TheLonelyLife

[benjihm]

[futuradiego]

Non-Regulation

Ten minutes in Mateo Rivera's body and I was already addicted.

The transfer hit like a lightning strike—one second I was that scrawny Asian kid staring at the officer's photo on my laptop, the next I was him, sitting on a bunk bed with 210 pounds of dense Puerto Rican muscle weighing me down into the mattress. My—his—balls ached with a dull, pleasant heaviness I'd never felt before. The polyester uniform clung to my new body, already damp with the day's sweat, and when I took my first breath, I nearly choked on it: musk, copper deodorant failing against the tide of masculine sweat, and underneath it all, that raw cock-and-balls smell that had been brewing in these tight briefs since his 6 AM shift started.

First thing I did? Strip. Obviously.

I kicked off the uniform trousers—God, they were heavy, stiff with starch and radiating this concentrated heat from his crotch—and watched them crumple in the corner. The shirt came unbuttoned next, but I kept it on, letting it hang open like a frame around his torso. The light blue fabric with its stupid shiny badge, its patches and insignia, all that authority, made the perfect contrast to what was underneath: tight navy briefs that could barely contain the heavy bulge of his cock, half-hard already from my wandering thoughts.

I sat back in the swivel chair and spread.

Jesus Christ. The view.

Mateo's thighs were fucking tree trunks, each one thick as my old torso, coated in dark hair that felt coarse and electric when I dragged my new fingers across them. I dug my fingers into the muscle, testing the density. It was like granite wrapped in velvet. I squeezed, watching the quads flex and pop under the skin, feeling the sheer hydraulic power waiting there. His calves were carved muscle. His abs—fuck, those abs—stood out in sharp relief even sitting down, a dark treasure trail vanishing into the waistband of those slutty briefs. His chest was broad, dusted with hair, nipples small and dark. I pinched one, hard, and the sensation shot straight to his cock, which twitched and thickened against the cotton.

"Damn," I whispered, and the voice came out in his deep, slightly accented rumble. "Look at you, papi."

I grabbed his phone—my phone—and held it up. Snapped a pic. The angle was perfect: arrogant tilt to the head, legs spread in that casual, confident manspreading pose, the badge gleaming on my open shirt, the briefs straining to hold everything in. I looked like every thirst trap I'd ever jerked off to, except this time I was the one wearing the body.

In the background, I could see Marcus on the bottom bunk, scrolling his phone, completely oblivious. He had no idea his straight-laced, by-the-book roommate was gone. No idea that the man sitting five feet away wasn't Mateo anymore.

No idea I was already thinking about climbing into that bunk and finding out what this new cock felt like buried in his throat.

"Yo, Marcus," I said, my voice casual, scratching my abs, nails dragging through the hair. "You cool if I jerk off real quick?"

Marcus didn't even look up. "Bro, do you."

Perfect. I adjusted myself in the chair, wrapped one of Mateo's big hands around the bulge in his briefs and gave it a squeeze. The sensation was unreal—so much thicker than what I was used to, so much heavier. I could feel the heat of it through the cotton, the weight settling into my palm. I kneaded the package, feeling the heavy balls shift against each other.

"Yo, you wanna join?" I asked, like it was nothing.

That got his attention. Marcus glanced over, one eyebrow raised, then shrugged with a grin. "No cap? Sure, bro."

Holy shit. This body came with benefits.

Marcus rolled off the bunk and grabbed his own chair, dragging it next to mine so we were both facing the mirror mounted on the wall. He was built too—not as thick as Mateo, but cut, with deep brown skin and strong shoulders. He stripped off his shirt unselfconsciously, shoved his sweats and boxers down to his ankles, and sat back with his cock already swelling in his fist.

I pulled Mateo's briefs down just enough to let his cock spring free—thick, uncut, the head already glistening—and wrapped my hand around it. The sensation was fucking electric. I could feel every ridge, every vein, the blood pulsing under the skin. When I stroked, the weight and heft of it made my breath catch. I looked at myself in the mirror—this massive, powerful stranger who was now me—and smirked.

"Bro, you been holding out on me," Marcus said with a laugh, eyes flicking to my cock in the mirror. "That's a whole-ass weapon."

"Yeah?" I grinned at him, stroking slowly, deliberately, letting my thumb drag over the sensitive head. "You like watching?"

"Shit, who wouldn't?" He was pumping himself now, steady rhythm, his eyes moving between his own reflection and mine. "Damn, Mateo, you in a mood today or what?"

"Long shift," I said, which wasn't a lie. I spread my legs wider, let him see everything—the thick cock in my fist, the heavy balls hanging low, the dark hair covering my thighs. I flexed my quads, making the muscles jump, just because I could. In the mirror, we looked like a fucking fantasy: two built guys, side by side, stroking in sync.

I could smell him now too—mixing with Mateo's musk—sweat and skin and the sharp, slightly sweet smell of precum. Marcus was leaking, a clear strand dripping onto his thigh, and I watched, mesmerized, as he swiped it up and used it as lube.

"You ever done this before?" I asked, trying to sound casual even though my heart was pounding against my ribs like a sledgehammer. "Like, together?"

"With you? Nah." Marcus looked over, met my eyes instead of watching the mirror. "You always too busy being professional and shit. This is cool, though."

"Yeah," I breathed, twisting my grip on the upstroke, watching Mateo's cock swell even thicker in my hand. "This is real cool."

We settled into a rhythm, both of us watching the mirror, watching ourselves, watching each other. The room filled with the wet sounds of skin on skin, heavy breathing, the occasional groan. I was learning this body, every sensitive spot, every angle that made Mateo's cock jump and leak. I ran my free hand over my chest, tangling my fingers in the hair, pinching my nipple again, reveling in the direct line of pleasure to my groin. I was learning what it felt like to be this—powerful, masculine, desirable, sitting next to another man and enjoying it without shame or hesitation.

"Fuck," Marcus muttered, his strokes getting faster. "I'm close, bro."

"Yeah?" I matched his pace, feeling the pressure building in my balls, Mateo's balls, heavy and tight. "Let me see it."

"You first," he challenged, grinning.

I squeezed harder, stroked faster, my eyes locked on the mirror—on the image of Officer Rivera, badge still gleaming on his open shirt, legs spread, cock thick and leaking in his fist. The scrawny Asian kid who'd jumped into this body was gone. Right now, I was just Mateo, just muscle and musk and need, jerking off next to my roommate because I could, because this body came with the freedom to want like this.

