Tipo Roo's Social Crate

🎮XB: CannibalChow🎮 🏳️‍🌈26/Male He/Him🏳️‍🌈 🎮Streamer/Xbox Gamer🎮 🦘Tipo Roo🦘

[jerkingnerds2jock]

Welp two of my most recent stories/captions have been hidden by tumblr!! Guess I have to share em the old fashioned way! Trigger Warning this story is Gay To Straight, but has tons of gay sex

your just not masculine enough

“your just not masculine enough” / “never enough” (Authors note this story is gay to straight but i still make sure he fucks guys! You all k

[beuxwhoyouare]

Unempathetic

Greg was vain and cocky. Why wouldn’t he be? He was raised in a world that exalted his conventionally attractive body and milky white complexion.

His unremarkable life was a dime a dozen among gay gymbros. Scrawny gay kid was bullied in his rural town and when he got out of town for college and work he devoted himself to the gym. Aiming to attain a physique that would warrant him all the male affection he craved but never received growing up. A cliche plight for a cliche man.

Even with all the conventionally attractive attributes, Greg was held back in the world from meaningful relationships and meaningful growth as a person. Night after night was filled with clubbing and hookups after hard days as a financial analyst in his father’s company. That was Greg’s life. It should then come as no surprise that he also lacked empathy for anyone different from him because he felt as if the struggles he went through was as hard as the world got. Greg routinely passed off news headlines as fake news meant to pass agendas that only hindered him and his families fortune.

That’s the great thing about the gym though, it’s the ultimate primal equalizer. People from all walks of life come in with the same goal, to look and feel good. But Greg brought in the added issue of a sense of superiority. He thought everyone around him was blessed to be in his presence.

Gabriel was definitely what Greg would call woke. A first generation American, he’s worked hard to build a life and a physique most would admire. He was living the (dead) American Dream. A self made personal trainer, advocate for immigrant rights in his community. A truly admirable and stand up guy with morals, something Greg couldn’t begin to understand.

But all the defying the odds, all that perseverance, is taxing. Gabriel was tired of fighting the good fight for his loved ones, at least for now. He needed a temporary break, but being a self-employed trainer didn’t loan itself to off time. And his family needed his support. Often Gabriel found himself occasionally supplementing his families pay to keep his youngest siblings fed and dressed for school.

Both men needed something from each other they didn’t realize, but the world was ready to do its part to rectify the world for them. A day as mundane as any other, it seemed. Greg was wrapping up his workout his chest felt puffed up and taut. Gabriel coincidentally wrapped up a few minutes ago and was checking out his hard work, posing in the mirror room.

Greg arrogantly walked in the way of Gabriel’s view while doomscrolling on his phone. When the white gymbro finally looked up to see where he was standing, his eyes locked with the Latino hunk. Gabriel stood in a silent confidence that would shake anyone into getting out his way. But Greg had spent his whole life thinking he was a prime specimen all men should aspire to resemble. The two were caught in a deadlock, somehow a mutual respect for each other’s presence but a disdain for what each other clearly represented.

Greg scoffed at Gabriel as if he was in the wrong and walked towards the showers. He walked into a stall and filled the space with steam. As the hot moist air filled the musty room, Gabriel walked into get his belongings and head home but the thick steam suddenly filled the space. Both men were engrossed in the moisture and eventually it felt like they were drowning as their vision went white.

A bright light filled their sight as a ringing chimed in. Then darkness. Greg woke up from the heaviest sleep he could remember in years. He could feel the soreness of his heaving chest and something under the sheets was just as hard and commanding of his full attention. As a financial analyst, he was very routine in his day and had his mornings down to a science. As he swung his legs off the bed to search for his luxury slippers to make his way to shower, he was shocked to find they weren’t there. He passed it off as a mistake he must’ve made last night. His body guided him to a restroom he had yet to realize was unfamiliar and turned on the hot water. Preparing for his morning jerk and shower, his strong palm made its routine way down to begin when the newfound girth and length confused him. He always thought highly of himself and his “immaculate” form, and passed it off as his peak form getting more peak. But that’s when the cocky prick finally looked down to realize everything about his skin tone was significantly darker than before. The visual also confirming his tool wasn’t just thicker it wasn’t even his. He turned to the mirror that only confirmed what occurred.

He knew what his form looked like by memory, this wasn’t that. Gone was his marble off-white lean torso lined with sculpture abdominals, replaced instead with a tanned torso rippling with his own, hardened musculature equally matched by a magnificent set of pectorals. He rotated his arms in awe looking at his strong new calloused hands. Opening them in and out before latching their grip on his pecs, alternating them between flexed and unflexed to see how they felt. He enjoyed how full and squishy they felt when he released a flex, the phenomenon almost electric. It’s that electricity that led him to a twinge. A familiar feeling with unfamiliar equipment. He lifted an eyebrow and moved his grip from his chest to his new thick and surprisingly long tool. It was actually one of the first times Greg could remember being intimidated. Could they actually get this large….especially when not at full mast? Like an eager person ready to open a birthday gift, he put one hand at the base and readied the other. A natural excitement met a primal urge to pump and he began going back and forth, allowing his brain and new muscle memory to dictate the rhythm.

Greg turned to the side and looked up at the mirror, locking eyes with his new self. The deep brown eyes held enthusiasm but also lust. He watched in awe as his hips rocked with a fluidity his original body could never do. He couldn’t contain the thoughts arising from the darkest recesses of his mind. He was more of a grunter in his original body but he wanted to see what Gabriel’s primal moans sounded like. The new “Gabriel” emulating what he thought the stunning Latino beast would do in this moment. Greg couldn’t believe how much longer this was taking than it would’ve in his original body. Panting and panting half an hour went by when a familiar sensation surprised him. He locked eyes with himself in the mirror once again before examining every muscular striation and contraction as he erupted. Pulse after pulse sent him over the edge as he returned to grunting. A wicked smile arose on his face as he rose his hand to his mouth to taste himself.

An alarm disrupted the moment of “self” discovery as a client called asking where “Gabriel” was for their appointment. Muscle memory took over and he headed to the gym to meet his first client.

A selfie of his new torso felt like a must before that hour long session. The morning hormones and weight lifting session sparked more testosterone to flow. This time Greg chose to channel it in a more disruptive way. Gabriel looked too juvenile for him, so Greg sought out a barber to evolved his new body to look like a MAN. One haircut later, a conveniently timed text came to his new phone. A silent pleasure flowed over him as the phone unlocked to his new face. The text invited him to a night out with the bros. He laughed to himself, it’s the perfect chance to show off the new “Gabriel” and see what he could pull.

Greg may have been in a new body, but the old cockiness was never seemingly going to go away. Throughout the night, Gabriel’s friends noticed the stark personality change, but they saw it as him finally growing into a confident man you’d expect to see with that body instead of the humble one he was before.

[malebodytf]

Bryce was at the clinic, scrolling through his phone, waiting his turn. He sat with effortless confidence, legs spread wide as if he owned the place, naturally taking up more space than anyone else. His massive frame spilled over the cheap plastic chair, making it look far too small for him.

He was built like someone who lived in the gym, showcasing years of disciplined training. At 6'4" and 215 of pure, competition-ready muscle, he was a walking wet dream, thick slabs of pecs straining his tight compression shirt, boulder shoulders, and dense arms that measured a veiny 18 inches cold. His quads stretched his gym shorts obscenely, the fabric clinging to every cut and striation earned from years of heavy iron and clean eating. He scrolled through his Instagram, smirking at the flood of likes on his latest thirst-trap post about him hitting a double biceps pose, sweat-slick and pumped.

He then saw the post again and was reminded why he was here, an advertisement for a blood drive at this clinic, promising protein snacks from a nutrition sponsor. He wasn't a fan of needles, but he wasn't about to pass up free stuff.

"Everyone here probably thinks these gains aren’t natural and assumes I’m juicing. As if. Fuck that. I'm in top shape and I built this body the right way, natural prime beef. If someone's getting blood today, they might as well get the good shit".

As an attractive woman across the room briefly caught his attention he adjusted his posture without thinking, rolling his shoulders back. He straightened a little more, flaring his lats just enough to make his shirt ride up and reveal the deep V-cut of his abs, letting his physique sit just right under the fluorescent lights. His big cock twitched lazily in his shorts at the attention, thick even when soft.

"Mr. Bryce Jackson"

A skinny nurse interrupted his train of thought. The guy was a total contrast: pale, scrawny, and wearing a pair of glasses, maybe 5'6" with narrow shoulders and arms that looked like they could snap under a grocery bag.

Bryce stood, towering over him, and smirked internally. "Look at this little twig" "Some of us just hit the genetic lottery".

Once seated, the nurse ran his finger over Bryan's upper arm, his eyes lingering a second too long on his pumped biceps. The touch felt almost worshipful, pressing, tracing the thick vein that snaked over the peak, then wrapping his slim fingers around the massive bicep like he was measuring a prize.

The needle went in and at first, it was just the usual pinch. Then, a rhythmic and subtle pulse began. Bryce’s vision blurred as something far more than blood flowed out. His proud bicep softened under the tech’s palm.

"What the… fuck?" he muttered, watching in horror as the thick muscle deflated, shrinking from a cannonball size to a soft, flat lump. His forearms withered next, veins collapsing as dense mass drained away. His shirt suddenly hung loose over pecs that were rapidly flattening into a smooth, boyish chest.

He tried to move, but his limbs wouldn't respond. Panic continued to build inside him as his shoulders narrowed, traps melting away. His powerful back rounded, spine compressing with an audible shift. Thick quads that could squat a small car dwindled into skinny, trembling sticks. His shorts sagged around a shrinking ass and thighs, the heavy bulge between his legs dwindling to something pathetic and small. Bryce’s feet no longer reached the floor the same way as his height visibly shrank.

