public. Because those side glances, winks, and quick slaps to the ass still send shivers down my spine.

[greyswap]

Cops Swap

When I told my best friend Ryan that I could merge myself with anybody I wanted, he didn’t believe me. What I didn’t tell him is that I could merge myself and anybody else touching me at the same time as well. So, I decided to give it a try. I mean it WAS Ryan’s birthday and all and he was just as into the idea of merging with a stranger as I was. Soooo, why not?

We found these two officers patrolling the mall and followed them around for what seemed like forever. I told Ryan that I’d merge with one of them while he distracted the other one, but I couldn’t do it in an open space. So, we waited for the right moment. Fortunately, everybody has to take a piss and finally, the two officers headed for the mall bathrooms. 

We followed them in, both of them taking a place at the urinals. The butcher one finished first and headed to the sink to wash his hands and I gave Ryan a nod to distract him. I heard the faucet turn on and Ryan started to chat it up with the officer as I stepped up behind the other one still standing at the urinal. I placed my hand on his back and his entire body froze just before it pulled me in, enveloping me completely until I opened my eyes, glancing down at my new hand wrapped around my new cock. 

“Nice,” I said, my voice deeper than I was used to. 

“What was that?” The other officer asked. This body’s memories slowly hit me. My partner’s name was Trey and we’d been on patrol with each other for five years now. 

“Nothing. Just talking to myself.” I said, pushing my cock back into my pants and zipping before I flushed and stepped toward the sink. Ryan stood there, a questioning look on his face as I gave him a quick wink to let him know it was me. 

“Everything okay here, son?” I asked, placing my hand on his shoulder. I turned, catching my reflection in the mirror and couldn’t help but smile. I was huge and suddenly felt my new cock getting stiff. It was always a turn on seeing yourself for the first time.

“Yes, sir. Just washing my hands.” Ryan nodded up at me as Trey glanced around the corner. 

“We’re that other kids go?” He asked, but before I could answer, I touched his shoulder and pushed Ryan into his body. 

The transfer happened almost instantly as Trey’s eyes flicked open and he stumbled back. “WHOA! What the hell was that?” He looked down at his body, ran his hands over his uniform and then looked up at me in shock. “What the hell? Am I?”

He spun to the mirror and looked at his reflection. Trey’s face lit up and I could tell Ryan was enjoying what he saw. I remembered my first time, the way it felt to feel bigger, to feel the weight of muscles and a frame you’d never felt before. It was unlike anything else.

“Pretty cool, right?” I asked, noticing his new dick getting harder. He reached up with new, stronger hands and touched his square jaw and older features. 

“So this is me now?” 

“For as long as you want,” I said. “I mean, you should be getting his memories and from what I can tell these guys are more than partners on the force. I’ve never been gay before but … I don’t know …”

I could tell by the way Trey was looking at me that he suddenly felt the same. It was strange, taking over a body and suddenly having the same desires they had. I felt my new bodies pull toward Trey and the way he was looking at me knew that he wanted my cock as much as I wanted his. 

“I guess,” he said, “it is almost time for lunch.” He stepped closer, moved his hand over my ass and pulled me closer. It was rough … just the way I liked it. He was the dom after all. 

He pushed in and kissed me, his tongue teasing mine as I felt his hard cock against me. Trey then pulled away with a slight giggle. 

“What?” I asked. 

“Nothing. Your curly stache just tickles, but I like it.” His smile and laugh made me even harder as I leaned over and locked the bathroom door. 

“I think I’m going to like being a cop,” I whispered. Trey spun me around, pulled my hands behind my back and cuffed them before he pushed me agains the wall. I felt his muscled pressed against me as leaned in, kissing my neck. 

“I think we both will.” 

[collegenerdtojock]

It was weird at first seeing my roommate Andy after holiday. I mean, I don’t expect such a socially awkward and bookworm like Andy want to do some weightlifting, let alone to the gym. But after summer break earlier this year, he came back to the campus looking like one hell of a different person. Somehow, he became jacked as fuck, like really jacked with those bulging biceps and triceps I can’t even build for the whole year. He also got his braces off and somehow tanned, making his popping-out-of-nowhere abs more visible than ever. But he’s still the same nerd I used to know, only this time he scheduled some gym session crammed in his daily schedule. Well, I’m happy for him though and seeing him working out like crazy while maintaining his study, I’m actually quite jealous on how good he is in balancing his life. When my mind dazed thinking about him while listening to some music on my earphone, he tapped me on my shoulder “Hey, you know, I actually want to go to a party, you know, that one held by the frat,” “Wow, good for you. Have fun then, I’m not in the mood today,” “Umh……well, should I? I mean I’m not as confident as you, I don’t know how can I blend in there,” “Bro, you’re hot, just put on some a little too tight clothes to show off those bis and tris and also pecs you have, put on some short jeans that will showcase that ass of yours and you’re good to go,” “Yeah…..but, you know what, fuck it……” All in a sudden, he grabbed my head and then I don’t know…….I just dazed for a while as he put on some sleeveless shirt and shorts as he strutted out from the room like a new man, “Thanks for sharing man, I’m confident enough now,” Well, I always questioned why the hell such a loose, fun and confident guy like Andy ever asked me how to blend in to the party. I mean, I’m socially quite awkward, that’s why I don’t go to parties at all.

[thegreatstoryteller]

Woah! What else could he take.

[futuradiego]

MY SWEET LITTLE MARK

Continuing a Vignette from here

The bed creaked the way it had always creaked.

That sound was the thing that struck me first. Not the slick stretch of him inside me, not the deep stuttering moan rolling up out of a chest I should not have been straddling, nor the wet buzz of the toy he was working into himself with his free hand. The bed. The specific groan of the third slat from the headboard, the one I'd been meaning to replace for three years and never quite got around to. The sound was a key sliding into a lock I didn't know I had.

But I kept riding.

That was the worst of it, or the best, depending on which part of me you asked. My thighs were burning in a way that didn't feel like mine — narrow thighs, less stamina, bitten-down fingernails clutching at pecs they hadn't earned — this body I'd woken up in working harder than it should have to keep the rhythm going. But the rhythm itself was instinct. Up and down. The slow grinding pause at the bottom where he liked it, where the man under me liked it, because his hands tightened on a waist that didn't belong to either of us and his head pressed back into the pillow and that voice, my fucking voice, broke open into a sound somewhere between a curse and a prayer.

"Ohhh fuck — fuck, fuck — squirt, you feel that? You feel how deep you're sittin' on me? Ahnnh — goddamn, this fuckin' body, dude — I been goin' for like forty minutes and I'm not even— unh — not even tired, you believe that shit?"

He had the dildo in his other hand. He'd been working it into himself even before he pulled me on top of him, a thick veined silicone thing in a stupid sunset gradient, and he was not gentle about it. He was hammering it up into his own ass at the same rough cadence I was using on his cock, two rhythms cross-cutting through one body, and every time the toy hit deep his whole frame jolted and his cock kicked inside me and another shudder rippled through both of us. His own prostate was getting wrecked by his own hand and he was narrating the whole thing.

