The Voice in Your Head
Graham was excited about moving into his new apartment. It was in a nice part of town, with good transit access to his job, plus it was pretty spacious for the price. Graham could just picture himself, his plants, maybe a boyfriend, all fitting neatly into the apartment, with its nice hardwood floors and retrofit kitchen.
So, he was quite surprised, on moving day, when the neighbour across the hall grabbed his arm and pulled him aside. “There’s something weird about that unit,” the guy hissed in a low voice.
“What are you talking about?” Graham frowned. This guy looked totally ordinary in every way, in his button-up shirt and neatly parted hair. There was no way he was some crazy conspiracy nut.
“The guys who live in there,” the guy continued, seeming frantic, “they change. Most of them get spooked and move out in a few weeks. I’ve never seen one last longer than two months. That’s why the rent is so low.”
“Bull.” Graham tugged himself free. “What is this, some kind of weird building hazing or something? What a way to greet a neighbour.”
As he marched away to unlock the door for the movers, Graham felt his new neighbour’s eyes on his back.
Even though he did his best to put the strange conversation out of his mind, Graham kept thinking about the guy’s words as he unpacked for the rest of the day. He had seemed way too sincere for a prank.
At one point, one of the movers gave a sudden shudder and dropped a box full of Graham’s work shirts and coat hangers. “Sorry,” he muttered, blinking away the wild look in his eyes as his coworkers stared, “there was a...smell.” Graham noticed that he was one of the first to leave the apartment to go wait in the moving van once everything was carried in.
Left alone after the movers set up the basics—bed, couch, dining table, desk, TV stand—Graham stood in the kitchen, trying to recapture his excitement for the new apartment. He couldn’t help feeling like the sunlight through the big windows of the living room looked a little watery, like it couldn’t fully enter the space. Even though it was nice and warm inside the apartment, Graham felt strangely clammy, and he couldn’t settle down.
In an attempt to use the restless energy, Graham paced to the bedroom and cut open his boxes of work clothes. He had a pretty ordinary cubicle job, so there was a certain standard of professionalism to meet, but Graham also loved business clothes. Getting dressed for work, for Graham, was like putting on a professional person, like he could pretend to be someone else for 8 hours a day. He had dozens of slim-fit button-ups for his skinny body, perfectly chosen to match his pale skin. Matching sets of slacks and blazers quickly filled the closet.
The action was soothing, and pretty soon Graham was unpacking his loafers. He’d cleaned them before putting them in the box, but he decided to give them a quick polish before putting them on the shoe rack. As he went to get a rag, Graham suddenly thought, I bet those won’t fit for long.
He stopped, halfway to the kitchen. The thought had been so out of character and strange. But, it sounded like his internal voice. It was a weird feeling.
Don’t worry about it.
Graham shook his head and resolved not to worry about it, grabbing the rag and putting his shoes away.
That night, Graham had trouble getting to sleep. It was like he couldn’t get warm, even under all the covers. He tossed and turned until, finally, he drifted off.
It was still dark when his eyes opened. Somewhere around 4 AM. Feeling strangely detached from himself, Graham swung out of bed and padded to the bathroom.
Looking into the mirror in the darkness, Graham found himself stripping out of his silk pyjamas to see his own skinny, pale body. His lips moved, and Graham heard himself mumble, “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
As if puppeted by someone else, Graham’s body moved through a series of bodybuilding poses. “There’s potential, though,” he heard himself mumble into the darkness.
He lifted up his arm and stuck his nose into his armpit, frowning. “Don’t worry, dude, you’re in good hands,” Graham’s voice told him. “I’ll go slow so you don’t get spooked.” Then he chuckled to himself. “Heh, spooked.”
The morning sun had Graham blinking awake. He’d had a strange dream, talking to himself in the bathroom. But as he pushed aside the covers, Graham frowned. He was naked, even though he always slept in pyjamas.
The pyjamas were on the bathroom floor, tossed carelessly. Well, Graham thought, maybe he’d overheated…while on the toilet.
Anyway, he’d been too tired to take a shower last night, but he definitely needed one before work today. Graham stepped into the shower and turned the tap, but was disappointed to hear a gurgling somewhere in the pipes. Only a few drops came out.
One more day won’t hurt.