"St–stop" he can barely gasped, voice cracking higher, head spinning with dizzying lightness. His body felt utterly drained, and through his blurred vision he watched his body continue to change, his confidence and identity slipping away.

Suddenly the world went black.

When Bryce woke up, he was still reclined in the chair, shirtless, heart pounding. The promised proteins snack on his side. He realized a pair of glasses was placed on his face. He stared down at his new form: his once-dominant body now slim, soft, and frail. Skinny arms, narrow chest, short legs dangling.

The clothes that had once clung tightly to his muscular frame now hung loosely from him. An "I Donated!" sticker was plastered mockingly on his flat pectoral. His cock, once thick and a source of pride, now was a mere nub that twitched pathetically in his now-baggy shorts.

Across the room, the clinic staff member stood in front of a mirror, now a towering, heavily muscled figure. Massive deltoids capped arms thicker. His chest was a shelf of striated power, abs carved like bricks, and quads that strained the seams of his stolen scrubs.

The man slowly raised his new arms into a double biceps pose, the peaks surging up obscenely high, veins throbbing like they were about to burst. He flexed harder, grunting with raw pleasure as the muscles ballooned, the sheer erotic power making his own impressive bulge strain visibly against the fabric. He turned, eyes gleaming with lustful triumph, and sauntered over to the shrunken donor.

The new muscle stud struck another pose, his pecs exploding outward in thick, juicy slabs while his lats flared wide. He groaned, voice deeper, sexier. One huge hand casually palmed his own bulging crotch, squeezing the fat, heavy cock that now matched his godlike body.

He leaned down close to Bryce’s wide-eyed, humiliated face, still casually flexing one colossal arm inches from the smaller man’s nose. The scent of raw masculinity, sweat, power, and stolen dominance washed over him.

The man said in a low voice with a smug grin behind his mask:

"Thank you for your donation"

[horniestofhoes]

Truthspeak: Inconvenient

I looked up, seeing the new and improved Josh spot me as i lifted the i-dont-even-know-how-many pounds bar, feeling my big and juicy muscles burn with every rep. After I was done, i went to the mirror to take a photo to send to my favorite boytoy

”thinking about you rn, fag” anddd send. I’m already getting hard just thinking about it… Tonight I think I’m gonna experiment with ol’andy, all this Josh talk has me wanting an asian twink tonight… Fuck, It’d probably alter his entire family too…

“Bro, are you on fucking steroids? Every week you get bigger and lift more, and now you’re daydreaming, that shit is eating your brain” Said Josh, a bit jealous probably

“Yeah yeah, cry about pip- loser.”

Fuck, that was close. I can’t just go around calling people insults anymore, what if Josh turned back into his skinny self? I’d have to do the work all over again! I am in the gym though… I could just walk up to one of these guys and try it to see if it’s safe.

“Hey Josh, something popped up here, I’ll be gone for a while” I said

“Yeah, go inject your roids, I have a workout to finish” He said, giving me the bird. Man, I love this guy

I looked around, and saw this handsome jacked guy, i think i have bio with him? I could call him a pipsqueak and see if its working, then maybe give him a few pounds of muscle and some inches of cock as a reward. I walked towards him, readying my tongue, when…

“Matthew! The big man on campus, how you doing brocacho?” Someone said, grabbing my shoulder

You’ve gotta be kidding me.

Fuck this was perfect. Now I wouldn’t even have to transform a random guy, I could just transform this absolute douche!

Alejandro, formerly Andrew’s bro and probably the most annoying person I know. He’s an absolute moron, and from what I’ve heard from my gal pals, a huge dick (with a huge dick that he knows how to use) to the poor ladies he manages to swoon using his admittedly sexy latino body, naturally tan with his strong muscles, from years of training hard, playing soccer and pursuing pussy. Now that Andy is not a huge jock anymore, the universe probably just tried to make him friends with the current biggest guy on campus, which happens to be Mr Reality Bender over here.

“I heard there’s a huge party happenin’ today at that girl Tiff’s house like 40 minutes away from campus, you and Josh commin’? There’ll be plenty of women crazy for an asian stud with all that bts shit thats going around, and i’m sure there’ll be some fag- i mean, twinks for you too. Maybe you can even wingman some bitches for me, wink wink.” He said, even his voice annoying me

“Yeah, I’ll go, fag” I replied

Nothing changed. Maybe…?

“FUCK YEAH! We’ll be the only two tops there broski, all those boys are gonna go crazy over us!” He said, rather enthusiastically

“Like you would ever top, you big queen” I said, holding back a big smirk

Suddenly, his posture seemed to change, taking a more relaxed sway, then his lips became a bit fuller, his muscles grew a bit. Then, his hips began to grow to child bearing size, his thighs growing to insane proportions. His ass basically doubled in size, with a healthy layer of fat around it. His quads looked so big and strong, but his ass was looking so warm and inviting behind those pants.

“Ugh, you’re soo annoying matty. Good thing you’re such a hottie or I wouldn’t tolerate this smack around me.” He replied, his voice much more stereotypical of a flamboyant gay man. Guess being called a Queen does that.

“Yeah, I’m so annoying but I bet those cocksucker lips of yours are dying to get to know my dick. Your friend Andy isn’t exaggerating, you know?” I said, letting out a big smirk

“Ohhh, I know Papi… Andy tells so many crazzyy stories…” He said, getting down on his knees

I took out my shorts, as he quickly and hungrily sucked down on my already throbbing hard footlong. Fuck, his mouth feels so good… velvety fucking lips choking around my huge dick... Serves you fucking right, you fuckhead.

I grunted and moaned loudly, not a care in the world that I was getting my cock sucked off behind a machine in the middle of the gym. I’m a fucking god, I can do whatever I want anyways!

“What the hell are you two-“ yelled my original target, Jack or John or something, walking up towards us, an appropriatly shocked expression on his face

I quickly turned to him, a cocky smile on my face, I know no one is gonna stop me. "Hey, you little pipsqueak, you better shut the fuck up about this, or I'm gonna beat you up black and blue later, capiche?" I said, with the most indimitating voice a man getting his cock sucked off could muster Just before my eyes, all those years in the gym this guy probably had dissapeared, his biceps deflating into twigs and his pecs receeding back into his body as his frame narrowed.

Poor guy, all that hardwork thrown into the trash! He was pretty nice too, a shame. Mental note, If i ever see him again, I'm gonna make him even bigger. Meanwhile, enjoy twerpdom. He started shivering, then nodded and quickly left the gym without looking back. One more transformation and all that action in my dick was enough for me, I felt a wave of immense pleasure as my seed spewed with tremendous force across Alej throat and mouth. I groaned, and instantly grabbed him by the neck, turning him around as my still hard cock went into his massive ass. "Fuck Matt, you're so huge... Fuck, fuck..." He moaned down there, enjoying himself on my huge fuck stick as I rammed it again and again down his tight cunt. My mind wandered as I fucked this asshole's asshole relentlessly. I could really do this all day... Maybe I should go to that party anyways, my intuition tells me i'm gonna have so much fun in a place with so many people to transform. Fuck, I love being a huge fucking sexgod, thank you powers from beyond!

[horniestofhoes]

got massive crush on my nerdy roommate and would love to see him get massive. I heard that swapping clothes with other people can transfer size/muscle/attribute from the owner of the clothes into the user. So I'm secretly collecting clothes from super attractive guy from campus like crazy to only gave it to him tand I think he like them. Of course he didn't know because reality would rewrite everything

Well, you’ve basically done half the job for me already! You’ve got all the ingredients, now we just need to mix them in to make the magic happen.

Yup! That’s a nerd if I’ve ever seen one. But it won’t be like that for long, because firstly he’s gonna be affected by the band shirt he’s wearing, the one you stole from that hot alt guy. Somewhere on the campus, that poor guy is getting the downgrade of his life, but your little roommate… His face becomes a hundred times more handsome, as the nerdy look is replaced by the face of a real adonis. As an unintended consequence, his hair also grew a fair bit, but it complements his new rock n roll appearance, so i don’t think you’ll mind.

Next, the pants you carefully borrowed from the locker of that jerk at the gym who loves to flaunt his big muscles. You see your roomie’s body tighten as his musculature evolves, turning his once skinny frame into the body of a real man, a man capable of lifting heavy shit and beating people up, you can even suggest he beat the guy who his newfound muscle once belonged to, now a twerp with no power to back it up. Isn’t that hot?

And… you know what they say, the underwear makes the man, and the underwear you gave him was from a particular serial pump n’dumper, one who made the grave mistake of doing that to a friend of yours and leaving his underwear there. Now, he’s gonna forget all his sexual prowess’s and live the life of a small dicked loser, because his huge cock and all it’s stamina is gonna belong to your buddy over here, who’s not gonna be scared to use it on ya.

And that’s pretty much it. See how three pieces of underwear and some spells can change someone’s life? Enjoy your new boyfriend, my guy, and if you want any other changes, just steal some poor idiot’s clothes again, and see the magic happen!

[horniestofhoes]

Truthspeak

The bell rings, as gym class is finally over. I usually just skipped this class, but god I needed some credit on it. Anyways, I also have a very... Special reason to come here today. I'm gonna get revenge on Andrew

This is me, Matthew. I’m freshly turned 18, and as you can see, a bit of a twink. This would’ve never been a problem, i’m gay as i can be, but the issue is, i’m a top. And i have a 3 inch pecker on “top” of that. No guy i know wants a skinny twerp to top them. But my fortune is about to change.

Last night, i was visited in my dreams by something. It said i was chosen by it to bring change, and that my power was to be my voice, for me to do as i pleased. When i woke up, i realized it was real and not a dream. I told my mom she looked so young for her age, and her wrinkles instantly dissapeared. I tried to point it out later, but she didn’t notice it all either. With this knowledge in mind, i began planning my rise.