"Gonna—fuck—" I gasped, and then I was coming, thick ropes of cum shooting across my abs, onto the open shirt, onto the badge. The orgasm ripped through me, so much more intense than anything I'd felt in my old body, every muscle clenching and releasing. I groaned, a deep, resonant sound that vibrated in my chest.

Marcus groaned and followed a second later, his cum spattering across his chest and stomach, his head tilting back as he rode it out.

We sat there for a moment, panting, both of us messy and spent. I looked down at the mess I'd made—my seed coating Mateo's hard abs, pooling in his navel. I swiped a finger through it and brought it to my mouth, tasting the salt and vitality of this new life.

"Damn," Marcus finally said, laughing and reaching for the towel on his bunk. "We should do that more often, bro."

"Yeah," I agreed, looking at our reflections—at the cum cooling on Mateo's abs, at the satisfied smirk on his face that was really my smirk now. "We really should."

[amaxbodyswap]

Damn bro, I finally stole this body.

I leaned against the cool metal of the blue SUV, heart still hammering from the race—this perfect, stolen body’s lungs burning in the best way. The black 2XU trisuit clung to me like a second skin, soaked through with sweat, the fabric so thin and slick it might as well have been painted on. The zipper was yanked down to my sternum, letting the cool air hit the deep valley between my new pecs, sweat dripping down the cut lines of my chest and abs, pooling just above the waistband. Every breath made the suit pull tighter across my shoulders and biceps, the material stretching over pumped muscle that still twitched from the finish line.

I looked down at the race bib pinned to my chest—515, MACKENZIE—and smirked. That was his name, not mine, but fuck, it felt right now. The name taped across this jacked triathlete body I’d been jerking off to for months. My cock—his cock—thickened instantly against the tight compression shorts built into the suit, the damp fabric outlining every ridge and vein, pressing the head up against my lower abs so obviously I could see the bulge twitch when I flexed my quads.

I dragged the black “FINISH” towel slowly across my chest, feeling the soft terry cloth scrape over sensitive nipples, then lower, teasing the slick skin just above the suit’s waistband. My free hand slid down, cupping the heavy swell of my package through the soaked material, squeezing just enough to feel the heat pulsing underneath. “Fuck, Mackenzie,” I muttered to myself, voice low and rough in this deeper throat, “you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to feel this body from the inside.”

I was already rock-hard, the trisuit doing nothing to hide it, and I couldn’t wait to get somewhere private to really explore what I’d taken. I tossed the towel into the back of the SUV and slid into the driver’s seat, the trisuit riding up even tighter as I sat, the damp fabric grinding against my swollen cock and making me hiss through my teeth. Fuck, every little movement in this body was pure sex—the way the seat leather stuck to my sweat-slick thighs, the way my heavy pecs shifted when I gripped the wheel. I started the engine and pulled out of the lot, one hand already drifting down to palm myself through the suit as I drove, slow and deliberate.

It all started six months ago, at the city marathon. I’d gone just to watch, bored and scrolling through my phone, when I spotted him—Mackenzie—cutting through the pack like he owned the course. He was wearing a skimpy singlet and those tiny split shorts, the kind that barely covered his ass, soaked dark with sweat and clinging to every ridge of muscle. His legs were endless, quads pumping, calves flexing hard with every stride, sweat pouring down his carved torso and making the fabric translucent so I could see his nipples stiff against it. The way his abs contracted, the bulge in those shorts bouncing with each step—thick, obvious, swinging heavy—I couldn’t look away. I stood there at the sidelines, cock throbbing in my jeans, imagining what it’d feel like to have that power, that raw athletic perfection, to feel sweat dripping down my own jacked chest, to have that fat dick straining against tight gear.

From that day on, I was obsessed. I stalked his socials, jerked off nightly to his race pics, fantasizing about stealing it all—his body, his strength, his life. And now… now it was mine. I squeezed harder through the trisuit, groaning as pre-cum leaked and darkened the fabric even more. “All mine now, bro,” I muttered, grinning at my reflection in the rearview—his reflection. “Every sweaty, perfect inch.”I couldn’t keep my hands off this body the whole drive home. The trisuit was still plastered to me, but I’d yanked on a loose black tee from the back seat just to feel something new stretching over these shoulders and chest. The fabric was damp in seconds, clinging to the ridges of my pecs and abs underneath, dark patches spreading where sweat kept pouring.

I pulled over on a quiet side road, engine idling, and twisted toward the rearview mirror. My hair—his hair—was soaked, dark strands plastered to my forehead, dripping down my temples. I raised my right arm and flexed hard, watching the bicep balloon into a thick, peaked mound, veins snaking over the surface like cables. The black sleeve rode up instantly, stretched tight around the swell, barely containing the pump. Fuck, the definition was obscene—every fiber popping, the skin shiny with sweat, that tribal tattoo wrapping around the forearm like it was branding this perfect gun as mine now.

I groaned low, lips parted just like in the mirror, and brought my left hand up to grip the flexed bicep, fingers digging into the hot, hard muscle. It didn’t give—an iron peak that made my cock throb painfully against the trisuit underneath my shorts. Pre-cum was already soaking through layers, the head outlined and pulsing every time I squeezed harder. “Look at this fucking arm, Mackenzie,” I rasped to my reflection, voice thick with lust. “All that marathon training, all those miles… and now it flexes for me.”

I pumped the flex a few times—slow, deliberate—watching the bicep jump and swell even bigger, the sleeve straining like it might rip. My free hand slid down to adjust the bulge straining my shorts, stroking once, twice, through the fabric. I wasn’t going to make it home without blowing in this body for the first time. Not a chance. I barely made it through the front door of Mackenzie’s apartment—my apartment now—before I was tearing at the clothes. The black tee came off first, peeled away from my sweat-drenched torso with a wet slap as it hit the floor. Then the trisuit, zipper yanked all the way down, the soaked fabric fighting me as I shoved it off my shoulders, down my cum-slick abs, and kicked it free from my ankles. My cock sprang up hard and throbbing, a thick arc of pre-cum already stringing from the tip to my thigh.

I stood there in just the black Calvin Klein briefs I’d found folded in his drawer—tight, low-rise, the waistband sitting right on my V-line, cupping my heavy balls and shaft like they were made for this body. The fabric was already darkening at the pouch, stretched obscene over the ridge of my cockhead, every vein visible through the thin cotton. I was glistening head to toe, sweat still pouring from the race, skin shiny and pumped under the dim purple glow of the infrared sauna room I’d stumbled into.

