Nick finally had a day off. Between the relentless grind of his job as a line cook and the demanding, high-stress hours at culinary school, free time was a luxury he rarely saw. Sweet-natured and usually buzzing with anxious energy, whether he was trying to perfect a complicated reduction or trying to work up the nerve to flirt with the cute guy in his pastry cohort, today was strictly dedicated to brain-rot and relaxation.
His first mission: provisions. Nick threw on his favorite oversized hoodie and walked down the street to the closest 7/11. He navigated the aisles with the focus of a man on a mission, grabbing a familiar haul of salty snacks, sour candies, and a few of his go-to energy drinks. As he reached into the brightly lit cooler, a strange can caught his eye.
It was matte black, plastered with shockingly realistic, toxic-looking green cloud graphics. The name, printed in bold, jagged letters, read: FartFuel.
Nick snorted, amused. "What kind of gimmick is this?" he muttered to himself. Assuming it was just some extreme sour apple or bizarre mystery flavor marketed to edgy gamers, he tossed it into his basket with a shrug. He was a chef; his palate could handle a little mystery.
Back at his apartment, Nick kicked off his shoes and immediately collapsed onto his bed, firing up his console. For the next few hours, he was in pure bliss. He crushed boss after boss, mindlessly munching on his snacks and downing his regular energy drinks one by one. But eventually, the dopamine hit started to wear off, the game started to feel repetitive, and a familiar boredom began to creep in.
During a particularly long loading screen, he glanced over at his nightstand. Sitting there, looking almost menacing next to his empty wrappers, was the can of FartFuel. Nick picked it up, spinning the cold aluminum around to look for a flavor profile. There was nothing. No "Sour Apple Blast," no "Tropical Citrus", just a list of unpronounceable chemicals, an absurd amount of caffeine, and a barcode.
Curiosity getting the better of his boredom, he cracked the tab. It didn't smell like much, so he tipped the can back and took a cautious, tiny sip.
Instantly, his eyes watered. It didn't taste like sour apple. It didn't taste like citrus. It tasted like straight-up ass. It was a flavor so violently foul, so uniquely awful, that his culinary-trained brain practically short-circuited trying to process it. He gagged, his throat seizing up in immediate protest, and by sheer force of will, he barely managed to swallow that minuscule sip, slamming the can down onto his nightstand before he could actually throw up.
Nick picked up his controller, desperately trying to focus on the glowing screen to distract himself. It was nearly impossible. The aftertaste was a stubborn, greasy film coating his tongue, a haunting mix of battery acid, stagnant swamp water, and something entirely unidentifiable. He shuddered, mashing the buttons on his controller, just wanting the grossness to fade.
But after a few minutes, something shifted. A bizarre, creeping thought bubbled up in his mind: I should take another drink. Nick frowned, his thumb hovering over the joystick. It didn't feel like his own thought. It was alien and intrusive, like someone else had just dropped the idea into his brain. He mentally rejected it, Why would I drink more of that garbage?, but his right hand was already moving.
To his absolute horror, he watched his own fingers reach out and grasp the cold, matte black can. He tried to stop, tried to pull his arm back, but his muscles weren't listening. It was like he was suddenly a passenger in his own body. His arm lifted, bringing the aluminum rim to his lips, and tilted back. He took a long, horrifying swig, the rancid liquid sliding down his throat while his internal monologue screamed in disgust.
He lowered the can, panting heavily, panic setting in. What is happening to me? Before he could process the loss of his motor functions, a deep, unsettling rumbling echoed from his stomach. It traveled downward with alarming speed until a massive, boisterous fart ripped through the quiet room.
BBBRRRRAAAAAAPPPPP-pbbbbbt!
The sound was shockingly loud, vibrating against the mattress. But worse than the sound was the visual. A thick, literal green haze, exactly like the toxic clouds printed on the can, seeped right through his sweatpants, hovering over the bed in a dense, cartoonish cloud.
Then, the smell hit.
It was a noxious, eye-watering wall of stench. It smelled like a sulfurous cocktail of boiled eggs left out in the summer sun, mixed with raw sewage and decaying cabbage. It was so thick and putrid it felt almost heavy in the air, burning the inside of his nostrils.
The sheer shock of the stench seemed to momentarily snap the invisible strings controlling him. Nick violently recoiled, coughing and waving his hand in front of his face. "Oh my god, what the hell?!" he choked out, his culinary-trained nose thoroughly offended by the ungodly aroma.
But the clarity only lasted a second. As quickly as he had regained control, it vanished. A heavy, sluggish feeling washed over his brain. His spine slumped, his posture hunching forward until his shoulders were practically by his ears. His facial muscles went slack before slowly pulling upwards into a wide, mindlessly goofy grin. His eyes glazed over, losing their anxious, sharp focus.
He sat there in the toxic green mist, giggling softly to himself.
"Hehe… wow," Nick murmured, his voice sounding entirely too cheerful and absent-minded. "My butt is, like, so smelly."
Still wearing that vacant, goofy smile, his hand moved on its own once again, raising the black can of FartFuel right back up to his lips for another long swig.
GLUG, GLUG, GLUG. Nick swallowed the foul, sludgy liquid, his throat working automatically. The moment the can left his lips, his stomach churned violently, inflating like a balloon. He leaned back on his hands, that vacant grin plastered across his face, and let out a prolonged, echoing blast.
PRRRRRRBBBBBBTTTTT-thhhpppp!
Another thick plume of neon green smog jetted into the air, joining the noxious cloud already hanging over his bed. The smell intensified, shifting from rotting eggs to the eye-watering stench of a humid dumpster filled with spoiled milk and stale sweat. Nick breathed it in deeply, his eyes crossing slightly.
With that second fart, something in his brain short-circuited. He tried, dimly, to remember the mother sauces he was supposed to be memorizing for his culinary exam on Monday. Béchamel, Velouté… uh… The French words slipped away like sand through his fingers, instantly replaced by the encyclopedic knowledge of a Twitch streamer's latest cheating scandal and the exact spawn rates of loot crates in Apex Legends.
SQUUUOOONK-brap! A third fart ripped out, this one wet and thunderous, rattling the empty energy drink cans on his nightstand. The green haze in the room was so thick that it was hard to see the walls.
"Whoa, totally toxic AOE damage," Nick mumbled, chuckling dumbly as he scratched his stomach.
His mind was deteriorating rapidly, shedding his personality, his ambitions, and his identity like dead skin. The image of the cute guy from his pastry cohort flashed in his mind, but instead of the usual butterflies, Nick felt absolutely nothing. Actually, he felt a sudden, aggressive disinterest. The thought of kissing a dude was abruptly overwritten by an overwhelming urge to find a "tradwife" or a "big tiddy goth GF." The toxic sludge coursing through his veins was literally rewriting his DNA, scrubbing away his sweet, bisexual nature and leaving behind the crude, hyper-masculine instincts of a stereotypical frat-bro.
Right on cue, his phone buzzed on the mattress. The screen lit up with a contact name: Babe 💖. It was his boyfriend.
Nick blinked at the phone, his brow furrowing in primate-like confusion. Babe? Why is some dude calling me babe? That's kinda gay, bro. His hand moved on its own again, swiping to answer. He didn't bring the phone to his ear. Instead, guided by the mindless, goofy fog in his brain, he lifted his hips, jammed the phone's microphone directly against the seat of his sweatpants, and pushed.
PBBBBBBBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLLTTTTTT-sputter-pop!
It was a monstrous, wet-sounding eruption that vibrated the entire phone. A fresh wave of sulfur and landfill-scented gas engulfed him.
Nick pulled the phone up to his face, his goofy grin widening into a smug, brain-dead smirk. "Lmao. Get wrecked, scrub," he said into the receiver. He ended the call, immediately blocked the number, and tossed the phone onto the floor. "Skill issue."
He picked up the FartFuel can again, tilting it all the way back to drain the very last drops. Miraculously, his ruined palate didn't register it as "straight-up ass" anymore. To his newly reprogrammed brain, it tasted like absolute victory. It tasted like fuel.
Tossing the empty black can over his shoulder, Nick grabbed his laptop. Typing with heavy, uncoordinated fingers, he bypassed his school portal and went straight to the FartFuel website. He didn't want to leave his room again. The outside world didn't have games, and it smelled too fresh. He maxed out his credit card right then and there, ordering an entire industrial pallet of the green-cloud cans with expedited shipping.
Nick slumped back into his pillows, breathing in the putrid, eye-watering green fog that now permanently filled his bedroom. The sweet, ambitious culinary student was completely gone. In his place was just a stinky, straight, completely braindead gamer bum, happily marinating in his own noxious fumes, ready to queue up for another match.
CONTENT WARNING: This story includes themes of transformation and body control with a suggestive approach. If this type of narrative is not to your liking or you do not meet the recommended age, we suggest you do not continue. All images used (if any) belong to their respective owners. I claim no authorship over them and they are only used for illustrative purposes. If you decide to go ahead, welcome to Possessed Desires, where mind and body are never completely under your control.
Fever Exchange
— You've got to be kidding me – Dexter muttered, his nose completely congested, his eyes watering, and sneezes relentlessly pounding his nostrils as he squirmed in Kerry's room.
Kerry was the typical nerd: bright, good grades, somewhat preppy-looking, with a haughty gaze and a sarcastic remark waiting to spill out every time he opened his lips. He had a slim, attractive body and a smile brimming with self-importance.
Dexter was muscular, a bit short, but that only made his enormous biceps and thighs, the result of so much time spent at the gym, look even better. He always wore workout clothes that were usually damp from the copious amounts of sweat pouring from his pores, and he had a slightly unpleasant odor no matter how much deodorant and cologne he tried to use; the result was always that earthy, musky scent. Despite being an athlete, he had a kinder, gentler, and more fun-loving nature, somewhat naive, which Kerry noticed immediately. They were both new to the university, roommates, and poor Dexter had been kind without hesitation, unaware of what was about to happen.
— If you need anything, you can tell me without hesitation. I'll always help however I can – Dex said, placing a box of his belongings on his bed. Kerry just gave him a somewhat sinister smile behind his back.
— Actually… I do need anything. Would you do anything then? – Dexter felt a bad feeling in his lower back, but his kind nature ended up overcoming his intuition and common sense.
— Of course.
It turned out that Kerry had an antique bracelet made of what appeared to be blue quartz crystals. It was a gift from his father, taken from who knows where in Asia. It needed to be linked to two souls, although one would have predominant control over the other. Over what? To move them around as he pleased, all he needed was a verbal affirmative response, a handshake, and Dexter's body would be all his to occupy as he wished.
The poor athlete, who thought he had made his first friend at university, knew nothing of this.
The first exchange occurred during a gym session. Dex was doing a couple of weightlifting exercises when, in the blink of an eye, he found himself somewhere else – more specifically, sitting at a desk. In front of him was an exam with questions and things he knew nothing about, and most importantly, there was a note under his arm: « Thanks for agreeing to cover for me. I'll give you back your body in a bit ;) »
It turned out Kerry had been given a surprise exam that was far too tedious for him. He didn't need to worry about passing or failing; his father could buy him a good grade with just a checkbook. But he wasn't about to sit for more than three hours until his backside went numb. For that, he'd rather use Dexter's vigorous body and do whatever he wanted with it. When the athlete returned to his own body, he learned from his friends and his photo gallery that yesterday "he" had gone out partying, ending up in a club somewhere in the city, drinking to excess and making out with strangers until dawn. Kerry had made sure to leave his body before the terrible hangover hit him.
The rest of the exchanges were similar. If Kerry didn't want to do anything, was bored, needed a quick way out of an awkward situation, or had nothing better to do, in a snap of his fingers he was already inside Dexter's muscular body. And man, he adore it. The athlete thought his "friend" was very generous in buying him various pieces of sportswear: shorts, compression shirts, leggings, although they were a bit too… tight for his liking. He soon discovered that these gifts weren't for him, but rather clothes that Kerry planned to wear someday.
The random exchanges continued, over and over, with Dex powerless to do anything about it other than try to cope while in Kerry's body. He found hobbies, hung out with friends, and so on, but he always felt uneasy. The nerd's body was more… thinner, skinny. He felt incomplete without the massive arms and pecs he had worked so hard to achieve. But every time he brought it up, he only received vague excuses from Kerry and empty promises about "not doing it again without his permission".
Dexter had managed to get some very expensive and exclusive tickets to see his favorite artist, which he had saved up for months and months of earning a salary (which hadn't been easy either, considering that several times Kerry had taken over his body and left without asking permission or bothering to come back; it was a miracle he hadn't been fired). After getting the tickets, he asked Kerry for only one favor: not to switch places with him on the day of the event. The nerd gave him his word.
Or at least that was the case until he got sick.
Dexter, in Kerry's sick body, stared at a note stuck to the refrigerator, his watery eyes barely allowing him to make out the letters as snot dripped: « Heeey, dude. Sorry, I have a terrible flu and honestly, I don't want to stay here while I choke on my own phlegm, lol. Would you mind if I took over your body until my body feels better? Thank youuuu. »
The athlete almost wanted to scream in frustration and cry, unsure if it was from the same feeling that now filled his chest with no choice or from the terrible, aching body he felt. He sat on the floor, sobbing and sniffling.
— So your roommate does whatever you want? – A similarly muscular and attractive guy was standing next to "Dexter". They'd started talking a couple of hours earlier while waiting for the concert to start. Kerry had chosen a black sleeveless shirt that showed off his bulging arms perfectly. He could feel all the guys around him giving him flirty looks, practically devouring him with their eyes, and he couldn't be more damn excited.
— Yeah, the poor idiot is like my lapdog – he chuckled softly, casually running his hand along the guy's chest. They were looking at each other with interest, and it was clear where things were headed if the "innocent" caresses continued.
— Well, I'm glad he gave you his ticket to come without complaining – the other said confidently, winking as he licked his lips.
— You can say that again – Kerry laughed inwardly, damn, he really liked using Dexter's body that much, poor idiot haha. He would soon manage to keep his body forever, and there would be nothing that poor foolish himbo could do.
----
Hey everyone!
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I'm always open to suggestions and ideas, so if you have any fantasy or scenario in mind, let me know in the comments or in messages. See you in the next story... Who knows what body you will occupy this time?
I don’t care if I have to clock in for a hard day as a mechanic let me swap bodies with this guy! I’d be talking with that deep voice and burping all day long
Adam stood there, staring at his son's reflection. He'd gone to bed with his wife, listening to her bitch about Christmas and all the things he had left to do. But, when he woke up Christmas morning he wasn't in his body anymore. He was in his son's.
It was like looking at himself twenty-five years ago. He'd always been an amazing father and husband, but he was tired of his life and wished for a second chance. If he could do it all over again, he'd make different choices. He'd live life to the fullest, take more chances and have A LOT more fun. Maybe that's what this was . . . a second chance. He was young and handsome again and couldn't help but smile at his son's reflection. He would've felt bad if his son wasn't such a spoiled asshole.
He snapped a pic with his phone. He'd heard the kids talking about Tinder, and it was time he checked it out. Maybe he'd check Grinder out while he was at it. After all, he was going to take more chances this time around. May as well be open to a little cock every now and then.
Sam stood in the bathroom, staring at his dad's reflection. He was stunned and couldn't believe this was really happening. HOW could this be happening? One minute he was in his bed and the next he was standing in his dad's bathroom with a giant fucking boner. He couldn't believe his dad was shaved clean and GOD he was so old. FUCK. This was probably his dad's fault. He was such a prick.
"Honey, what going on? Did that little blue pill work its magic?" He heard his mom's voice from the bedroom. Little blue pill? SHIT. Viagra. He was in the middle of a goddamn Viagra hard on. "Honey?"
He wanted to tell her to go fuck herself, but when he opened his mouth . . . "I'm at full mast in here, and I'm going to tear into that ass" came out. He heard the words leave his mouth and realized he HAD to act like his dad, do what his dad would do. Then it hit him . . . he was going to have to fuck his mother. Oh GOD!!! No!!!
He suddenly found it hard to breathe and his mom showed up in the doorway of the bathroom. Her eyes grew wide when she saw his cock hard and ready.
"Oh my god. I haven't seen that guy in a long time." She moved closer, rapped her hand around his cock and knelt down, kissing the tip and running her tongue along his shaft.
He wanted to scream, but when he opened his mouth . . . "I want to face fuck you so hard" came out.
Without a word, she took him in completely and his hands were on the back of her head as he fucked the shit out of his mom's mouth. It was amazing and horrifying all at the same time as he came and his mom swallowed every ounce. Licking her lips, she stood up and he reached for her tits and toyed with her nipples.
"How long you think that thing's good for?" She nodded down at his dick, sliding it gently between her legs.
"Let's find out." His body was on autopilot as he spun his mother around and plowed into the back of her. He watched his dad fuck her in the bathroom mirror, watched himself fuck his mom as she made noises he never thought he'd hear come out of his own mother. He kept tearing into her, his cock hard and thick, another load pouring into her as he pulled out, licked his lips and went in to rim her ass, screaming the whole time in his head as he continued to rock his mom's world . . . for hours.