"S-so fuckin' full, man, you don't even know — got my new dick in you, got this fat thing from Mr. Leather splittin' me — ah-ah-ah — I'm like the meat in the fuckin' sandwich, dude, I'm— nnh — Christ on a cracker, you should see yourself riding me, you're so shrimpy, you're so—"

He couldn't finish the sentence. His free hand left the toy long enough to drag up his own torso, palm flat across the pecs I'd built, fingers spreading wide to feel every individual ridge of muscle, and the moan he made at his own touch was for himself, entirely for himself, and the loop fed itself the way it never stopped feeding itself. The cock buried inside me throbbed harder at the contact. He hadn't even touched anyone else and his body was getting off on its own existence.

"My body," he was muttering, eyes rolled halfway back, baritone gone slurry. "My body, my body, look at this fuckin' body—"

I sank down again and felt the head of his cock press against something deep that made the smaller frame around me shudder. A whimper came out of me that I didn't recognize. Thin. Reedy. The wrong throat making the wrong sound.

His hands slid up the stolen waist. Both of them now, the toy abandoned for a second, lodged deep in him while he pressed his thumbs into the soft place under my ribs. There was a freckle there I hadn't noticed before. Small and dark, just under the left side of my new ribcage. Someone else's. Someone else's me.

I looked down at him and tried, tried, to hate it.

He was beautiful.

That was the part I couldn't stop circling. He was beautiful in the way I had spent a decade and a half slaving over. The trapezius I'd built doing farmer's carries at five a.m. The obliques I'd sculpted with stupid little side bends nobody else in the gym would do. The small dark mole just above his left nipple that my mother had pointed to when I was six and called my khaal-e-shirin, my sweet little mark. He had my sweet little mark on his stolen chest and he was looking up at me through eyelashes I'd inherited from a grandmother he'd never met, half-lidded, slack-mouthed, fucked-stupid on his own reflection.

The expression. That was the worst part. He didn't wear my face the way I'd worn it. I'd worn it sharp, present, the jaw doing work. He wore it the way men wear someone else's good jacket — pleased with the fit, indifferent to the cut.

"You're so fuckin' tight, little guy—" The baritone cracked, the voice rolling up out of a throat that wasn't built to make that sound that high. He bucked up into me and I gasped, palms slapping flat against the pecs to steady myself. His chest. My chest. The skin was hot under my hands and slick with the sweat of how long he'd been working for it, and underneath the slick I could feel the script along his ribs, raised slightly the way fresh-ish ink does in heat.

I'd gotten it at twenty-six. I'd been reading Coleman Barks like he was the only translator in the world. I'd thought the line was the most profound thing anyone had ever written and I'd put it on my body in a script I couldn't read myself because I wanted to honor a heritage I'd only ever held at arm's length. Three years later I'd come to find the choice a little embarrassing — the Barks of it, the white-yoga-studio of it, the fact that I'd picked the most quotable line in the whole canon — but I'd kept it because removing it would have been worse than wearing it. Penance for my own earnestness.

He didn't know any of that. He just wore it. Because it had come with the package.

His left hip clicked.

Small sound. The kind of joint pop you only hear if you're close enough, the kind of pop my left hip had been making since I tweaked it deadlifting at twenty-seven. It clicked on the upstroke when he bucked up into me, and the click bypassed my brain entirely and landed somewhere lower, in the part of me that didn't have language yet, just recognition. I knew that click. I knew it from the inside. I'd been hearing it in my own pelvis for three years.

I didn't have time to interrogate it. He was talking again.

"—gonna come again, dude, I'm gonna— ahhh — I came like twenty minutes ago and I'm already— this body's a fuckin' factory, swear to god, it just— unh — keeps refillin' the tank—"

He shoved the toy deeper into himself. His thighs trembled under mine. His balls tightened.

I felt the draw of them against the base of the cock buried inside me, that specific physiological cinching I had experienced from the other side a thousand times and was now feeling from the inside like an inverted memory. His mouth fell open. His hands clamped down on the borrowed hips hard enough to bruise the soft skin there. He made a sound — deep, gutted, animal, the kind of sound my throat had never made when it belonged to me because I had been raised to be quiet about pleasure — and he came.

He came inside me. He came inside his own old body using his own old cock and the heat of it flooded into me thick and pulsing, and the dildo was still in him, and his free hand came up to drag through dark curls in a gesture so precisely minethat I felt the recognition like a slap.

He laughed, breathless. Stoned-sounding. "Fuck me sideways," he murmured, more to the ceiling than to me, "every fuckin' time, man."

His head lolled to one side on the pillow.

I was looking past his shoulder.

At the plaster seam above the headboard.

The uneven one. The one the contractor had bodged in 2019 when I'd had a leak in the unit upstairs and they'd patched the ceiling on the cheap and I'd looked at that crooked seam every morning for four years and meant to fix it and never fixed it. I was looking at my own deferred maintenance and the second click happened, the bigger one, the one in my chest.

I live here.

I fucking live here.

The thought didn't arrive as a sentence. It arrived as the entire architecture of the room reorganizing itself around me — the angle of light from the window I had chosen the curtains for, the corner where my reading chair used to be before he'd shoved it aside to make room for his stupid weight bench, the smell underneath the sweat and the cum and the cheap synthetic cologne, the smell of my own laundry detergent in the sheets because he hadn't even bothered to switch brands.

And then the bookshelf.

Mine. Every book on it was mine. The Hafez in the original. The dog-eared Le Guin. The architectural monograph my sister had given me for my twenty-eighth birthday, with her inscription on the flyleaf I couldn't see from here but knew was there. Mine, mine, mine, the spines in the order I'd put them in, alphabetical within genre, a system only I would have used—

Except for one book.

Third shelf down. Wedged in horizontal on top of the verticals, the way you stash something you didn't have a place for. Black leather. No title on the spine I could read from this distance, but the binding was wrong — hand-stitched, not commercial, the kind of object that does not belong in a Bay Area apartment in the twenty-first century. It was the only thing in the room that wasn't mine.

It was the only thing in the room that was his.

The fog covering me? It detonated.

It came back in a single shuddering rush — not memories one at a time but the entire form of myself returning at once, the weight of thirty-four years slamming back into a brain that had been running on a skeleton crew, and my name arrived with it like a struck bell.

Bardia.

Bardia.

I was Bardia Azadeh, though everyone here called me Blake because it was easier and this was my apartment and the man bleeding the afterglow into my mattress beneath me was wearing my body like a costume he'd shoplifted, and the book on the third shelf, the black leather book that was the only foreign object in my entire curated life, was how he'd done it.

He hadn't noticed yet. His eyes were closed. His hand was still in his own hair, lazy, the dildo still seated in him, the body cycling down into that brief and only window where the self-activation loop would slack — five seconds, ten, before his cock would start to fill again at the sensation of his own fingertips at his own scalp — and I knew that body's recovery period because that was my fucking body and the window was small but it was real.

I moved.

I came up off him in one motion, his softening cock slipping out of me with a wet obscene sound, his cum running hot down the inside of a thigh that wasn't mine but was now mine to use. His eyes fluttered open in lazy protest.

"Nnh — where you goin', squirt — c'mon, come back here, I'm not — I'm not even done—"

I was already off the bed. Already across the room. The boards of the floor I had refinished myself were cold under bare feet with bitten-down nails.