As i exited the locker room shower, just as i’d hoped, Andrew stood in my way

Andrew was unfairly hot. He had unnaturally big EVERYTHING. From being so jacked you’d swear he was using roids, to being tall AND having a truly massive dick. He was basically running this place, fucking girls left and right, having an influential dad and well, looking like this. He was also, as you’d guess, the biggest jerk you know.

“Hey, Andy.” I said, mockingly

“Someone’s got an attitude today. Looking to get beat up again, faggot? What happened, were you unable to jerk your baby sized dick this morning?” He answered, smiling confidently. Oh this was gonna be good.

I took a deep breath.

Well, it's now or never

"Opposite, actually. My dick is kinda sore, on account on me having to use it so much. When you’ve got a thing this big, it requires using, y’know?." I said, trying not to cringe

Then... I felt something. Like my brain had just skipped a beat. My crotch felt heavier. I let the towel go and... There it was. Holy shit. My dick was fucking massive. It was easily what, 12 inches? Maybe even bigger. I just stood there, smiling at Andrew.

His eyes widened, he looked confused even.

"Y-yeah, whatever. What use is a dick this big when you're just a skinny loser? I bet my forearm is bigger than that bony thigh of yours." He replied, trying to change the subject

I laughed.

"Skinny? Dude, i’m bigger than you. I’ve been training longer, harder than you for years now. Why are we lying again?

As the words left my mouth, I looked down and... Fuck. I was so big. My arms were gigantic mountains. My pecs were so huge I could barely see my feet, and my legs were tree trunks. My mind began to race, and my dick instantly hardened. I was this close to orgasming right there

“I-i… The fuck you getting hard for? Fucking fag! Just because you’re bigger than me doesn’t mean i can’t still fuck you up, Matt, you little shit!”

I stared at Andrew. Or better, Andy, as he was going to be known from now on.

“Look, just because you want me to fuck you, doesn’t mean you gotta put up all of this to attract my attention. You’re already my type, Andy.”

“W-what t-the fuck are you talking about…?” He said, looking disoriented

“Your slender frame is pretty fuckin’ sexy, Andy. I wanna grab your little waist with my hands, shove your bubble butt on my cock and watch as you moan and your tiny dick cums onto my chest. And i know you want that too”

Andrew went silent, as his body transformed right in front of me. His muscles deflated, leaving only the bare minimum, his clothes falling off his now skinny frame, and his cock going from huge to tiny in a matter of seconds. His butt didn’t change much, he always did have a pretty juicy one, but his features also softened, leaving more of twink and less of alpha jock

“Matt…” He said, with a much softer voice now “I really want to fuck right now. Please” The hunger in his eyes was enough for me.

“Knew it.” I said, as my cock bursted a stream of cum on the floor. Fuck! I got excited too fast!

Andy looked at me, in shock

“Huh… Don’t worry babe, i can cum a lot in one sitting” I said, feeling my balls churn more and more semen. From now on, his life was gonna be something else, man. He approached me, putting his hands on my pecs

"Your body... It's insane..." He said, with barely contained lust "What can i say, i've worked for it." I said, laughing loudly "He got on his knees, and like he was starving, began to suck my dick. "This is just the beggining" I thought to myself "I"m gonna have so much fun."

[horniestofhoes]

Have you ever felt like some people look absurd? Like, how is it fair that regular mortals have to walk around while people like him get to look like that? Fucking every girl that they see, living in constant pleasure and bliss. What kind of blessed genetics get someone looking so perfect?

Huge, handsome blondie with blue eyes, tall as a doorway… And you know he has a big dick too. He’s the perfect specimen, everyone is dying to get a taste of him. But would you believe me if I told you that all of this is not real? It’s all a lie, a lie supported by the most powerful thing in the world.

The truth is this is all The Chronivac’s doing. Let’s take a look at his profile, for example.

BRYCE BULLCOCK

Height: 6’4

Weight: 225 Pounds

Body Type: Muscular+

Penis Size: 12 Inches

Archetype: The Jock

[See More?]

Just what you’d expect, but if you click on the three white dots and go to the previous version…

BRYCE MORRISON

Height: 5’4

Weight: 125 Pounds

Body Type: Skinny

Penis Size: 5 Inches

Archetype: The Loser

[See More?]

See? It’s all a gigantic hoax. Hell, this douche even changed his last name to some silly thing. I don’t like these kind of guys, they think they can just go around altering whoever they want because they’ve been chosen, last week I tried to flirt with him at a bar and he tried to turn me into a straight dumb jock gymbro. Luckily, as a Chronivac Admin I was immune to the change, which left him quite a bit agitated, so i was forced to put him to sleep while I figured out how I was gonna abuse my power. Sure, I could just turn him back, but that would be no fun. I figured I’d just keep him absurd, but have my fun with it. Look at his stats now!

BRYCE SERVINGTON

Height: 6’2

Weight: 160 Pounds

Body Type: Jacked

Penis Size: 10 Inches

Archetype: The Twink

Sexuality: Gay

Talents: Fashion, sex, dancing […]

[See More?]

A different kind of hot now, but hot nonetheless. That fucking V line… Absurd people aren’t born, they’re made. Made with code and powers beyond our comprehension at times. Now, please excuse me while I go flirt with the new and improved Bryce in his cute pink attire who will never try to transform anyone again, and will be much more willing to suck my dick and fuck my ass.

[horniestofhoes]

The Coup

Ever since I got my hands on that chronivac thing, my frat has been fucking unstoppable. I’ve turned every single member of ours into a bronzed musclegod while taking down a peg the guys from the other frats. Hell, I even let my bros use my laptop sometimes to go out and have fun changing idiots on campus, cause they’re my frat and I trust them.

These two idiots are Marty and Dom, they used to be ever so chubby, a result of a car crash injury that left them both unnable to exercise for a couple do months, but when I got the Chronivac the first thing I did was make them BIG again, and maybe increase some of their attributes while I was at it. They were immensely grateful, and I thought I had earned myself allies for life. So imagine my surprise when I woke up, with the two of them staring at me from the foot of my bed with my laptop in their hands.

“Good morning?” I said, confused

“Good morning, captain jackass!” Marty answered

“Shut up Marty. What the hell are you two doing?” I asked them, but already having a guess in mind

“We’re taking over the ship, broski. Me and Marty over here decided that it’s unfair that you get to hog all the power of the Chronivac for yourself, thinking you can make rules like “Don’t use it to make girls suck our dicks” or “Don’t make global level changes”, so we’re taking you down so me and Marty can be co-kings!” Dom said, with a smirk on his face

“Yeah, and you’re gonna get turned into some dumb ass faggot who only thinks of sucking marty and dom dick, sucking marty and dom dick and sucking marty and dom dick!” Marty laughed

Oh for christ’s sake, I really shouldn’t have trusted these morons.

“Marty, Dom, come on guys, I was nice enough to make you guys actually notice the changes, and I literally let you use it all the time. I keep those rules in place so just things don’t get out of control, or do you want to get the attention of other users. Hand me the phone and I’ll forget this ever happened.” I told them, calmly stating my intention

“Like hell we are! Here, wanna do the honors of transforming Mason the Frat King into Mason the Frat Dump, Marty?” Dom asked, still laughing

“Yuhuh! Bye bye, big man in charge, enjoy being our dumb bitch!” Marty said, laughing as he pressed the enter button

Then, there was a bright flash of light from the screen, and I heard them scream as I let out a hearty laugh.

“What’s with the noise, fags?” I said, still laughing to myself “Did you dumbfucks really think I’d not take some precautions as to avoid getting betrayed like this? It’s a secret, but this has happened before. That cock sucker Anthony from Kappa Kappa Tau was my right hand man, but he tried to turn me into a fag boy and It bounced right back at ‘im. I’m the Chronivac Master here, and don’t you forget that.”

They looked at me, their minds too slow now, all they can feel is their hard cocks and their bubble bets begging for action, karma for trying to make me a dumb hoe. I think I won’t even hide this change, the other dumbnuts in this house are now gonna know what happens to the guys who try and betray their king. They get turned into cock lovin’ faggots, who are now gonna be sucking us off every other day. I tried to warn you two morons, but enjoy your dick lovin’ days now, bros.

[idesofrevolution]

Be Like Me

You didn't really know him. Back in the day, perhaps you knew Nick Kessler, but as far as the "Nicky" Kessler he is today... He might as well have been a total stranger. You lived in the same town, you grew up together, you were in the same classes, you even were known to have hung out on occasion. But as things do, life has it's own plan. You sort of faded into the background, and he to the forefront. He Nick was quiet, reserved, even awkward at times- a stark contrast to the boisterous, playful, rambunctious little degenerate he became.

He started to come out of his shell, hang with different people, started skateboarding and discovered he was quite good. His new friends were all popular, so he became popular. Thus, you watched from afar the blossoming of Nicky Kessler, your former friend, as you stayed the same. That isn't to say that he was rude, mean spirited, a bully like some of his pals. When you passed him in the halls, he always wanted a high five, or a noogie, or to mime punch like all stupid skater dudes do. But you always felt abandoned and left alone while he skyrocketed.

After high school he seemed to make his own way, posting a lot on Tik Tok and YouTube, eventually graduating to a very successful and you imagined fairly lucrative OnlyFans. It would be fair to say you admired him, living life on his terms, dressing the way he wanted, acting the way he did... being happy the way he was. Thus on that tepid day in town, as you walked down the street, the familiar chilled out (likely stoned) young twenty-something skater immediately gave you pause.

In the back of your mind, you wanted to avoid him. You didn't want him to see you like this, the way you ended up. Some square, vanilla normie that no one would pay notice to or even think of. Admiring from afar was safe, it was anonymous. Though in your heart of hearts, you desperately wanted to be Nicky. It was never meant to be, you thought, as you quickly turned to jettison back into the safety of the sidewalk crowd. Yet, as it does, life has it's own plan.

