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Obsessed Neighbor

A guy's neighbor has been secretly obsessed with his hunky body for a while. After turning himself into a spirit, he interrupts the stud mid-video, startles him, and possesses his perfect body. Once inside, he finally gets to explore every inch — flexing, admiring himself in the mirror, and moaning about how incredible it feels to be in control of the body he's always wanted.

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A straight jock starts pulling on his shorts when a sly, hefty spirit slips inside, gliding up his legs and claiming every inch of his toned body. He savors the sleek, lighter form for a delicious moment—until his even slimmer friend walks in, eyes lighting up with irresistible hunger for that tighter, leaner prize.

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A dude is chilling in his room reading a book when a ghost slams into his mouth out of no where, taking over his body. The possessed dude admires himself intimately in the mirror and has some fun 😏

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Ghostly Tease

A ghost is lucky enough to come across a hot, sleeping stud and slips into the perfect "hole" for some fleshy fun 🤤. It teases him all evening—guiding his hands to explore and whisper how amazing his body feels, leaving him confused and worried. When it finally takes full control, things get even steamier… and the ghost can’t wait to let off some serious tension 😉

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Double Latin Stud Possession

Two buff latin studs get possessed by extremely dominant, horny ghosts. One stud finds his friend admiring himself in the mirror aggressively, but ends up getting more than he bargained for as well 🤤. Watch as they both feel up each others hot bods 🥵

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European Gym Stud

Stud gets home from the gym and gets possessed. 12 minute clip of the ghost worshipping its hot new body 🤤

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Brock's Late Night Bulk

The clock above the squat rack blinked 12:03 a.m. IronForge 24/7 was a tomb: rows of empty benches, clanging plates long silent, only the low hum of fluorescent lights and the faint drip of a leaky shower. Brock Harlan (25, 6'1", 225 lbs of lacrosse-carved muscle) racked his final 405-lb bench with a grunt, sweat gleaming under the LEDs. Red tank clung to his pecs like paint; black Nike Pro shorts rode low on a V-line sharp enough to cut glass. New gym, new PR, new late-night ritual. He’d been here two hours, alone, chasing the quiet pump.

The whole time, a sour funk had trailed him—like someone left a protein shaker in the sun for a week. Cheesy, eggy, wrong. Brock wrinkled his nose every set but powered through. “Place needs a deep clean,” he muttered, peeling the soaked tank over his head.

Locker room. Empty. Perfect.

He kicked off his shoes, shucked the shorts, and stood butt-ass naked in the middle of the tile floor—zero shame, nobody around. Thick thighs flexed as he padded to the open shower bay, slung a white towel over the hook, and reached for the faucet.

TAP.

A cold, wet finger on his right trap.

Brock spun. “Yo, thought I was—”

Nothing. Just the drip… drip… of the shower.

Then the air shifted. A pressure, like someone exhaled behind him. He turned again.

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPFFFFFT.

A wall of green gas slammed into his face—rotten eggs, gym socks, spoiled milk, and something human. Brock’s eyes watered instantly; knees buckled.

“Wha—cough—fuckin’—”

A massive blue belly swung out of nowhere and WHUMPED him flat on his back. The tile cracked his shoulder blades. Air whooshed from his lungs. Vision swam.

Above him, Ronnie materialized—340 lbs of translucent slob, stained with a gut that sagged to mid-thigh, beard like steel wool.

“Been eyein’ this cake all night, meathead,” Ronnie rumbled, voice thick with Jersey grease. “Time to join the real bulk club.”

Brock tried to crawl, big lacrosse glutes flexing, hole winking in the fluorescent light. The stink had him loopy—head spinning, limbs heavy.

Ronnie grinned, cracked his knuckles, and dove.

Head-first, the ghost’s dome speared between those perfect cheeks like a missile. Brock’s eyes snapped wide.

“NO—AAHH—WHAT THE—UNNNGH—”

The invasion was slow, wet, deliberate. Ronnie’s cold ectoplasm stretched Brock’s rim like icy lube—first the crown, then the shoulders, wriggling in with a rubbery SCHLORP-SCHLORP-SCHLORP. Each push sent a jolt up Brock’s spine: shock, violation, and—fuck—unwanted pleasure. His cock twitched traitorously, leaking onto the tile.

“Feels… nngh… so fuckin’ full…” Brock moaned, voice cracking. His hole gaped, clenched, gaped again—every inch of Ronnie sliding deeper, colder, heavier.