“Fuuuck,” I groaned, voice echoing off the cedar walls as the heat hit me. I stepped inside, door clicking shut, the purple light casting shadows that carved my pecs and abs even deeper. My chest heaved, nipples stiff and sensitive, sweat beading and rolling down the deep split between my pecs, over the ridges of my eight-pack, pooling just above the CK waistband before soaking in. The horseshoe tattoo on my left arm flexed as I brought both hands up, dragging them slow over my slick chest, thumbs circling my nipples hard, then down—tracing every cut ab, fingers dipping into the grooves.

I turned sideways to the mirrored wall, watching this stolen body move—shoulders rolling, lats flaring, the briefs riding lower as my cock pulsed and leaked, the wet spot spreading wider. I hooked a thumb under the waistband, teasing it down just enough to let the thick base of my shaft peek out, veins throbbing, but I didn’t free it yet. Not yet. I wanted to savor how this perfect jacked triathlete body felt when it was this pumped, this sweaty, this fucking horny—trapped in tight designer briefs that couldn’t hide a thing.

I pressed a palm flat against my lower abs, sliding lower, cupping the bulge, squeezing until my knees almost buckled. “All mine to use now, Mackenzie,” I rasped, lips parted, eyes locked on my reflection. “Every drop of sweat, every hard inch.” I was so close already, just from touching what I’d stolen. The heat in the sauna had me edged so close I was shaking, but I forced myself to stop—thumb hooked under the soaked Calvin Klein waistband, cock throbbing against my palm, pre-cum stringing thick between my fingers. I couldn’t blow yet. Not when there was more of this body to worship, more places to take it.

I yanked the briefs back up, the wet cotton snapping against my shaft, and grabbed my phone. A text from Kalani—Mackenzie’s gym bro—was already waiting: “Yo bro, late night pump? Gym’s dead, come flex.” Fuck yes. I needed to see this stolen body next to real size, feel the comparison burn through me.

Twenty minutes later I walked into the empty gym, skin still flushed and glistening from the sauna, wearing nothing but those navy shorts I’d found in his gym bag—thin, loose, riding low on my hips, the drawstring dangling against my abs. No shirt. I wanted every inch on display.

Kalani was already there, massive in his black stringer tank, veins popping down his arms, deep bronze tan making his delts and chest look carved from something harder than muscle. He grinned when he saw me, dapping me up, his huge hand swallowing mine. “Looking lean as fuck, bro. Race shredded you even more.”

We stepped in front of the mirror wall, shoulder to shoulder. He was bigger—thicker traps, wider lats, pecs that pushed his tank out like slabs—but I was cut to shreds, every striation in my abs popping under the overhead lights, skin still shiny, V-line disappearing into the low waistband of my shorts. The contrast made my cock twitch hard; I could feel it thickening down my thigh, the loose fabric doing nothing to hide the growing outline.

He threw an arm around my bare shoulders, heavy and warm, and snapped the pic. “Just a little more tan than me, that’s all bro,” he laughed, flexing his free arm, bicep exploding next to my head. But I could feel his eyes drag down my torso, lingering on the sweat trail running from my chest to the waistband, on the way my shorts tented slightly as blood rushed south.

I smirked into the mirror, flexing my own core subtly, abs crunching deep, making the shorts slip another fraction lower. “Yeah, just the tan,” I muttered, voice low, but inside I was burning—feeling his bigger body pressed to mine, the heat, the size difference, knowing this perfect lean machine was mine to flex, mine to get hard in, mine to compare and worship next to an even bigger alpha. My cock was fully hard now, straining down the leg of the shorts, head pushing against the fabric, a dark wet spot already forming.

Kalani’s hand lingered on my shoulder a second longer than it needed to, thumb brushing the ridge of my trap. “Wanna hit chest?” he asked, eyes flicking down again.

Fuck yes. I wanted to feel these pumped pecs bounce under a heavy bench, feel his spotter hands on my bare skin, feel this stolen body pushed to its limit right next to his.

I left the gym with Kalani’s heavy hand still burning on my bare back, his spotter grip lingering way too long on my pumped pecs during those last bench reps. The pump was insane—chest swollen, veins mapping every inch, my navy shorts soaked through with sweat and pre-cum, the outline of my thick cock snaking down my thigh so obvious he definitely noticed. We dapped up slow, his eyes dragging down my shredded torso one last time before I bounced, promising “next time, bro.”

Next morning, the sun was already brutal. I’d crashed hard in Mackenzie’s bed, waking up rock-hard and leaking, the sheets twisted around my waist. I threw on the same navy shorts—no briefs underneath this time, just the thin fabric hugging my bare cock and balls—and hit the rooftop deck for a quick dip in his private plunge pool to cool off.

The water was ice-cold against my hot skin, shocking my nipples stiff and making my abs clench tight. I hauled out dripping, every drop tracing the cuts of my chest and obliques, running down into the low waistband. The shorts clung instantly, darkened and plastered to my thighs, the head of my cock pushing visibly against the wet nylon, a thick ridge that twitched every time I moved.

I grabbed the sunglasses from the side table, slid them on, and couldn’t resist—threw one leg up high, foot planted on the railing, opening my hips wide to feel the stretch in my quads and groin. Fuck, this body was flexible—hamstrings long and lean, the high kick pulling the soaked shorts even tighter across my ass and bulge, fabric riding up so half my balls peeked out the leg hole. Water streamed down my raised thigh, over the horseshoe tattoo, dripping off my calf.

I stuck my tongue out at my phone camera, snapping the pic, but really I was just reveling in it—feeling the sun bake my wet skin, the breeze teasing my stiff nipples, my free hand sliding down to grip the back of my thigh, fingers digging into hard muscle while my cock throbbed hard against the clinging shorts, pre-cum mixing with pool water into a slick mess.

“Goddamn, Mackenzie,” I groaned, voice husky, dropping the leg only to flex both quads hard, watching them pop and separate under the shiny wet skin. The city skyline blurred behind me—I didn’t care. All I cared about was how this stolen athlete body felt when it was drenched, stretched, and aching to be touched deeper. I was gonna blow right here on the deck if I didn’t stop teasing myself soon.