“One more day won’t hurt,” Graham said, vocalising what his inner voice had said. He would email the building manager and get the shower fixed today. In the meantime, he applied a few extra layers of deodorant and fixed his hair as best as he could.
Still, Graham was self-conscious all day. He dreaded any coworker getting close enough to smell him or notice that his skin was a little greasy. By lunch break, he had rehearsed in his head a whole speech about walking to work to explain why he was so gross. It was a relief when the clock hit 5 PM and no one commented.
The repair man was standing outside Graham’s apartment when he got home, and he let them in. Apparently, there was nothing obviously wrong with the shower. It even ran on the repair man’s first try at turning the tap. Still, the man recommended that Graham put aside some tap water in case it kept acting up. At least he could take a sponge bath.
No problem, it’s not an urgent fix.
“No problem, it’s not an urgent fix.” Graham wasn’t sure why he’d said that. It was like someone else had spoken through his lips. It was kind of urgent to have regular showers. But he shook hands with the repair man and smiled as he saw him out. If the shower was just randomly acting up, he’d learn to adapt to it.
The guy across the hall looked out his door while Graham stood there, thinking through the strange thought he’d had. “You okay?” he asked. “Nothing…weird happening in there?”
Nothing to worry about.
“Nothing to worry about.” Graham smiled at his neighbour. Yeah, he was feeling pretty relaxed. With his move done, he really did have nothing to worry about. He was just jittery about his new place. “Graham, by the way.”
“Leo,” said the neighbour, still looking rather nervous. “You sure? Usually, guys go screaming down the hall their first night, yelling about feet and nightmares, like they're being haunted.”
Not this time.
“Not this time.” Maybe Leo really was some kind of conspiracy theorist. Graham still had more unpacking to do. “Nice to meet you.” He closed the door.
First things first, though, Graham wanted to finally get his first shower in his new place. He went and turned the tap.
Nothing.
Graham took a deep breath to calm himself down and went to fill a pot with water from the kitchen sink.
Hahahahaha. Laughter filled his mind. Graham froze in the middle of the kitchen. No matter what, his mental voice laughing at him couldn’t be a good sign, right?
The only thing to do with a problem is laugh.
That logic seemed sound. It wasn’t the way Graham usually dealt with problems, though. He was the kind of guy who tended to panic at the slightest opportunity.
He must be maturing.
Chuckling a bit to himself, Graham went to get his basin of water for a sponge bath.
The sponge baths really weren’t so bad, and by the time the shower started working randomly a few days later, Graham couldn’t find any of his soap or shampoo. He had a vague memory of dreaming that he’d thrown them out, but that was ridiculous. Every time he thought about getting more bathing supplies, he’d have the thought that it was just a lot of effort. He was doing fine with water alone, why complicate it?
One night a week or so after his move, Graham found himself staring at his ceiling late in the night. He must be dreaming again. He felt his lips move. “I think I’m gonna try moving in for real, just a bit. Don’t mind me.”
Suddenly, Graham’s feet went ice cold, and a strange, wet, slippery sensation slid into his feet. They felt…tight, like they were overfull somehow.
“Yeah, you’re gonna be a tight fit. Don’t worry, I’ll work you in slowly,” said Graham’s mouth.
Still with that strange, distant sensation, as if he wasn’t in control of his body, Graham sat up in bed and swung his feet to the floor. He watched as his toes wriggled and something shifted under the skin. They did look a little bloated. Over several minutes, Graham watched like a passenger while his feet flexed back and forth, looking a little larger with each twist of the arch and ankle. Dark hair began to sprout on his growing toes.
At last, they seemed to stabilise, and Graham’s body lifted his right foot up. A faint, but distinctive, aroma rose from the massive sole. “Mmm, smells like being alive,” said Graham’s mouth with a smirk.
The next morning, Graham laid in bed for a long time. He’d never been a foot guy, so this dream was especially strange. He realised, thinking back on it, that his cock had, in fact, been hard the entire time. There was even a stain in his Calvins—somehow, every night he’d worn pyjamas to bed he’d tossed them off while dreaming—like he’d had a wet dream.
When he got out of bed, he wondered why his feet looked oddly tan against the skin of his legs. And, later, why they felt strangely snug in his loafers. They pinched where they had felt perfectly comfortable before.