The book was heavier than it should have been. The small hand barely closed around the spine. I pulled it from the shelf and the leather was warm — not room-warm, not body-warm, warm in a way objects are not supposed to be — and I felt the back of my neck prickle with a knowledge that wasn't mine and a knowledge that was.

He saw what I was holding.

The lazy fell off his face.

"Put that down." Not soft anymore. The baritone gone hard, gone fast — but his body was still leaking afterglow, still loose-limbed on my bed, still betraying him with the slow involuntary thickening at his groin because his own forearm had brushed his own thigh as he tried to push himself upright. "Bardia. Put it down."

He called me my actual name.

He'd known my name this whole time.

I opened the book.

[dreamertf]

Fucking hell how did you ever walk around with this huge ass dick swinging around? You don't know what I'm talking about? Oh shit right, forgot i drained your memories haha. Don't worry bout it little guy, just keep doing you squirt. You doing anything after the gym? Fuck nevermind I'm getting hard just thinking about railing your little twink ass, god you look hot without all that muscle. Lets take a break in between sets and hit up the sauna real quick, give you a taste of your old self, yeah?

[futuradiego]

I can see the gears turning in that pretty little head, trying to make sense of words that should mean something but just... don't. It's fucking intoxicating, watching you struggle with the empty spaces where your memories used to be. Where you used to be.

"Um... I'm sorry, do I know you?" you ask, that soft voice so different from the deep rumble that used to vibrate through this chest. My chest now. Your hand fidgets with the bottom of your oversized tank top - probably one of your old shirts that hangs off your new frame like a fucking dress.

I flex casually, watching your eyes track the movement of muscles that used to belong to you. The pump is incredible in this body. Every vein, every striation - I'm still getting used to how fucking good it feels to inhabit this much raw power. And the best part? You have no idea you're staring at yourself. Or what used to be yourself.

"Nah, we just... ran in the same circles," I lie easily, stepping closer. You have to tilt your head back now to look at me. Fuck, that's hot. You used to be six-two, and now you're what, five-seven? Five-eight? "I'm just messin' with you, man. You seemed a little out of it."

"Oh! Yeah, I've been feeling kind of weird lately," you admit, running a hand through your hair - straight and blond now, nothing like the thick curly mop I'm currently sporting. "Like I'm forgetting stuff? But I can't remember what I'm forgetting, if that makes sense."

It makes perfect sense. I made sure of that when I drained you. Took everything - your body, your muscle, your cock, your memories of having any of it. Left you with just enough to function, to think you've always been this cute little twink who's maybe a little gym-curious.

"Makes total sense, little guy." I let my hand land on your shoulder - so much smaller than I'm used to, delicate under my palm. This palm that used to be yours. I can feel you tense slightly at the contact, but you don't pull away. "You know what helps with that brain fog? Sauna. Gets the blood flowing."

"Oh, I don't know, I've never really—"

"Never really what? Come on, it'll be good for you." I'm already guiding you toward the locker room, my hand sliding from your shoulder to the small of your back. You're so fucking little now, it's driving me crazy. I can feel my dick - your old dick - starting to swell in my workout pants. This thick, heavy cock that used to hang between your legs, and now you don't even remember what it felt like.

"I guess... okay, yeah, sure," you agree, and Christ, you're so fucking compliant in this new body. Is it the size difference? The missing confidence that used to come with being built like a Greek god? Whatever it is, I'm here for it.

We push through the locker room doors. It's mostly empty this time of night - I planned it that way. A couple guys at the far end, but they're in their own world. I grab two towels from the stack and toss you one.

"So do we just... go in with our clothes?" you ask, and the innocent confusion in your voice makes my cock twitch again.

"Nah, man. Strip down, wrap the towel around." I don't wait, just hook my thumbs in my waistband and shove everything down. Your old cock springs free, half-hard already, and I watch your eyes go wide.

"Holy shit, dude, that's..."

"Big? Yeah." I wrap the towel around my waist - barely conceals it, honestly. This thing is a fucking weapon. Eight and a half inches soft, thick as a beer can, and you grew it over years of good genetics and testosterone. Mine now. "What's wrong, never seen a big dick before?"

You tear your eyes away, face flushing red. "No, I mean, yeah, I have, just... sorry for staring."

"Don't apologize. I'd stare too." I lean against the lockers while you awkwardly strip down, trying not to look at me. Your new body is tight, smooth, the kind of twink build that would've had old-you drooling. Has current-me drooling, honestly. "Damn, you're cute as fuck. You know that?"

The blush deepens. "Thanks? I guess?"

Your new cock is maybe four inches hard - I saw to that. Nothing wrong with it, but the contrast is fucking delicious. You wrap the towel around yourself like you're trying to hide, and I want to rip it off you right here.

"Sauna's this way." I lead you through the wet area, past the showers. The sauna door is heavy, and wet heat billows out when I pull it open. Empty. Perfect.

The cedar walls glow in the dim light, and I can already feel sweat prickling across my skin - your skin - as we step inside. I sprawl on the upper bench, legs spread, towel riding up on thick thighs that you spent years building in this exact gym.

You perch on the lower bench, nervous energy radiating off you.

"So... you work out here a lot?" you ask, trying to make conversation.

"Starting to, yeah. Trying out this new routine." I run a hand down my abs, feeling each ridge. "It's treating me pretty fucking well, don't you think?"

You nod quickly, then look away again. The heat is building, steam rising from the rocks.

"You ever wonder what it would be like?" I ask, voice dropping lower.

"What what would be like?"

"Being big. Strong. Hung like a fucking horse." I adjust my towel, making sure you get another glimpse. "Walking around knowing you could have anyone you want."

"I... I don't know. I never really thought about it." But there's something in your eyes - a flicker of loss, like you're reaching for something that isn't there.

"Liar," I say softly, and pat the bench next to me. "Come here."

"What?"

"Come. Here." Not a question this time.

You hesitate, then climb up to the upper bench, sitting a careful distance away. I close it in one movement, sliding right up against you. My arm goes around your shoulders, pulling you against my side. You fit there perfectly, your head barely reaching my shoulder.

"Relax," I murmur against your ear. "Just wanna make you feel good, little guy. Give you a taste of what you're missing."

My other hand lands on your thigh - so much softer than mine, less muscle. You gasp as I squeeze gently.

"Ever been with a guy?" I ask, already knowing the answer. You have no memories of your extensive history with men. Or women. I took it all.

"N-no..."

"Want to be?"

Your breath hitches. My hand slides higher.

"I don't even know your name," you whisper.

I grin against your temple. Should I tell you? That I'm wearing your name now, that I took everything?

"Call me daddy," I say instead, and pull your towel open.

"You know what the best part is?" I don't give you time to answer, just keep talking as my hand wraps around your little cock. You're already hard - can't help yourself. "It's not even the big shit. Yeah, the muscles are fucking incredible, and this cock—" I thrust my hips slightly, making sure you feel the weight of it against your hip, "—is a goddamn gift. But it's the little things, man."

My other hand comes up to touch the small silver hoop in my ear - your ear. "This piercing? Got it two days after I drained you. Just walked into a shop and did it. Nobody questioned it because why would they? I look like the kind of guy who can pull off whatever the fuck he wants." I tug on it slightly, grinning. "You used to think about getting one but never had the balls. I have your balls now, so I just... did it."