"Ayyyy no way!" The toked out tenor timbre of his voice soared over the chatter of the city, smacking the back of your head like a lead pipe. "Is it my boy over there? Can't be!" You sighed, knowing full well your cover was blown. Turning around, your eyes met. He grinned his dopey grin and jumped to his feet, running over to wrap you in his tight hug. Nicky was a pretty lean, almost lanky guy, but years of skating and partying had him surprisingly fit and able to nearly knock the wind out of you when his slender body slammed into you.

"Heh... Hey Nick. How's it going?" Your words fell out of your mouth with the heavy weight of anxiety. He released you from his bear hug, rustling your hair through his sweaty hands.

"Ahhh, you know me man! It's Nicky to you, my dude." You looked down at your feet, chuckling to yourself. Did you know him? "I just finished up at the skate park, got a sick Airwalk on film and was gonna head home to edit it. Gotta keep up for my boys, am I right?" He slapped your shoulder with a jovial snicker. You nodded silently and smiled, unsure of what to even say. For a moment there, the silence was deafening, uncomfortably so. You could tell he was waiting for how you were doing, but your mouth had completely clamped shut. Thankfully, the silence was broken. "Ay, you got my number, right? We gonna hang sometime soon, I gotta hear all the crazy shit you been up to!" He pulled his phone out, air dropping his contact info before you even had a chance to respond. "Hit me up in a couple hours or so, yeah? Might film a little somethin' somethin' for OnlyFans, you know what I'm sayin? See you later, bro!" He slapped your back yet again, sauntering back over to the bench to pick his board up and roll away down the sidewalk.

The lingering scent of his cologne and unmistakable waft of sweat hung on you like draperies. He was known in high school for that musk, blowing off any anal retentive teacher which bothered to comment on it after he rolled into class. "I mean, teach you like it too am I right?" He'd always say, getting a chuckle out of the classmates as he plopped down in his seat up front. Everything always seemed to be so unserious. Any criticism, hate, or insult that was thrown his way just rolled off his baggy sweatshirt as if it were nothing. Each time you saw it, you were in awe. How nothing could get to him, how life was a party. Even today.

You made your way back home, taking the short route to avoid any more unexpected run ins. You shut the door and look around your apartment. It’s clean, it’s tidy, it’s indescribably boring. That smile and smell still hanging heavy on your mind, you look down at your phone. His number sat waiting for you. For the first time in forever, you throw your caution to the wind, and send him a text. Just one with your name, nothing more. You hit send and put your phone down, getting ready to go make your dinner. Less than one second passes, and you hear the ding.

Were you surprised? Yeah a bit. A guy like Nick was always up to something, you didn’t expect him to be quite so vigilant with his phone. Though as you inched closer to your phone, another ding. And then another, and another. Quickly you pick it up and unlock it.

Nicky: FUCK YEAHH DUDE! So glad to have you on the phone, man.

Nicky: Bruh, check these sunglasses out dude. A guy I collabed with left em here, hot as fuck.

Nicky: I’ll let you try em on when you get here dude. The boys are gonna think you’re me haha

It was as if your best friend was chatting you up, as if you’d been hanging out your whole lives. Nick was social alright, but you could really feel the excitement through the text. He was happy to hang out with you, not just happy; he wanted to hang out with you. You wiped the look of confusion off your face and replied asking the basic when and where.

You: Sure, what time? And where am I going?

Nicky: Just come on over, I’ll send you the address!

The ping of an address pin on your map showed him not too far away. A five minute walk at most. You wasted no time, grabbing only your keys before you walked out the door. The walk was indeed merely five minutes; before you knew it, you were standing outside the apartment building. Reading the text once more for brevity, you confirmed that Nick lived in apartment 3G. Meandering through the halls and up elevators, you did your best to quell any anxiety or preconceptions regarding your former best friend. Fighting the impostor syndrome which plagued you far beyond the social conundrum you found yourself in that day, you took a deep breath before stepping in front of the door marked 3G. Mustering your strength, you gently knocked on the door three times.

Almost immediately, the door swung open, and before you grinning from ear to ear, eyes covered by the stupid sunglasses he reappropriated and stifling his chuckles under his breath was Nick. He waved you in, and you were met with the sight of an adequate one bedroom apartment. It'd certainly been given the landlord special on more than one occasion, with a thick application of white latex paint covering switchplates, hinges, and miscellaneous fixings on the walls. The place had a certain musty smell to it. You could only compare it to cigarette smoke, freshly ground marijuana, and dirty laundry. Looking around the place, you could see where the scent emitted from all around the room. A still-smoking bong on the cluttered 1990's side table, an ashtray filled with cigarette butts on the kitchen countertop, a pile of dirty laundry shoved up against the wall next to either nine or ten pairs of beat up AirJordans.

The place was a mess, for certain. But as Nick sluggishly plopped down onto the old corduroy sofa, kicking his massive feet up onto the coffee table, it definitely fit the vibe which Nick radiated. Laid back, messy, but comfortable. You wandered over toward the sofa.

"My dude, did I not say these were fuckin' dope?" He flashed his face from side to side, showing off the stupid sunglasses.

"Yeah, man. They look great. Lucky you found them in here." He lounged back, grabbing the bong in his hand.

"Sorry bout the mess. I been goin' and goin' every day makin content, I haven't had time to pick up, you know what I mean?" He ignited the bowl, puffing out a large cloud in your face. Patting the seat next to him, you blushed ever so slightly as you sat down next to him. He smiles as he tosses his arm around your neck as he prepares to pass the bong to you. "So, my dude. What have you been u..."

Suddenly, the bong slipped from his hand, landing on your left thigh and spilling the brown bongwater all over your pants, shirt, and shoes. There was a moment of complete silence which fell over you two, before Nick began to burst into laughter. You, on the other hand were less than amused.

"Shit man, my bad. I've been hitting this for too long huh?" He laughed and slapped your shoulder. "I'll borrow you some clothes. Better than lookin' like you wet yourself, hah!" He jumped up and trudged over to the pile of laundry, ruffling through it. From over his shoulder, Nick tossed an old tee shirt, a grey sweatshirt, a pair of old blue Jordans. You look down at them with a quiet grimace, the dampness of the fabric betraying just how 'dirty' his laundry was.

"Looks like I'll be wet anyway..." You mutter under your breath, the wet scent of summer sweat and masculine musk wafting from the threads into your nose. Nick laughs jovially, shoving you to your feet and guiding you to the bathroom. His smile was sincere as the door shut behind you; despite his wild success and weirdly stunted mental age locked at 21 forever, he still maintained that genuine charm that you couldn't help but crave more of. In a way, he was the exact same Nick that he was in high school: endlessly lucky and effortlessly fun. Looking down at your stained clothes, you decided it would be rude to deny this gracious gesture and began to shuck your shirt and pants. Alas, even your underwear had to go- the stench of hash and fermenting bongwater had permeated even through your jeans. Looking around, you see Nick's used zebra print thong on the sink, huffing as you try to stifle the stiffy which had slowly been growing harder and harder as you breathed in the radiating musk.

Sighing, you snatch the thong off it's perch and slide it up your thighs. Nick was a slender guy and luckily for you, outside the wet G-string, he wore baggy clothes. You hope they'll fit better as you struggle to shove your hardening member into the small pouch. You look down at your hands, shiny with your best bro's sweat. As if moving altogether on their own, your sticky fingers approach your nose, as you take a big whiff of damp skater funk and tangy leftover spunk which coated the inside. You shudder, every huff releasing endorphin after endorphin. Not only was the smell growing on you... you were starting to feel as if you needed it.

You smile as you pull up his stained, baggy Carhartt workpants, laughing as they hang off your waist like two stovepipes, held up only by your plump but tight peach in the rear. You paw at your sizeable bulge, a sticky spot of pre slowly manifesting through the tightly woven denim. Maybe Nicky had the right idea with this whole street-casual thing, as you slipped on his dank old tee shirt the slightly cool moisture which slid across your skin like melted butter felt as if this was the way it was always meant to be: au naturale. Your long, slender arms found their way into the grey sweatshirt which draped across your skinny frame quite nicely. You couldn't help but smile- you looked fucking fantastic. That tanned, smooth skin you pride yourself on just felt at home in your bro's threads.

You sit down on the tile floor, shoving your feet into the massive Jordans, savoring that slimy, sticky sensation as your sole presses against the broken-in, comfy insole. Feeling Nicky's foot funk penetrate into every crevice and pore on your size 13 feet. You vaguely recall a memory from back in the day, where after skating, the two of you were roughhousing at his place and being the dopey lil punk he is, he would relish in his inevitable victory of shoving his smelly, beat up Chucks onto your face. Even more vague and dim was the memory of you tossing the fight to get just one more huff. You two had always been close, the best of friends really.

Though you didn't intend to, you couldn't help but accessorize, slipping on various pieces of Nicky's jewelry to tie it all together. Sharing is caring, and the look required it anyway. Smiling, you pull out your phone taking a snapshot of your new fit, as if you hadn't borrowed his clothes on the reg.

You whip around after one final grope of your throbbing and leaking bulge and saunter out of the bathroom. In the back of your hazy mind, you feel as if you haven't felt this good and authentic for a long time. Confusing, as you and Nicky hang constantly- you're basically attached at the sweaty hip. It's not as if you haven't raided his closet before, haven't felt his sour-saccharine sweat enveloping your lithe body. Walking into the living room once more, he sat stretched out on the couch, smiling from ear to ear.