I stumbled inside from the deck, skin still dripping pool water, cock throbbing so hard it hurt with every step. The navy shorts were plastered to me, but I kicked them off in the hallway, rooting through Mackenzie’s drawer until I found these loose olive-green sweats—soft, baggy, the drawstring loose enough that they hung dangerously low on my hips, the waistband barely clinging to the deep V of my abs. No briefs. Nothing between my bare dick and the fleece lining.

I grabbed a cold orange Gatorade from the fridge, the bottle sweating in my grip as I leaned against the cool marble counter. The kitchen light hit my bare torso perfectly—chest still pumped from yesterday’s gym session, nipples hard from the AC, every ridge of my abs casting shadows down to where the sweats barely covered the base of my shaft. I twisted the cap off slow, watching the scorpion tattoo flex on my forearm, the cowboy boot and hat ink curling around my bicep as I brought the bottle to my lips and chugged. Citrus flooded my mouth, some spilling down my chin, streaking over my pecs, dripping off a nipple and tracing the center line of my abs straight into the waistband.

“Fuck it,” I growled, voice rough in this throat. I’d been edging for days in this body—teasing, flexing, comparing—but I was done waiting.

I shoved the sweats down just enough to free my cock, the heavy length slapping up against my abs with a wet smack, pre-cum stringing thick from the head to my skin. Nine thick inches, veiny and flushed, balls heavy and drawn up tight. I wrapped my tattooed hand around the shaft—fingers barely meeting—and started slow, long strokes, thumb swirling over the slick head on every upstroke. My free hand roamed my chest, pinching a nipple hard, then dragging down the sweat-slick abs, feeling every hard ridge jump under my fingers.

I turned sideways to the dark glass of the oven door, watching my reflection stroke this stolen cock—shoulders wide, lats flaring, the green sweats pooled low around my thighs, framing my pumped quads and the obscene bounce of my dick in my fist. Faster now, grip tightening, hips thrusting into my hand like I was fucking it. “This body’s mine,” I panted, eyes locked on the mirror image of Mackenzie’s perfect face twisted in raw lust. “This cock… these abs… this cum… all fucking mine.”

My balls tightened, spine arching as I flexed everything—chest popping, abs crunching into bricks, forearm veins bulging around my shaft. I aimed low, stroking hard and fast, the wet slap echoing in the quiet kitchen. The orgasm hit like a freight train—thick ropes shooting across my abs, splattering up my chest, one shot hitting my chin. I milked it slow, groaning deep, every pulse coating this perfect torso in hot cum, marking it inside and out.

I slumped against the counter, breathing hard, cum cooling on my skin, cock still twitching in my hand. I dragged a finger through the mess on my abs, brought it to my lips, tasting myself—tasting him. “Forever now, bro,” I whispered to the empty kitchen, smirking at my wrecked, glistening reflection. “This body’s never going back.”

For my dear friend @swapsrus

[asian-men-x]

[vengefultakeover]

Should Have Been Faster

I pushed my coworker down on the bed and was unbuttoning his shirt after ripping it out of his waistband. He moaned and pulled my ear to his mouth, saying, "Fuck, I've been waiting all week for this."

"Me too," I grinned, my hands tossing his tie to the side, but it fell down against his open shirt. I stepped back and crossed my arms, looking him over. We had this arrangement where I would pick up some of the work he didn't want to do, and on the weekends, he would let me possess his body. We have been doing it for so long that now he likes taking the passenger seat every week, and it's less of a trade-off for me.

"So you really want this?" I said, standing there.

"Come on dude, you know the deal." He tried pulling me in, but I pulled back.

"Nah, I think you get more out of this than I do now." I smirked.

"No way." He shook his head.

"Yeah, I think we need to change our terms." I pointed at him.

"Can you just get in me please?" He was starting to get irritated leaning back with his tie keeping his shirt around his neck.

"Fine, fine," I rolled my eyes, jumping onto him. I rubbed my hands together before pushing my whole weight onto his chest. His head fell back, and he was moaning as his skin absorbed me. I rippled into him, his muscles tightening as he grinned. The feeling of ecstasy made it much easier to slip my limbs into his. My legs disappeared inside, and his body bulged out in areas as I slid my body into a comfortable position inside of him. He opened his eyes and gasped as I kicked out what I called his essence. It was something like his spirit or his consciousness, invisible and floating without a body now that I inhabited his.

"Every time it feels amazing." He said. It was easy to smile as the rush of possessing him tingled along my borrowed skin. My cock twitched as I looked up at the for of the original owner of this body. He liked to watch, admiring what he had done to keep his body in shape as I enjoyed it. I would sometimes jump inside and then he would allow me to invite someone over, using his body in ways he never intended.

"And you feel so good every time." My abs tightened when I brushed my fingers over them, lightely tracing them before I slithered my fingers around my hard manhood. I felt it pulsing in my grip, stroking and moaning. I was putting on a show, flexing and moaning like I was doing this for views. A pornstar exaggerating the sounds of his pleasure for those that enjoyed a passionate moan. Each stroke sent a rush of feeling throughout my body, and the closer I got the edge the more I was feeling myself detach from him. This is what I liked doing, entering him and then once I use his cock I let myself get kicked out. I'm actually quite good at keeping control through the pleasure, but there was something about exiting his body and leaving it limp as he leaks out the load I milked out.

"Fuck you're gonna cum." He was floating above me.

"Fuck yeah." I liked that he knew, that he could see how his body would react to my touch and realizing I was about to bust. Just as I felt the shivers of pleasure, I released, my load landing all over his abs as I squeezed myself out of him. I popped right out, a burst of energy as I landed on my feet right in front. His body went limp with his hand tight around his cock. He laughed as he looked at me.

"I should try to get in you like this." He laughed.

"You better hurry before - " I pointed towards the window and in came a large burly essence. It was another spirit of some sort, one that must have been watching. There was just enough time for the large ghost to dive into his body, a bright light emitting from his chest before a random ghost took control.

"Holy, it worked!" He looked down at himself, his hands sliding over his muscles and his fingers becoming slick from my load. 

"What the fuck?" My co-worker tried to get back inside his own body, but it was too late for him.

"You should have been faster." The guy said, looking up at the spirit of the real owner and then over to me.

"Hm. Interesting." I said, stepping closer.

"Wait!" He stopped me just as I was getting ready to kick him out.

"Dude, what are you doing? Kick him out and let me back in!" The spirit was floating behind me now, begging me to get his body back.