You whimper as I start stroking you slowly, deliberately.

"And the smell, fuck. You have no idea." I lean in close, dragging my nose along your neck, then pull back. "Press your face right here. Right into my pit."

"What—"

"Do it." I guide your head down to my armpit, holding you there. "Breathe it in. That's what a real man smells like. That's testosterone and work and power. I fucking reek after the gym and I love it. Walk around with it like cologne. Your old deodorant is still in my gym bag but I haven't touched it in weeks. Why would I cover this up?"

I feel your breathing get faster against my skin, and my cock throbs.

"My sneakers, man. Your sneakers. Those beat-to-fuck Nikes in my locker?" I flex my foot, the one currently in a size thirteen that used to be yours. "They're rank as hell. Socks are crusty. I wear them without washing them because I can. Because they smell like me now, like this body that dominates every room it walks into. What size are you now? Seven? Eight? Bet your little feet are cute as fuck."

I pull you up to look at me, keeping one hand working your dick.

"And clothes. Jesus Christ, the clothes. Everything fits perfect. Shirts stretch across these pecs, sleeves hug these arms. But you know what I wear most?" I grin wickedly. "Almost nothing. Went to the grocery store yesterday in just these tiny fucking running shorts - the ones with like a two-inch inseam - and no shirt. No shoes, even. Just walked around barefoot and half-naked because this body is a fucking work of art and everyone should see it."

Your eyes are glazed, mouth open, and I know I've got you.

"Tank tops that show my whole torso. Shorts so small my ass hangs out. I go to the beach, the park, anywhere, and just let everyone look. You know why?"

"Why?" you gasp.

"Because I can. Because I took everything you were too modest to flaunt. All that muscle you covered up with baggy clothes, all that confidence you were too in-your-head to use." I lean in until my lips brush your ear. "I'm living your best life, little guy. The one you were too chickenshit to live yourself. And it feels so. Fucking. Good."

My hand speeds up on your cock and you're making these desperate little sounds.

"Every morning I wake up and I'm still in this body. Still big. Still strong. Still hung. And you wake up in that tight little twink body with no memory of what you used to be. That's power. That's the ultimate flex."

You're close, I can tell. Trembling against me.

"Come for daddy," I whisper. "Come for the man wearing your old life like a second skin."

[permanent-swaps-deactivated2026]

Visitors

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

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

The agency matched me with Mark Rossi.

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

He arrived on a warm September afternoon.

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

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

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

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

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

---

At first I was really confused.

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

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

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

It was smooth.

Completely smooth.

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

The next time it happened, I woke up properly.

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

Mark stared back at me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I took it, my hand slightly unsteady.

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

---

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

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

A few hours later, I woke up.

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

I was in Mark’s body again.

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

“Holy shit… this is real.”

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

“¿Qué coño está pasando?”

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

“Porca puttana… funziona davvero.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

Then Pedro came to visit from Bilbao.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I felt a sharp twist of jealousy in my chest.

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

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

A few hours later, I woke up.

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

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

---

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

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

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

“Night, Juan,” Mark replied.

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

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

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

Pedro was fucking him.

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

I woke up a few hours later.

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

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

Fuck.

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

I needed to see all of him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The orgasm hit me like a freight train.

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

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

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

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

“Open. Taste yourself,” he ordered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holy shit.

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

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

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

Who's body would you want?

Juan

Mark

Pedro

Voting ended onJun 10

[permanent-swaps-deactivated2026]

Do It For Your Brother

Theo's POV

I never thought my twelfth birthday would end with doctors asking if my twin brother could move into my head, but that’s exactly how it went down.

Carson and I were identical twins—same messy brown hair, same green eyes, same smirk when we were up to no good. But I was the one tearing around the neighborhood on my bike, getting picked first for pickup games, and cracking jokes that had teachers shaking their heads with a grin. Carson was the quiet one. Smarter in that bookish way. He’d rather build massive Lego cities than chase a soccer ball, but we still did everything together. Until we didn’t.

I heard most of it secondhand. Mom pulled me into the hallway outside Carson’s hospital room, eyes red and puffy. Dad stood beside her, arms crossed so tight his knuckles were white, looking more exhausted than I’d ever seen him.

“The doctors say the disease is tearing up his nervous system,” Mom said, voice cracking. “They want to put him in a medically induced coma so his body can rest and try to heal. But Carson… he lost it when they told him. But he doesn't really have a choice.”

I shifted my weight. “So now what?”

Dad rubbed the back of his neck. “There’s this experimental procedure they’re testing. They can transfer his consciousness into another living person—share the body.”

I stared at them. “Share… with who?”

Mom glanced at Dad before answering. “They offered your father or you. Carson picked you, Theo.”

My stomach did a weird flip. “Me?”

Mom squeezed my shoulder. “It’s temporary, sweetheart. A few months at most. He’s been through hell already—the tests, the pain, missing everything. He just wants to feel normal again. Run around, play outside, be a kid. You two can switch who's in control whenever. The doctors swear it’s safe.”

I looked down at my sneakers. Part of me wanted to say no. This was my body. My life. I was the one who had soccer practice, who got invited to sleepovers, who everyone at school knew as the fun twin. But Carson was lying in that room looking small and scared, and the guilt they were laying on me was heavy.

“He really chose me?” I asked.

Dad nodded. “Without hesitation.”

I swallowed hard. “Okay. If it helps him get better… yeah. He can share with me.”

Mom pulled me into a hug so tight it hurt. “Thank you, Theo. You’re a good brother.”

---

They didn’t waste time. The next afternoon, after a bunch of tests and forms that our parents signed, they brought Carson and I to a procedure room. He looked pale and nervous, but when he looked at me he gave a weak smile.

“You sure about this?” he asked, voice small.

I tried to sound like my usual confident self. “Dude, it’s gonna be weird, but we’ll figure it out.”

The doctors placed the sensor bands on both our heads, explained the controls one more time—basically a mental “push” to switch who was driving—and started the process.

I felt a strange buzzing behind my eyes, like static in my skull. Then everything went fuzzy for a second.

When it cleared, I was still in my body… but I wasn’t alone.

I could feel him there. Not like a voice exactly, more like another presence in the back of my mind. Quiet. Waiting.

Hey, I thought, testing it. You there?

Carson’s reply came through hesitant but clear. Yeah. This is so strange.

Out loud I said, “Okay, this is officially the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to us.”

The doctors asked if we could switch. Carson mentally nudged me over, the way they’d described, and suddenly I was… watching. My own hands moved without me telling them to. Carson sat up straighter, looked around the room with my eyes, and smiled—my smile, but softer, the way only Carson smiled.

“Cool,” he said with my voice. “I can feel everything.”

He flexed my fingers, then reached up and touched my face like he was making sure it was real.

After a minute he receded, and I was in control again.

---

The first couple of months were weird, but not as bad as I thought they’d be.

Carson stayed mostly quiet in the back of my head. He almost never asked to take over. I’d feel him there, watching everything—soccer practice, riding bikes with the neighborhood kids, laughing at lunch with my friends—but he was happy just riding along. Like a normal kid again.

This is awesome, he’d think sometimes when I was kicking a ball around or eating pizza after a game. That was about it. No big conversations, no fighting over control. I’d offer to switch sometimes, but he’d always say he was good. I kept living my life, and he got to tag along without anyone knowing. It actually felt kind of nice having him there. Like old times, but quieter.