Ethan and his dad, Cooper, got along quite nicely. Cooper had to take care of Ethan as a single father, since his wife left them and never came back. Ethan didn't mind to be brutally honest. He was always confused about his feelings towards men and women. He figured that out many years after that, but he realized he felt too old for dating now. On the other hand Ethan was raised to be an independent man. Because of the absence of his mother, he sometimes had to help out his father with the chores etc. making him feel more responsible then other adults. Maybe that was the reason, why he felt as if he didn't fit in with others. Everything felt too childish to him.
Ethan:"Dad, I don't wanna leave for some stupid party. All the guys wanna just drink and talk about sex with others. I'm sure I could use my time more effectively than that."
Cooper:"I know you were never really into this, but it's important to engage in these activities. Look at me and mum. We got together way too soon, having you in our teen years and we didn't do anything besides taking care of you and working"
Ethan:"Yeah and mom was too busy running away"
Cooper:"My point is. You should enjoy it while you can and not waste it like me"
Ethan:"I think you should go instead of me, dad"
Cooper:"Honestly. If I could, I would."
Ethan:"I would kill to swap lives with you, dad"
The following morning. After the initial shock, the two of them found out that they indeed swapped bodies. Ethan got his wish to be the responsible adult and Cooper could enjoy his newfound youth.
Ethan wasn't freaked out by the lack of hair on his head, or by the abundance of hairs all over his body, especially the private parts.
No, Ethan felt like home. He had a feeling tha he was finally the man he was raised to be and the man he had become
He enjoyed the view of his flexed dad body in the full length mirror
But more than that, he enjoyed his own bathroom and especially the shower that he now had for himself
And for himself only to enjoy... Or atleast until he would find someone to enjoy it with him
Cooper in Ethan's body couldn't be happier. He felt as if the weight of the world on his shoulders had been lifted by his son. He now could fully enjoy being a teenager as if he hadn't met Ethan's mother before.
He decied that he deffinitely should go to the party with Ethan's friends. They even came over to help him pack for the weekend
They talked about enjoying the weekend, the girls, the booze and Cooper showed off in his "new" clothes that his "father" bought him.
The boys made some jokes about seducing women wearing these shorts, but Cooper knew, that he wouldn't do any of that. He was about to enjoy the weekend as a young man once again
And Ethan? Well he had a date planned already. So it seems that it will be a funny weekend for both of them. Or maybe longer than a weekend?
<<ELÍAS, YA SAL DEL CUERPO DE MI NOVIO>>, dijo enojada mi molesta hermana mayor.
-Pero me estoy divirtiendo mucho siendo tu novio Germán, nunca pensé que ser así de grande fuera tan divertido-, le respondí a ella.
<< (suspira) Mira Elías, se que estás emocionado por descubrir tus nuevos poderes, pero necesito que salgas del cuerpo de mi amorcito, tu eres apenas un niño malcriado que ni comprende la vida real.>>
-HERMANA MIRA ESTOS MUSCULOS, SON INCREÍBLES-
<<Ni siquiera estás prestando atención Elías, esto ya llegó a su límite te voy a acusar con mamá>>
-NOOO NOOO, no es necesario, mira ya salgo de él-
.
.
Desde que descubrí mi poder familiar, estaba muy emocionado, y experimentar con Germán el novio de mi hermana fue espléndido, curiosamente me volví adicto a poseerlo de manera frecuente sin que nadie se diera cuenta. Germán es como mi primera vez y es casi imposible abandonarlo.
Posiblemente pueda orquestar una falsa e inventar un rompimiento entre Germán y mi hermana. Y así pueda yo quedarme más tiempo en el cuerpo de su exnovio sin tener que fingir u ocultarme de mi familia.
Mírame, creo que nunca dejarle la tradición de poseerlo frecuentemente ahora que el está soltero.
At what used to be a druid camp, a group of young men started to tell scary stories to scare each other…
The Perfect Son
Nielsen was what you could call the perfect human being, rich, smart, hot, young, funny, kind and charismatic. He had everything anybody could dream for, friends, a girlfriend and a successful football career ahead of him. However, a lot of opportunities mean a lot of choices, and Nielsen had to choose between his girlfriend and his football scholarship. Moreover, his father was also very sick and could rarely live the house without his assistance.
Consequently, everyone expected the young man to have a breakdown when his father died, but he did not. Instead, it seemed to have cleared his mind, so he left his girlfriend shortly after and choose his football career over her. Some of his childhood friends which were in the same College than him were also surprised by his change of behavior, Nielsen was not as a nice as he used to be, he was more cockish and acted like a teen on hormones. Also, he would waste his money on alcohol, cars and travels.
“Yo Nielsen, what has happened to Mr. Perfect ?” Asked one of his friends during one of their expensive travels.
“Fuck Mr. Perfect, I prefer being Mr. Pecker.” Joked Nielsen as he whistled some chicks.
Little did everyone knew, but before dying, Nielsen’s father put his soul inside his son’s body to steal the life he was always envious of. Now the son can do nothing but to watch his father ruining his good guy reputation and fuck anything that moves.
—————————————-
Only Son
Hansen was very proud of his father, he was a Las Vegas magician and had a crowd of people to admire him every night. Even though, one day the fairy dust faded away and people grew tired of his father’s old tricks. Hansen supported his father through the whole ordeal and they progressively adjusted to a simpler life.
Still, Hansen was still wishing to become a famous magician like his father, but his father refused. Hansen was not arrogant, but he knew that he was handsome, and he would certainly help him, but his father did not wanted to listen. Plus, soon the father was crawling under debts, so Hansen did not want to bother him more.
To his shock, his father accepted to show him one, and only one magic trick one day. The trick was called “Corpus Imperium”, which sounded weird to him, but he just wanted to learn a trick. As he was about to start the trick, the father sighed with sadness and collasped on the ground. Thus, Hansen panicked and rushed to his father, but he was startled by a light leaving his body and even more when it launched inside him. After a lot of grunting and fighting, Hansen woke up, looked at his reflection and punched it.
Some weeks later, Hansen became a viral sensation online as a modern magician and would regularly posts his magic trick online.
“Alright everyone, here is a gift for you all.” Spoke Hansen with a charisma that he never had before.
As he finished recording the magic trick of him endind up naked, Hansen walked to the bathroom and admired himself as he explored his toned body.
“You know son, at first I was feeling guilty, but now I realize that it was the best choice for the both of us. And you were right, the world is going crazy over how handsome y- I mean over how handsome I AM! Oooh! And this dick, it certainly helps even more.” Hansen as he put his left hand around his erection. “In show business, you gotta be down to fuck everyone over 18 to be successful, and boy, you would have never had the guts to do that. Fortunately, you father does…” Hansen’s father chuckled as he called his manager to have a threesome with his wife.
—————————————-
Son of a Gun
Jim was digging through a lot of files of the “Larsen Case” he had already seen, but he was sure he had missed something. To clarify, Larsen is the name of his partner who happened to have mysteriously disappeared. But Jim knew what had really happened, his own son had killed him and got rid of the body. You see, Larsen was a cop, but his son was in some shady stuff, and was rumored to have become a member of a gang. Perhaps he had to kill his own father to prove himself as a solid gang member ?
Even though, Jim thought that something was wrong with his theory, but he did not knew why. Hence, he decided to look through the boy’s social media.
“Damn, he’s hot.” Mumbled Jim as he watched various videos and pictures.of the boy.
Soon, Jim noticed that the son started changing, at first he was a regular dumb teen, vaping and posting guns, but then he started volunterring and working at the Church, he even declared his desire to follow his father’s footsteps. However, Jim spotted something else, the boy’s way of talking and acting shifted too, it was almost the same as…
“Fuck!” Cursed Jim as he drove to the boy’s house.
“You son of a bitch!” Shouted Jim when the boy opened his door.
“Is there you something wrong, mister ?” Asked the son.
“Cut the acting, Romeo, I know that it’s you Larsen under you son’s skin.”
The boy sighed and then explained everything. How he found a way to possess his bad boy of a son and put him on the right path.
“But what about us ?” Asked Jim as he grabbed the boy’s hand.
“Well… Do you want to see how good Church guys are at kneeling ?” Taunted Larsen as he wrapped his mouth around Jim’s junk.
—————————————-
Son of Thunder
Petersen was the pride of his Faculty as the first out and proud gay student in an area known for its homophobia. Consequently, he was to give a speech in front of the whole town about acceptance and equality this afternoon. However, as he was reciting his speech, his homophobic father was berating him.
“No son of mine is going to be a faggot.” Insulted the beer gut man.
“Well dad, I’m not here to please you.” Replied the son.
The father just grunted as he put some strange powder inside his beer and drank it. Suddenly, the father turned into red goo, which startled his son.
“Dad! Are you okay ? What th- AAHHHHH!”
Petersen screamed as the goo jumped on his hairy leg and crawled inside his briefs.
“UUUNNNGGGG! NOOOO! GET OUT ME DAD! YOU CAAANNNTTTTT!!!”
Soon, Petersen fell on the ground and convulsed, before waking up.
“Hell yeah! Lemme throw this queer shit away!” Shouted Petersen with a deeper voice as got rid of his pink shirt.
Meanwhile, Petersen’s boyfriend was waiting for him outside, when he finally got out, he was surprised to see him wearing only kaki shorts and black tank top.
“Peter, the hell are you wearing ?” Asked his boyfriend.
“What ? Scared that your small dick will jizz too much, fag ?” Threatened Peter, which strangely aroused his boyfriend.
As they got in the car, the father was trying to not look at his son’s boyfriend, but he could not resist. Then, when his boyfriend started to leave the car, he felt a hand.
“Damn, nice ass for a fairy.” Groaned Petersen as he forced his boyfriend to go back in the car.
“Peter, we are going to be late for your speech.” Worried his boyfriend.
“Fuck the speech, I want to fuck your ass first.”
Later, when Petersen arrived, he still made a speech about acceptance and equality, except that it was more… obscene than what people have expected.
—————————————-
The Prodigal Son
Jensen looked at his childhood house with anxiety as he opened the door, only to greeted by the judgemental gaze of his father.
“Well son, how Hollywood went ?” Asked his father rhetorically.
“Hey dad, I’m jus-UUMF?! Get off of me you motherfucker!” Shouted Jensen as he father chockeheld him.
“See that son ? This is more useful that your fucking actiing lessons that cost me the TV! I’m done with your shit, now I’m going to take over your life for a while!”
“What do you m-NNNGGG! WHAT’S HAPPENING ?!?”
Jensen could do nothing as his father pushed deeper inside his body until he had fully invaded him. Then, the young man rolled on his back and started laughing.
“I hope that Marlon Brando had his fun, ‘cause it’s my turn to enjoy being young!”
Some weeks later, Jensen’s girlfriend was watching with annoyance as her boyfriend kept hitting his punching bag.
“Wait a minute, I’m almost done”. Lied Jensen.
Jensen grunted when he felt a pain in his wrist, but he just cursed his son’s body for being such a pussy and kept hitting the punching bag.
“By the way, when your brother is going back home ? We have a fight to finish!”
Jensen asked, getting a hard on with the idea of wrestling another man.
—————————————-
Son of the Manse
Madsen was worried for his son, as a minister, he saw his homosexuality as his sin. Thus, he searched everywhere for a way to cure his son, until he found a strange book for exorcism and possession. Certain that his son was possessed by an evil spirit, he drugged him and tied him to his bed.
“What the fuck dad ?” Asked his son.
“Please son, it won’t be long.” Reassured his father as he started the ritual.
Consequently, the minister lit candles on a pentagram and started to chant a spell which was supposed to exorcise his son. All of a sudden, the pentagram was set on fire and black smoke went out of it.
“Dad! Stop!” Urged his son.
Scared, the minister tried to put out the fire, but it was too late as the black smoke went inside his son’s screaming mouth. His son trashed around, switching between insults and speaking in tongues, then he opened his eyes, black as coal.
“Hello father.” Greeted the son with a voice that was not his own.
“You are not my son.”
“I am now.” Insisted the demon as he freed himself from his binds and smiled devilishly.
“Hmm, this is a nice body, and it tastes good.” The possessed young man said as he licked his lips. “I can’t wait to tastes yours too, daddy.”
“Get the hell away from me, fiend!” Screamed the minister as he pushed his corrupted son away from him.
“It was fun, but now I want to speak to my real father.”
“What do you-UNNNGGG!”
The former minister shook before opening his eyes, black too.
“I told you that I would find you a body, son.” The father demon said as he held his son.
“Let’s taste each other, father.” The son hissed as he licked his father’s lips while his left hand was groping his muscular chest.
—————————————-
Bonus Son
“Pranked dude!” Shouted Olsen while his friend poured a bucket of freezing water on his father.
Usually, a father would punish the two young men, but it was a tradition between them, they had a prank war ongoing since the boys’ teenage years. But this time, the father had a prank that would top anything the boys would ever come up with. Indeed, he had a found a device that allow his soul to leave his body and possess various bodies, so he decided to use it to make the two young men do embarassing things that would make them ashamed for a long time.
“Are you ready bro ?” Asked Olsen, possessed by his father to his equally possessed best friend.
“Anyday bro.”
The father giggled inside the young men’s bodies as they started grinding the ground like two fuck boys.
“Man, I was never able to do that in my old man’s body.” Flaunted Olsen as he looked his athletic frame.
“Dude, I bet that any chick in town would want to fuck us!” Affirmed his friend.
“And any guy too.”
“The fuck man ? I-”
The young man was interrupted by his best friend who started to make out with him. The dad soon made both of his bodies having sex with each other, being inside two virile young men drowning in sexual hormones and testosterones.
“Fuck, that was hot dude.” Said Olsen, his pecs and abs covered in cum.
“Yeah… But, wasn’t there a rule about the possession device ?” Asked his best friend.
“Maybe, something about getting stuck because of carnal pleasure, but I’m too dumb and horny to know what it means.” Joked the stud.
“Yeah, me too bro.”
“Wanna lick my biceps bro ? They’re beefy as fuck!” The possessed son flexed.
“Sure bro!”
—————————————-
The young men around the camps, instead of being scared, all laughed as their stories turned out to be true.
Cuando me desperté, no estaba en mi habitación. Todo era más diferente, yo me sentía diferente. Tarde un momento, pero finalmente me di cuenta donde estaba, era el cuarto de Mateo, mi hermano menor. Este cuarto siempre me pareció diminuto, pero por alguna razón, ahora todo era de mi tamaño.
Me levanté de la cama, caminé al espejo que sabía tenía mi hermano en su habitación y cuando miré, solo estaba el reflejo de mi hermano. Fue ahí cuando me di cuenta, ¡Estaba en el cuerpo de mi hermano!.
- Esto no puede ser real – mi voz ahora era mas aguda y chillona, como la de cualquier otro que estuviera pasando por la pubertad.
Salí de la habitación de mi hermano y me fui corriendo a la mía. Cuando abrí la puerta, ahí estaba yo, o el que originalmente era yo. Me veía enorme, me sentí intimidado.
- ¡Ey, Mateo! Te he estado esperando – dijo mi cuerpo con un tono muy relajado – Debes estarte preguntado que sucedió. Bueno, papá te advirtió que no volvieras a conducir ebrio, pero tu no hiciste caso, así que decidió que no podía confiar más en ti. Ahora el ya no tiene que preocuparse de tu problema de alcoholismo – dijo para después echarse a reírse – Ahora déjame solo, tengo asuntos de hermano mayor que atender – Dijo mientras acariciaba a través de la ropa interior el que alguna vez fue mi pene.
I looked at the plane, everything seemed normal but I never flew British airways, but blame the damn airlines… my flight with my family was over booked… so they canceled my ticket and put me on this flight. Everything seemed like a normal flight as I boarded but that thought left once they locked the cabin. I look around and it was only men.. young men like mid 20s, odd… what are the chances.
Regardless it’s a long flight to London, I lay back in my seat, put my headphones in and drift to sleep. I wake up a few hours later, the plane is silent other then an Ed Sheeran song playing… in fact I heard it playing earlier too… take me back to London… it keeps going over and over. I get a weird pit in my stomach, I look around and see everyone sitting blankly, they almost look younger? I feel a weird shifting in my pants, it sends a chill down my spine, try to get up but can’t, it’s like there’s a force holding me down. I figure fuck it, nobody is watching, I pull down my sweats and see my boxers have somehow become… a Speedo?!
I look shocked and then feel somethjng even weirder, my cock.. something’s slithers on it, down it. I have no idea, I look around and say fuck it, I pull the Speedo up enough to see my cock as it pales, there’s something wrong with it, something growing? But as that’s growing my dicks shrinking… I quickly realize it’s a bloody foreskin…bloody? Did I just say bloody?! My head spins as my dick settles down, a nice small uncut cock for a proper lad. Lad? I shake my head… what’s going on. I don’t want a small dick… but it’s best for swimming, doesn’t get in the way on the dives… what?!