When he got home, it was a relief to tear his shoes off, but Graham wrinkled his nose at the sharp aroma emanating from his sweaty socks. That was it, he resolved, he needed to stop procrastinating and wash himself properly again.
But it is sort of hot.
Graham paused as he was about to start making a shopping list. If he really thought about it, the scent was kind of hot. No one had mentioned that Graham wasn’t soaping up his body or deodorizing anymore. The smell from his feet hadn’t bothered anyone. It was like it was his own little dirty secret. Like another role he could play underneath his work role.
And the smell really was sort of attractive.
“New shoes” went on the shopping list.
Some sneakers, too. To get really smelly.
Right, Graham didn’t want to mess up any work shoes as he experimented with this new interest of his. “Sneakers.”
It was like his dream had opened a floodgate. Every night, Graham dreamed of his feet growing erotically, and each day they were just a bit larger, with just a bit more stink built up on them. In his dreams, Graham talked to himself, talking about getting gym equipment, a bunch of new clothes, even about how boring Graham found his job.
More and more, Graham found himself agreeing with his dreaming self. One evening, he put a bunch of gym equipment into his Amazon cart, then turned off his computer. Gym stuff cost a lot of money, he needed to be sure he wanted to buy it. But that night, he dreamed about sitting at his computer to finalise the order, and the equipment arrived a few days later. At that point, it seemed like a waste to return it, so Graham set it up in the spare room, where he had originally planned to have a library.
Books are boring.
Graham had decided books were boring.
Any time he was at home now, Graham kept finding himself thinking, “I should do a few reps.” The results were unbelievable, with muscles thickening all over his body in what seemed like just a few days. It wasn’t long before Graham was outgrowing all of his clothes, quickly wearing out three new pairs of jeans in as many weeks.
Sweats are better anyway.
Graham’s new fitness obsession extended into his dreams, too. The cold, slippery sensation still enveloped his feet every night, but it also covered most of his body now. In his dreams, Graham would feel himself get out of bed and strut to the bathroom to pose and flex as his muscles grew larger and larger, until they bulged off his frame.
Once his muscles had grown thick and tanned dark, Graham’s dreams went in a few different directions. Often, he would watch in the mirror as he sniffed his armpits or feet, jacking the thick, musky foreign cock that had grown in place of his average, cut dick. Sometimes, Graham would hear himself say, “Nah, needs some more,” after sniffing himself. Then, he would go to his home gym and pump out reps until he was coated in sweat.
He always woke up aching and coated in stale sweat after those dreams, with a pungent scent emanating from his armpits and shockingly larger feet.
Every few nights, Graham had a dream where he would run his thick, callused hands over his neck and face, subtly pinching and compressing his face until a handsome stranger looked back at him in the mirror. “There, that’s the real me,” he would say to himself in a deep, smokey voice.
After those dreams, Graham was always surprised to see his normal face in the mirror. And yet, there would be a familiar sharpness to his jaw, or the set of his dark eyebrows, that reminded him of the face in his dreams.
The world outside his apartment felt increasingly strange. It was like a part of his internal voice was missing. He had trouble understanding his own thoughts, now. It was like he was a jumble of two different people. Had he really used to spend most of his free time reading library books? Was he really the kind of guy who didn’t put himself up for a bonus at the end of the year?
The apartment was safe and secure. It was like Graham’s mind was wrapped in calm and good sense as soon as he walked in. His mind spoke louder, which let him make better decisions, like the time that he wore sweats and T-shirt to work. It had made perfect sense when he walked out the door, but then he had stumbled over his words when he tried to explain to his boss why he was dressed appropriately for work.
Long story short, Graham was arriving home early today. He was just unlocking his door when Leo came barrelling up the stairs in running gear. He stopped when he spotted Graham, just stepping over the threshold and into the wonderful calm of his apartment.
“Who are—Graham?” Leo stared at him. “Is that really you?”
Graham looked down at himself, then back over at Leo. “Uh, yeah?”
“No way. You’re so…muscular and tan. I barely recognise your face.”
“Yeah, I had a bit of a growth spurt.” Graham flexed a bicep with a grin.
“A growth spurt powered by anabolics and a talented plastic surgeon, sure,” Leo was frowning at him.
Graham was kind of offended by his rude neighbour. He’d put a lot of hard work into this body!
Yeah, I have. Get him in the apartment.