Then things started to go sideways when we found out his body wasn't getting better.

At first it was just small updates from the doctors. “Some setbacks.” “Slower progress than we hoped.” Mom would come home from the hospital looking drained, and Dad would sit at the kitchen table staring at nothing. I could feel Carson getting more tense in the back of my mind, but he still didn’t say much.

By month four, the hope was gone. The disease had done too much damage. Carson’s body wasn’t going to wake up the way they wanted. Not ever.

We had the conversation as a family one night after dinner. Mom and Dad looked wrecked. I sat there with my arms crossed, trying to act like the strong one.

“We can’t put him back in there just to die,” Dad said quietly.

Mom nodded, eyes wet. “The doctors say… it could be any day now. Or it could drag on for weeks. But there’s no recovery.”

I felt Carson shift inside my head. Not words, just a heavy kind of sadness.

“So what?” I asked. “He just stays with me forever?”

Dad looked at me. “For now, yeah. Until we figure something else out. You’ve already been doing it for months, Theo. You’re handling it like a champ.”

I wanted to argue. I wanted to say this wasn’t supposed to be permanent. But every time I thought about shoving Carson back into a dying body, I felt sick. He was my brother. My twin.

“Yeah,” I said finally, keeping my voice steady. “We’ll keep sharing. It’s fine.”

Carson didn’t say anything, but I felt a small wave of gratitude from him.

A week later, Carson’s body died in the coma.

The funeral was on a gray Tuesday. I was wearing the itchy black suit Mom made me put on. My friends from school had come, and a bunch of relatives I barely knew kept patting my shoulder and saying how sorry they were.

Suddenly, I felt Carson surge forward without warning. My body stood there completely still while the casket went down. No tears, no shaking, just staring straight at the grave with my face set hard.

Carson? I thought. Hey, talk to me.

Nothing. He didn’t answer. I tried for the first time to force my way back into control of my body, but he didn't let me. Didn’t even seem to notice I was there. He just kept control. It was almost as if his presence was stronger in my head than mine was.

For the next three days he stayed in charge. He went to school as me, sat through my classes, answered when teachers called on him. He even played soccer at recess, but quieter than I usually did. My friends noticed something was off and asked if I was okay. Carson just shrugged and said, “Yeah, I’m good.”

I tried to take over every night when we were alone. He blocked me every time. No explanation. No conversation. Just silence.

By the fourth day, he finally let me push through while he was brushing my teeth before bed.

I spat out the toothpaste and looked at myself in the mirror. “Carson… you good, man?”

He didn’t answer right away. When he did, his thoughts felt exhausted. Yeah, I'm fine.

I wanted to say more. To ask why he shut me out, why he wouldn’t even talk to me. It felt strange having him lock me out like that in my own body. Uncomfortable. Kind of violating, if I was honest. But I bit it back.

He’d just watched his own body get buried. He’d lost everything except this—except me. If he needed a few days to just… be a normal kid, I could deal with it.

“Alright,” I said out loud, keeping my tone casual. “Whenever you’re ready. I’m here.”

I didn’t push it after that. But deep down, I was already wondering how long we could actually keep doing this.

---

A few years went by and somehow this became our normal.

By the time we hit sixteen, I had it down to a system. School days? Carson took the wheel. He’d sit through classes, grind through homework, ace the tests, and even show up for the volunteer shifts at the animal shelter that looked good on college apps. I’d check out in the back of my own head, thinking about who I was texting later or which party I could sneak into that weekend. It worked. He got straight A’s, I got to stay popular. Win-win.

To deal with the high stress of our unusual arrangement, Carson took up weight lifting. He’d wake up super early, take over control, and spend two hours in the basement with Dad’s old bench press while I was still half-asleep. By junior year our body looked fucking incredible—broad shoulders, arms that filled out t-shirts the right way. Girls noticed. I made sure to enjoy that part.

In fact, he let me have all the fun—spring break road trips down the coast, summer parties at the lake, Friday nights where I’d sneak out after Mom and Dad went to bed. I’d hook up with whoever was into it and Carson would stay quiet in the back, never complaining.

But as much as he did all the hard work for me, I still started to resent having to share my body with him. I never said it out loud, but some nights, lying in bed, I’d feel him there and think about how nice it would be to have my head to myself again. Just for a day. An hour.

It didn't help that Carson also became our parents' unequivocal favorite after all this. To them, Carson was the golden boy. Good grades, polite, always offering to help around the house. Then when I was in control, I was always getting up to trouble in their eyes.

One night I came home past curfew, still smelling like bonfire smoke and some girl’s perfume. Mom was waiting in the kitchen, arms crossed.

“Theo, this is the third time this month. You’re out all hours, not answering your phone—”

“It was just a party,” I said, keeping my voice easy, flashing the same smile that usually worked on everyone else.

Dad walked in, looking disappointed. “We wish you could be more like… well, like your brother.”

Mom sighed. “Carson never pulls this. He’s focused. He actually cares about his future.”

I smirked, but it didn’t reach my eyes. “Oh yeah? If you like him so much, here.”

I shoved control forward hard. Carson took over mid-step, blinking as he adjusted.

“Mom, Dad, it’s me,” he said quietly with my voice. “Theo was just out with friends. I’ll make sure we’re both on top of things tomorrow.”

They softened immediately. Dad clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, son. We know this isn’t easy on either of you, but you’re handling it so well.”

I stayed in the back, arms crossed in my mind, letting him soak up the praise while I stewed.

It happened a couple more times that year during bigger blow-ups. They’d start in on me for being lazy or staying out too late, comparing me to Carson, and I’d force the switch right there. He never complained to me about it afterward. He’d just think, You good?

Yeah, I’d reply. I’m good. But fuck I was annoyed that my parents couldn't see how unfair they were being to me after I'd given up everything to help Carson.

---

We got the Oxford letter in the spring of senior year. Astrophysics. I didn’t give a damn about what Carson decided to study as it got us out of the house. I’d been pushing for somewhere big and loud back home — ASU, Clemson, Auburn — parties every weekend, football games, girls everywhere. But Oxford? I had to admit it sounded good coming out of my mouth.

“Yeah, heading to Oxford in the fall,” I’d say at parties or when people asked. Their eyes would light up. The muscular jock who was also smart enough for Oxford. I loved that shit. Loved the way girls started texting me more once the news spread.

So we moved to England. New city, new appartment, new life. At first it felt like freedom.

Then the coursework hit.

Carson insisted on being in control all the time to keep up with it. He would grind through the material late into the night most weekdays and during the day on the weekends. I’d then only get to be in control on weekend nights where I would waste no time hitting the pubs and chatting up girls.

Still, Carson would always be pushing to go back home those nights. Theo, we need to catch up on orbital mechanics before the next tutorial, he’d push. I’d wave it off. Chill, man. We’ve got this.

I'd be lying if I said tension wasn't already building between us, but things came to a head when he met Davie.

It was in a physics study group. This guy — slim, dark curly hair, sharp smile — kept hanging around with us after all our other classmates left, asking questions that he seemed like he already knew the answers to just to make Carson feel smart.

One night night, back in the flat, Carson spoke up in our mind while I was in control scrolling on Instagram.