"Ayyyyyyy look at my boy! All comfy and lookin' fine as fuck." You two fist bump as you collapse onto the sofa next to him, feeling his arm around the back of your neck. You snag the bong from the table, taking another rip from the 'chill machine' as you two know it. Mid exhale, you feel a pair of warm lips press against the nape of your neck and hear Nicky's soft whisper in your ear. "I got a present for ya. A lil' treat." A thump rings out in the room, his worn, beat up Jordans had hit the floor, and now resting on the tabletop among the various clutter were his sticky, sopping wet feet. The tsunami of moist heat bellowing from the shining sweat on his wrinkled soles thrust into your nostrils, a fervent reminder of your favorite 'friendly' pastime with Nicky. He chuckled under his breath as he swung his huge feet onto your lap, prodding your chin and the tip of your nose with his big toe.

You parted your lips, taking in one of those hot-as-hell toes into your mouth, sucking it until you felt him smile again. You were a foot fetishist's dream come true, and once Nicky had found out about that, he was always more than happy to oblige your filthy desires that he shared. His sweaty, stinking toes would go straight into your mouth, and when you finished...you'd get another. And another. Oh yes, and another!

"Mmmm," Nicky moaned as you sucked his toe clean. "Brooooo. You always looked so cute with your face smothered in my feet." You lapped up every drop of slimy footjuice, as he pressed his feet firmly against your head, teasingly massaging and pinching your skin between his toes. With his other hand, he reached down towards the bulge in his crotch, jerking his cock off as he watched you lick his feet. He pulled away, your skin seemingly stuck against the skin of his sole with glue. Nicky smirked with a cocky rise of the corner of his supple lips, watching as your face stretched and warped between his toes. It snapped back to place, ever so slightly sharper in definition. Whenever Nicky started playing with your body, sculpting it to his whim, you were thrilled to see the result.

You two were always finding new ways to explore the kinky needs each of you desperately desired. A new face whenever he willed it. A new body whenever he willed it. Waiting for the right match to finalize his perfect partner. Until then, you'd be forever changing. Forever being molded. Forever being broken apart. Forever being put back together. His cock twitched inside his pants, making a soft squelching sound as he wanked himself.

"I gotta say bro, I'm likin' what I'm makin' tonight. Might have to keep this one around for a while." He ran his fingers through your lengthening hair, feeling your sweaty locks fall gently against your strong shoulders. Your tattoos glistened and shimmered under the beadlets of sweat which had all but covered your entire body within his ripe threads. Nicky laughed, licking his lips as he stood up. He planted a kiss on your thin lips, his tongue exploring your mouth, happily chirping as the flavors of his own footsweat and your sweet saliva mingled on his tongue. He gripped his large, heavy balls, squeezing them together as he shot his load, shooting thick ropes of cum onto your face.

It dripped down your cheeks and your lips, dripping from your chin as it oozed over your sharp jawline. This was your life. An airheaded stoner skater who would do anything to keep his fantasy alive. You'd never let anyone else have such control over your body or mind apart from him. You loved it. You lived for it. And now, with Nicky's cum still dribbling down your chin, you smiled at him, showing him just how much you loved him. The two of you stood up in a huff, smirking in lust as you entered the bedroom and shut the door.

---

The next few weeks were full of huge changes for you. You moved into your boyfriend's grody apartment and quit your dead end job to join him on his OnlyFans and livestreams. The money was more than enough to sustain you and Nicky, even if you had to take on odd jobs to make ends meet. You were always horny as hell, and Nicky would never turn you down. Whether you were bent over a table, lying on your stomach on the bed, or sprawled out on the floor, he was there to give you the dicking down you desperately needed. He was there to dress you up in his musky street clothes, or to make you wear his skimpy little thong before he took you out to the beach. You'd never been happier, and you were sure Nicky was too.

[dreamertf]

You Have No Idea

Fuckkkk me, this is what you wanted? Some 18 year old hung twunk? Ungh... god my body's so sensitive now. Fuck I feel so needy, I just want to ram my cock into your tight little bussy. Mmmmfuccckkk I'm still changing. My dick keeps getting longer, how fucking big do you want it whore? Holy shit these abs. Wow you're a fucking cunt, you have no idea what you're doing to me... unnngh holy fuck my feet are huge. Fuck let me fuck you please my dick can't take it anymore. I need to fill you up, i need to cum in you.

[swapsrus]

The Pervert in MY Body pt. 3

Part 2 can be found here!

I couldn’t take it anymore.

For weeks the old freak had turned my life into his personal porn empire. He branded my body as “TomTheFlexKing” and flooded OnlyFans and Twitter with endless content.

Daily gym mirror selfies, my thick pecs and abs glistening with sweat as he pulled up tank tops and flexed for the camera. Post-shower towel shots where the towel hung obscenely low on my hips. Full-length videos of him stroking my stolen cock, moaning in my voice while flexing. Collab teasers where he’d get fucked on camera, my muscular legs spread wide, my handsome face twisted in pleasure as he begged for more.

The subscribers poured in. The money rolled in. Comments called my body perfect, addictive, built for sex. He replied to fans from my account, teasing future videos and “boyfriend content.”

Every notification was a knife in my gut as I rotted away in that disgusting old man body.

That’s when I decided something had to be done.

I confronted him one final time after a late night gym session, voice shaking, begging for my life back.

The old freak just smirked with my stolen face,

“Alright, Tommy. One final swap. Let’s settle this.”

The world flashed white.

When I regained consciousness, everything felt wrong.

There was no aching back. No frail, trembling limbs. No constant smell of decay. Instead, I felt smooth skin, lean muscle, and a strange, warm energy pulsing through me.

I was lying on soft sheets in an unfamiliar bedroom. Slowly, I sat up. My hands looked different, younger, tattooed with delicate ink running down the left arm. My chest felt lighter but defined. My legs were strong but not as thick as mine used to be.

Heart hammering, I stood up on shaky new legs and walked toward the large ornate mirror on the other side of the room. I stopped in front of the mirror and stared.

My reflection showed a handsome young man with dark curly hair, sharp jawline, and lean, athletic muscle covered in tasteful tattoos. I lifted a hand and hesitantly placed it on my new stomach, feeling the firm ridges of my abs. My fingers traced upward over my chest, then down my arms, exploring the unfamiliar form.

“Holy shit” an unfamiliar voice escaped my lips.

I know this body… it’s Adam… the man that pervert has been seeing since he stole my life!

The old man, still wearing my original muscular body, sat on the edge of the bed behind me, shirtless and relaxed, watching with a satisfied smirk on my face.

I turned slightly, taking in the side profile, the taper of my waist, the curve of my shoulders, the way my hair fell across my forehead. This body was younger, smoother, and responded eagerly to every touch. My new cock twitched in my shorts, I couldn’t help but look.

“…This is Adam,” I whispered in his smooth, slightly raspy voice. “The guy you were dating.”

The old man in my real body chuckled from the bed, leaning back on his elbows, my thick pecs and abs on full display.

“Smart boy. The real Adam sadly couldn’t handle another swap. That pathetic old body finally gave out the moment I pulled him into it. He’s gone. You’re Adam now. Permanently.”

I should have felt horror. Rage. Grief for the man whose life I’d just inherited.

Instead, a dark, addictive warmth spread through my chest. The old man’s magic was already working on me, softening my resistance, making this new vessel feel… right.

I ran both hands over my new torso again, slower this time, squeezing my pecs, tracing the lines of my abs. I turned to look at the old man, at my old powerful body, sitting on the bed watching me with hungry eyes.

He stood up and walked over, wrapping my former thick arms around me from behind. We both stared into the mirror together, my stolen muscular frame dominating this lean, tattooed one that was now mine.

“Looks good on you, babe,” he murmured, kissing the side of my neck. “Now be a good boyfriend and keep training that body. I want Adam looking even hotter when we film content together.”

I met his eyes in the reflection… and smiled.

This was my life now.

Adam’s life.

Epilogue

The first few days as Adam were a blur of disbelief and discovery.

I spent hours in front of mirrors, exploring my new body. Running my hands over the lean muscle, tracing every tattoo, flexing just to watch how Adam’s physique responded. The corruption worked fast, every pump in the gym made me hungrier for more.

I started training harder than Adam ever had. Mornings were dedicated to chest and arms, evenings to abs and back. I’d send old body progress pics from the locker room, my new abs glistening, tank top pulled up.

He loved it.

Our content together blew up. Gym mirror selfies where he’d flex my old thick arms while I stood behind him, hands on his waist. Couple shots of us training, sweating, smiling like the perfect pair. The comments called us “goals.” No one knew the truth.

Dates became routine.

We’d go out to restaurants, his arm around my shoulders, both of us laughing for the camera. At night he’d fuck me in my old body while I moaned in Adam’s voice, completely lost in the pleasure of being his boyfriend.

I stopped fighting weeks ago.

Now I wake up excited to hit the gym, to make this body even better for him. I catch myself staring at my reflection, flexing, touching, getting hard just from how good Adam looks, how good I look.

Tom is almost gone.

Adam, eager, trained, and happily owned, is thriving.

And I’ve never been happier.

[swapsrus]

The Pervert in MY Body pt.2

Part 1 can be found here!

Six days later, I was still trapped.

Six days of shuffling around in this weak, aching, foul-smelling old man body. Six days of people avoiding eye contact. Six days of searching desperately for my own body while my tiny useless cock stayed soft no matter how horny I got from the memories.

Tonight I finally found it.

I was lurking in the shadows near the back patio of a waterfront restaurant when I saw him. Me. Sitting on a cushioned wicker couch under the string lights, wearing a crisp white button-up shirt with a pearl necklace, looking stupidly hot. My curly hair was perfect. My face was turned toward this sharp, dark-haired guy in a full black suit, smiling that flirty, easy smile I used to use on girls.

They were on a date.

The suited guy leaned in and kissed me. My stolen body kissed him back hungrily, tongues sliding, my hand sliding up to cup the back of his neck and pull him deeper. A soft, needy moan escaped my real mouth as the guy’s hand rested high on my thigh, squeezing.

I gripped the lattice fence with brittle old fingers, tears burning in my sunken eyes. The freak inside my skin smirked as he spotted me, whispered something filthy to his date, and led the guy away by the hand.