“Look,” Graham sighed, the words spilling from his lips like in his dreams, “I’ve had a bad day. Just come inside if you want to talk.”
Leo seemed to hesitate, just for an instant. “But that’s the—“
“Either get inside, or get out of my face.” Graham’s voice sounded a bit gruff to his ears, beyond just the depth that it had gained over the months he’d lived here. It was like it was another man’s voice.
Leo shook himself. “Okay.” He steeled himself and followed Graham over the threshold.
Perfect.
“Whew, it’s ripe in here, man,” Leo observed. “Do you ever shower?”
“Just with cold water.” Graham kicked out of his sneakers, freeing his massive, socked feet and stretching them out. More and more, he felt separate from his body, as if he was watching it move. Still, it hadn’t done anything he wouldn’t have done, he thought. He was just playing another role.
“Well, clearly, it’s not…enough…” Graham watched, his mouth held in a strange smile, as Leo seemed to lose his train of thought. The man’s nostrils flared, and he swayed slightly.
“Yeah, not so mighty and judgmental anymore,” said Graham’s voice. “You’ve forced me to move up my schedule a bit, but it’s not a problem.”
Leo licked his lips before answering. “Sorry, sir,” he said thickly.
“You’re the guy who’s been helping my potential bodies escape, aren’t you?”
“I warn them about this apartment…I keep listings for new places they can go…” Leo’s eyes started to clear, and he shook his head. “No, wait, what the fuck—“
In a flash, Graham leapt into action. He didn’t know how he got one of his sneakers in his hand, but he grabbed Leo in a headlock and shoved his face into the putrid interior. “Nuh-uh-uh, no escapes or exorcisms this time,” Graham’s voice whispered, as Leo thrashed in his strong arms. “The more you fight, the more you fall. Isn’t it hot? My sexy, sweaty new body all around you, and the smell and taste of my foot musk all over your face?”
As Graham spoke, Leo’s struggles weakened. Graham watched with amusement as they both slumped to the floor, a rock-hard boner growing in Leo’s running shorts.
Finally, Graham’s grip on the sneaker loosened, even as Leo reached up to hold it himself. “Look, this is all just a misunderstanding,” Graham’s said soothingly. “You’ve thought I was a sexy beast since I moved in, right? You loved my big, musky muscles and my foot stink. That’s why you made up that story about a haunted apartment.”
Leo’s eyes seemed to be rolling uncontrollably in his head, but he nodded.
“Now I’ve finally noticed you and invited you inside. You just couldn’t help yourself, you foot slut. You were gonna tackle me before I gave you that shoe to lick.”
Leo nodded fervently, moaning. A wet spot was forming at his crotch.
“Now we’re gonna go to the bedroom and I’m gonna shove my cheesy uncut cock in that virgin hole of yours, okay bro?”
“Fuck,” Leo gasped, muffled through the shoe. “Fuck yes, Graham.”
“Nah, man,” said Graham’s voice, picking Leo up like he was a doll, “I’d rather you call me Grey.”
As Grey’s thick cock entered Leo, Graham found himself watching as if from outside himself. He could see his own handsome, angular face as he fucked Leo. He could see Grey’s massive, musky feet shift as he gained a better angle to make Leo squeal. He could even watch the dribbles of sweat run over his thick ass as his voice gave short, sharp pants.
“Fuck yeah,” Grey said to himself in a harsh voice, picking up the pace.
“This is my body.”
“This is my fucking musk temple.”
“Made it all by my-fucking-self.”
“Feels fucking good to be alive.”
As Grey buried his thick, musky cock deep in Leo, shaking through his orgasm, Graham found himself back inside his body. Once again, he watched like a passenger as Grey licked his load out of Leo’s asshole, then sent his happy new foot slut on his way with a spare sneaker and instructions to stop using soap and add Grey's contact info to his bank account.
Eventually, Grey lounged on the couch, naked, idly stroking his slimy, still-lubed cock and scrolling through Grindr. “What do you think, Graham?” he said out loud. “Since it's my first night able to leave the apartment, I should go crash some boys’ b-ball game and make some more foot slaves, right?”
Graham couldn’t help but agree. He was just the voice in Grey’s head, after all.
This story is a slightly belated holiday gift for @idesofrevolution! Happy holidays, and here's to a hot and sexy new year ;)