My brain is wracked, all this British slang bouncing around in my head, I try to make sense of it I don’t even notice my body on fire… burning off all my muscles, all my fat… all my body hair.. I lay back closing my eyes as my body rearranges, my feet shrunk down to a size 9… my legs thin out, arms thin out, chest deflates… all to a nice toned body fit for a swimmer… no a diver.
My body feels released almost and I can get up, as I do I look down and see I’m wearing some track suit, it says Great Britain on it with a flag. I blurt out “what the bloody hell is going on then?” When I do my blood goes cold, my voice… it’s different, higher pitched and a thick British accent. “Oy… this is loons” as I get to the bathroom I see the entire cabin of the plane is different, they’re all wearing similar outfits, all younger fit proper lads….
“Ben! Where are you going?! The planes about to land” someone grabs my arm, I look over and see the hottest man I’ve ever seen. Tom Daley.
I panic and run in the bathroom slam the door, as I do my lips puff out, getting massive, my hair gets poofy and curly and my face shifts right in front of my eyes… I reach out and touch it shocked. This is real… bollocks what do I do!
There’s a bang on the door, it’s Tom “get to your seat Ben!!” I pull my shirt up quickly to get a peak and my eyes almost explode, I’m skinny, hairless but fit. Fuck me.
I walk out of the bathroom and Tom lands a kiss on my lips “you took longer then the rest, I had to help” he grabs my junk and squeezes, I explode inside my Speedo… my brain goes haywire… I’m Benjamin Cutmore… Ben for short… born in 2003… 20 years old… Olympic diver from Cambridge england. All the memories of diving flash before me, knowing Tom. As the memories flood in my view of Tom changes, he no longer becomes hot, my gf does… gf?! I’m gay!! I blurt out
Tom: not anymore mate… except for me of course for getting you on the team.
Tom sits me down as the music blares “takeee me back to Londonnn” we land as my old self is gone.. the song saw to it that I became a full on British lad.. I get off the plane, seeing my gf I run to her and kiss her passionately, she’s gorgeous… she whispers in my ear “been waiting for you and your LITTLE man to get home all week” putting extra emphasis on little, I blush, she notices and goes “it’s ok Benny baby… 4 inches is perfect for me” I shrug, I can live with it.
That was a few weeks ago, now I’m fully living bens life and getting ready for the games next month. Cheers mate, enjoy the ride.
Tony smirked as one of his new gym bros clapped him on the back. Yeah, that was indeed the plan. But it hadn't always been. Hockey? Him? He couldn't fully believe it.
"You were a natural out there."
Tony smiled as he recalled how swiftly he moved on the ice. How easily it came to him. The speed, the thrill... It felt so familiar... Like he had done it hundreds of times prior... Like he had spent his life training to play in college.
"Felt right, man, ya know?"
Just as natural as all the time spent in the gym, focusing on lifting weights rather than only cardio. In hindsight, he couldn't imagine why he hadn't started lifting earlier. His body had responded quickly, like it yearned to pack on muscle. And looking at himself now, with his bulging muscles, body hair, facial hair... A far cry from the scrawny twink he arrived on campus as at the start of the year.
"Twink death."
His gay besties he had met on his first day on campus would say. He heard that phrase even more when they noticed his new chest hairs.
"Twunk!"
"Jock!"
His besties would giggle, poke at his muscles. At first, Tony would laugh. Talk about how many more guys were checking him out. Brag about how they couldn't get enough of his thicker, muscular ass. But even that seemed temporary. Hooking up with men? Tony noticed his attraction shifting. Beautiful blond women with big tits. And it wasn't just his preferences. Endless celebrity gossip with his besties? He would rather talk about sports and watch the big game. Not to check out the hot guys on the team, but because he actually cared. Majoring in theater? Suddenly finance was becoming more attractive, as if he always wanted to pursue a career in the private sector.
"You've changed."
"Did you dye your hair?"
Tony tried to laugh it off. Tell his besties it was just him exploring a different side of him. But as time went on, this him- this "new" him felt right. No one in his family was blond. So how had he been? His brothers and father were massive sports fans. So why wouldn't he be? His gay besties? He would rather hang out with the jocks down the hall- and not just because he found them hot. Their camaraderie felt right. He bonded so easily with them. And suddenly, partying, poppers, and getting his ass fucked felt wrong. That person, that version of him... it didn't really feel like him. And as his first year in college passed by, he felt that the person he was when he arrived on campus was never actually supposed to be him.
"My head..." He grunted and closed his eyes.
These migraines hurt. Becoming more frequent as the months passed. But the migraines came with flashes of something else. Of a different life. Of growing up different. Playing hockey, his first time with a woman, meeting Christi, wanting to get married to her...
"Fuck." Tony whispered. What was he thinking? Who were these people? It hurt. These memories. He longed for them, longed for something that felt more real than who had been these past few months, "What the fuck is..."
His phone buzzed and he looked down at a message. He involuntarily shuddered.
"Let's meet up when you're back."
Paul. He lived next to his parent's place. Just moved in a few days before Tony left for college. How many times had they hooked up before he left? How many times had Paul fucked him? Tony gulped. Paul was always so dominant. So in charge. Tony had drooled over the man's thick cock more times than he could count. But now? Tony had no interest.
"Alright." Tony replied. He felt he at least owed Paul an explanation for his sudden change.
---------------
Tony stood outside Paul's front door, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right, that his memories of Paul and their past together were somehow…off. Before Tony could knock, the door swung open. Paul's musculature and hairy torso greeted him. And while it would've usually turned him on, Tony felt... nothing. Even as he remembered riding Paul's fat cock, which bulged obscenely in his shorts. Even as he remembered Paul's calloused hands squeezing his ass. Even as he remembered stuffing his nose in Paul's musky pits...
"Tony? This is unexpected," Paul raised an eyebrow. His gaze lingered on Tony's muscular frame and short dark hair. Tony figured the "unexpected part" had to do with his appearance, "You look…different."
"I…yeah, I guess I do," Tony mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, "I wanted to talk to you about some things…" He trailed off, unsure of exactly what he wanted to say.
"Lets talk indoors." He moved out of the way, inviting Tony in, "Did you have a chance to work out today? I can tell you enjoy it."
Tony sensed the disdain, "I, well..."
But as he stepped inside, a flood of fragmented images popped into his head... He was jogging, shirtless. Appearing as he did now. His muscular physique soaking up the sun. He had stopped for a drink, and that's when he met Paul, seemingly another man out for a jog. They talked and Paul invited him over to use his home gym. After all, Tony's usual gym was closed for repairs.
"I… What was that…?" Tony stopped mid-step and gripped his head, "I've... done this before."
"Huh maybe you have." Paul grinned, "Offer still stands, you coming or what?"
"S-sure..." He replied, numbly.
Paul smirked and placed a firm hand on Tony's broad shoulder, guiding him towards the basement stairs, each step bringing up more fragments. The creaky stairs, the musty smell, the single bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling…
"Wait Paul, I don't..." Tony froze as they reached the bottom. No gym equipment, just an empty, solitary chair in the center of the room.
"Have a seat, Tony. We need to…talk." He gestured to the chair.
"But..." He remembered being confused... asking Paul where his equipment was. Being told to sit in the chair. He gripped his head, "Paul, please... what's going on?" His voice sounded small and uncertain, but he did as he was told. He sunk into the cold, hard chair.
"It's time to talk." Paul came up behind Tony and rubbed his shoulders, "But you remember that before we start talking..."
"I need to be naked." Tony mumbled, eyes dulling over.
"Good boy." Paul smirked, "Let me help you out of those clothes."
Tony hesitated, then slowly began removing his clothes under Paul's watchful gaze. First his shirt, exposing the chiseled planes of his chest and abdomen, muscles rippling with each movement. Paul circled him appraisingly.
"Look at that. Just like the day I met you. Those pecs, those abs… It's impressive." Paul's eyes roamed lower, taking in the dusting of dark hair trailing down from his navel. "Hairier too... such a shame." Finally, Tony kicked off his underwear, leaving him completely nude, "Impressive..." He gave Tony's cock a few tugs, feeling it grow in his hand, "This won't do at all. Far too large." He sighed, "I guess I can fix this... again."
"Wha... no, I need to... fix?" Tony mumbled, "Paul, I don't..."
"Shhh, just relax Tony. Imagine your limbs growing heavier. You know this feeling, don't you? The weight, the tingling in your limbs… Just like before."
As Paul spoke, Tony felt his eyelids growing heavy, his muscles relaxing against his will. And he did remember - Paul's deep voice echoing in his mind, the commands... to be something else, something better. And oh how eagerly his body responded…
"Yes, that's right. Focus on my voice. Let everything else fade away," Paul purred, circling the chair. "Starting to remember our first session?"
"I… I remember…" Tony slurred, his words thick and clumsy as he slipped deeper under Paul's sway, "You... changed me..."
"So you remember my trade? Hypnotism and psychology." Paul's voice was rich with pride. "And my research then too?"
Tony nodded, "The mind body connection." He slurred.
"And how what the mind believes can alter the body if the technique is strong enough." Paul continued, "And if the subject is weak enough."
Under the deep trance, Tony's mind flooded with vivid memories of his previous hypnotic session with Paul. He saw himself, growing smaller and softer, listening intently as Paul's voice echoed commands about shrinking, losing muscle, hair lightening to a sunny blond. Each suggestion had felt so right, so inevitable, his body eagerly complying…
"I want you to imagine your body starting to shrink, Tony," Paul commanded, "Feel yourself growing smaller, lighter. Your muscles melting away, your strength fading."
Against his will, Tony felt a tingling sensation spread through his limbs. He watched as his arms began to thin, his biceps deflating like punctured balloons. His triceps collapsing in on themselves. What were once his proud, muscular arms- ready for the life of a hockey player- were two sticks that never looked like they'd seen a dumbbell. With a pained gasp, his pecs began to cave in on themselves, flattening at an alarming rate.
"No..." A pitiful plea escaped his lips as he tried to resist, to clench his muscles and maintain his size, but it was no use. It was as if his body wanted this now, goaded on by his captor.
"That's it Tony, let it happen. Feel your shoulders narrowing, your back thinning out. All that bulky muscle just…melting away."
Tony whimpered, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he felt his once powerful back giving way. The thick delts and lats that allowed him to bench press twice his bodyweight now shriveled like raisins. His traps, the source of so much strength and power, disappeared entirely. In moments, his upper body was slim and delicate, hardly recognizable.
"Your six-pack is flattening out, Tony. Feel those defined muscles soften and melt into a smooth, flat plane."
Tony gasped as he felt the distinct ridges of his abdominals begin to blur and merge. The hard, sculpted surface giving way to softness, all definition vanishing. Tony could only run a dainty hand over his flat stomach, wincing at the lack of his proud abdominals.
"Now your legs, Tony. Those thick, powerful thighs and calves. You feel them growing slender and dainty." Paul licked his lips in anticipation.
Tony cried out as he felt the changes rippling through his lower half. His quads, once rock-hard and bulging, began to slenderize rapidly. The dense calf muscles that propelled him across the ice at incredible speeds melted away, leaving behind slim, dainty appendages. Even his feet seemed to shrink slightly, becoming soft and cute.
"Now picture your hair. Not black, but golden. Soft and fine and silky to the touch." Paul reached out and ran his fingers through Tony's locks, watching in satisfaction as the strands shifted hue and texture before his eyes.
"Pl-please..."
"Don't worry, I know. I know having this kind of equipment is too much for a vapid twink to handle." Paul again tugged at Tony's dick, "I want you to feel your cock shrinking, Tony. Diminishing in size until it's barely more than a useless nub."
Tony whimpered in despair as he felt his most masculine attribute beginning to fail him. His once impressive manhood started to dwindle, inch by agonizing inch. Within moments, what remained was a pathetic little nub that shamefully throbbed in Paul's hand.
"Perfect."
But to Tony, this was far from perfect. His mind raced, barely taking note as his body hair vanished, leaving him smooth. Didn't register his skin becoming soft, smooth, and unblemished. All he could focus on were the sudden memories of that first session. How Paul's voice wrapped around his mind like a vice, shaping his very identity. Being molded into a giggling, vapid twink, obsessed with fashion and sex.
"You... stole my life..."
Tears streamed down Tony's face as fragments of his old life surfaced- charging down the ice, stick in hand, heart pounding with exhilaration. Pushing his body to its limits at the gym, building muscle. Flirting with with chicks at parties, high-fiving his bros. None of it matched the empty-headed twink he had become and was being forced to become again.
"Paul…" He whined in a voice several octaves higher than only a few minutes ago, "Don't do this to me. Please." He begged in his slurred, slutty voice, "I remember who I used to be..."
Ignoring Tony's pitiful pleas, Paul slipped a pair of headphones over the smaller man's ears. Instantly, a repetitive monotone filled his senses, drilling Paul's instructions directly into his psyche.
"…you will submit to Paul completely. Your purpose is to serve and please him in any way he desires. Cleaning his house naked, doing his chores, serving as his house boy brings you immense joy and fulfillment. Presenting your holes for his use is your greatest pleasure…"
Tony whimpered as the voices seeped into his mind, eroding his already weakened will. He felt himself slipping, his brain felt fuzzy, less sharp, focused only on the words. The memories of his old life that had been bubbling to the surface were quickly drowning in the new images of a different life. Of Paul and all his needs. Drool trickled from his slack mouth, eyes glazing over.
"'Mh…mwh…yhyhyou?"
Paul raised an eyebrow and grinned, "Are you already that fucking brain dead that you can't talk?" He removed a single earbud, "Try again, use your words."
Tony licked his plump lips, struggling to form a coherent thought. "Wh-why… why... m...m....mmmm.... meeee?"
Paul smirked, "Because I can, Tony. Because I want to. Because seeing you reduced to my personal fucktoy and maid is the ultimate rush." He grabbed a handful of Tony's soft, doughy ass, squeezing roughly. "And this time, I'm not letting you leave. No college. No "besties". No breaking free of this new life. You belong to me now, understand? My full-time cumdump and house boy." With that, Paul shoved the headphones back into place, the hypnotic suggestions immediately flooding Tony's shattered mind once more. "Just relax and accept your new life. Serving me is all you'll be good for now."
Paul stroked his hardening cock as he watched Tony slip deeper into the trance, his eyes vacant and glassy, drool running down his chin. The sight of his former straight stud reduced to such a pathetic, brainless fucktoy never failed to arouse him. It was just like before. But this time? There would be no going back. Soon, Tony would be nothing more than a set of holes for Paul to use as he pleased, a living sex doll to fulfill his every fantasy. A live-in, slutty maid.
"I think he'll do nicely," he chuckled darkly to himself. "48 hours of reinforcement should really seal it. Then the real fun can begin." He palmed his stiffening erection, already imagining all the ways he would use his new toy. "Until then, I'll leave you to marinate."
Paul ascended the stairs and flicked off the light switch, plunging the basement into darkness, leaving his newest creation alone. And Tony remained slumped in the chair, a puddle of drool forming beneath his slack jaw. His glassy eyes stared at nothing as the words on the tape wormed their way deeper into his fractured psyche.
"Yesh… I'm P-Paul's… his per-perfect… per-perfect fuck-toy…"
His high, breathy voice echoed weakly in the dark room as he lost himself to the hypnotic haze, surrendering the last vestiges of his former self. His useless nub stiffening, his holes aching with need as he excitedly braced for the life he nearly escaped.
Hope you enjoyed! I’m going to be working on some inbox requests that are long overdue. Should start getting those out soon. Message me with any requests or if you want to run things by me!
Tags: dumbification, male tfs, fart kink, wish went wrong.
This Is my fault. I tought my boyfriend was too femenine, too flamboyant...
I liked him, he was handsome, smart, lovely ... and With the Best ass around, but just not really into girly guys, he kinda embarrasses me when im with my mates... So i push him to convice him to join to the soccer team, maybe he could learn one or two Things about being masculine around those studs of the team.
After lots of trying, telling him i had a 'phantasy with soccer players' he said yes, he pick the team in base of the uniform tho.., the one who 'make him look Better', obviously the pink.
At start he wasnt enjoying It, but with the Time i saw him getting More excited about It, Until the day he came to our place excited about his first game, that day also notice something diferent... A slightly stench, i tought he just forgot to put some deodorant that day, but that stench just got stronger and stronger With time..., and he looked ok With it, a little too much i would say:
PRRRRPFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT he lifted a leg and farted while we were at the couch together watching a movie - huh huh! Protein fart!
-Sweetheart, wtf!? - i said covering my nose
- Just some Man scent, "sweetheart" - i felt some anoy in His voice, and More in that last part - and this thing Is getting to boring, Let me find something Better - he quit or drama queer movie and changed It into the sport channel - there you go! Thats Better
"Well, at least hes not Girly anymore..." I said to myself. That couldnt console me for everything that was about to happen tho.