Theo… I need to tell you something.

What’s up?

I’m gay. I’ve been sure for a while. Didn’t want to say anything before. But… I like Davie. From the study group. I want to ask him out. Just a coffee date or something.

I froze. Oh, ok. I thought back. Dude, that’s fine by me.

Relief washed through him. Thanks.

But asking him out? I pushed. I don't think you should do that. People will think I’m gay. That shit will spread around campus. And that shit will kill my cred with the girls.

Carson went quiet for a second. Then: It’s not fair, Theo. You get to party every weekend. You get to hook up, have fun, live your life in this body. I’ve been carrying the schoolwork, the volunteering, everything hard for years. I deserve to be happy too.

I felt a flash of guilt, quickly buried under irritation. Yeah, well, this is still my body. You're lucky I'm letting you live in it at all.

He didn’t argue after that. But I could feel him thinking.

The next study group was a few days later. I figured we’d review the material, then I’d take over and head to a party I’d heard about. But when the session wrapped up, Carson stayed in control. I tried to push forward. He held firm and kept me out.

Davie was packing up his notes. Carson walked over and cleared his throat.

“Hey, Davie,” he said, voice calm but a little nervous. “I was wondering if you wanted to grab coffee or a drink sometime. Just us. Like… a date.”

Davie’s face lit up with a surprised, genuine smile. “Yeah. I’d really like that. Tonight work?”

Carson smiled back with my face. “Tonight’s perfect.”

I sat in the back of my own head, stunned, watching the whole thing happen. Davie gave us his number, and they set a time. As we walked out of the library, I tried again to take control. Carson wouldn’t let me.

Carson. What the hell?

He didn’t answer. Just a quiet, determined feeling from him as we headed back to the flat to get ready.

Carson stayed in control the whole evening. I was stuck in the passenger seat, watching everything unfold like a bad movie I couldn’t pause.

He met Davie at a small café near campus just after seven. They grabbed drinks and ended up talking for hours. Davie told stories about growing up in Manchester, his terrible attempts at cooking, and how he wanted to work on satellite design after graduation. Carson laughed easily with my voice and opened up about the pressure of Oxford and how much he loved weight lifting to clear his head.

“You’re not at all what I expected when I first saw you in study group,” Davie said at one point, grinning. “You’ve got this whole confident jock thing going on, but you actually care about the material. It’s refreshing.”

Carson smiled. “Yeah, well… there’s more to me than people think.”

They closed the café down. When it was time to leave, Davie hesitated, then asked, “Want to come back to my flat? It’s not far. We could watch a movie or something. No pressure.”

Carson didn’t even glance back at me for permission. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Back at Davie’s small, messy flat, they put on some sci-fi movie I’d never heard of. They started on opposite ends of the couch. By the middle of the film, Davie had shifted closer. He reached over and laced their fingers together. Carson’s heart — my heart — started hammering. I could feel the flush in our cheeks.

Davie’s other hand moved slowly, resting first on my thigh, then sliding up to squeeze the muscle there. “You’re really strong,” he murmured, almost shy. His fingers traced up to my bicep, giving it a gentle squeeze. “This is… impressive.”

Carson stayed quiet, but I felt how fast his breathing had gotten. When Davie leaned in and kissed him, soft at first, then deeper, Carson froze for half a second before kissing back.

Our heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might explode.

Davie pulled back a little, smiling. “You okay?”

Carson swallowed. “Yeah. I’ve… never done this before.”

Davie raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely surprised. “Wait, really? I just assumed—”

Carson cut him off quickly, voice a little embarrassed. “No, I mean… never done this before with a guy.”

Davie’s expression softened. He brushed a thumb over our knuckles. “How is it? Do you like it?”

Carson nodded, still catching his breath. “I like it a lot.”

They kissed again, slower this time. After a minute, Davie pulled back just enough to look at him curiously.

“So why now?” he asked. “Why with a guy? Why me?”

Carson gave a small, easy smile. “Because you’re really hot… and you haven't stopped making eyes at me in study group. Kinda made it impossible not to go for it.”

Davie laughed softly, clearly pleased, and pulled him in for another kiss.

I sat in the back, jaw clenched, saying nothing. But the resentment burned hotter than ever.

After the kissing got heavier, clothes started coming off. Davie’s hands were all over my chest and arms, squeezing the muscle Carson had built. Carson was breathing hard, letting it happen, following the heat.

They moved to Davie’s bed. Carson was on top, and things escalated quickly. He lined up and tried to push in all at once, the way I’d done with plenty of girls. Davie’s eyes widened and he let out a sharp scream, grabbing onto my shoulders.

“Fuck— wait!” Davie gasped.

Carson froze immediately. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Davie laughed breathlessly, even though his face was still tight. “No, you’re good. You’re just… way too big to shove in like that without warming me up first. Go slower, yeah?”

Carson nodded, embarrassed but eager. He pulled back, took his time this round, using his fingers and more lube until Davie was relaxed and pushing back against him. When he finally slid in all the way, Davie moaned loud, his hole tight and hot around us.

“God, that feels good,” Davie breathed.

Carson started moving, finding a rhythm. He had watched me hook up enough times that his form was solid—deep, steady strokes that had Davie gripping the sheets. But this was different. Davie’s hole stayed so tight, clenching around us with every thrust. Carson groaned with my voice, hands roaming over Davie’s chest and sides.

They started feeling each other up more. Davie ran his hands over my biceps and abs, squeezing hard. “Flex for me,” he said, voice rough.

Carson paused mid-thrust, looking a little awkward, then clumsily flexed my right bicep. The muscle popped up tight. Davie grinned and kissed it. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

Carson got bolder. He grabbed Davie’s hips, lifted him up while still inside, and fucked him in the air for a few strokes like he weighed nothing. Davie’s eyes rolled back. “Holy shit, Theo—”

Then Carson set him down gently and flipped him over into doggy style. He pressed in close from behind, wrapping one arm around Davie’s chest in a hug while still thrusting. He kissed the back of his neck, surprisingly tender. Davie pushed back against every stroke, moaning.

Carson reached around and wrapped his hand around Davie’s uncut cock, stroking him in time with his hips. Davie was throbbing hard, leaking all over my fingers.

They switched again. Davie climbed on top, riding cowboy. He bounced faster, taking us deep, his own cock slapping against my abs. Carson kept one hand on his hip and the other stroking him.

“I’m close,” Davie gasped.

He came first, shooting across my stomach in thick streaks. Carson didn’t hesitate—he scooped some up with his fingers and licked it off, tasting it. Davie watched with wide, turned-on eyes.

That pushed Carson over the edge. He gripped Davie’s hips tight and came deep inside him, groaning loud with my voice as our body tensed and released.

They collapsed together, sweaty and breathing hard. Davie curled up against my chest, and Carson wrapped an arm around him. They fell asleep like that, cuddling close under the blanket.

Carson finally drifted off, content. I didn’t say a word to him that night.

Carson stayed in control for the rest of that week. He spent most nights at Davie’s flat. I felt everything — the laughing, the making out, the sex. He was getting more confident each time, learning what Davie liked. I tried to push for control constantly, but he kept me locked in the back.

By the following Saturday evening he finally let me back in. I didn’t waste a second.