Ronnie’s arms poured into Brock’s thighs next, thickening them instantly—quads turning to hams, skin stretching to accommodate new mass. The ghost’s legs coiled into Brock’s calves, ankles, toes. Then the belly—GLORP-GLORP-GLORP—Ronnie’s massive gut folded in like blue jello poured down a drain, inflating Brock’s midsection in real time. Six-pack vanished under a smooth, hairy dome that slapped the floor with a wet THUD.

Brock staggered to his feet, but his body wasn’t his anymore. He shook, wiggled, humped the air like a puppet on Ronnie’s strings. His pecs ballooned into heavy, fur-covered moobs that swayed with every twitch; a thick beard sprouted in seconds, curling down his chest; pits exploded with wiry hair and a stench that filled the room like a fog. His cock fattened to beer-can girth, balls swelling heavy and low, dripping pre in thick ropes.

“UNF—look at this gut!” Ronnie boomed through Brock’s mouth, slapping the new belly—WHAP-WHAP-WHAP. “Smell these pits, boy—SNIFFFF—that hits the spot.”

He waddled to the full-length mirror, each step a jiggle of new flab. Ronnie flexed flabby arms, kissed a doughy bicep, then dropped to the bench.

One hand gripped the monster cock—now nine inches soft, veiny, uncut. The other kneaded a heavy moob, thumb flicking the nipple. “Fuck, these tits are sensitive.”

Minutes later he roared—thick ropes painting the mirror white, splattering the glass in heavy arcs. Ronnie scooped a glob, licked it clean, then lumbered to the locker-room vending machine. He punched in codes with Brock’s fingers—three 1,000-calorie gainers, two bags of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, a family-size jar of peanut butter. Chugged, crunched, slurped. The belly sloshed louder than the blender.

4:47 a.m. The possession timer hit zero. Dawn light crept through the high windows.

Ronnie felt the pull. “Aw, shit—”

Brock’s body tensed. A deep pressure built in the gut. Ronnie’s form sucked backward—tail first, then legs, belly, arms, head—out Brock’s thickened ass in one long, sloppy SCHLOOOOOORP, green gas trailing like a fart in reverse. The flab stayed. The hair stayed. The stink stayed.

Ronnie popped free with a final PLOP, floating upside-down, Crocs still on. “Thanks for the ride, tubbo. Enjoy the new you.”

He vanished through the ceiling.

Brock blinked awake on the bench, naked, 280 lbs, bearded, reeking. His hands—thicker, hairier—roamed his body in panic. The mirror showed a slobby stranger: gut hanging to mid-thigh, moobs sagging, cock absurdly large between tree-trunk legs.He opened his mouth to scream.

Nothing came out.

His eyes rolled back. He hit the tile face-first in his own cum.

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Chubbed Up Jock

Jaden’s dorm room glowed purple-pink from his LED strips, the perfect thirst-trap lighting. Shirtless, black Nike Pro shorts riding low on his V-line, the 21-year-old cocky lacrosse stud angled his phone against a stack of textbooks and hit record.“Yo, what’s good, fam?” he smirked, popping his pecs, running a hand through his dark curls, then hitting the classic “slow flex and bite lip” combo. “Y’all know the vibes—gains never sleep.” He replayed the clip, nodded approvingly at his own reflection, then strutted off-screen to grab a different pair of shorts for the next take.That’s when Fatso floated in through the wall, invisible, belly jiggling like blue jello.

“HUBBA HUBBA!” the big ghost boomed to himself, eyes wide. “Look at this pretty boy, in love with his own reflection. Thinks he’s hot shit, huh? Time to take this cocky little stud down about fifty pegs… and add ’em straight to his waistline.” Fatso grinned, phased straight into Jaden’s phone, and waited.

Jaden came back, tapped record again, and struck a side-chest pose. The screen glitched hard. Static. Then the image on his phone… changed.The reflection staring back wasn’t the ripped lacrosse jock anymore. It was a soft, chubby version of himself—round cheeks, thick neck, heavy gut hanging over the waistband, moobs spilling to the sides. “What the fuck…?” Jaden muttered, smacking the side of the phone. “Some dumb filter?”He lifted his actual shirtless torso—no change. Still carved. He looked back at the screen.The chubby version smirked, and a deep, familiar voice rolled out of the speakers.“This is gonna be you in about ten seconds, fleshie."