His stench was More and More strong, sometimes he wasnt getting showers or bath at all, and the one time i convince him to take a bath together saying we needed it something romantic (but being honest just needed him to get rid of the smell) he just...
-Hey, Babe, want me to turn this into a jacuzzi? - then he farted for like half of minute, flooding everything with its bubbles of stink
And as if that were not enough, he wasnt bottoming at all.
- "This ass Is your for farting, Bro"
With the Time i get he got sick of me trying to school him to being the educated cute bot he used to be, so he started saying i should join His team.
- "Maybe we can show you one thing or two of how to be a real Man"
It was devastated. Now i was the Girly one of the relationship, It seems.
And im tired, of the new him, of the new me, of the new us... So im doing something about It.
I walk to the training camp, ready for my first day in the team. Maybe he has reason. And he acept when I tried to change him, so... Maybe Is my turn.
I see my stud boyfriend pushing one of His buttcheeks while Lets out a really long fartp
PPPPRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTRRRFTFFFT
Liberates With a dumb face expresion while His mates laugh loudly like a Group of childs.
I sigh and take a sip of my protein shake, I don't want to embarrass him in front of his mates.
Me gusta un chico, sigo todas sus redes sociales muy meticulosamente, se supone que haces eso cuando te gusta alguien, o no(?)
Lamentablemente no lo conozco en persona, por qué es de Italia, pero si lo conozco en muchos aspectos, de pies a cabeza y en su forma de ser, ¿Quieren saber quién es?
Lo conocí mientras navegaba en Instagram
Este chico logro encender algo en mi, me gustaba más de lo normal quería conocerlo y tenerlo cerca, ha sido mi inspiración desde que lo conozco, me gusta su forma de vestir, su forma de ser y ese físico increíble
Quizá y no sea el chico que sea tan marcado, pero me gusta, en verdad me gusta, quiero conocer cada parte de él, ¡Me gustaría ser el!
Su nombre es Damián un nombre que llamo bastante mi atención, pensé que era mi inspiración pero, se volvió mi obsesión (?)
Tenía que hacer algo, quería ser el, tener su cuerpo, y así poder acariciar todo lo que había admirado por tanto tiempo
Mi abuelo, tenía libros y por lo que sabia, el fue un antiguo hechicero, así que me sumergí en una búsqueda para así obtener el cuerpo de Damián, Finalmente lo encontré, el nombre era raro, pero algo me decía que era ese el conjuro que nesesitaba, así que con ayuda de un traductor por internet supe que si era además de las cosas que nesesitaba, solo era una foto de la persona, velas , y una noche de luna llena
Espere a que llegara la noche, y recite las frases extrañas que había encontrado, con la foto de Damián entre las velas, dentro de mi había una emoción inexplicable al saber que quizá en ese cuerpo despertaría el día siguiente, senti que mi miembro se erecto un poco, sentí la necesidad de masturbarme antes de dormir, encendí mi teléfono y comenze a tocarme con las fotos de Damian, pensando que ese cuerpo sería mío
Entre en un sueño profundo...
De un momento a otro sentí como algo en mi entrepierna me molestaba, se sentía abultado, así que metí mi mano debajo de los boxers apretados que traía puestos,
-¡¿Queeeee?! Yo ayer me dormir con pijama no solo en boxer, y con una playera, me levanté y tome mi teléfono, abrí la cámara y, allí estaba esperando mi nuevo reflejo, con esos hermosos ojos azules y un rostro perfecto, me tomé una foto para recordar el momento
Me senté en la cama de Damián que estaba impregnada de su olor, dónde me despoje de toda mi ropa, deslize esos boxers Calvin Klein por esas piernas que admire en mucho tiempo tiempo de eran realmente peludas, bueno no tanto pero si mas de lo que esperaba ;) y oh dios!!!
El momento en el que Vi mi nueva polla fue Realmente épico, estaba totalmente dura al igual que mis nuevo pechos a los que comenze a sobar hasta que se efectuaron realmente me gustaría que alguien viniera y los lameara por mi, con este cuerpo obviamente conseguiría por montones jajaj
Con mi mano izquierda tome mi boxer y comenze a olfatearlo y a masturbarme con mi mano derecha arriba abajo ahhhh 😏
No podía creer que tenía este cuerpo, agarre mi teléfono y comenze a ver las fotos que tenía este imbécil al que admiro, al parecer en su galería tenía varias fotos de el, dios que egocéntrico es, bueno que egocéntrico soy 😏 al parecer tenía fotos de el, muy provocadoras por cierto al parecer era gay de closet para conservar sus seguidores en Instagram, bueno ahora todo eso es mío y pronto conseguiré un novio, mirando fotos de su trasero y su miembro termine lanzar una carga que al parecer había acumulado desde hace tiempo *En verdad era grande* me corrí en mi abdomen no tan marcado, y deslizé mis dedos para poder tomar mi nuevo y precioso semen, lamee cada gota, sin dejar nada en mi abdomen
Me dirigo a su ropa sucia dónde recogo una camiseta negra un pans y una camisa, unos boxers que tenían un olor muy peculiar en verdad olían bien a pesar de estar sucios, los olfatee hasta que sentí que mi pene se volvía a levantar, no era el momento, me dirigí al espejo y tome una foto, se la mandé a mi antiguo cuerpo dónde le dije que nunca le regresaría su bello cuerpo, que disfrutaría cada día siendo el, y que si quería de regreso su cuerpo tendría que viajar a Italia, a darle un oral a su antiguo miembro, nunca sabrá donde iré y nunca recuperará su cuerpo, por cierto tengo que subir fotos a Instagram, no quiero que sospechen de mi, me enfoco en poner esa cara sería que siempre me gustó, no dejo de pensar que ese reflejo ahora es mío, esa mirada sería y profunda es mía ahora ¡Que buena es la vida!
Por lo mientras saldré a conseguir a alguien igual de caliente, para que seamos novios
¡Diablos! Me siento caliente otra vez, supongo que me masturbare otra vez jaja uwu
Esta es mi segunda historia jaja, espero que les haya gustado xd, perdón si tardo en subir contenido, quiero entregarles calidad en vez de cantidad v:
Díganme si les gusto < 3 o si quieren otra parte < 3 😛
Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/inkyquillstories/774729028416520192/trading-medals-part-1-a-body-swap-story?source=share
Note: This story has a lot more photos and videos (NSFW!) but Tumblr won't let me. If you would like to see the NSFW version, check it out on my discord! https://discord.gg/mMY9wSu4rS
Trading Medals Part 2:
Ethan—now Mark—stirred awake earlier than usual, blinking against the morning light filtering through the blinds. Normally, he’d struggle to get out of bed, groggy and sluggish, but today was different. There was an energy coursing through him, a natural liveliness that felt effortless. He immediately opened his selfie camera to admire himself. As he sat up, the movement alone felt powerful—his arms, his shoulders, even his core engaging in ways his old body never had.
His stomach grumbled. He needed coffee. Moving through the dorm with Mark’s easy, confident stride, he made his way to the kitchenette, instinctively rolling his shoulders as if loosening up for a workout. He reached for the coffee maker, surprised at the way his larger hands completely enveloped the handle of the pot. Even the act of scooping coffee grounds felt different—the extra weight behind his movements, the sheer size of his hands.
As the coffee brewed, he leaned against the counter, absently flexing his fingers and forearms. He lifted his arm, sniffing the faint scent of Mark’s natural musk mixed with the lingering notes of his body wash. It was strange. Not bad—just unfamiliar. When the coffee was ready, he poured himself a cup and took a sip. Even his taste buds felt different; the bitterness wasn’t as overwhelming as it used to be. Maybe Mark just liked stronger coffee.
Still waking up, he decided to freshen up before heading to the gym. Coffee in hand, he walked into the bathroom, turning on the light and stepping up to the mirror. The sight that greeted him was almost surreal—Mark’s face staring back at him, but with his own thoughts and emotions behind those deep-set eyes. He lifted a hand, running his fingers along his jawline, feeling the light stubble. He tilted his head, studying the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the structure of his nose, the fullness of his lips. Mark was attractive—he had always known that—but seeing himself like this, being in this body, made it hit differently.
He set his coffee down and reached for the toothbrush. Even brushing his teeth felt different—the width of his grip on the handle, the strength in his arm as he moved. The minty foam filled his mouth, and he found himself examining his reflection again as he brushed. The toothpaste left a sharp coolness on his tongue, but beneath it, he caught another scent—his own morning breath. Not bad, just different. Huskier? Deeper? He rinsed his mouth and swished with mouthwash before patting his face dry with a towel.
That’s when he caught it. A strong, musky scent clinging to his skin. His armpits.
He hesitated, then lifted an arm experimentally, leaning in to take a cautious whiff. The scent hit him immediately—thicker, more potent than what he was used to. Musky, masculine, layered with the remnants of yesterday’s deodorant and sweat. It wasn’t bad—Mark had always smelled like this after a workout—but experiencing it firsthand was something else. It made him hyper-aware of just how different this body was. Mark's body runs hot, sweats more. No wonder he showers so often.
He instinctively reached for Mark’s deodorant on the counter, twisting the cap open and rolling the cool gel under his arms. The fresh scent mixed with the underlying musk, taming it slightly. Then, for good measure, he grabbed a bottle of cologne from the shelf and gave himself a couple of sprays on the chest and wrists. It was a scent he recognized—Mark had worn it on dates before. Spicy, warm, a little woodsy. He took another deep breath. Better.
Now fully awake and refreshed, Ethan tugged off his shirt, tossing it onto the counter. His breath hitched slightly at the sight of his bare chest. His pecs were well-defined, his abs sculpted. He ran a hand down his torso, feeling the ridges of muscle beneath his fingertips. This wasn’t just looking at Mark’s body anymore—this was his body now.
Turning slightly, he flexed an arm, watching as the bicep swelled impressively. He did it again, fascinated by the way the muscles responded. Damn. No wonder Mark loves this body so much.
He turned his attention lower, running his hands over his obliques, down to his waist, before finally letting out a slow breath. He was big. Bigger than he ever thought he could be.
The thought sent a thrill through him.
Finishing the last of his coffee, Ethan shook himself out of his daze. If he was in Mark’s body, he was going to use it properly. And that meant one thing—he needed to hit the gym.
Grinning at his reflection one last time, he grabbed his gym bag and headed out.
The workout was intense, but his new body handled it with ease. Every lift, every push, every rep felt powerful. He caught his reflection in the mirror—Mark’s tall, muscular physique gleaming with sweat—and smirked. This was his body for the weekend. He rolled his shoulders and flexed, marveling at the way his biceps bulged under the strain.
After the gym, he headed to football practice. The moment he stepped onto the field, muscle memory kicked in. He didn’t have Mark’s exact skills, but his body did. Running drills, catching passes, moving across the field—it all felt strangely natural. The other players joked around with him, completely unaware that the real Mark wasn’t inside. Ethan played along, enjoying the camaraderie, the effortless strength, and the way his deep voice carried over the field. By the time practice ended, Ethan was drenched in sweat. He made his way to the locker room, peeling off the sticky jersey and stepping into the showers.
The bathroom was quiet, save for the faint hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. Ethan leaned against the sink, his broad shoulders casting a shadow on the tiled wall. His tank top clinging to his sweat-slicked chest, the fabric stretched taut over his pecs. He caught his reflection in the mirror and paused, his eyes scanning over the chiseled lines of his face, the way his dark hair fell just so. He smirked, flexing his biceps instinctively, watching the muscles ripple under his tan skin.
God, he looked good.
His gaze drifted lower, down to the tufts of dark hair that peeked out from under his arms. They were thick, untamed, and—he thought with a flicker of pride—undeniably manly. He lifted his arm slightly, catching the faint scent of his own musk. It was earthy, raw, and something about it made his pulse quicken. He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring as the smell filled his senses. Damn. He’d never really thought about it before, but there was something about the way he smelled after a workout that was... intoxicating.
He rolled his shoulders, his muscles flexing as he struck another pose in the mirror. His chest was broad, his abs defined, and his arms—he couldn’t help but admire them. He turned slightly, catching the light on his profile, and his breath hitched. Fuck, Mark… rather, he was sexy. His hand drifted to his waistband, fingers brushing against the bulge that was already growing there. He hesitated for just a moment before tugging his shorts down, letting his hard cock spring free.
His reflection stared back at him, eyes dark with desire. He wrapped his hand around his length, giving himself a slow, deliberate stroke. His skin was hot to the touch, and he could feel the heat radiating from his pits as he flexed his arm again. The scent was stronger now, almost overwhelming, and it sent a shiver down his spine.
His grip tightened, his thumb brushing over the head of his cock as he continued to stroke himself. His other hand reached up, fingers threading through the thick hair under his arm. He tugged gently, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure straight to his groin. Fuck. He’d never realized how sensitive Mark’s body was, how the slightest touch could make his entire body tremble.
Ethan’s hips bucked involuntarily, his cock slipping through his fist as he lost himself in the rhythm. His reflection was a blur of muscle and sweat, his face flushed with arousal. He could feel the pressure building, his balls tightening as he edged closer to release. He leaned back against the sink, his legs slightly spread as he continued to stroke himself, his pace quickening with each passing second.
His eyes locked onto his own in the mirror, the intensity of his gaze making his heart race. He could see the hunger there, the raw need that he hadn’t even realized was there until now. His hand moved faster, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he felt himself teetering on the edge.
And then, with a guttural groan, he came, his release spurting onto the tiles below. His body shuddered with the force of it, his muscles tense as he rode out the wave of pleasure. He slumped against the sink, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His reflection stared back at him, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.
After jerking off, he headed to the showers and turned it on. As the warm water ran over his sculpted body, he took a moment to admire it. The sheer power of his new muscles, the defined lines of his abs, the weight of his broad shoulders—it was intoxicating. He ran his hands over his biceps, flexing slightly, feeling the tension in his arms. Even his scent was different—earthy, strong, unmistakably masculine. The musk of sweat mixed with the lingering scent of Mark’s body wash, a smell Ethan had grown familiar with over three years of rooming together, but now it belonged to him. The deep timbre of his voice hummed as he sighed in satisfaction. He had never felt this alive before.
He explored his body even more. He never felt so manly before. He always knew he was straight but he felt like a straight man born in a gay man’s body. Everything about his physical form “stereotypically” does not exude the type of gender expression he wished he could live.
Meanwhile…
Mark—now Ethan—had an entirely different kind of day.
He woke up later than usual, not having an early practice for once. The first thing he noticed was how much smaller and lighter his body felt compared to what he was used to. He stretched, feeling the slight stiffness of someone who didn’t work out as often.
Curious, he stepped in front of the mirror, staring at his new reflection. He wasn’t used to looking up at his own face. His jawline was softer, his frame more compact, but there was an elegance to it. He lifted his shirt, exposing the lean torso beneath. It lacked the definition he was used to, but there was something oddly freeing about it. He ran his hands over his chest, noticing how smooth it was compared to his usual body.
Flexing his arms, he chuckled at how different they looked—smaller, but still toned in their own way. He moved his hands over his legs, marveling at how much shorter and slimmer they were. Even his feet felt strange, more narrow and delicate. He took a few steps around the room, adjusting to the lighter weight of his movements. There was a new fluidity to them, a different kind of balance. He wasn’t carrying the same mass, the same presence—but he found himself appreciating the change.
For the first time in a long while, Mark wasn’t thinking about football, workouts, or his reputation. He was just… experiencing his body in a completely new way. And though it was weird, it wasn’t entirely bad.
The next day came and Ethan—still in Mark’s body—felt more alive than he ever had before. Every moment as Mark was like living the dream he never dared to admit he had. He walked around campus with confidence, shoulders squared, head high, feeling the weight of his strong, muscular frame commanding attention wherever he went. It was surreal how easily people gravitated toward him now. His teammates respected him. Strangers smiled at him. Girls giggled when he passed by. Even Mark’s usual hangout crew welcomed him without hesitation, treating him as if he had always been one of them.
Football practice was the highlight of his day. The power in his legs when he sprinted, the sheer force behind each throw—every movement felt natural and exhilarating. He relished the feeling of being strong, of pushing his limits and seeing what this body could do. And the best part? No one second-guessed his confidence. He wasn’t the awkward, reserved Ethan anymore. He was Mark, the campus star athlete, the guy everyone wanted to talk to. It was intoxicating.
Despite how much he was enjoying himself, Ethan never let himself get too comfortable. This was still Mark’s life, Mark’s body, and no matter how much he loved the attention and strength, he knew he could never steal it from his best friend. This was temporary, just a fun experience. But still… he couldn’t help but wonder—what would life be like if this was permanent?
Meanwhile, Mark—inhabiting Ethan’s smaller frame—was beginning to appreciate this new perspective on life. At first, it had been jarring to be so much weaker, to not have his usual presence, but the more he embraced it, the more he found things to enjoy. For one, he loved the freedom of eating whatever he wanted without worrying about macros or performance. He spent the afternoon curled up with a book, getting lost in the world of fantasy—something he never made time for before.