I took over and headed straight to the pub. I was pissed. I drank hard, shot after shot, trying to shake off the week of being trapped in the passenger seat while he lived out whatever this new life was. I flirted with a couple girls, but I was too sloppy. They gave me weird looks and moved away. Everything after that is a blur. I have no idea how I got back to the flat.

I woke up the next morning with a brutal hangover. Sunlight stabbed through the curtains. And Carson was back in control.

Carson? I thought immediately. Give me the body back, man. I feel like shit.

He didn’t respond. He just got up, walked to the kitchen, and picked up the phone like I wasn’t even there.

“Mom? Dad?” His voice — my voice — shook as he spoke. “It’s Carson. Something’s wrong. Theo went out partying last night and… when I woke up I couldn’t hear him anymore. His voice is just gone. I feel completely alone in here. I don’t know what to do.”

I started screaming inside. Carson, what the fuck are you doing? I’m right here!

Our parents’ voices came through the speaker, calm. Worried for him, but not panicked. “Sweetheart, don’t freak out,” Mom said gently. “Just breathe. It’ll be okay. You’ll figure it out. We’re here for you.”

Dad added, “Stay safe. We love you. Call us if anything changes.”

I felt sick. They didn’t even sound that upset. Like losing me was just another complication for their golden boy to deal with.

Carson hung up, walked back to the bed, and lay down. He pushed our shorts down and started slowly stroking our cock, eyes half-closed, thinking about Davie. About how good it felt to fuck him.

Carson! I screamed. Stop this. Talk to me!

He finally answered, voice cold in my head. “Shut up, you dick. I can hear you. You know what? I am so sick of this. I think I’ve been able to do this since the beginning, but I never wanted to try because it would be awful. But I’m done with your shit, Theo.”

What are you talking about? I thought, panic rising. Stop messing around.

He kept jerking off, steady strokes, while he flexed our right arm, admiring the bicep in the mirror across the room. I felt him start pushing. My presence got squeezed, shoved into a smaller and smaller corner of our brain.

I screamed louder. Carson! Don’t! Please!

He ignored me, breathing heavier, stroking faster. His thoughts were full of Davie — tight heat, moans, the way he’d looked up at us. Our body tensed, muscles hard. I felt weaker, smaller, like I was fading.

Carson, I’m your brother! Stop!

One final hard stroke and he came, groaning as he spilled over our hand. In that moment the pressure became unbearable. He shoved hard, and I was ejected. Everything went white.

---

Carson's POV

I lay there in the quiet of the flat, chest still heaving a little, staring up at the ceiling through eyes that were finally, completely mine. Theo’s body—my body now—glistened with streaks of my own cum across my abs and chest. It felt warm, messy, real. I dipped two fingers into the biggest pool of it, scooped some up, and slowly rubbed it across my pecs, spreading it in lazy circles over the muscle I’d built for years. The smell hit me—thick, masculine—and a low groan slipped out of my throat. Theo’s throat. Mine.

Part of me waited for the guilt to crash in. I’d just erased my own brother. My twin. But the longer I rubbed that slick warmth into my skin, the more that little voice faded. Nah. Fuck that. Theo had been treating me like a parasite for years. Using me for grades, for the heavy lifting, for keeping our parents off his back while he partied and fucked whoever he wanted in my downtime. This? This was justice. Long overdue.

I reached over for my phone and opened the camera. The screen lit up on my face: flushed, hair messy. I angled it down, capturing the shine across my chest and stomach, my spent cock still half-hard against my thigh. Click. Perfect.

I typed out the text to Davie, smirking the whole time.

Me: Partied a little too hard last night. Woke up like this and all I could think about was how much better it would’ve been if you were here to wake up next to me. Wanna come over and spend the rest of the afternoon cuddled up in bed?

I hit send, then admired the selfie again before putting the phone down. Yeah… I’m definitely making this guy my boyfriend. For real. Mom and Dad are gonna be so happy I finally have a steady relationship after all these years of “me” being the responsible one. They’ll eat it up—proud of their golden boy settling down with a nice British guy.

I ran my hand down my stomach again, smearing more of the cum lower, fingers brushing over my cock. It twitched hard, thickening back up fast. Fuck. This body was all mine now. Every inch. The broad shoulders, the arms that could lift Davie like he weighed nothing, the dick that made him moan like that. No more sharing. No more passenger seat. No more Theo.

All mine. All mine. All mine.

My cock throbbed fully hard again in my grip, and I laughed low and satisfied, giving it a slow stroke as I waited for Davie’s reply. This was just the beginning.

[mjc88blr]

What’s happening to the Henderson’s?

My head throbbed and I felt more sore than I ever had in my life when I woke up this morning the sun peaking bright through my window. My bed strangely creaked and groaned as I attempted to turn over but when I opened my eyes reality hit me like a truck. Looking down at my body I was giant and hairy, much larger than my normal skinny body of Alex Henderson that was maybe 130 lbs soaking wet. I threw off the sheet and a monster dick that bobbed up and down almost matching my heartbeat and the smell of sweat invaded my nostrils. I panicked because what had slowly been spreading to my family for the last week had finally happened to me. Last Tuesday we were all gathered at home. Summer had just begun. My twenty year old sister had returned from college to study fashion while I was getting ready to leave to study marketing once summer ended. The whole world seemed to ripple for a minute and the sky seemed to change color for just a second and at first we didn’t notice anything different until we realized the internet didn’t work and the weirdest part we couldn’t leave the house we would just wind up back inside and the world continued on outside without us. I could have dealt with all that but the biggest change involved my family members morphing into copies of some of the men around town that I found most attractive. Worst of all they acted constantly horny like they were living in a porno and kept trying everything to get me to have sex with them. Don't get me wrong it would have been great all these hot guys throwing themselves at me but these sex obsessed fantasy guys were my family members. Even more strangely they would switch between acting like their old personality and their new one usually with a blink and shake of their head, it all was completely normal to them if I brought it up they looked at me like I was crazy.

My dad who luckily worked as an astrophysicist, a job I never understood but it came in handy when he said he recognized the pattern of the sky changing color from satellite imagery he studied last week and got to work in his basement office looking for a solution. Now looking in the bathroom mirror I was greeted not by my eighteen year old face but by the shocked face of Mr. Brown, my senior year history teacher and coach of the soccer team. I’d spent my senior year captivated by him the way his dress shirts would hug his bulky frame or how the smell of his cologne would invade my nostrils when I entered the classroom. My favorite way to spend the class period was hoping a student would ask him a question so he would bend down over their desk and I could get a look at his ass in his tight pants. After school I would sit in the bleachers hoping to see him running drills with the soccer team and working up a sweat in his gym shorts and tight school t-shirt. Now I had a front row seat to his naked body and it was even better than I imagined. Legs and thighs like tree trunks and a hairy body that exuded masculine energy and smell. His ass was even bigger than it looked in his dress pants. It felt great just to stand there and grab it with my much larger hands, eventually I worked my hands around to my stomach and down to my new dick. It was the best feeling I had ever experienced. I'd never felt so much pleasure radiate through my body and I didn't want it to end ever. No, I had to stay focused this whole situation had to be reversed even if it meant I had to lose this gorgeous body, with none of the clothes in my dresser having a chance of fitting me now I went into my parents room and found a pair of sweatpants and a shirt that could cover me up. I had to find dad and see if he could help me, he said yesterday evening he was close to a breakthrough as he analyzed some more data last night.