For the next few weeks, the old freak didn’t just live my life, he turned it into a full-time performance.

He rebranded my Instagram, Twitter, and started an OnlyFans all within days. My face, my body, my name… now plastered across the internet as fresh meat. “TomTheFlexKing” or some shit like that.

Every day the notifications destroyed me.

Selfies and videos flooded in: me in the gym, shirtless, pulling up my tank to show off my ripped abs while flexing my thick biceps for the camera. Mirror pics right after showers, water still dripping down my chest, pearl necklace on, cock half-hard in tight shorts.

Then the real content started. Teasing clips of my stolen hands slowly stroking my thick cock. Flexing my arms while moaning in my voice about how good it feels to show off this body. Full-length videos of him getting fucked, my muscular legs spread wide, my handsome face twisted in pleasure as he begged for more on camera.

He gained thousands of followers overnight. Guys flooding the comments calling my body perfect, hot, fuckable. He replied to some of them from my account, teasing future collabs.

I was forced to watch it all from this rotting old man body, shuffling past gym windows just to catch glimpses of him posing inside, or hiding in alleyways refreshing his Twitter feed like a pathetic addict. Every new post hit like a punch: my abs glistening, my ass flexed in the mirror, my cock throbbing on camera while he moaned filth in my voice.

I had to put a stop to this…

———

Part 3 can be found here!

[swapsrus]

The Pervert in MY Body pt.1

A sequel to The Pervert Next Door

I’d been paranoid for weeks, scanning every face at the gym, triple-checking the locks on my door, barely sleeping. But after a savage chest and arms session tonight, I was exhausted. I let my guard down for five fucking minutes. I was taking physique photos in the gym, proud of my current physique.

The old man was waiting by my locker.

Greasy gray hair, sunken yellow eyes, wrinkled skin hanging off his bones, smelling like stale piss and decay. He grinned at me with rotting teeth.

“Cooper said you’d be even better than him,” he rasped.

I tried to run, but he moved faster than he had any right to. He lifted his hands as if to stop me, spouting some incoherent phrases as I was stopped dead in my tracks by an invisible force.

The world flipped violently.

One second I was tall, strong, pumped full of blood and power. The next, I was small. Frail. My back screamed in pain. My hands were liver-spotted and shaking. I looked down at a sunken chest covered in patchy gray hair and a tiny, shriveled cock tucked into stained sweatpants.

I was in his body.

“No… NO!” I screamed, but it came out as a weak, pathetic old man’s croak.

Across the locker room, my real body straightened up slowly. My handsome face stretched into a filthy, leering grin that didn’t belong there. Strong hands ran down my own chest, squeezing my thick pecs through my singlet, sliding over my abs, then running his hands over his stolen growing erection.

“Fuuuuck yes,” the old man groaned in my deep, smooth voice.

“This body is perfect, Tom. So young. So fucking strong.”

I was trapped in his disgusting shell, forced to watch as he explored every inch of what used to be mine. He flexed my arms in the mirror, bounced my pecs, turned around to admire my ass, spreading the cheeks with my own hands while still jerking my cock.

“Please… that’s my body,” I begged with his raspy voice, tears running down wrinkled cheeks.

“Not anymore, Tommy boy.” He laughed, deep and cruel, using my voice. “Cooper’s been loving his new life. Getting railed every night. Begging for more. You’re gonna be just like him.”

“Welcome to your new life, kid.”

He shot was last quick flex of my arms as he turned, grabbed my gym gear and walked out of the gym, leaving me standing alone in his disgusting form.

Within the first twelve hours, the notifications started flooding in.

My phone buzzed nonstop. Selfies from my body flooded the screen: my shirtless reflection in a fancy hotel mirror, abs glistening, thick cock half-hard in my favorite shorts. Another one of me flexing in the bathroom, my own handsome face smirking arrogantly. Then a video, my stolen hand slowly stroking my cock while moaning in my voice, “Fuck Tommy, this dick feels so much better when I’m the one using it.”

The final text came with a picture of me lounging on a couch, teasing my bulge, captioned:

“Already going out tonight, slut. Cooper can’t wait to meet the new you 😈”

I stared at the messages from my own number, trapped in the old man’s disgusting body, my tiny useless cock twitching helplessly as humiliation burned through me.

———

Part 2 can be found here!

[swapsrus]

The Pervert Next Door Pt.2

Four months have passed since Mr. Reynolds stole Cooper’s body, and the old man has shown no signs of ever returning it.

He has fully taken over my best friend’s life. Cooper’s once-straight, athletic routine has been replaced by something much more open and sexual. Reynolds now walks around the neighbourhood and gym shirtless or in tight tanks whenever he can, proudly displaying Cooper’s hairy chest and muscular build. He carries himself with a constant, shameless confidence that Cooper never had.

He’s also started dating someone.

The guy is Tyler, one of Cooper’s old straight friends from the group. A cocky, tattooed tradie who used to come over for backyard cricket and beers. At some point, one of Reynolds’ perverted old mates performed the same ritual on Tyler and took his body too. Now the two stolen bodies are together, living as an openly gay couple.

From what I’ve seen, they’re inseparable. They go out together, act very affectionate in public, and seem completely comfortable in their new dynamic. Reynolds and the man now wearing Tyler’s body spend most of their time using their stolen bodies for pleasure, something that’s become obvious from the way they behave and the occasional photos Reynolds sends.

The real Cooper and the real Tyler are both trapped inside the bodies of the perverted men who knows wear their skin, forced to watch as the two dirty old men use their young, muscular forms to live out every fantasy they want.

He continues to parade Cooper’s body around without shame, showing off the hairy chest, the abs, the arms, while enjoying his new boyfriend in Tyler’s stolen skin. Every new photo or update is another reminder that my best friend’s life and body now belong completely to our creepy old neighbour.

And from the way things look, Mr. Reynolds has never been happier.

Epilogue

Yesterday, Reynolds sent me one final photo, cooper standing shirtless in the bathroom, towel hanging low, hairy chest pushed out as he smirked at the camera.

The message read:

“Still the best decision I ever made. This body never gets old. By the way… I’ve been watching you lately. You’ve got a nice build too. Might be time for my mate to try on a new suit. Keep your phone close 😉”

He ended it with a voice note in Cooper’s voice, low and mocking:

“See you soon, mate.”

I stared at the message, stomach sinking.

It looks like I’m next…

———

The story continues…

[swapsrus]

The Pervert Next Door pt. 1

Mr. Reynolds, my neighbour, is a creepy perverted 58-year-old divorced man who spends his day oggling my friends and I. He’s spent years peering through his windows whilst my mates and I swim in the pool, or play a quick game of backyard cricket. He rarely ever interacts with us, and I always tried to keep it that way, but recently something changed…

While my mate Cooper was over at my place last weekend, Reynolds used some fucked up ritual he’d been preparing for months. The second Cooper stepped outside to take a phone call, it happened. His soul was ripped out and stuffed into Reynolds’ old, disgusting body… while Reynolds took full control of Cooper’s hot, athletic one.

And now he’s turned him into a total slut.

At the lake yesterday, Reynolds, in Cooper’s body, showed up in those tiny, colourful swim briefs that left nothing to the imagination. He stood there in front of everyone, chest hair glistening, abs on full display, casually pulling the waistband down even lower while grinning like an idiot.

He kept adjusting the briefs, running his hands over Cooper’s toned stomach and thick thighs, openly showing off the bulge. Every time someone looked, he’d flash a cocky smile and flex, loving the attention Cooper’s body was getting.

“Fuck yeah,” he muttered under his breath, voice sounding exactly like Cooper’s but dripping with Reynolds’ sleazy tone. “This body was made to be stared at.”

This morning he sent me this mirror selfie from Cooper’s bathroom.

He’s standing there shirtless again, phone in hand, wearing the same pair of ridiculously slutty patterned briefs. One hand is pulling the waistband down teasingly while he bites his lip at his own reflection. You can practically see how hard he is in them.

Reynolds has been parading around in Cooper’s body non-stop, taking shirtless selfies, posting thirst traps on Cooper’s Instagram, hitting the gym in the tightest clothes possible, and openly flirting with anyone who looks his way.

He even sent me a video last night of him jerking off in Cooper’s bed, moaning loudly in my best friend’s voice while he came all over those perfect abs.

I begged him to switch back. I told him Cooper was straight, that this was wrong.

Reynolds just laughed, sent me another selfie of him showing off Cooper’s body in the mirror, clearly having just left the shower, and typed back:

“Too late, mate. This tight, hairy, hung body feels way too good. I’m slutting it out every single day from now on. Cooper’s gone. I’m keeping him.”

He’s still out there right now, wearing my best mate’s body like his own personal fuck suit, living his filthiest fantasies without a single ounce of shame.

And he has absolutely no plans to ever give it back.

———

Find part 2 here!

[kylecrusoe-captions]

Stealing Brock's Reflection, Part 3

Part 1

Part 2

"Fuuuuuck yes," moaned Ethan as he lifted Brock's arm to flex, bushy pits on full display. He was alone in Brock's room, surrounded by that aphrodisiac jock smell. He and Tyler had gotten home from their outing a short while ago and each headed to their rooms to wrap up the day.

Ethan, of course, wasn't tired quite yet. He'd been pent up since the workout at the gym, smelling Brock's musk the whole time since. Finally alone, he'd wasted no time throwing off his shirt and revealing that glorious new body of his.

"You love these fucking pits," he said as he stared at the mirror, long-time fantasy of his playing out before his eyes. He took a big whiff, then licked the precious sweat from Brock's wiry hairs. It tasted salty and oh so wonderful.

He stood up and made a double-bicep pose, the obscene bulge in his gym shorts becoming prominently displayed. "You like my huge jock cock?" he smirked to the mirror, twitching his dick for good measure.