Video games, something he’d always brushed off as a waste of time, suddenly made sense to him. He played for hours, captivated by the strategy and storytelling, appreciating why Ethan enjoyed them so much. Even Ethan’s friends were a nice change of pace—deep conversations, nerdy debates, casual game nights. They welcomed him in as if he’d always been one of them, and Mark found himself feeling at home in a way he hadn’t expected.
One thing that caught him off guard, though, was the attention he was getting—from guys. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been checked out before, but it was different now. More frequent. More obvious. Some of Ethan’s friends, people he had never given a second thought to before, were flirting with him, and Mark wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Was it just because he looked different now? Or was it something about the way he carried himself in Ethan’s body? Either way, it was an unexpected thrill.
By Sunday night, both men sat on their respective beds, staring at each other in silence. Neither of them wanted to admit it, but the excitement of returning to their old bodies wasn’t as strong as they thought it would be.
“You ready?” Mark finally asked.
Ethan hesitated before nodding. “Yeah… yeah, let’s do it.”
They retrieved the medallion, each feeling a strange sense of loss. The weekend had been incredible—eye-opening, thrilling—but they knew it was time to go back.
The atmosphere in their dorm room felt oddly familiar as Mark—still in Ethan’s body—peeled off his clothes, gathering them in his arms before handing them over to Ethan. The process was the same as before, yet it carried a different weight now. Unlike the first time, there was no hesitation, no disbelief. They both knew the swap worked. They had spent the entire weekend living each other’s lives, feeling every difference, experiencing what it was like to be someone else. And now, it was time to go back.
Ethan, still in Mark’s muscular frame, stripped down as well, revealing the powerful physique he had gotten so accustomed to. He hesitated for a brief moment, glancing down at the body he had grown to love, before passing Mark’s used clothes over. The scent of sweat and cologne clung to the fabric, a reminder of football practice, of workouts, of being the center of attention. He sighed as he took the smaller, softer clothes from Mark, which smelled fresher—more like books, detergent, and faint traces of tea.
Mark, now holding Ethan’s football-practice-worn shirt, hesitated before wearing it. On impulse, he raised it to his face, taking a deep inhale of the fabric. The scent was strong—musky, earthy, the unmistakable aroma of sweat from an active day—but it wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, it was weirdly familiar now.
Ethan caught the moment instantly, just as Mark had done to him days ago. A slow smirk formed on his face.
“Dude,” Ethan teased, crossing his arms over his broad chest, “you just sniffed my shirt.”
Mark quickly lowered the shirt, eyes darting away. “No, I didn’t.”
“Oh, you totally did.” Ethan laughed, shaking his head. “So, you get it now, huh?”
Mark huffed “Shut up and get dressed.”
Once they were dressed in their original bodies’ outfits, Mark retrieved the medallion, holding it between them. The weight of it felt more significant now. They touched the medallion together, gripping it firmly. Then, just as before, they spoke the words.
Ethan began.
“I, Mark Christopher Bennett, wish to swap bodies with Ethan Daniel Graves.”
The medallion pulsed. Mark hesitated for only a second before responding:
“I, Ethan Daniel Graves, wish to swap bodies with Mark Christopher Bennett.”
A tingle spread through Mark’s arms. He could feel it creeping along his skin, like static electricity building.
Ethan kept going, his voice steady:
“I, Mark Christopher Bennett, accept Ethan Graves’ body as my own.”
Mark swallowed hard, following suit.
“I, Ethan Daniel Graves, accept Mark Bennett’s body as my own.”
The warmth turned into something hotter, something that crawled through their veins. Their skin tingled, their muscles tightened, and the medallion itself grew almost unbearably warm.
Then, together, they spoke the final line:
Ethan: “I am Ethan Graves, and he is Mark Christopher Bennett.”
Mark: “I am Mark Bennett, and he is Ethan Daniel Graves.”
As soon as the final words of the spell left their mouths, the medallion flared with a brilliant, golden light. A strange force gripped their bodies, like an invisible current pulling at them from the inside out. The shift began with an odd tingling sensation at their cores, rippling outward. It started subtly—a weightlessness in their limbs, a pulling at their extremities—but quickly escalated into something far more intense.
Ethan was the first to feel the changes. His heart was pounding like a drum. He could feel it— the shift, the change, the wrongness of it all. A cold sensation swept through his legs, followed by a strange contraction. His long, powerful thighs seemed to deflate, the solid muscle softening, shrinking, as his femurs shortened. His calves lost their firmness, thinning into their previous lean shape. He looked down, watching as the muscular definition in his calves began to fade, the skin tightening, the strength evaporating. His thighs, once thick and powerful, now looked slender, almost fragile. He wobbled slightly, feeling his entire center of gravity shift. It wasn’t just his legs—his whole body was retracting, his towering height sinking down inch by inch, forcing him to adjust his stance. The commanding presence he had grown used to over the weekend was slipping away with every second, and a pit formed in his stomach.
Mark, meanwhile, gasped as he felt warmth rush into his legs, stretching and expanding them. His feet grew larger, toes elongating, the arches flattening out as they thickened into their usual, well-worn shape. He could feel his legs filling with strength, the bulk of his quads re-emerging, his hamstrings tightening with the familiar density of athleticism. His calves pulsed as they strengthened, forming the thick, muscular contours he had spent years developing. The ground felt further away again, his perspective rising, and a strange mixture of relief and… disappointment curled in his chest. He had missed his body, hadn’t he? Then why did he feel like he was losing something, too?
Ethan swallowed hard as the changes traveled upward. Ethan’s hands instinctively went to his groin. His waist narrowed, his abs tightening but losing the sheer definition they had gained over the weekend. He ran a hand over his stomach, feeling the subtle softness return.
He gasped as he felt his cock begin to shrink, the sensation both surreal and horrifying. He could feel every inch as it receded, the heavy weight he’d grown accustomed to diminishing, leaving him with something far smaller, far less him. He cupped himself, his fingers trembling as they explored the new reality. No, no, no. It wasn’t just the size— it was the thickness, the way it felt in his hand. It was wrong. All wrong.
His chest followed suit—his broad, powerful pecs receding, his shoulders losing mass, his frame returning to its former slim, unassuming, slightly hairy build. The weight of Mark’s strong, sturdy body lifted from him, leaving him feeling… smaller. Weaker. Less. He hated the thought, but it was there, lingering at the edge of his mind.
But as Ethan staggered back, now looking up at Mark once more, an unexpected hollowness settled in his chest. He had told himself all weekend that this was temporary, that he wouldn’t get attached. But now, standing there, watching Mark easily reclaim his towering frame, he felt… small. And not just physically.
Mark’s breath hitched as the sensation began. It started at the very base of his spine, a low, tingling warmth that seemed to pulse outward, spreading like wildfire through his body. He could feel it, really feel it—the way his body was shifting, changing, becoming something else entirely. His hands instinctively went to his crotch, where the most intense part of the transformation was taking place.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his voice trembling with a mix of shock and exhilaration. His once modest cock was growing, stretching, filling in a way that made his head spin. The sensation was overwhelming—every nerve ending in his body seemed to light up at once. It was as if his entire being was being rewritten, reshaped by some unseen force.
The fabric of his jeans strained against his hips as his new size pressed against it, demanding space. Mark’s fingers fumbled with his belt, desperate to free himself, to see what was happening. When he finally managed to unbutton his jeans and pull them down, he gasped.
There it was.
His cock, now thick and heavy, lay against his thigh, pulsing with a newfound intensity. The veins along its length stood out in stark relief, the sheer size of it almost unbelievable. He couldn’t help but reach out, his fingers trembling as he wrapped them around it. The sensation of his own grip was electric, sending a jolt of pleasure up his spine. His breath came in short, shallow gasps as he marveled at the transformation.
The shift continued, creeping up to their necks. Ethan felt his Adam’s apple retreat slightly, his throat slimming down, his voice box adjusting. He let out a small sound, and immediately, it was different—higher, softer. His heart sank. He had gotten used to Mark’s deep, rich voice, the way it carried weight, how people listened when he spoke. Now, he was back to his normal voice—fine, but lacking the same presence. Meanwhile, Mark rolled his shoulders as his throat thickened, his Adam’s apple becoming more pronounced once more. He instinctively let out a small grunt, and the sound was deep, smooth, confident. It should’ve felt like coming home… so why did he feel like something was missing?
Then came their faces. Ethan winced as his sharp, chiseled features softened, his strong jawline retreating back into its normal, more rounded form. The light dusting of stubble he had admired all weekend vanished, leaving only the sparse, fine scruff he was used to. His black hair lightened, strands shifting back to his usual light brown. He swallowed the bitter taste of disappointment, glancing up at Mark—his body—one last time before his vision blurred and settled again.
Mark, meanwhile, felt his face reshape, his jaw sharpening, his features returning to their usual, striking form. The short, neat cut of his dark hair returned, styled just as he always kept it. His lips parted as he took in the final details of his restored form, flexing his fingers, rolling his shoulders, adjusting to the return of his familiar frame. And yet… his stomach twisted. He looked at Ethan—shorter, leaner, back to his usual self—and felt something he refused to name.
Then Ethan lifted an arm, and his breath hitched. His armpit hair had lightened back to its usual shade—a soft, unimposing light brown. Worse, the scent was gone. Over the weekend, he had been steeped in Mark’s natural musk, strong and masculine. Now? He barely smelled like anything at all. He swallowed, an uncomfortable thought creeping in: I feel… less like a man. He knew it was ridiculous, but it gnawed at him. That strength, that presence, that raw, physical confidence—it was gone, and he hated that he missed it.
Mark, on the other hand, caught a whiff of himself and grimaced. His underarms were back to their usual coarse, dark black, the scent strong, musky, overpowering. He wrinkled his nose, suddenly hyper-aware of the difference. He had spent the weekend smelling cleaner, lighter, and while he had initially mocked it, now… now he felt almost self-conscious. He quickly shook the thought away. This was how he was supposed to be. This was his body. Right?
They stood in silence for a moment, both adjusting, both forcing smiles.
Mark forced a grin and clapped Ethan’s back. “Well, that was fun,” he said, his voice carrying its usual confident weight.
Ethan nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. Yeah, it was.” His tone was casual, light. But inside, he was screaming.
Neither of them said what they were really thinking. Neither of them admitted they weren’t ready to let go.
-
The room had fallen into a heavy silence after the swap. They were back in their rightful bodies. That was supposed to feel good, wasn’t it? Ethan clenched his hands at his sides, feeling how much smaller his fingers were again, how his palms lacked the rough calluses he had grown accustomed to. He caught himself stealing a glance at Mark, at the way his large, muscular frame filled out his clothes effortlessly. His broad shoulders, his defined arms, the easy way he carried himself—it was a presence Ethan had gotten used to having for himself. Now, he was just Ethan again. Plain, skinny, unimposing Ethan. He tried to shake off the feeling.
Mark was feeling something eerily similar. His eyes flickered toward Ethan, at how much shorter he was, how lean his frame had returned to being. Yet, there was something effortless about it, something… freeing. Mark had spent his whole life training, maintaining his physique, dealing with the expectations that came with his size and strength. Being in Ethan’s body had been strange at first, but by the end, it had felt like he had been unshackled from a weight he didn’t even know he was carrying. He caught himself staring and quickly turned away. No. This was his body. This was who he was. He should be glad to be back.
Both men forced casual conversation, pretending everything was fine. But when they went their separate ways for the night, they each found themselves facing something they weren’t prepared for.
Ethan stood in front of the bathroom mirror, his fingers tracing over his jawline—softer, less pronounced than Mark’s. He ran a hand through his light brown hair, missing the darker, heavier locks he had briefly owned. His hands trailed down his arms, feeling the lack of defined muscle, the smaller shape of his wrists. He hesitated before lifting his shirt, his stomach nowhere near as sculpted as it had been before. His chest, narrow and flat, lacked the broadness he had come to love. It was like waking up from the best dream of his life only to realize reality could never compare. He let out a breath, stepping away. It didn’t matter. This was him. He had to accept it… right?
Mark stood in his own dorm’s shower, letting the water cascade down his body. He scrubbed at his arms, his chest, his legs, but he couldn’t wash away the strange discomfort settling inside him. His body was big again, strong, just as it always had been. But after a weekend of feeling lighter, more flexible, not constantly weighed down by muscle and bulk, it felt… suffocating. He exhaled slowly, pressing his hands against the shower wall, letting the steam cloud his vision. He was Mark again. That was what he wanted. So why did it feel like he had lost something?
The next morning, neither of them brought it up. They both threw themselves into their usual routines, pretending everything was back to normal.
Mark found himself sitting in class, foot tapping impatiently. The material felt too easy, too slow. Over the weekend, Ethan’s mind had processed things differently—quicker, sharper. It had been exhilarating, a different kind of strength and he seemed to still have the sharper mind he had when he was in Ethan’s body.
When practice rolled around, Mark expected to feel the same rush he always did. But as he ran drills, lifted weights, and pushed his body to its limits, something felt… off. It wasn’t that he wasn’t performing well—he was. His strength was back, his endurance solid. But the thrill of it wasn’t hitting the same way. He found his eyes drifting toward the stands, where Ethan was watching, an unreadable look on his face.
Ethan had struggled through his morning classes. The numbers, the equations—things that had come to him so easily before but now felt like an uphill battle. He hated it. He hated how much smaller he felt in his chair, how people barely noticed him like they had before. At lunch, he made a decision. If he couldn’t have Mark’s body, he would do everything he could to make his own better.
That afternoon, Ethan walked into the gym. It was intimidating at first—the towering machines, the heavy weights, the guys twice his size grunting through reps. Normally, he would’ve turned back. But he had been strong once. He had felt it, lived it. He refused to let that feeling go. He started small, sticking to exercises he knew Mark did. He struggled, his muscles burning quicker than he expected, but he pushed through. He had to. Because even if he was back in his own body, he wasn’t willing to let go of what he had felt.
Later, he found himself watching Mark at practice. He wasn’t just admiring—he was analyzing. The way Mark moved, the decisions he made, the power in his stance. Before, Ethan would’ve just seen it as football. Now, he saw what he could have done if he had still been in that body. He caught himself thinking, I would’ve run that play differently. I would’ve done better. He shook his head. No. That wasn’t his place. But the thought didn’t leave him.
Neither of them spoke about it. Not that night. Not the next day. But the feeling lingered, gnawing at them. They were back in their rightful bodies. Then why did it feel so wrong?
Late at night, in the dim glow of their shared dorm room, Mark sat on his bed, his head resting against the wall, staring at the ceiling. Ethan was at his desk, pretending to read, but his eyes weren’t moving over the words. They had been like this for a while—lost in their own thoughts, too afraid to speak aloud what they both felt.
Finally, Mark exhaled heavily. “Something’s wrong with us, dude.”
Ethan turned his chair slightly to face him. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I thought it was just, you know, some weird aftereffect of the swap. But it’s been days.”
Mark shifted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I keep waiting for things to go back to normal. To feel normal. But…” He trailed off, unable to find the right words.
Ethan nodded. “I know what you mean.” There was a pause, then a quiet chuckle. “It’s stupid, right? We should be happy we got our bodies back.”
“Yeah,” Mark agreed, but the word felt hollow. He stared at his hands, flexing them. They were his hands—big, strong, calloused from years of football. But somehow, they didn’t feel right anymore. He didn’t feel right.
The days dragged on, but that lingering sense of wrongness never faded. And then, one day, Mark made a mistake.
“Hey, Mark, can you—” Mark stopped mid-sentence, realizing his slip. His stomach twisted.
Ethan turned to him, eyes wide. “You… you just called me Mark.”
Mark winced. “Shit. I didn’t mean—”
“No,” Ethan interrupted. He took a deep breath, then said, “I liked it.”
Mark stared at him. “You did?”
Ethan hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. I don’t know why, but… it felt right. Just for a second.”
Mark let that sink in. Then, slowly, he said, “What if… what if we just do it? Just in here. Call each other by the other’s name when we’re alone.”
Ethan’s heart pounded and his groin felt buzzed, but he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s do that.”
And so they did. At first, it was just an experiment, a little game they played behind closed doors. But it became more than that. It became habit. It became comfortable.
Then, a few days later, Ethan frowned as he stood in front of his closet. His usual wardrobe—loose hoodies, skinny jeans, graphic tees—suddenly felt… wrong. Off. He picked up one of his shirts and turned to Mark, hesitating before speaking. “Hey… can I borrow some of your clothes?”
Mark raised an eyebrow. “Mine?”
“Yeah. I don’t know. These just don’t feel right anymore.”
Mark shrugged. “Go ahead, man.”
Ethan slipped into one of Mark’s t-shirts—a simple, fitted athletic tee—and it felt better. He turned in the mirror, noting how it clung to his frame, how it carried Mark’s scent. He liked it.
But soon, Mark started feeling the same way about his own wardrobe. The baggy sweatpants, the well-worn football jerseys, the compression shorts—none of it felt good. One evening, he hesitated before pulling one of Ethan’s sweaters off the hanger and slipping it on. It was softer, cozier. It smelled like Ethan. And it felt right.