"What if you let me keep him and I become your personal little slut." The large ghost now inhabiting the body of my coworker reached out and cupped my bulge. I felt it pulse as he squeezed. I was squinting at him as the all of the possible outcomes of this situation flashed before my eyes, all of them making me lean towards letting this random spirit keep this body. 

"Are you really thinking about it?" My co-worker was getting agitated.

"Anything you want, I can make it happen." The stranger was unzipping my fly and slipping his fingers inside. I reached out, jamming my fingers into his abs and making him gasp as he felt himself getting kicked out, but just as he looked afraid I went in and made out with him. 

"What the fuck?" My co-worker was trying desperately to get back inside, his essence bouncing off his body.

"That kind of tickes." The stranger said, going back into the kiss.

"It's just a little fun. Stick around and watch or maybe there is someone out there willing to let you in." I looked up at the spirit of my co-worker, grinning evily with his real body being inhabited by some other ghost. I was grinding against him when the ghost pushed me off.

"I'm all yours." He said, his eyes full of lust.

I got close to his ear, my breath hot against his skin, and said, "He's all yours. But you are all mine." I reached down and squeezed his cock, making him squirm underneath me as I was pushing myself against him. The essence of my co-worker was gone, having desperately gone out into the world to find something to inhabit. This new arrangement was definitely going to lean in my favor.

[anothermaletfwriter]

Can you do a story where a guy's world and reality start changing around him like he has always been this big bodybuilder (even his reflection changed) but his body is the very last thing to change ?

Muscles. The holy grail to attract women. That's what Manny thought of in order to justify buying a spell from an Engkanto (a mythical Filipino spirit) on Etsy. Attached to his $45 payment bill was a pdf in Visayan. Per Manny's request, the spell would cause his muscles to grow. It would made him look like he lived in the gym despite only going there for leg day every 2-4 weeks. The main problem was that Manny's parents never taught him Tagalog, let alone Visayan. Manny only spoke Visayan once in his life, five minutes before trying the spell. Google Translate and Chat-GPT were his saviors.

Chanting the spell printed off crinkled paper, disembodied voices cheered with him. The ceiling lights grew dim as the room shook around like it had its own heartbeat. Despite not knowing the language, he knew he had already fucked up. As he stumbled over his vowels and aspirated consonants, the voices turned into mockery. They cackled, shouting "Nakakaon ka’g tagok?" (Why can't you say it?) and “Gago!” (Idiot!). Their sounds of torment circling around him like a typhoon. After he finished butchering the last word, the voices stopped. The only noise was the humming of the working lights. He looked down at his body. He was still a twink.

As Manny typed his complaints to the Etsy Engkanto, his phone dinged with several notifications. While he feared they were of identity theft, it was a different form of identity. It was the black and orange app of Grindr. Many of the notifications were Taps and other reactions. Even more were the numerous pictures and horny introductions sent in masse by gay men, stretching up until a few months ago. A memory seeded in his mind of always being on Grindr but deleting it every couple of months to install it again, which was the weakness of every gay man. While his memories of fucking women remained, his sensations of breeding their pussies felt off. Unsatisfying. The total opposite of what he wanted.

Manny sent a message to the seller, “Hey this spell you sold me made me gay and I'm still a petite twink."

The seller responded back, almost like a bot, "The spell is fine. This a user error. Did you try to practice your pronunciation of the spell a couple of times before actually trying it."

“No but I didn’t ask to be gay. I don't even care about the muscles at this point. Can you turn me straight again?”

“Purchase another spell for that.”

“You can’t refund me? Dude, I want to pick up a girlfriend."

“My policy is no refunds. You can pick up a boyfriend now if you want. Either stay gay or buy another spell of mine. My bisexuality spell is half off.”

“Can you please out of courtesy send me the straight spell for free?"

User has blocked you.

Manny looked at the mirror. Still the same body as before. Not even a slight growth in his muscles or height. Manny, like any person with a niche problem, researched on Reddit on how to correct or at least undo the spell. Per a subreddit of customers of Etsy Witches and beyond, any amount of word mispronunciation will alter or delay the spell but it would not cancel it. One post noted how she had mispronounced a spell that would have made her rich, describing how rich objects, such as a luxury house, car and a private-practice neurosurgeon husband, manifested first. It took a month for her bank account to be updated with her new wealth. Another user wished to be young again and he was transported back to college: classes, absent RA’s and quirky roommates. Yet, for weeks, he still saw himself as a middle aged man with ill-fitting clothes that made it more of a sitcom than a fulfillment fantasy, before he woke up one day back as a college freshman.

With the only solution to either spend more money or to wait and give up, Manny chose the latter to continue on with his life. All the hot girls in yoga pants he used to stare at were nearly invisible to his new male gaze. His attention turned to the other muscular man, many wearing muscle shirts and booty shorts that aimed to objectify themselves and their hard-earned physiques primarily with other men in mind. A particular man, Joshua, another Filipino bodybuilder, caught his eye with his bright red shorts that showed his glutes whenever he squatted 350 lbs. Memories of their first hookup at the gym’s steam room and how quickly Joshua came in his mouth filled up his mind. As Manny admired the grunts and moans of the hot guys around him, he failed to notice the growing piles of eyes staring at him. Some whispering their envies of his gains and accusations of gear. Others enamored and speechless from how perfectly sculpted his body was.

Joshua met his eyes and headed towards him.

Manny looked to the side, acting like he wasn’t caught.

The other bodybuilder spoke first, “Bro, how do you get built like that?”

“Like what?” Manny shrugged, his tank top hanging loose off him, almost like a dress, breezing from the loud fans in the ceiling.

“Humble guy I see. Just look in the mirror, bro,” Joshua guided him to get up from his bench and to the reflection.

On the other side was a tall muscular man. Bulging veins on his massive arms, able to crush someone with ease. He took off his tight tank and basked in the dramatic top down lighting, admiring the complexities and depth of his muscles. There was a narrow yet deep crevice in between his mountainous pecs and a striking division among his perfect abs. He rotated his legs, the calves ready to burst out. Flexing his arms one more time, Manny noticed the flirty smile of Joshua.

Expecting the mirror to match reality, Manny looked down on his own body with disappointment. He was still the frail twink he was. The man in the reflection wasn’t him, even if that was what showed up in his cameras as well. He frowned at the mismatch, he squeezed his own flat chest and sighed.