"How about these massive tits?" he continued, bouncing both pecs. He slipped off his shorts, tossing them aside. Brock's erection looked vacuum sealed in the sweaty boxer briefs he was wearing. The view didn't last long, as Ethan slipped those off and immediately brought the crotch of the underwear to his face.

He took another big sniff before sighing contentedly. "That's what a man smells like," he cockily told the mirror. "And it's 100% me."

His hand ran down his sculpted chest and abs, before pausing at Brock's blonde bush. He smeared some of that groin sweat on his hand and brought it up for another sniff. It was as potent as ever, and Ethan kept his hand there as his other hand wrapped Brock's underwear around his cock. He grunted as he started to jerk off to his reflection, giving into primal urges. He rutted into his own hand, intoxicated on his scent and drunk on the image of himself flexing.

At long last, he fully flexed his huge arms, abs, and pecs and couldn't hold any longer, cum spraying from Brock's dick. As before, there was a lot of it, much coating the mirror even though Ethan tried to catch it in the underwear. In his haze he took the cum-filled underwear and stuffed it in his mouth, afterglow mingling with the salty damp taste of ball sweat and jock cum. He rubbed his cum-covered hand over Brock's abs, enjoying the feel of it smearing over the well- muscled torso.

"I can't go back," he said, realizing the truth in his mind. Sure, he could probably return to the mirror and get his reflection back. But he knew that wasn't an option for him mentally any more. He was committed to being the new Brock. His old life could get declared missing for all he cared. Not like his dad would notice for weeks anyways.

Ethan studiously made sure to clean up his post-sex mess, though he noted the effort it took to clean up how much cum Brock produced likely influenced why there were so many cumstains on Brock's things. He tossed the used gym clothes in the hamper, then glanced at the packed suitcase in the room.

In all likelihood, the move was happening tomorrow. If Ethan went with the Rourke family, then there pretty much was no going back. He felt strangely at peace with that.

His solemn reverie was interrupted by a loud knock at the door, followed by a shout of, "Where is he, Tyler?!"

It took Ethan a second to recognize it, but that was clearly his former voice! For the sake of not getting arrested, he slipped on a pair of yellow lounge shorts, not bothering with underwear. With haste he hurried out of the room. Tyler had also just left his room and glanced in Ethan's direction. "That's totally your voice- er, your old voice," Tyler commented. "What's going on?"

"Let's find out," Ethan said, feeling a surge of confidence strengthened by his resolve from earlier.

He opened the door to see his skinny 18 year old body in the apartment hall, face contorted with rage. "Keep it down, Mr. Gawne doesn't take kindly to noise complaints," Ethan said with a smirk before grabbing his former body and pulling it inside.

"You! Why do you have my body?!" seethed Ethan's body, confirming Ethan's suspicions.

"Quite frankly, it doesn't matter," responded Ethan, towering over his former body. "Here's how things are gonna work: this is MY body from here on out. I'm moving with MY parents and MY brother tomorrow. You can chill out and leave and figure out what you want to do, or I can MAKE you leave us alone."

Brock in Ethan's body stuttered, not used to NOT being the physically dominant presence in a room. He turned to Tyler. "Dude, why are you just standing there? Don't you believe me?"

"Oh, I believe you," Tyler confirmed from where he stood across the room.

"And you're just gonna let this douchebag steal your brother's body?!" Brock practically shouted.

Tyler gave Brock a level gaze, the face of his best friend contorted in a rage foreign to it, but all too familiar as Brock. "Yeah, Brock, I am. Ethan was already my best bro, but now that bond is blood. I like him being Brock way better than you ever were. Even mom and dad see it; Ethan charmed them both all day today before they left. So they aren't gonna ask questions."

Ethan's former face looked stunned by this revelation. Brock couldn't process it. His own brother willing to sell out his body? To trap him in this scrawny dweeb with no future? For the first time in his over two decades of life, Brock began to feel the tiniest prickle of regret for his treatment of Tyler.

"Anyways, I don't care what you do with him, 'big bro'," Tyler said before turning and heading back into his room to close the door with finality.

"But- but-" Brock stuttered in impotent anger.

"But nothing," Ethan said authoritatively. "I'll give you a little bonus if you leave quietly. One last chance to be close to your body. I really have been craving someone to properly worship these muscles since I became you."

"I'm not a fag!" Brock cried.

"That tent says otherwise," Ethan said, bemused.

Brock turned beet red, covering Ethan's small bulge. "C'mon, you'll have plenty of time to think on the way back to your apartment," Ethan said.

He effortlessly picked up his own previous body and threw it over his shoulder, Brock gasping from within it. He marched down the hall to his own apartment and stepped inside, throwing Brock down onto the ground of Ethan's room before lying out on the bed in a way that showed his impressive member straining against his shorts.

Brock, overwhelmed by Ethan's body's hormones and his own deeply repressed attraction, cracked. He reached a trembling hand out and gingerly touched his former chest. Ethan responded by flexing his pecs. Brock then ran his hand down Ethan's abs, marveling at how they felt and looked from this angle. Fuck, he'd been so hot.

Ethan sat up and flexed his arms. "Worship my biceps," he commanded.

Brock complied, running his hands over the huge bicep peaks before leaning in and licking them. Ethan lifted his arm straight up, exposing his hairy pits further, a new wave of his jock musk pushing out.

"Show these pits how much you fuckin love them," he commanded Brock.

Irresistible, Brock leaned in, getting Ethan's former face buried in the pit hairs that were once his. He inhaled deeply before sticking out his tongue and desperately lapping up that godly jock sweat.

"You're such a little slut for my pits," Ethan said derisively, before pushing Brock away. Brock looked hurt to be pulled away from worshiping his former body, but that swiftly changed when Ethan slipped off his shorts, thick jock cock springing free, surrounded by his trimmed bush.

"Now worship MY fucking dick," Ethan commanded, pointing at his erection standing straight out.

Brock fell to his knees and Ethan grabbed the back of his head, shoving him into his crotch to the side of his dick. Brock took a huge whiff of ball sweat and caught the scent of lingering cum from Ethan's earlier masturbation sessions. He flicked his tongue out, lathering up Ethan's hairy thick balls.

Ethan grunted in satisfaction, before pulling Brock back again. "Open wide," he said, and then brought his head down onto his cock.

Brock was barely ready as his own former cock invaded his mouth. Ethan was slowly pushing it further and further down his throat to find his limit, and to push just past it. Brock sputtered as he nearly choked on his precious pride and joy, tears welling in his eyes, part from the choking and part from the loss of this huge fuckstick.

Ethan pulled back but left the tip in Brock's mouth before releasing his head. "Show me how much you love this big fuckin dick, you little cock sucker."

Brock still couldn't resist, nose so close to such a potent source of that jock musk, and began to eagerly, messily, bob his head up and down on Ethan's stolen cock. Ethan let out a low, slow moan as he leaned back and enjoyed the sensation. "This is all mine now," he said as he made eye contact with Brock. Brock looked like he was about to pull off Ethan's dick to respond, but Ethan firmly planted his hand on the back of his head and pushed him back down on it.

This continued for a while, before Ethan finally let Brock pull off his dick. He grabbed some lube from the night stand and grinned at the mixed look of lust and fear in Brock's eyes. He slicked up his fingers, and then pushed Brock face down into the bed. He started with one finger, slowly and surely sliding it into his own former tight asshole. Brock involuntarily moaned, Ethan's smaller dick stiffly jutting out and twitching.

Ethan simply grinned, and then slid in another finger as he moved back and forth, seeking the prostate to make Brock melt like the little bitch he was. Soon, Brock was moaning as Ethan fit three fingers into his ass.

Satisfied, Ethan pulled his hand away, and wasted no time lathering up his dick and applying a generous amount to Brock's eager hole. He ran the tip around the entrance, teasing. "God just put it in!" Brock whined, ashamed how badly he wanted it.

"What's my name?" Ethan taunted, and Brock made a pitiful sound. Ethan smacked his ass and asked again "I said, what's my name?"

"Brock," Brock said, need for dick overcoming his resistance.

"That's right," Ethan said, finally sliding his dick into the eager hole before him.

Brock gasped, thinking he'd be ready from the finger fucking but his former dick was so fucking thick. Ethan was slow but relentless as he pushed deeper and deeper, until he buried his cock to the hilt, pausing there. Brock took heavy breaths, he felt absolutely impaled, and with shame he fucking LOVED it. His own cock filling an emptiness he never realized was there until this very moment.

Ethan then began rocking his hips back and forth, slowly at first, but gaining speed as he got more and more rough. Brock felt it against his prostate and moaned more, face down in the bed. Ethan gazed at the mirror of the room, and saw a fantasy fulfilled. Brock's broad frame absolutely railing Ethan's thin body, but this time he was looking from Brock's point of view.

He roughly grabbed Brock's hair and lifted his head to make him gaze in the mirror. "Watch while I fill you up, 'Ethan'," he grunted.

He felt his orgasm finally arrive, and his stolen balls tightened up as loads of Brock's cum flooded. His dick twitched multiple times inside his own ass, warm hot cum blasting out. The sheer volume Brock's cock produced forcing it to leak out back down his cock. The feeling of it filling him up was too much for Brock and he involuntarily started to orgasm without touching his smaller dick while being forced to gaze at the reflection of his humiliation.

Ethan pulled out, his sperm leaking out of Brock's hole. He grabbed a pair of his own underwear and wiped his dick off with it before shoving it in Brock's face. "Little souvenir. Don't come around again, 'Ethan'."

Brock just lay there, fully broken, unable to even muster a response. Ethan left him that way before heading back to the Rourke apartment. He entered and Tyler came out into the living room upon hearing his return.

"He's dealt with," Ethan said confidently.

"Good," Tyler replied, rubbing the sleep in his eyes. "The move is tomorrow and then we won't have to deal with him any more."