Their closets blurred as they both started borrowing more and more. Eventually, they weren’t even asking. They were just taking.
Then, one night, Mark hesitated again before speaking. “Hey… I got another weird request.”
Ethan turned to him, curious. “What is it?”
Mark rubbed the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. “I… I don’t like my bed. It smells like me. And I don’t like my smell anymore.”
Ethan’s breath hitched. “You want to swap beds?”
Mark nodded. “Yeah.”
Ethan swallowed, then nodded back. “Okay.”
They swapped beds that night, and for the first time in days, they both slept peacefully.
But it didn’t stop there.
Mark hesitated the next day before bringing up his final request. “What if… what if we swapped clothes, too? Not just from the closet. I mean… worn clothes. So we can, you know, smell like each other. Like we used to.”
Ethan’s pulse quickened. He didn’t even have to think. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, let’s do it.”
That night, Mark pulled on Ethan’s button-up shirt, the fabric already carrying his scent. Ethan tugged on one of Mark’s t-shirts, the musk thick and familiar. They settled into their swapped beds, breathing in each other’s scent, feeling more at ease than they had since returning to their original bodies.
Neither of them spoke, but in the quiet, they both knew the truth.
They didn’t want to go back.
They just wanted to be each other again.
It started small. Ethan, already borrowing Mark’s clothes, found himself reaching for more than just oversized hoodies and athletic joggers. His eyes lingered on Mark’s guitar, the sleek instrument resting in its stand, untouched since they had swapped back. At first, he only plucked a few strings, pretending it was just curiosity. But soon, he was playing more often, strumming absentmindedly as he lounged in Mark’s bed, sinking into the familiar but foreign scent of his former body.
Meanwhile, Mark had taken to Ethan’s bookshelf. He had never been much of a reader before, but there was something soothing about curling up in Ethan’s old bed, flipping through fantasy novels and sci-fi epics. He told himself it was a way to reconnect with his roommate, a way to understand him better, but deep down, he knew it was more than that. It was the comfort of familiarity—the feeling that he was reclaiming something that had been lost.
The exchange deepened. Ethan, once hesitant about the gym after the swap, now felt an itch he couldn’t shake. His body was weaker, smaller, and he hated it. He started using Mark’s gym equipment, struggling at first but determined to regain even a fraction of the strength he had once known. The weights were heavier than he remembered, his endurance lacking, but he pushed through, clinging to the memory of what it felt like to be powerful.
Mark, on the other hand, found himself at Ethan’s desk more often than his own. Ethan’s computer, complete with a high-end gaming setup, had become his new retreat. At first, he just watched streams, but soon he was logging in, playing Ethan’s favorite games, and even messaging Ethan’s online friends as if nothing had changed. However, he can’t use the mic cause Ethan’s friends would know that he’s actually Mark. Now, even though the games remained the same, he felt like an outsider in his own hobby.
The contrast was stark. Mark struggled at football practice, going through the motions but lacking the fire he once had. He found himself dreading the drills, the tackles, the weight of expectation that came with his original body. Ethan, watching from the stands, clenched his fists. He wanted to be the one out there, wanted to push himself, run drills, score points. He missed the rush, the sweat, the exhaustion that had once felt so natural.
Then came the dating profile. Mark had suggested it as a joke at first, but when Ethan hesitated and then agreed, it became real. Using Ethan’s pictures and name, Mark crafted a profile, carefully curating messages, making connections.
When he met Greg, it felt exciting, refreshing. They bonded over shared interests, and Mark felt seen in a way he hadn’t in a while. But when Greg suggested meeting in person, reality came crashing down.
Mark showed up to the date, nerves tight in his stomach. He had rehearsed his confession—how he was the one Greg had really been talking to—but the moment he sat down, Greg’s expression shifted. It wasn’t the same warmth, the same excitement. Greg wasn’t interested in him. He was interested in Ethan—the Ethan from the pictures, the Ethan who Mark had pretended to be.
The realization hit like a punch to the gut. Mark forced a smile and lied. “Ethan couldn’t make it,” he said, ignoring the hollow feeling in his chest as Greg’s disappointment settled in. The evening was over before it had even begun.
That was the final straw. Mark immediately returned to the dorm, his heart pounding. He found Ethan at his desk, fiddling through Mark’s phone, and without hesitation, he spoke the words neither of them had dared to say since the swap ended.
“I want to switch back.”
Ethan’s shoulders sagged with sheer relief the moment Mark suggested swapping bodies again. The tension that had been simmering inside him for weeks melted away, replaced by a deep, visceral yearning to be back where he belonged. “You have no idea how badly I wanted this,” he admitted, voice almost breathless.
Mark let out a dry chuckle, running a hand through his hair. “Dude, I’ve been dying over here. I feel like I’ve been acting every single day since we switched back.” He glanced at Ethan—at himself—at the body he missed so much. “Let’s do it. Right now.”
They didn’t hesitate. They all but lunged for each other’s clothes, stripping off their current clothes with eager hands and swapping them out for the other’s. Mark shimmied into one of Ethan’s T-shirt, breathing in its clean, light scent, while Ethan pulled on one of Mark’s musky jerseys, reveling in the deep, masculine odor that clung to the fabric. Both men, as if synchronized, lifted the collars of their shirts to their noses, inhaling deeply, drinking in the scent of the body they so desperately wanted to reclaim.
Ethan exhaled shakily. “God, this feels so right.”
Mark nodded, practically giddy, fumbling to pull the medallion from its box. “Then let’s stop wasting time.” Their hands grasped the cold metal together, fingers shaking not with hesitation but with anticipation. They locked eyes, no longer pretending this wasn’t what they both wanted. Then, together, they chanted the incantation.
Mark took a deep breath and began the incantation:
“I, Mark Christopher Bennett, wish to swap bodies with Ethan Daniel Graves.”
The medallion pulsed. Ethan immediately responded.
“I, Ethan Daniel Graves, wish to swap bodies with Mark Christopher Bennett.”
Mark kept going, his voice steady:
“I, Mark Christopher Bennett, accept Ethan Graves’ body as my own.”
Ethan swallowed hard, following suit.
“I, Ethan Daniel Graves, accept Mark Bennett’s body as my own.”
The warmth turned into something hotter, something that crawled through their veins. Their skin tingled, their muscles tightened, and the medallion itself grew almost unbearably warm.
Then, together, they spoke the final line:
Mark: “I am Ethan Graves, and he is Mark Christopher Bennett.”
Ethan: “I am Mark Bennett, and he is Ethan Daniel Graves.”
The medallion flared to life, golden light spilling from its surface, wrapping around them in tendrils of energy. A deep pulse reverberated through their bones, starting at their cores and stretching outward. The shift was immediate—rapid, intoxicating, perfect.
Ethan felt his body expand and strengthen, his feet widening, muscles thickening, and his stance shifting as he regained Mark’s powerful physique. The transformation surged through him, filling his frame with the familiar weight and strength he had missed, sending a shuddering thrill through his core. Mark, meanwhile, trembled as his body shrank, his muscular bulk dissolving into Ethan’s leaner form. Instead of resisting, he embraced it, reveling in the newfound lightness and precision of his smaller frame
As the transformation reached their underarms, Ethan inhaled deeply, shivering with satisfaction as his thick, dark hairs and potent musk returned, grounding him in his true, masculine form. Mark, in contrast, sighed in relief as his armpit hair lightened, his scent softening into something fresher, more comfortable. Their voices followed suit—Ethan’s deep, commanding timbre rumbled through his chest, while Mark’s returned to its lighter, casual tone, both of them reveling in the familiarity. Finally, their faces reshaped—Ethan’s jaw sharpened, his stubble reappearing as he smirked at his own reflection, while Mark’s features softened, his hair lightening to its natural shade. As they stared at themselves, a shared sense of euphoria settled between them—this was right.
They were finally back.
Ethan flexed his arms again, rolling his shoulders, letting out a laugh that was half relief, half exhilaration. “God, I feel amazing.”
Mark mirrored the motion, stretching his more nimble frame, his grin splitting wider. “Dude, this is exactly how we’re supposed to be.”
They locked eyes, their bodies thrumming with satisfaction, with rightness. The pretending was over. This was where they belonged. But then, the new Ethan immediately said goodbye to the new Mark and left to see Greg. This gave the new Mark some privacy to enjoy being his true self.
“Fuck yes,” Mark groaned, his voice low and husky as he stood in front of the mirror, his hands roaming over his own body. His reflection stared back at him, every inch of his muscular frame glistening under the dim light of his dorm room. He couldn’t believe it. He was back. His broad shoulders, his chiseled abs, his thick, veiny arms—everything was exactly as it should be. He flexed his bicep, watching the muscle ripple under his skin, and a satisfied grin spread across his face. “I’m Mark again. Finally.”
It had been a nightmare. A fucking nightmare. One minute, he was just a college jock, living his best life, the star of the football team, the envy of every guy on campus. Next, he was trapped in the body of a nerd even though this nerdy body used to be his own. He’d felt like a prisoner in his own skin, every day a reminder of what he’d lost. But now? Now he was back. And he wasn’t wasting a single second.
Mark’s hands moved down his chest, his fingertips brushing over the hard ridges of his abs. He shivered, the sensation electric. It had been so long since he’d felt like this. His cock twitched, already half-hard just from the thrill of being in his own body again. He let out a breathy laugh, his eyes still locked on his reflection. “God, I missed this,” he whispered, his voice trembling with need. “Missed me.”
His hands trailed lower, over the coarse hair that led down to his cock. He was huge. Always had been. Even soft, he was impressive, but now? Now he was rock hard, his length straining against his stomach. He wrapped his fist around himself, his breath hitching at the contact. “Fuck,” he hissed, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. It had been ages since he’d felt this good. Ages since he’d been able to touch himself and feel like himself.
Mark’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he stroked himself, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. But he couldn’t keep his eyes off his reflection for long. He wanted to see himself. Wanted to watch every muscle flex and twitch as he pleasured himself. Wanted to see the way his cock throbbed in his hand, the way his abs tightened with every stroke. He was obsessed. With his body. With himself.
His other hand moved up to his chest, his fingers pinching and twisting one of his nipples. He let out a low moan, his head falling back for a moment before he forced himself to look back at the mirror. He wanted to feel it all. Every inch of himself. From the tops of his broad shoulders down to the tips of his toes. He wanted to know he was back. Wanted to know this was real.
Mark’s hand slid up to his face, his fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw. He was handsome. God, he was handsome. The kind of guy that turned heads wherever he went. He’d always known it, but now? Now he felt it. He felt everything. His skin was on fire, every touch sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body. He was alive. And he wasn’t stopping.
His hand moved to his armpit, the coarse hair tickling his palm. He’d always loved his armpits. They were manly. Masculine. Everything about him screamed alpha male, and his armpits were no exception. He inhaled deeply, the musky scent of his own sweat making his cock throb in his hand. “Fuck,” he groaned, his hips bucking forward as he stroked himself faster. “Fuck, I’m so hard.”
Mark’s eyes locked onto his reflection, his gaze intense as he watched himself fall apart. His muscles were flexed, his body taut with pleasure. His breath was coming in short, shallow gasps, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He was close. So fucking close. And he wasn’t holding back.
“I’m Mark,” he growled, his voice low and guttural. “I’m Mark. And I’m not letting go of this body ever again.” His hand moved faster, his strokes rough and desperate. He could feel the heat building in his gut, the pressure coiling tight. He was so close. So fucking close.
His eyes fluttered shut as he came, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm. “Fuck!” he shouted, his voice raw and ragged. His cock pulsed in his hand, streams of cum shooting onto his chest and stomach. He kept stroking himself, milking every last drop of pleasure from his body. He was fucking wrecked. And he loved it.
Mark’s legs gave out, and he collapsed onto his bed, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He was still hard, his cock twitching as he lay there, his cum cooling on his skin. He couldn’t stop smiling. He was Mark.
Ethan’s heart pounded as he stared at his phone—missed call. Panicked, he sprinted back to the restaurant, dialing Greg.
Greg answered on the second ring. “Ethan. You stood me up.”
“I’m so sorry,” Ethan blurted. “I panicked. But I want to make it up to you. Please.”
A pause. Ethan held his breath.
“You’ve got one shot,” Greg said. “Thirty minutes.”
“I’ll be there.”
When Ethan arrived, Greg was at a corner table, broader and more imposing than he remembered. That confident smile made Ethan’s stomach flip.
“You made it,” Greg said smoothly. “Sit.”
Ethan obeyed, apologizing with a half-truth. Greg’s gaze was steady, unreadable. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”
The conversation flowed, Greg’s teasing easing Ethan’s nerves. By the time they left, Ethan was laughing freely.
As they walked, Greg’s hand brushed his. A spark shot through Ethan. Greg noticed, smirking.
At his car, Greg’s voice dropped. “Two options—I take you home, or…” He stepped closer, eyes flickering to Ethan’s lips.
Ethan’s breath caught. “Or what?”
Greg leaned in. “Or you come back to my place.”
Ethan’s mouth went dry. This is happening. Oh my God, this is actually happening. “Your place,” he said quickly, his voice barely above a whisper.
Greg’s smile widened. “Good choice.”
Greg’s apartment was exactly what Ethan expected—clean, modern, and masculine. The couch looked like it had never been sat on, and there were dumbbells scattered around the living room. Of course Greg had a home gym.
“You drink?” Greg asked, heading to the kitchen.
“Uh, yeah. Sure.” Ethan hovered awkwardly by the couch, unsure of what to do with himself.
Greg returned with two glasses of whiskey, handing one to Ethan. “Cheers.”
They clinked glasses, and Ethan took a cautious sip. The alcohol burned his throat, but it did little to calm his nerves. Greg’s presence was overwhelming—everything about him was big, from his broad chest to his deep voice to the way he filled the room.
Greg set his glass down and turned to Ethan, his expression serious now. “You sure about this?”
Ethan nodded quickly. Too quickly. “Yes. I’m sure.”
Greg stepped closer, crowding Ethan’s space. “You’re not gonna chicken out on me again, are you?”
“No,” Ethan breathed, his heart racing. “I promise.”
Greg’s hand came up to cup Ethan’s face, his thumb brushing over his cheek. “Good.” His voice was soft now, almost tender. “Because I’ve been thinking about this all night.”
And then he kissed him.
It was slow at first, teasing—Greg’s lips brushing against Ethan’s, testing, exploring. But then Ethan made a small, desperate noise in the back of his throat, and Greg’s hand tightened in his hair, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, turning hungry, and Ethan felt like the ground was falling out from under him.
Greg’s tongue slipped into his mouth, and Ethan moaned, his hands clutching at Greg’s shirt. God, he’s good at this. Everything about Greg was overwhelming—his size, his strength, the way he seemed to know exactly what Ethan wanted.
When Greg finally pulled away, Ethan was dizzy, his lips swollen and his chest heaving. “Bedroom,” Greg murmured, his voice rough with want.
Ethan nodded, too breathless to speak. Greg took his hand, leading him down the hall, and Ethan’s knees felt like jelly. This is really happening. I’m really about to—
Greg pushed open the bedroom door and turned to Ethan, his eyes dark with desire. “You’re mine tonight.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yours,” Ethan whispered, his voice trembling.
Greg’s hands were on him then, pulling off his shirt and tossing it aside. His fingers traced over Ethan’s chest, his touch firm but gentle. “You’re so fucking perfect,” Greg murmured, his voice low and husky. “Such a good boy for me.”
Ethan whimpered at the praise, his body trembling under Greg’s hands. God, I’ve never wanted anyone like this. He felt small, vulnerable, and he loved it. Greg’s strength, his confidence—it made Ethan feel safe, cherished.
Greg’s lips found his neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin, and Ethan gasped, his hands clutching at Greg’s shoulders. “Greg, please—”
“What do you want, baby?” Greg’s voice was a low growl against his skin. “Tell me.”
“You,” Ethan breathed. “I want you.”
Greg smirked against his neck. “Good answer,” he said, his hands sliding down to Ethan’s waist. “Now let’s see how much you can take.”
-
Their final year in college was a testament to how perfectly they had settled into their new roles. Though they never spoke of the swap outside the safety of their dorm room, they both felt it in their bones—this was who they were meant to be.
Ethan—now Mark—thrived on the field. He had long since adapted to the routine of grueling workouts, early morning drills, and team camaraderie. He loved the way his body felt—strong, powerful, capable. There was a unique satisfaction in feeling his biceps flex after an intense lifting session or catching his reflection in the gym mirrors and seeing broad shoulders and thick muscle where once there had been none. He even grew out a mustache, enjoying the way it added a new edge to his rugged face. He relished in his musk, embracing the heady scent of sweat and testosterone that clung to him after practice. It was his now, and he wouldn't trade it for anything.
Of course, he couldn't let Ethan—now in his old body—slack off. More than once, he’d poke fun at him, ruffling his soft brown hair and jokingly calling him “tiny” whenever Ethan struggled to reach something on a high shelf. "C'mon, man, you used to be a beast! You can't just let yourself wither away now."