“What’s wrong dude?” asked Joshua.

“Uh. Um it’s just I wish I was more built.

Joshua squeezed his chest discreetly, snickering to himself, “What do you mean bro? You got melons for a chest! You need perfect genetics and diet and a whole lifetime of just lifting to even get close to your physique.”

“Yeah,” The bodybuilder smiled back in the mirror, “It’s hard to compare yourself to others.”

“Bro that’s number one downfall right there. If you keep comparing to other’s peoples selves and lives, you lose track of yourself.”

He was right. Joshua went back to his set, lifting weights that would have killed him a week before with ease, with Manny hyping himself up. The rest of their 3 hour gym session went quick with a lot of bantering and flirting before a quick hookup in Joshua's place.

While they fucked, Joshua kept caressing Manny's flat stomach and unremarkable arms, burying himself into his non-existent pecs. He even struggled to fit Manny’s average member into himself, acting like it was a monster size. After sweating bullets and vigorous thrusting, Manny came in him and passed out. He woke up next morning, a slight hope that this would be the trigger, to Joshua drooling over his physique. He lifted his blanket, expecting a firm chest underneath but it was still flat.

After eating breakfast and saying their goodbyes, Manny returned to his own home. He turned on the lights to an unfamiliar apartment. Posters of famous bodybuilders on the wall. Weights littering the floor like stone islands. Protein powder jars scattered around like cauldrons in a witches hut. Bodybuilding trophies with memories of winning the competition brought back into his mind. His muscle memory led him to make a protein packed beef Adobo with plain rice. Everything had resumed into his wish: the memories, the house and the perception of others. But it was his view of himself that was left.

Manny tried the classic transformation clichés. Pretending to wake up from a deep nap where he dreamed he became a different person. Bending down infront of a mirror to expect a sudden transformation. Saying aloud "Boy it would be really inconvenient if I transformed right now." He even read transformation blogs that transformed the reader. None of it worked. Not even a placebo effect was weaseled out of it.

It took weeks for it to finally happen. But it wasn’t convenient. Not when he slept. Not when he was complaining at home about contemplating buying another spell. Not when he stepped out of the shower and darted for the mirror. Not when he fucked Joshua and other men in a steamy orgy of a bathhouse. It was at a grocery store. In aisle 7. The detergent aisle. He didn’t expect doing this much laundry as a bodybuilder but he wore shirts, briefs and shorts like he was at a fashion show. Manny only realized it when Joshua shove detergent into his chest, which was busting out of his t shirt. He even flexed at the aisle of mirrors, admiring how his forms of himself were matched. The reflection finally matched reality. His memories as a straight twink evaporated. The gay bodybuilder reality settled in, replacing any last memory or moment of what was.

[mindmelter]

Answer The Call

Vance was a straight stud, he was at the gym in the middle of his workout when his phone started ringing. He picked it up and saw it was from an unknown number. Probably spam, he thought. This number kept calling him nonstop ever since he stepped into the gym. It wouldn't stop, no matter how many times he declined it, so he finally decided to answer the call.

"Hello?"

Suddenly, Vance heard a loud, strange noise —the sound was horrible, like bad radio static. In seconds, Vance's eyes became blank and his mouth went agape. He kept the phone pressed against his ear as he stood motionless.

Finally, Vance heard a voice. It was a male voice but laced with the static noise. "Hello, handsome. Do you see that guy across the gym?"

Vance looked forward but couldn't see anyone, the gym was empty. "No, on your right... Yes, the chubby guy talking on the phone."

The overweight man was staring at Vance with a grin, the man walked towards Vance while still on the phone and then stopped in front of him.

"You must obey everything that man says," The man spoke on the phone, and Vance heard the same words coming from his phone, only now laced with the static noise.

"Yes... I will obey him," Vance droned mindlessly.

"Yes, you will. You will also let him play with your body as much as he wants, especially your perfect pecs." The man spoke on the phone. The words that came out of the man's mouth meant nothing to Vance, but the words coming from his phone meant everything to him.

The man grinned and, with one hand, he started caressing Vance's big pecs. He reached for one nipple and started gently pinching it. He pulled and twisted on them, making Vance grunt in discomfort, but he never once thought of stopping the stranger from assailing his pecs.

"Your pecs belong to the man now, tell him that." The man ordered on the phone.

"These pecs belong to you now, sir." Vance droned on as the man flickered his nipple with his thumb.

"You love to have your nips played with, it makes you hard. You also love it when the man in front of you suck on them."

Vance started getting hard. He moaned when the man started sucking on his nipple, biting it gently. Both of them were on the phone the entire time.

Vance became a moaning mess, his big dick was throbbing hard under his gym shorts. He never had his nipples sucked on before, and now he was experiencing the biggest pleasure of his life in the middle of a gym.

The man grinned and said on the phone, "Cum!"

Vance moaned as he immediately creamed inside his shorts, leaving a dark spot on his shorts.

"That's great, this was the best orgasm you had in your entire life, you want more of this. When this call ends, you will become the chubby man's slave forever. You will serve and let him use you as much as he wants. You will enjoy your new life as his toy. Goodbye, Vance."

The call ended, but Vance's new life had just started.

[notquitehimself]

Kris was almost out the door when I struck. His hand had just reached for the keys, the fabric of his tight shirt stretching over his chest as he bent slightly. The mask was already in place, snugly covering the lower half of his face, a final piece of armor before he faced the world. I could feel his thoughts—he wanted to wear the mask to not get sick for a big upcoming interview. But now that I was here, nestled inside his body, there was no way I was letting that mask stay on.

As I settled into him, fully in control, I straightened his back and walked him to the mirror. “Kris, Kris, Kris,” I murmured, hearing his deep voice for the first time, rolling his name off his tongue with a teasing lilt. I grinned at how smooth and resonant it sounded. “Why hide behind this mask? That’s just cruel.”

I reached up, hooking his fingers under the mask’s edge. Slowly, I peeled it off, watching the reveal in the mirror. First, his sharp jawline emerged, then those full, slightly parted lips. His grin—my grin—was already there, wide and unusually cocky for him. I curled his lips just enough to flash his teeth, then let his face soften into a confident smirk that was a perfect balance of playful and seductive.

“Mmm that's much better,” I took a deep breath feeling his chest rise and strain against the tight fabric of his shirt. Without another thought, his mask slipped from my hands and it landed carelessly on the counter.