The screen shattered outward like liquid. Fatso’s huge ghostly head burst from the phone, mouth stretched impossibly wide, and charged straight at Jaden’s open, shocked mouth. “NO—WHAT THE—MMMPHH!” Fatso slammed in head-first. Jaden’s cheeks ballooned like a chipmunk. A wet, rubbery SCHLOOOOOORP echoed as the ghost’s shoulders wriggled down that tight throat, neck stretching like a snake swallowing a beach ball.

“UUNNGHH—STOP—GET OUT—” Jaden gurgled, hands clawing at his neck. Fatso just laughed inside him, voice muffled. “Relax, pretty boy, just makin’ some room!” The possession crawled forward. Fatso’s arms poured into Jaden’s, forcing them to flex involuntarily—then soften, biceps rounding out with new padding. His legs thickened next, lacrosse thighs turning into meaty hams. Jaden’s hands flailed out of his control, slapping his own chest as his pecs sagged into heavy, juicy moobs. But the real show was the belly.Fatso’s massive gut surged forward, inflating Jaden’s flat stomach like a balloon on a helium tank. A loud, sloshing GLORP-GLORP-GLORP filled the room as six-pack vanished under a smooth, heavy dome that kept growing, pushing out past his pecs, hanging over the waistband of those black shorts until the drawstring snapped.

Jaden’s eyes were wide with panic, tears forming, but his body kept moving on its own—rubbing the new gut, giving it proud little pats, squeezing the soft overflow. And then, lower down, a surprise bonus. Fatso’s ghostly cock and balls finally slithered in, cramming into Jaden’s own package. The front of the Nike shorts tented obscenely, then ripped at the seams as a thick, heavy, nine-inch monster flopped out, balls swollen to orange-size, swinging between thickened thighs.

Fatso’s deep laugh rolled out of Jaden’s mouth now, no trace of the lacrosse bro left in the voice. “Hubba hubba! Look what I did to ya, hot shot!” The possessed stud waddled to the full-length mirror, belly jiggling with every step. He grabbed two handfuls of new gut and shook it, watching it wobble.“Damn, kid had room for the whole buffet!” He turned sideways, admiring the shelf of ass now straining the remains of those shorts. “And this cake? Nice and thick!” He peeled off the shredded shorts, kicked them aside, and flopped onto Jaden’s bed. One hand stroked the brand-new fat cock, the other kneading a heavy moob. “This dick feels so full, man… never had one this big when I was alive!” Minutes later he roared, thick ropes painting that swollen belly white. He scooped some up, licked it clean, then lumbered to the mini-kitchen, raiding every drawer—cold pizza, protein brownies, a half-gallon of ice cream—chomping and belching happily.

Hours blurred. Fatso flexed in the mirror again, kissed a bicep that was now buried under soft padding, and grinned.“Best ride yet.” Then the lurch came.Inside, Jaden’s consciousness stirred, fighting back. The body tensed. A deep presure built in the gut. “Oh no ya don’t, fleshie—” Too late. With a wet, rubbery sound like a balloon deflating, Fatso’s tail shot out of Jaden’s thickened ass, followed by the rest of him—arms, belly, head—squeezing out in one long, sloppy reversal. The massive gut deflated slightly but stayed chubby; the pecs stayed heavy; the cock and balls stayed huge. Fatso popped free with a final PLOP, floating upside-down, belly still jiggling.“ Thanks for the ride, tubbo! Enjoy the new you!” He vanished through the wall. Jaden blinked awake on the floor, head pounding. He staggered to the mirror. The reflection staring back was still him… but soft, chubby, belly hanging, moobs swaying, cock absurdly large between thicker thighs. He opened his mouth to scream. Nothing came out. His eyes rolled back and he dropped like a sack of potatoes, out cold on the carpet, surrounded by empty food wrappers and one very broken phone.

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Envious twink finally gets his dream body—slipping inside the bod he's always craved. Watch him flex his new gains like a king. 💪👻

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A ghost sneakily observes a fit guy after he showers before phasing into his body from behind just as he entered his room 😏

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British Lads Possessed

Two British studs, mid rock-paper-scissors, get hijacked by spirits who can’t wait to explore their new bods. Watch them flex, tease, and savor every chiseled inch in this steamy takeover. 😈💪

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Stretch

Stretch loves his little technique of hiding in guys' mirrors before popping out and slipping inside... watch as he startles this buff stud and enjoys his new fleshy....

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Patreon is empowering a new generation of creators. Support and engage with artists and creators as they live out their passions!

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