Ethan—now fully comfortable as the smaller, bookish one—would groan in protest but always gave in. He still hated lifting weights, but a part of him enjoyed how much Mark cared. The teasing was never mean-spirited, just another way they had grown closer. So, begrudgingly, Ethan let himself be dragged to the gym every now and then, if only to humor Mark.
Despite the change in physique and interests, Ethan remained true to himself. He poured himself into his studies, reveling in his engineering courses and his love for Dungeons & Dragons. The biggest difference now was that he could fully embrace his sexuality without fear. He and Greg grew closer, and for the first time in his life, he felt comfortable bringing someone home for the holidays. Ethan’s family, far more accepting than Mark’s had been, welcomed Greg with open arms. It was a relief—a confirmation that in this new life, he could finally be himself in every way that mattered.
Mark, meanwhile, was thriving in ways he hadn’t expected. His love for physical activity only grew, but he also found himself enjoying the things Ethan had once held dear. He still read books—though now they were sports biographies or novels about perseverance and ambition. He found a surprising enjoyment in quiet evenings, even if he no longer had the patience for intricate role-playing games. He also found love in an unexpected place, meeting a girl who challenged him in all the right ways. She adored his playful arrogance, his athleticism, and the way he could make her laugh. For the first time in a long while, he felt genuinely content going as far as going on trips with her.
Graduation day was a culmination of all their efforts, and they couldn’t have been prouder of each other. Ethan, now a decorated graduate with honors, walked across the stage to receive his medal for academic achievement, the crowd applauding his hard work and intellect. Mark, standing tall in his cap and gown, received his own medal—not for academics, but for the championship game that had sealed his legacy in the school’s football history.
After the ceremony, they found each other in the chaos of excited graduates and proud families. Mark—now Ethan—held up his medal with a proud grin. "Guess I'm the nerd now, huh?"
Ethan—now Mark—chuckled and twirled his own medal between his fingers. "And I’m the jock. Feels right, doesn’t it?"
They shared a knowing look, an unspoken agreement between them. This was where they belonged. They had stopped questioning it long ago. They weren’t just pretending anymore. They were exactly who they were always meant to be.
Parecía un día cualquiera. Nada fuera de lo normal para la humanidad… o eso creíamos.
Yo era estudiante universitario y, en mis ratos libres, escribía historias de body swap para mi blog. De hecho, mi última historia había sido un éxito entre mis lectores, así que ya trabajaba en la siguiente, titulada "La ciudad donde todo enloqueció". La idea era simple, pero atrapante: una ciudad entera donde, de forma inexplicable, todos los humanos cambiaban de cuerpo, edad y vida con alguien más. Así, sin aviso, como si fuera una lotería al azar. Nadie sabía con quién iba a despertar.
Lo que más me emocionaba de esa historia era que los protagonistas estaban inspirados en mis amigos más cercanos: Emilio, Alejandra, Daniela... y yo mismo. Les cambié los nombres en la ficción, pero estaban basados totalmente en ellos.
En mi historia, cada uno terminaba en un cuerpo masculino diferente. Yo admito que mi fascinación por los intercambios de cuerpo viene desde siempre, sobre todo por la idea de despertar en el cuerpo de un adulto. Muchas de mis historias seguían ese patrón: un joven que, de repente, vive en un cuerpo mayor, más maduro, más imponente… como en mis sueños.
Emilio, en la vida real, era el típico deportista: jugaba en la liga de fútbol de la universidad, era ruidoso, heteronormado, y con un humor que muchas veces rozaba lo ofensivo. Siempre hablaba de chicas, como si eso lo definiera. En la historia, su personaje terminaba en un cuerpo y vida opuestos a los que conocía. Era mi forma de hacerle ver el mundo desde otra perspectiva.
Alejandra era más reservada. No hablábamos tanto, pero sabía de sus problemas con su novio. Por eso, en mi historia, ella terminaba en el cuerpo de alguien que representaba todo lo que siempre había buscado en una pareja.
Daniela, por su parte, era víctima constante de burlas. Un tipo del cuarto semestre, Diego Campos, se la pasaba criticándola y humillándola, tanto en persona como en redes. Así que, en mi historia, su personaje —llamado Alexa— despertaba en el cuerpo de su propio agresor. Una especie de justicia poética.
Ya llevaba medio capítulo escrito cuando todo empezó… y fue justo mientras almorzábamos juntos en la cafetería.
De repente, las pantallas de los celulares y las televisiones empezaron a mostrar mensajes de alerta. En todas partes la gente comentaba, confundida, sobre algo llamado “El gran cambio”. Algunos lo decían como si fuera el fin del mundo.
—¿Qué está pasando? —preguntó Daniela, mirando a todos lados.
Nadie tenía idea. Emilio, como siempre, soltó un chiste tonto:
—Si despierto con cuerpo de mujer, al menos que tenga buenos pechos —dijo riéndose solo.
Alejandra solo puso los ojos en blanco mientras seguía escuchando música con sus audífonos. Intentaba no entrar en pánico, aunque se notaba que estaba preocupada.
Las noticias hablaban de un fenómeno mundial. La gente estaba siendo transferida, literalmente, a cuerpos ajenos. Algunos comparaban el suceso con cambiarse de celular: la conciencia era la misma, pero el “dispositivo” era otro. Podías despertar siendo hombre, mujer, joven o viejo… y nadie tenía control sobre eso.
De pronto, la transmisión se cortó. En su lugar, comenzó a sonar una pieza instrumental de orquesta, casi como una marcha fúnebre. Fue entonces que lo supe: lo que escribía como ficción se estaba volviendo realidad… pero no solo en una ciudad, sino en todo el planeta.
Algunas personas comenzaron a correr. Otras hablaban por teléfono con familiares, llorando, como si fuera la última vez que iban a escucharlos. Muchos empezaban a despedirse, sin saber qué pasaría después del cambio.
Nosotros tratamos de mantener la calma. Emilio seguía diciendo tonterías, Alejandra discutía con él por sus comentarios absurdos, y Daniela y yo éramos los únicos que realmente entendíamos la magnitud de lo que estaba pasando. Profesores y estudiantes empezaron a desmayarse, tomándose la cabeza, quejándose de dolores intensos.
Emilio fue el primero en colapsar. Cayó al suelo con violencia, lo que nos dejó en shock. Intentamos pedir ayuda, pero ya quedaba poco personal disponible. Alejandra fue la siguiente. Intentó hablar, pedir auxilio, pero el cambio la atrapó.
Daniela me tomó del brazo y me arrastró hacia la salida. Intentábamos escapar, pero sabíamos que era inútil. Ella se desmayó antes de llegar a la puerta de emergencia, golpeándose la cabeza al caer.
Yo corrí hacia la calle, buscando aire, ayuda… lo que fuera. Pero solo vi cuerpos tirados en el suelo, como si estuviera en medio de una película apocalíptica. Y entonces me pasó.
Un dolor de cabeza insoportable. Nunca había sentido algo así. Mareo. Náuseas. Vómito. La realidad se volvió confusa, distorsionada… como si mi cuerpo ya no pudiera sostener mi alma.
Caí.
Narrador:
En la acera, un celular seguía grabando. La pantalla mostraba el último boletín de noticias antes del colapso:
"El cambio universal ha comenzado. Si estás leyendo esto… es probable que ya no seas quien crees ser."
Prespectiva Alan:
Volví en mí lentamente. Un zumbido agudo llenaba mis oídos, y mi vista estaba borrosa… justo como tantas veces lo había descrito en mis historias. Me resultaba inquietante lo real que se sentía todo.
La imagen se fue aclarando poco a poco. Vi una luz amarilla, como de focos LED, y un techo oscuro. No estaba en mi casa. Ni siquiera parecía un lugar conocido. Era más bien algún espacio público.
El zumbido comenzó a desvanecerse, y entonces escuché un anuncio de Spotify seguido de una canción en inglés: "Somebody That I Used To Know". Irónico. Una canción sobre identidad perdida mientras yo intentaba asimilar quién era ahora.
Seguía acostado. Al moverme, noté que estaba sobre un piso firme, como de un gimnasio. Me rodeaban máquinas para hacer ejercicio. Entonces lo entendí: estaba en un lugar para entrenar, y ese cuerpo… no era el mío.
Recordé la última imagen que tenía antes del desmayo: mi cuerpo colapsando en plena calle durante el caos del “Cambio Universal”.
—¿Dónde estoy? ¿Quién soy ahora? —pensé, sintiendo una ansiedad brutal.
Sabía algo con certeza: no quería despertar en un cuerpo femenino. No por rechazo, sino porque siempre había soñado con habitar un cuerpo masculino, adulto, fuerte. Quería experimentar lo que nunca tuve en el mío.
Miré hacia abajo. Llevaba puestos unos pants negros, tenis deportivos y una camiseta blanca sin mangas. Todo indicaba que había cambiado con alguien atlético. Por la forma de las prendas y la complexión, definitivamente era el cuerpo de un hombre.
No podía concentrarme con la música sonando. Me moría de curiosidad por explorar el cuerpo que ahora habitaba.
Me incorporé con dificultad. El cambio de postura me permitió ver más: manos grandes, brazos fuertes y marcados por venas. En la mano derecha tenía un tatuaje. Aquel cuerpo era musculoso, y sin duda, poderoso. Todo lo que había imaginado en mis historias.
Frente a mí había un espejo. Me acerqué y ahí lo vi: un hombre de mediana edad, bien cuidado, sin barba ni bigote. Atractivo. Fuerte. Imponente. Sonreí al reconocerlo como mi nueva realidad.
Me puse de pie. Cada paso me costaba un poco; el cuerpo pesaba más de lo que estaba acostumbrado. Calculé que debía medir alrededor de 1.80 metros y pesar unos 80 kilos de puro músculo. Me costaba equilibrarme, pero era emocionante. Miré a mi alrededor: el gimnasio estaba vacío. Tal vez todos habían huido… menos el hombre con el que había intercambiado.
¿Quién era él? ¿Cómo se llamaba?
Pasé mis manos por el rostro… por el torso… por el abdomen. Sentí un six-pack perfectamente definido.
—Uff —solté sin querer, sorprendido, mientras escuchaba mi nueva voz: más grave, más firme. Muy distinta a la que tenía antes.
No había nadie. Y aunque lo hubiera, la situación era tan caótica que lo último que a alguien le importaría sería lo que yo hacía. Me aseguré de estar solo. Me quité la camiseta. Ahí estaban, a plena vista, los años de esfuerzo del dueño original. Su cuerpo era ahora el mío.
Pasé mis manos por el abdomen otra vez. Me sentía eufórico, nervioso… incluso un poco excitado. Sonreí. Y justo en ese momento, algo vibró en el bolsillo del pants. Era un celular.
Lo saqué. Un iPhone.
Lo desbloqueé con Face ID. Funcionó de inmediato. Supuse que su dueño no había activado reconocimiento facial todavía. Revisé las notificaciones. Varias noticias hablaban del “Cambio Universal”, pero entre los mensajes de texto, una pista apareció: “Raúl”.
—Entonces te llamas Raúl, amigo —murmuré, usando por primera vez aquella nueva voz para nombrar mi nuevo nombre.
Busqué más. Su nombre completo era Raúl Othón. Soltero. 45 años. Empresario. Al menos seguía en México, según la ubicación del teléfono. Me sentí algo más tranquilo.
Volví a ponerme la camiseta y salí del gimnasio. Afuera, las calles estaban revueltas. La gente gritaba, lloraba, otros caminaban desorientados. Algunos corrían. Varios se abrazaban, como si el mundo fuera a acabarse.
Yo… honestamente, no le presté demasiada atención. Mi mente estaba con mi familia, con mis amigos. ¿Estarían bien? ¿Habrían cambiado también? ¿Y si todo esto fue culpa mía?
Aun así, no quise detenerme.
Fui al domicilio que aparecía en el GPS. Llegué al departamento de Raúl: moderno, elegante y en una de las mejores zonas de la ciudad. No tenía mascotas ni rastros de vida compartida. Era un hombre solo.
Me senté en la sala. Prendí la televisión. Todos los canales interrumpían su programación con reportajes sobre el "Cambio Universal". Sentía que necesitaba una ducha. No solo por el sudor, sino porque quería explorarme con calma… sin ropa. Y lo hice.
Esa fue, sin duda, una de las mejores duchas de mi vida.
Después, me puse ropa cómoda. Revisé el refrigerador. Raúl llevaba una alimentación balanceada. Preparé algo ligero, cuidando no descuidar la figura que ahora me pertenecía.
Me senté en el sillón, puse "Quisiera ser grande" en Netflix —una de mis películas favoritas— y me dejé llevar por la historia.
Pero en el fondo… solo pensaba en ellos: Emilio, Alejandra y Daniela.
¿Dónde estarían ahora? ¿Cómo habrían cambiado?
Yo… por mi parte, no podía estar más feliz.
Mi fantasía, esa que solo vivía en mis historias, se había hecho realidad.
Perspectiva Alejandra:
25 de agosto de 2023.
Un año y veintiún días después del Cambio Universal.
A veces todavía despierto con la sensación de que fue ayer.
El día que abrí los ojos en otro cuerpo fue lo más perturbador que he vivido. Recuerdo que lo primero que pedí, incluso antes de entender qué estaba pasando, fue algo simple: que siguiera siendo mujer. Era lo que conocía. Mi anatomía, mis ritmos, mis límites.
Claro… también había una curiosidad secreta.
¿Qué se sentiría despertar siendo hombre?
Pero esa idea siempre venía acompañada de rechazo. No sabía si podría soportarlo.
El universo no me dio opción.
Cuando recuperé la conciencia, estaba en una habitación que no reconocía. Me sentía más pesada, más alta. Mi voz —cuando intenté hablar— era grave. Profunda.
Corrí al espejo.
Y ahí estaba.
Un hombre de unos treinta y tantos. Alto. Ojos azul claro intensos. Cabello oscuro peinado hacia atrás con naturalidad. Mandíbula marcada. Barba perfectamente delineada. Hombros amplios. Pecho firme. Abdomen definido sin exageración, como el de alguien disciplinado.
No era un cuerpo viejo.
No era un cuerpo descuidado.
Era… atractivo.
Demasiado atractivo.
Supe por documentos y redes sociales que se llamaba Robert, modelo radicado en Miami. Pasarelas. Campañas de perfumes. Trajes de diseñador. Una vida que parecía sacada de una revista.
No desperté en una panza cervecera.
No desperté en un hombre frustrado.
Desperté en un galán.
Y sí… lo admito: eso facilitó las cosas.
Los primeros meses fueron los más duros de mi vida. No sabía nada de mi familia. Nada de Alan. Nada de Daniela. Y mucho menos de Iker.
Intenté buscarlo por todos lados. Redes sociales, contactos antiguos, mensajes. Pero el mundo entero estaba reconstruyéndose. Las identidades eran un rompecabezas.
Adaptarme al cuerpo fue otro proceso.
El peso era distinto. La masa muscular también. Aprender a afeitarme sin cortarme. Descubrir cómo funcionaba mi nueva voz. Acostumbrarme al olor natural del cuerpo masculino después de entrenar. Las erecciones matutinas que aparecían sin pedir permiso y que al principio me parecían incómodas… y luego simplemente parte de la rutina.
No voy a mentir: hubo días en los que me sentí invadida.
Pero también hubo días en los que me sentí poderosa.
Tenía fuerza. Resistencia. Podía entrenar sin agotarme. Comer bien, incluso darme gustos, sin que mi cuerpo lo resentiera igual. No más cólicos. No más calendario hormonal marcando mi humor.
Con el tiempo, me uní a grupos de apoyo. Personas que también estaban aprendiendo a vivir en otra piel. Escuchar sus historias me ayudó a aceptar la mía.
La regla tácita del nuevo mundo era simple:
Si despertabas en el cuerpo de un médico, debías ejercer.
Si eras estudiante, volver a estudiar.
Si eras bombero, volver al fuego.
Robert era modelo.
Y yo decidí serlo.
Adopté el nombre Robert Alejandro. Una forma de no perderme del todo.
Hoy, en presente, puedo decir que mi vida profesional va bien.
Las campañas, las sesiones, las miradas en los castings. Descubrí que caminar en una pasarela no es solo postureo: es seguridad. Es ocupar espacio.
En el grupo de apoyo, una persona comentó que estaba rehaciendo su vida aunque antes llevaba años casada.
Esa frase me golpeó.
Yo seguía revisando el Instagram de Iker. Obsesivamente. Hasta que un día vi que quien habitaba su cuerpo parecía haber empezado una nueva relación.
Ese día entendí algo: yo también tenía derecho a empezar de cero.
Esa tarde descargué aplicaciones de citas. Tinder. Y sí… Grindr.