After lumbering down the stairs which my new hefty body made difficult, I saw out on the patio the guy who used to be my sister Ashley now with the body of her boyfriend Brandon doing yoga. Who knew the soccer captain could be so flexible? He was out there doing the splits and several different yoga poses I didn’t know were possible especially for a guy. “Brandon, have you seen where dad is? I need to talk with him” I asked. “Oh hey Alex do you like the outfit I found in my closet? It's so cute and luckily it fits I don’t know why but none of my clothes seem to fit lately. I must have visited the dining hall too many times. Even my underwear is too small especially in the front and I don’t know why I’ve always crammed my dick and balls in there before and I never had an issue but now even my favorite pair almost ripped today, even these pants can barely hide my ass” he said his voice even in a noticeably higher pitch as he run his hands up his backside, his white pants stretched to their limit over his butt in the yoga pose he was in. He blinked and shook his head and smirked at me, his voice resuming its deeper pitch Brandon’s personality back in control, “hey looser come out here to stare at me while I stretch? Shit I would too look at me this body is perfection” he said flexing and rubbing his chest. “Here let me give you a better look”, then he began to remove his white pants and was now completely naked, his caramel colored body shining in the morning sunlight. “Take a look at this, all this yoga has really loosened me up. I’ve been working on this for hours pretty soon I’ll be able to entertain myself all day since you love to play hard to get.” He then sat on the ground and brought his foot up to his mouth and licked it all over with his large tongue, never breaking eye contact with me and I couldn’t look away. After each toe had been sampled he raised both his legs up and locked both of his feet behind his head and began to try and stretch his mouth toward the hard dripping appendage between his legs. I finally snapped out of it and ran inside. Well Brandon had been no help just like he was before all of this only caring about himself. I left him in the backyards legs behind his head damn that yoga really was helping I’m pretty sure I saw his tongue make contact with his dick although, I was distracted with him in that position I could clearly see his asshole and there something leaking out of it things just kept getting worse.

I tiptoed into the kitchen because my mom was a little unpredictable in her new body, a former twenty-seven year old convict Luke who worked at the mechanic that I took my cheap sedan to for tire and oil changes. I just had to spend those hours staring at him dripping in sweat while he worked on my car didn’t I. One minute he would be my happy mother asking me how my day was and calling me his sweet boy to Luke’s personality taking over swearing up a storm and scowling and asking me what the hell i was staring at. “Hey honey! If you wait just a second I can have a cupcake ready for you” It must have been a good day today, although it was still so weird to see his tatted up body wearing only my mothers apron and hearing his deep voice call me honey. Even more unsettling was the large protrusion below her waist that was sticking so obscenely in front of her it knocked over the can of baking powder on the counter when he turned to face me. “Sorry, stupid thing won’t go down. I already had Brandon let me release a load in his ass before I started baking but these balls are full again and I’m going to have to mop when I’m done baking, I’m dripping all over the floor. Be a dear and help me out, maybe just a little tongue action on my balls please” Then he lifted up his apron showing the giant dick and dangling balls I had seen too often over the last couple days. He was almost whimpering, biting his lip as his dick twitched and bobbed up and down and continued to leak on the floor. When I declined as I so often had to do in this house it was like a switch flipped and Luke’s harsher personality took over with a shake of his head. “You fucking ungrateful piece of shit, I work hard all day sweating my balls off cooking and cleaning and all I ask is for you to help me out when I need some release you’re fucking useless”. “Um yeah have you seen dad by chance” I asked hesitantly hoping to get out of here quickly. “Where do you think he is in his office downstairs fucking dumbass, God damn it I need a smoke”. He yelled, throwing his apron on the counter and pulling a cigarette from the front pocket, lighting up and blowing a large cloud of smoke in my direction, grumbling and flipping me off and beginning to work his hand rapidly up and down his glistening shaft. As I began to leave the oven timer dinged and Moms regular happy demeanor was back and as he bent over the oven to grab the cupcakes Luke shook his bubble butt and said, “oooooh yay cupcakes are done I’m going to save some icing you can lick it off my ass later honey. oh dang it, excuse my language son I just made more of a mess look at these new puddles on the floor” I needed to find Dad he said he was close to figuring out what was going on last night hopefully he had made a breakthrough because this house was driving me crazy.

My worst fear awaited me when I went down to dad’s office. There sitting on the couch was Jesse, a guy who worked at the local pizza place and was probably the worst body dad could have been put in. Yeah he was extremely hot, why else would he be here making things worse, he was also extremely dumb multiple times when I handed him cash for my pizza order it took him minutes to figure out my change. “Wait dude stop you’re cracking me up so, sure I’m some smart scientist whatever you say bro hahaha. Why would I use my brain for numbers and stuff that shit gives me a headache. You don’t need to use your brain when you look this good, check out these abs and this chest touch them if you want. Dude what the fuck stop crying you’re killing the vibes it’s bad enough my phone isn’t working can’t even pull up my favorite sites to take care of this problem” he said as he pulled down his grey shorts releasing his dick that smacked his stomach as it escaped its confines. “Can you send down the hottie in the yoga pants bro? I couldn't get enough of him last night he snuck down here and was doing the splits and shit while bouncing on my dick it was amazing.” “No dad please you can’t be stuck as this dumbass you’re supposed to figure out how to fix this mess, I don’t want to be old I’m supposed to be starting college in a few months” I began to cry even louder then Jesse blinked and shook his head an angry look appearing on his face as his nostrils flared and a vein popped on his forehead just like dad’s when we misbehaved as kids. “I will not have you swearing in my house young man, how dare you call me a dumbass. Get upstairs, I don't want to see you until dinner Alexander” I climbed the stairs, the stern and familiar expression of my dad already gone from Jesse’s face and replaced with his tongue rolling out of his mouth as he flexed and grouped his pecs any sign of my intelligent father gone. I arrived at the landing on the ground floor greeted by the sight of Brandon and Luke making out naked on the living room couch. “Finally he’s free, hurry up, let's get downstairs Luke, that guy down there is so hot we can share him” they high fived and ran downstairs giggling, their matching boners swinging between their legs with every step. I climbed the stairs back to my room, my only hope of escaping this nightmare gone.

You know I don’t remember what I was so worried about yesterday morning. I have this great body, huge dick, and a house full of hot guys who want to have sex with me everyday. This is paradise. I think this top really makes me look sexy. It kind of just appeared in my closet an hour ago how lucky is that!. I wonder if the boys will agree not that we’ll be in our clothes for a very long time. Damn it is that Luke moaning ugh only Jesse’s dick makes him squeal like that. I told them to wait for me.

Meanwhile in a galaxy three solar systems away…

“Sir Earth experiment 8076-A43 seems to finally be a success. All test subjects have succumbed to the newest reality altering invention although the personality modifier could still use some work; they're still switching between their original and new personalities randomly.” “ Excellent, expand this test to the entire neighborhood and give me an update on the other experiments soon, we need to know if there are any issues with our other test subjects.” “Yes sir right away” said the alien scientist pushing a button and causing another reality changing ripple to sweep across the planet.