"I'm excited," Ethan said, breaking out into a grin.

"Me too! Hey, I was thinking. Since you're gonna be slipping into his life, it's maybe best if we start referring to you as Brock from now on."

Ethan nodded in agreement. "I'd like nothing more."

Tyler moved up and wrapped his brother in a hug. "Welcome home, Brock."

********

Brock looked in the hotel mirror of his room. His younger brother and best friend Tyler had already gone down to grab breakfast. Their parents had put them up in a hotel while the move to the new house finished up. He grinned, fully accepting his new role. He flashed a pic of his hot fucking body to add to his new Grindr profile.

"Get ready, gay boys. Brock is officially on the menu," he chuckled to himself.

Epilogue

Brock (the original) hurried down the stairs to the storage units. He'd wallowed for a few days now, but finally rage had taken over. He wasn't going to let that twerp Ethan get away with stealing his fucking life. He'd take that stupid magic mirror all the way out of town if he had to.

He stopped in horror, however, at the sight of the mirror smashed to pieces. Something had happened over the last few days and now... now he couldn't ever be Brock again. His anguished scream echoed in the dank basement.

[kylecrusoe-captions]

Stealing Brock's Reflection, Part 2

Part 1 here

Ethan took a deep breath as he started the shower up. His face was screwed into a perplexed expression as he tried to process what was going on. Even still, he couldn't help but be distracted by the sight of his massive pecs. They were so BIG now...

Ethan shook his head to clear it and then stripped off the rest of Brock's clothes before entering the shower. The warm water was a relief, helping release tension Ethan hadn't even realized was there. He grabbed Brock's Axe body wash and began to lather up as he thought through things.

He couldn't deny he was loving this. Every second in Brock's body had been pure euphoria. But Ethan had no idea why this happened. Well, obviously that strange mirror had SOMETHING to do with it. But Ethan had read enough fiction to realize magic typically has some hidden cost likely to spring up somewhere. He couldn't ask the owner of the storage unit as Old Man Kessler had vanished some time ago. And he doubted the landlord, Mr. Gawne, would take too kindly to him asking about another tenant's storage.

And where was the real Brock? He'd never come back up from when he went down to the storage space. It must have something to do with that mirror, and the fact that Ethan was now Brock. A small part of Ethan thought to himself about how it wouldn't be so bad if the real Brock never turned up.

"Hurry it up, Brock!" came an insistent knock at the door, clearly Tyler's voice.

"Sorry man," Ethan apologetically shouted back (a distinctly non-Brock way to respond).

"Uhhh... ok just wrap up," Tyler responded, clearly off guard.

Ethan finished rinsing off and stepped out of the shower. He paused a moment as he lifted his arm to apply deodorant, and took another quick whiff of that heady Brock smell before covering it up with some Old Spice.

He hurried back to Brock's room covered by his towel and closed and locked the door. That encounter had brought Tyler to the forefront of Ethan's mind. Tyler was his best friend, and Ethan didn't want to lose his friendship with him due to becoming his actual brother. Shouldn't that make them closer? Ethan resolved to figure out how to tell Tyler what had happened. He slipped on a simple and comfortable outfit of grey sweatpants and a purple t-shirt. Brock's body filled out anything he wore, even something this casual. Ethan bit his lip, and then pulled out his phone to take a picture of his ass filling out those pants. Right as he did, he realized that he had Brock's phone instead of his own. He paused, then took the picture anyways and texted it to his old number just in case.

He stepped out into the Rourke household, trying his best to blend in. It wasn't too hard due to all the time he'd spent in this apartment over the years, so he wasn't stumbling around to find anything. His stomach grumbled, his huge jock body demanding fuel, so he made his way to the kitchen where Mr. and Mrs. Rourke were hurriedly putting on shoes and grabbing keys.

"Brock, glad we caught you," said Mrs. Rourke. "The real estate agent called and said there's some signing the seller forgot that we need to be present for. Your father and I are going out there now and we'll probably have to spend the night in Gravesford. You and your brother need to be packed and ready in case the movers come tomorrow before we get back. Would you let Tyler know where we are when you see him?"

"Sure thing, Mom," Ethan said, the phrase foreign to his tongue. His own mother had left before he could even remember. Mrs. Rourke leaned in and gave him an affectionate peck on the cheek.

"So helpful today," she commented, before rushing out the door with her husband.

Ethan turned to the fridge and poured a glass of milk into one of Brock's many shaker bottles, and added a generous helping of protein powder. He started to guzzle it down, when he heard Tyler's door open.

"You've been weird all afternoon," Tyler said as he rounded the corner into the kitchen, confronting who he thought was his brother.

Ethan sat down the protein shake and looked Tyler in the eyes, mind scrambling.

"You've been weirdly quiet and mostly left me alone. Plus, since when do you apologize for taking too long in the shower? You got some stupid prank planned?"

"I'm not Brock," Ethan blurted out, then face palmed.

"What does that even mean?" Tyler asked with a blank stare.

"It means what it looks like. I'm not Brock, at least not up here," Ethan pointed at his head. "I'm Ethan."

"Oh that's rich," Tyler chuckled. "Gotta say Brock, this is a new one. Not sure how you thought it would go."

"In 9th grade we got caught by Mrs. Gretchen trying to skinny dip at the hot springs on the school trip to Yellowstone. We swore we'd never tell another soul," Ethan said, cutting right to the chase.

Tyler's eyes bugged out, clearly trying to figure out how his jerk older brother had found that out. He knew there was no way Ethan would have told someone, ESPECIALLY not Brock. The gears in his head turned for a moment longer before he finally accepted it.

"Ethan? What the hell man, how are you Brock?!" Tyler asked.

Ethan gave him the quick version of encountering the mirror in the storage unit and how he'd suddenly found himself in Brock's body.

"This is honestly so awesome," Tyler responded as Ethan finished his story. "Brock's a total insufferable dick and has been for years. But now my best friend is in his place? This is gonna rock."

"Well, I'm glad you're on board. I... I really like being in Brock's body. Dude's a fucking TANK," Ethan said, compulsively flexing his massive arm.

"Yeah but now I actually like the guy driving the tank," Tyler chuckled. "E, since you're in the driver's seat, wanna get some dumb payback?"

"Doing what?" Ethan asked.

"Let's make him wear something dumb he wouldn't be caught dead in.

--------

The pair of best-friends-turned-brother hopped into Brock's car, shoving aside protein bar wrappers. Tyler complained about the constant sweaty smell in it but Ethan just smiled as he put on Brock's aviators. "Give me a smile, 'Brock'," Tyler said, holding up his phone for a picture. Ethan made a face and flexed his arm as Tyler took the photo.

"Imagine, I'm actually looking forward to spending time with that brute," Tyler said with a fond look at Ethan.

Ethan just laughed as he parked the car at the parking lot of a local strip mall. The pair immediately made their way to the thrift shop to see what finds they could put on Brock's body. Initially, they were pretty disappointed by the selection when Ethan found just the thing. He held up a t-shirt with the word "macho" bedazzled on it with sequins.

"Oh, his fragile masculinity wouldn't let him even think of wearing that," Tyler commented as he rushed Ethan to the changing room. Ethan slipped the shirt on and added Brock's aviators for good measure as he took a selfie before stepping out to show Tyler.

"Honestly, it doesn't look bad on you at all," Tyler said.

"I know! I feel like this body could rock anything I wanted!" Ethan reveled. "I'm definitely buying this, though."

The pair paid and as he pulled out his wallet, Ethan noticed Brock's gym ID- for the gym in this same strip mall. He turned to Tyler and showed it to him. "I gotta get in a workout to put this body through its paces," he pleaded with Tyler.

"Alright, I guess we can swing by his gym before we head home. Brock's never taken me with him before, I hear they have killer massage chairs."

The front desk was run by a young athletic man who gave Ethan a familiar smile. "Hey Brock, didn't realize you were coming in again today."

"Wanted to show my little bro the place before we move," Ethan said, slipping into Brock's speech patterns easily. "Plus wanna have a nice pump."

"Well enjoy your workout, and nice to meet your brother!" the receptionist said, waving them in.

"OK, you do your thing. I'm heading right to the massage room," Tyler said before splitting off. Ethan looked around the gym, not too crowded at this later hour, and couldn't decide where to start. He made his way over to the barbells, where he snapped a quick selfie to commemorate his first workout as Brock.

"Fuck, I never wanna go back," he said.

After getting a nice pump, he slipped his shirt off and stood in front of the wood paneling of the gym's sauna and marveled at the sheen of sweat across his muscles. Already, that Brock smell was drifting up, causing a chub to form in Ethan's pants. "I'm Brock," he said quietly to himself. "I'm Brock!" he repeated with more confidence, flexing both arms in emphasis.

"Yeah you are," Tyler said, having caught Ethan's display. Ethan blushed a bit. "I'm ready to head home, I'm beat."

"Yeah let's get out of here," Ethan agreed, slipping his shirt back on.

--------

Brock struggled down the basement stairs, swearing under his breath. This body of some old guy was awful to be in. He cursed himself for not realizing that stupid mirror was behind his horrible evening stuck as some frail, unfit old man. He hoped that somehow the mirror would fix all this. He'd left hoping to get away from the creepy thing but now it was his only lead on getting back to himself.

He shuffled through the storage units before reaching Mr. Kessler's. He hurriedly stepped in, expecting to see his old reflection just as it had been the last time he had seen the mirror.

To his shock, the reflection of his dweeb brother's scrawny friend Ethan stared back at him. "What the HELL? Where's MY body?"

Answers were not forthcoming, and he accepted a grim fact- even Ethan's scrawny little body was probably a better option for now than this horrible old body. He reluctantly touched the mirror, the old man reflection returning to it as Brock's body shifted into Ethan's. "I'm gonna find out what the hell he did!" he vowed, rage filling his eyes.