“Look at you,” I whispered, his voice rich and dripping with awe as I tilted his head side to side, watching his reflection with fascination.

Rolling his shoulders back, I made him puff out his chest. My grin plastered across his handsome face turned downright wicked. Damn, it was so hot to see him act so arrogant. “Mmm, feels so damn good,” I murmured, dragging a hand over the word “Dedicate” stretched across his shirt. His chest rose and fell with controlled breaths as I tightened his muscles beneath the snug fabric.

I flexed his pecs, the tight material straining with the movement. “Unghhh… oh yeahhhhh,” hearing his groan drip with unrestrained pleasure. His pecs quivered under my touch, and the faint outlines of his hardening nipples pressed visibly against the shirt. I dragged his fingertips over them, eliciting a soft, pleased moan.

“Feels so good… so sensitive…”

Sliding his hands under the hem of his shirt, I lifted it slowly, savoring every inch of revealed skin. His torso was a masterpiece—sculpted abs, deep cuts along his obliques, and a chest that practically begged to be explored. I ran his palms over his body, a deep groan escaping his lips. “Ohhh shitttt, this is amazing,” I whispered, his voice playful yet dripping with heat.

Then, my eyes drifted lower. A smirk spread across his face as I guided his hand down over his abs, feeling the tightness of his core and the warmth of his body. “Mmm, what do we have here?” I murmured, letting his fingers graze the growing outline beneath his pants.

“Ohhh, Kris…” I groaned, his voice now breathy with anticipation. His body was responding, alive under my control, and I wasn’t about to stop. I adjusted his stance slightly, pushing his hips forward, watching as the growing bulge became undeniable.

Letting his head tilt back, I watched as I made him look at his own reflection with lustful eyes, his mouth open lost in the heat of the moment. "UU-uuuuunggghhhh feeels fucking amazingggg" I made say with him letting out a deep, satisfied moan, the sound vibrating throughout his apartment. “Oh fuckkkk, that is going to take some real dedication,” I grinned, dragging his tongue lightly over his lips while watching his bulge begin to stain with his precum oozing through his pants.

[soulswapsaga-deactivated2025121]

I'm a body swapper. My power allows me to switch bodies with anyone I want, provided I have their consent. The other person becomes me for as long as I am them.

I use my power to help people who need a break from their life. Whether that's work, family, or personal issues. I become them and do what they don't want to or can't do, so they can use their time as me to relax and unwind.

My clients are usually men who want a break from work life, so they can have some time to themselves to recharge. I usually charge a flat rate for my services, which can be as little as an hour to a whole day. But today I had a client who offered a hefty price for me to be him for a whole week. The price was so good that I couldn't refuse.

So that's how I found myself in his home office. His name was Brian, a man in his late 50s who worked as a senior project manager for some construction company. I don't remember the details because I don't care much for it, but the gist of it was that he needed to be on a family vacation with his wife and two kids, but he also needed to finish a project that his boss assigned to him, which would take a whole week to finish, which coincidentally coincided with his vacation plans.

So he hired me to pretend to be him and go with his family on their vacation. This was a bit new to me because I usually just do the boring things for my clients and not actually pretend to be them.

Once I had control over Brian's body, I got up and checked my reflection in the mirror. I was a tall man, probably around 6'3", with a balding head of brown hair and a thick mustache. I wasn't exactly in the best shape, as my large gut would indicate. I was wearing a yellow button-down shirt and a pair of black slacks. Not exactly my style, but it was comfortable.

I sat back down at the desk and played around with Brian's large gut. It was surprisingly firm, but it still felt like I was carrying around a sack of potatoes. I stared at my reflection again. I couldn't believe that I was going to be stuck in this body for a week.

I sighed and tried to adjust to my new body. It didn't take long for me to get used to it, though. I've been doing this for years, so I'm pretty adept at getting used to new bodies.

As I was getting familiar with Brian's body, I received a message from Brian in my body. He told me that he was on his way to the hotel he booked for the week and that he would spend his time there working on the project. I wished him luck and hoped that he would finish it on time.

I was just about to start looking around Brian's home office when I heard a knock on the door. “Honey, are you ready yet?” a woman's voice called out.

“Just a moment, dear!” I replied, trying to sound as much like Brian as I could.

“Okay, well hurry up! The kids are getting restless!”

I quickly finished up whatever it was that Brian was doing and made my way out the door with the family and too the airport.

The first few days of the trip were a bit awkward. I had to pretend to be Brian, and that included dealing with his wife, Susan, and their two kids, Alex and Lily. They were a nice family, but it was still weird to be interacting with them as their husband and father. I had to try and remember all of the little things that Brian would do and say, and I had to make sure that I didn't slip up and say or do something that would give me away.

I had to remember how Brian liked his coffee, what his favorite foods were, how he interacted with his family, and a whole host of other things. It was a lot to take in, but I managed to pull it off. At least, I think I did.

It wasn't until the fourth night that things started to get really weird. We had gone out to a fancy restaurant for dinner, and I had ordered a bottle of wine. I'm not much of a drinker, but I figured that since I was in Brian's body, I could probably handle a few glasses.

Big mistake.

By the time we were done with dinner, I had drunk almost the entire bottle of wine by myself. I was feeling pretty good, and Susan was looking incredible too. She was wearing a tight black dress that showed off all of her curves, and her long blonde hair was cascading down her back. She was laughing and joking with the kids, and it was clear that she was having a great time. I couldn't help but feel attracted to her.

I knew that I shouldn't be thinking about her like that. She was Brian's wife, and I was just supposed to be pretending to be him. But as the night wore on and the wine continued to flow, I couldn't help myself. I started to put my arm around her and pull her close to me. I could feel her body against mine, and it felt incredible.

Susan didn't seem to mind. In fact, she seemed to be enjoying it too. She leaned into me and started to run her hands along my chest. I could feel myself getting hard, and I knew that I needed to stop. But I couldn't. I was too drunk, and Susan was too beautiful.

As we were walking back to our hotel room, I pulled Susan close to me and kissed her. She didn't resist. In fact, she kissed me back with just as much passion. I could feel my cock throbbing in my pants, and I knew that I wasn't going to be able to stop myself.

We made it back to the hotel room, and I pushed Susan onto the bed. I quickly stripped off my clothes and climbed on top of her. I could feel her soft skin against mine, and it felt amazing. I kissed her deeply as I positioned myself between her legs.