Mi sexualidad empezó a moverse en direcciones que antes no me permitía explorar. Siempre me gustaron los hombres. Pero ahora, extrañamente, también me atraían las mujeres desde otra perspectiva. Más física. Más directa.
Subí fotos cuidadas. Elegantes. Algunas más atrevidas, mostrando el torso definido, la mirada intensa.
Los mensajes no tardaron en llegar.
En Grindr, un usuario llamado Rodrigo empezó a hablarme. Vivía en el mismo edificio. La conversación fluyó con naturalidad. Y lo inesperado fue descubrir que él también había sido mujer antes del Cambio. Incluso había estudiado en mi universidad.
La ironía del universo nunca descansa.
Nos entendimos rápido. Había una complicidad distinta. Una curiosidad compartida.
Esa noche nos vimos.
No fue una escena impulsiva ni vacía. Fue más bien una exploración. Dos personas aprendiendo desde otro cuerpo. Sin etiquetas claras.
Con el tiempo nos volvimos cercanos. No pareja. Pero sí algo constante. Fiestas los fines de semana. Bares en Miami. Miradas que decían más de lo que hablábamos.
Yo seguía ligando. Con hombres y mujeres. A veces funcionaba. A veces no.
Hasta que una noche, en un club, una mujer rubia de ojos claros se me acercó. Tendría unos treinta años. Seguridad en su postura. Sonrisa tranquila.
—Soy Narea —me dijo.
Conectamos casi al instante. La conversación fluyó con una naturalidad que me desarmó.
Y entonces soltó algo que me dejó sin aire.
Su cuerpo anterior había sido el de un joven llamado Iker.
Sentí que el piso se movía.
—¿Iker Medellín? —pregunté casi en un susurro.
Me miró fijamente.
—¿Eres tú… amor?
Un año sin saber nada el uno del otro. Nos abrazamos en medio del ruido del lugar. Fue extraño. Familiar. Doloroso y reconfortante al mismo tiempo.
Días después hablamos en un café, con calma.
Ambos habíamos cambiado. No solo de cuerpo. De mentalidad.
Acepté que ya no éramos los mismos. Y no le rogué que regresáramos. Fue él —ella ahora— quien insinuó que tal vez podríamos intentarlo de nuevo. Que quizá, si ahora yo era el hombre y él la mujer, todo sería distinto.
Lo intentamos.
Pero la relación se volvió abierta. Confusa. Yo seguía teniendo algo con Rodrigo. Y aunque quise creer que podía sostener ambas historias, entendí que no era justo.
Terminé con Narea.
Y me quedé con Rodrigo.
Siendo yo quien tomaba la iniciativa.
Descubriendo nuevas dinámicas. Nuevos límites.
Pensé que eso era todo.
Hasta que un día me llegó una solicitud de amistad en Facebook.
Un joven de apariencia delicada. Rasgos finos. Mirada intensa. Nombre: Charles.
TRANSFERÍ MI ALMA AL CUERPO DEL CHICO POPULAR DE MI PREPARATORIA
Yo era un chico regordete que siempre pasaba desapercibido en la preparatoria Halcones, realmente no me iba bien en mis notas, tampoco destacaba por los deportes, ya que siempre me escondía en los baños de los vestidores para evitar entrar a la clase de deportes. Y en mi hogar todo era casi igual o peor ya que vivía con mi padre, un hombre que realmente no le interesaba que, hacia su hijo, y mi madre, la cual siempre estaba en la sala de apuestas, gastando el dinero que conseguía vendiendo productos por catálogo. Pues verás mi vida es bastante monótona y sin sentido, ya que cuando llego a mi habitación, lo único que hago es pensar en el….
Está bien te contare lo que pasa todos los días por mi mente, hay un chico en mi preparatoria que es mejor a todos los demás, se llama Bryan, él es el típico chico popular que siempre está en la clase de deportes y es fanático de Marvel, pues siempre presumen en sus redes sus fotografías con un ajustado traje del hombre araña. Yo cruce unas cuantas palabras con él durante una clase de química, en donde el profesor nos designó como pareja para un experimento. El era algo tonto, pero muy tierno, y eso me encantó de él. En la preparatoria nadie sabía que yo era gay, y realmente yo nunca quise que todos se enteraran. Curiosamente para el experimento necesitábamos un poco de muestra de cabello humano, por lo que amablemente Bryan se ofreció a darnos un poco del suyo, ese fue el peor error que el pudo cometer.
Yo no me opuse para nada, y cuando lo vi cortando esos hermosos mechones dorados, yo me estremecí, cuando por fin me dio la muestra, procedimos a hacer el experimento para la clase, ese día nada mas paso, ya que todo transcurrió con normalidad. La clase de química por fin termino, a lo que Bryan sorprendentemente se despidió amablemente de mí. En mi cabeza pensé que el era el chico mas espectacular del universo. Por lo que admito que me empecé a obsesionar un poco con él jeje. Durante la clase de química que habíamos tenido aquel día, guarde un poco del mechón de Bryan, ya que era bastante y solo utilizamos un poco para el experimento, realmente esta era mi posesión más preciada, y no pensaba deshacerme de ese precioso mechón dorado de Bryan.
Los días pasaron y cuando llegaba la hora de las clases de química, era uno de los primeros en llegar, lo cual le parecía un poco raro al maestro, por que yo nunca llegaba temprano a su clase, pero no me importa, ya que no puedo perder el tiempo ya que es la única clase en la que puedo compartir la mesa de trabajo con Bryan, es mi parte favorita de mi día por lo que estas últimas semanas hemos hablado un poco más y creamos una pequeña amistad. No lo puedo creer el chico mas guapo de la preparatoria se está haciendo mi amigo.
El profesor de química nos ha pedido hacer un proyecto de elaborar un experimento nosotros mismos para presentárselo en la clase del lunes, por lo que obviamente toda la clase se quejo ya que les arruinaría el fin de semana, por lo que le dije a Bryan que si tenía algo que hacer no se preocupara, pues yo podía hacer el proyecto por que no tenia nada mejor que hacer, a lo que sorprendentemente me dijo que si quería ese mismo día podíamos hacerlo en su casa, a lo que yo fascinado acepte sin dudarlo, por lo que me dijo que llegara ahí a las siete de la tarde.
Esa tarde paso muy lentamente, yo no podía dejar de ver el reloj, para poder llegar a su casa, hasta que llegó el momento, la hora que tanto esperaba estaba ahí, tomé todas mis cosas y me dirigí a su hogar. Cuando llegue y llame a la puerta, fue cuando lo vi… Era Bryan, con una ajustada camiseta de entrenamiento impregnada con su aroma tan característico de adolescente atlético.
A lo que disocie un poco, hasta que Bryan me dijo que, si quería pasar o estar en el pórtico durante una hora más, obviamente le sonreí y procedí a entrar a su hogar. Cuando lo hice me sorprendí ya que el tenia todo lo que yo no, en la cocina esta su madre hormando algunas galletas de chocolate, y su padre en la sala de estar, pintando un bello cuadro, y sorprendentemente tenía un pequeño hermano que corrió a abrazarlo, ya que ellos tenia una maravillosa relación, yo sentí solo envidia de observar como es que el tenia todo lo que yo mas deseaba: una vida hermosa, con una familia que lo quería y con un espectacular cuerpo que enamoraría a cualquiera. A lo que solo disimule mi envidia y Bryan procedió a llevarme a su habitación, la cual puedo describir como la típica habitación de chico rudo con aroma almizclado, con calcetines y camisas sudadas en el suelo, por lo que yo me dispuse a trabajar en el proyecto solo por el pacer de estar compartiendo la habitación con Bryan.
Las horas pasaron y Bryan se quedo dormido, por lo que cuando me di cuenta de esto, no me pude resistir mas y lentamente tome un bóxer sucio de Bryan y lo metí a mi mochila, me puse muy nervioso pero lo había logrado, esa misma noche termine el proyecto, un rato más tarde Bryan despertó y me dijo que lo lamentaba, que no era su intención quedarse dormido pero después del entrenamiento de futbol, no pudo más, a lo que yo le dije que no había ningún problema, pero que ya era hora de irme a mi casa, a lo que me dijo que estaba bien y me dio una palmada en la espalda, a lo que yo me estremecí y ya no podía más.
Cuando llegue a mi casa, rápidamente corrí a mi habitación, no había nadie en mi casa, por lo que saque aquel bóxer que había robado de la habitación de Bryan, estaba tan obsesionado con el que empecé a pensar en la posibilidad de ser el, durante toda esa noche, me imagine siendo Bryan y disfrutando se su increíble vida. Por lo que ese fin de semana me dirigí al centro de mi ciudad para ir a una librería espiritista muy solitaria, pero yo me atreví a ingresar. Dentro de esa tienda me tope a un hombre muy extraño que parecía conocerme, yo totalmente desconcertado me quede en silencio mientras él me decía que ya sabia a lo que venía y que él podía ayudarme, por lo que de un momento a otro me dio un libro, diciéndome además que en el encontraría las respuestas a mi mayor deseo, cuando por fin pude formular palabras con mi boca le dije que cual era su costo, a lo que me dijo que ninguno, que solo me fuera y que cumpliera con lo que me propusiera.
La noche de ese día procedí a leer todo ese libro enterándome que existían algunos conjuros antiguos que decía que podía apoderarme del cuerpo de otra persona si llegaba a completar un conjuro, en ese momento todo mi cuerpo entro en un estado de sorpresa, y seguí leyendo las demás líneas restantes, el conjuro me pedía algunas cosas del cuerpo del que yo quisiera apoderarme. Al parecer por fin la suerte estaba de mi parte pues ya contaba con aquel bóxer que había robado de la habitación de Bryan, continúe con la lectura y también me pedía algo perteneciente al cuerpo que quisiera ocupar: como lo eran uñas, cabello o saliva, por lo que rápidamente procedí a buscar aquel mechón que Bryan me había dado para el experimento de química.
Cuando por fin tenía todos los ingredientes que necesitaba para elaborar la pócima me cuestione si es que quería seguir con esto, a lo que reflexione y mi mente solamente se vio dominada por todos aquellos pensamientos de envidia y el sueño por tener la vida que siempre había soñado. Por lo que sin pensarlo continúe, el libro me pedía que tenía que dejar reposar aquella pócima durante veinticuatro horas para poder tomarla y que el hechizo se concretara sin ningún problema.
Paso todo el domingo en espera, y admito que no dejaba de pensar en que si esto funcionaba, yo seria Bryan, el solo pensarlo hacia que mi cuerpo se estremeciera completamente, ese día fue eterno a lo que posteriormente se llegó el día lunes a lo que me decidí a ir a la escuela para observar a Bryan y estudia cómo es que se comportaba con todos sus amigos, durante todo el tiempo que estuvo en la preparatoria no lo perdí de vista, hasta de forma secreta asistí a su entrenamiento de fútbol, para ver cómo es que actuaba con los demás. Más tarde en la clase de química sería la última vez que platicaría con él por lo que me puse muy nervioso cuando se sentó al lado mío: me dijo que como la había pasado el fin de semana a lo que le dije que muy bien (si supiera lo que hice realmente). Ese día entregamos un diez de calificación por el proyecto que presentamos a lo que el profesor nos tomó una fotografía por ser la pareja que mejor proyecto había hecho, y que la colocaría en el muro para recordar ese momento. Muy nervioso yo, procedí a irme directamente a mi casa a lo que revise si ya todo estaba listo para ejecutar el intercambio de cuerpos entre yo y Bryan, no puedo describir todas las sensaciones que pasaban por mi cuerpo, y que mi paquete estaba cada vez más duro. Cuando por fin llegó la madrugada sin dudarlo me miré por última vez al espejo y me dije a mi mismo “Te odio y espero jamás volver a esta vida”. Sin pensarlo más bebí toda la pócima de un solo trago.
Mi cuerpo inmediatamente comenzó a retorcerse y observe como es que mi cuerpo se comenzaba a prácticamente secarse, como si se convirtiera en cenizas, era una sensación muy extraña, ya que era muy doloroso, sentía cómo es que mi cuerpo se desprendía de mi alma, y que me arrancaban de él, por lo que por un momento me desconecte y ya no me encontraba en mi hogar sino que estaba en la habitación de Bryan, yo era un alma que ya no tenía cuerpo y lo veía a el acostado en su cama entre sabanas blancas y sin camisa, solamente con unos ajustados bóxers Calvin Klein, a lo que sin dudarlo a la primera oportunidad que tuve ingrese por su boca, deslizándome por sus entrañas, solo pienso en cómo es que Bryan de un momento a otro se levantó bruscamente de su cama y cayó al suelo, comenzando a retorcerse, del solo salían gemidos de excitación por todo lo que estaba sucediendo, no podía creer hasta donde había llegado, me comencé a posicionar dentro de aquel hermoso cuerpo, hasta que por fin todo aquello terminó, no ocurrió nada hasta que extrañamente abrí los ojos y la luz del sol se reflejaba en un espejo, por lo que a lo lejos mire el reflejo de Brian tirado en el piso solamente con un bóxer negro puesto, DIOS, que acaba de ocurrir cuando me levante el reflejo de él lo hizo conmigo “no lo puedo creer todo esto funcionó SOY BRYAN”. Rápidamente procesé todo, y comencé a acariciar aquel cuerpo tan suave y con un lindo reflejo color dorado que salía de la piel de mi nuevo cuerpo por los rayos del sol que daban por mi ventana.
No paraba de verme en el espejo hasta que por fin dije algunas palabras, no lo creía, de mi salió aquella voz tan excitante de un macho y cuando me di cuenta un gran bulto empezaba a crecer entre mis piernas, carajo la polla de Bryan era gigantesca, no pude más y comencé a acariciarla hasta que la tentación me gano y me quite aquellos bóxeres de mi cuerpo llevándomelos a mi cara para así olfatearlos y mis nuevas y suaves manos acariciaban ese bien dotado paquete, enérgicamente mis manos empezaron a acariciarlo cada vez más, hasta que saque una gran carga de semen que se esparció por todo el abdomen del cuerpo de Bryan, seguía sin creer que esto era realidad por lo que tome un o poco de semen de mi abdomen y con mi lengua empecé a chuparlo, me miraba al espejo y decía: “esto te gusta Bryan, que convierta tu cuerpo en un cualquiera no puedo esperar a conseguir hombres para quitarle la virginidad a este culo de hombre heterosexual. Mierda debo de darme prisa ya que no quiero que nadie sospeche del cambio.
Me dirigí al armario de Bryan y mire aquella ropa que ahora era mía, me existe nuevamente, pero me controle, tarde en elegir que ropa me pondría hoy para estrenar la nueva vida y cuerpo que había robado, esto era increíble. Cuando baje a la sala de estar me encontré con toda la familia de Bryan, su madre me saludo con un beso en la mejilla y su padre con una palmada en la espalda, diciéndome que como había amanecido su campeón, y no olvidándome de su hermano quien corrió a abrazarme y darme los buenos días, al parecer nadie se dio cuenta del intercambio de cuerpos entre yo y Brian, mi familia real no me interesaba y por mi que se pudra. Tomé las llaves del auto y me fui, carajo por fin tenía todo lo que quería. Cuando llegue a la preparatoria todo era increíble, todos me trataban bien y parecía que nadie se daba cuenta que quien hablaban era yo y no Bryan, mierda llego la hora de química en donde el profesor nos dijo que Carlos quien era yo había desaparecido y si es que alguien tenía información de el que se lo digieran a sus padres inmediatamente, obviamente nadie sabía dónde estaba aquel obeso y raro chico, y mucho menos les interesaba.
Me asignaron un nuevo compañero al que no podía esperar para llevármelo a la cama, al parecer el día de hoy estrenare esta fabulosa polla, que diría Bryan si se enterara de todo lo que hare con su cuerpo esta noche. Cuando termino la clase el profesor me llamo y me dio la foro que nos había tomado de Bryan y yo, se la acepté para no levantar sospechas, le di las gracias y me fui. Después de eso me tocaba estrenar mi nuevo cuerpo en la clase de deportes en donde me di cuenta lo maravilloso de este cuerpo y que era muy rápido. Cuando llegué a mi nueva cas me fui directo a mi habitación donde rompí aquella foto, solo de recordar que era ese obeso hombre me daba asco. Ahora yo era Bryan y eso nadie me lo quitaría, había llegado para quedarme.
Esta noche tuve un encuentro con mi nuevo compañero de laboratorio, me vestí bastante bien con el cuerpo de Bryan todo se me bien espectacular. Cuando por fin tuve aquel encuentro debo de confesar que estaba nervioso ya que yo era virgen y con este cuerpo había ganado seguridad, así que tome la iniciativa y bese a Max, lo tome por la espalda y introduje mi polla dentro de él, solo gemía y yo por fin me vine dentro de él eso fue genial, aquel chico inseguro ya no existía ahora solo queda el nuevo Bryan, los días transcurrieron y las cosas solo mejoraron para mí, este cuerpo era increíble jamás me arrepentiré de haber robado el cuerpo de Bryan, adoro este cuerpo y jamás me iré de él.