I slowly slid my cock inside of her, and she moaned in pleasure. I started to thrust in and out of her, slowly at first, but then faster and faster. I could feel her tight pussy clenching around my cock, and I knew that she was enjoying it just as much as I was.

I continued to fuck Susan hard and fast, pounding my cock into her over and over again. I could feel my orgasm building inside of me, and I knew that I wouldn't be able to hold it off for much longer.

With one final thrust, I buried my cock deep inside of Susan and exploded, filling her with my cum. I collapsed on top of her, both of us breathing heavily.

As I laid there, still inside of Susan, I realized what I had done. I had just fucked Brian's wife. I had crossed a line that I shouldn't have

But as the days went by, it became easier and easier to hold onto that personality. I felt more comfortable in Brian's body. I found it easier to pick out his clothes in the morning, to eat the foods he liked. I felt more and more like him, and less and less like myself. And the sex with Susan was incredible.

As the week came to a close, I found myself dreading the swap back. I didn't want to go back to being me. I liked being Brian. I liked his family, his house, his life. I liked the feeling of being wanted, of being needed. I liked the feeling of having a family that depended on me.

So when the day of the swap came, I was filled with a sense of sadness. I knew that I would miss being Brian, and I wasn't looking forward to going back to being myself.

When the swap finally happened, Brian was satisfied with how I had handled things. I had taken care of his family, I had gone on the vacation with them, and I had even finished up some work for him. He paid me the rest of the money he owed me, and we parted ways. I gave him a code for a discount on his next order and hoped he would take me up on the offer.

Even now, I still think about being Brian. I wonder how he and his family are doing. I miss being in his body, being a part of his life. It was a strange experience, but it was one that I will never forget. And who knows, maybe someday I'll get the chance to be Brian again. A body I miss to this day.

[immortalmrwavell]

The Chronological Timeline of Mr Wavell

Over the years I’ve had many people express their intrigue towards my OC/persona Mr Wavell and the story I’ve built around him through my stories. So for all those who want to experience the events surrounding Mr Wavell in chronological order, here is a timeline of every story he makes a significant appearance in. Unlike my archive posts, this list is in descending order, starting top to bottom. I’ll add more as future stories involving Wavell are released.

Mr Wavell - Origin

Toby’s Wish

Adam and Mr Wavell

Getting A Promotion

Sam’s Choice: Prologue - Blue Box - Red Box - Yellow Box

Swapping For Gains Bro

The Perfect Takeover

Wearing His Suit

Rejuvenation

A Mix Up Of Souls: Part One - Part Two (Collab with @verus-animus/@verus-veritas)

Uncle Ted - The Gym Exchange

Wavell’s Vacation: Week 1 - Week 2 - Week 3

Transforming The Teacher: Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 (Collab with @tf-lover)

Wavell’s Birthday Surprise

The Future Of Mr Wavell! A Warlock’s Duality

A Worthy Replacement: Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Epilogue

Kiss in Time: Main Story - Extra

Maybe It Was Fate

Gooey Thief

The Principal’s Solution

The Homo Bomb: Prologue - Jack - Theo - Lewis - Andrew & Mateo - Trevor - Conclusion

A Stepfather’s Wish To Be Closer

Power and Authority

Go Bananas!

Daddy’s Home

The Best Punishment

Love and Lust

His Reward

Dreaming To Be A Strongman

Please let me know if you find any problems with any of the links and I’ll try to get them fixed

[notquitehimself]

I watched Juan navigate the crowded airport with palpable irritation. His frustration was almost tangible, radiating from his pissed-off face. His dark eyes, sharp beneath the brim of his cap, scanned the area with barely concealed anger. His luggage banged into the back of his leg, the wheel on one side refusing to roll smoothly. He cursed under his breath and kicked it, muttering in Spanish.

I followed him closely, my curiosity piqued by his visible irritation. When he reached the counter, the young woman behind it flashed him a customer service smile. “Good afternoon, sir. How can I—”

“Good afternoon, my ass,” Juan cut her off, slamming his passport onto the counter. “I’ve been waiting in this line for an hour. Do your job and get me on my flight.”

The attendant’s smile faltered, but she maintained her professional tone. “I’m sorry for the delay, sir. Let me check you in—”

“Yeah, yeah, just hurry up,” Juan snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. His hoodie stretched tight over his broad shoulders as he leaned in closer.

The attendant’s gaze dropped to his passport as she quickly scanned his information into the computer. I sighed with relief as the line moved forward. At least his behavior wasn’t directed at me.

I followed him onto the plane, dreading the proximity. Juan tossed his bag into the overhead compartment and then plopped into his seat. I moved into the row, taking the seat next to the window. His cologne, a strong woodsy scent, filled the air, and I felt a shiver down my spine. Despite him being such a dick, he was quite hot.

Hours into the flight, the cabin lights dimmed for sleep, but Juan’s legs stretched out, encroaching on my legroom. It was as if he didn’t even acknowledge my presence.

“Dude,” I said, my voice low and annoyed, “would you mind moving your legs?”

Juan turned his head, his dark brown eyes locking onto mine with a penetrating glare. “What?”

“Can you give me some space?” I motioned toward the cramped legroom he was monopolizing.

“What’s your problem, man? You don’t need all that room,” Juan snapped. “What are you, like 100 pounds? You don’t need more space. Stop being such a bitch about it.”

He went back to his movie, leaving me seething with frustration. I decided to show him what it felt like to have your space invaded.

Unaware of what was coming, I focused on the warmth of his muscular legs pressing up against mine, channeling my essence through that contact point. I closed my eyes, concentrating on the pressure.

First, I took control of his leg, making the muscles twitch. Juan didn’t notice, too engrossed in his film. As the flight attendants began their meal service, I moved my control upward into his torso, feeling the strong beat of his heart and the rise and fall of his chest. Juan breathed deeply, oblivious to my intrusion.

Next, I seized control of his arms, subtly flexing his biceps and forearms. Juan remained unaware, his attention on the movie. The flight attendant reached our row, and Juan prepared to order his meal. I made my final move, flooding his mind and seizing full control.

“Chicken plea-AHH,” Juan’s voice cut off abruptly as I took over his vocal cords. His suave, arrogant tone was now under my command.

I made Juan’s lips curl into a polite smile. “Actually, none for me, thanks. I’m not hungry for that type of food,” I said smoothly. The attendant blinked in slight confusion but moved on. Juan’s stomach growled, but I was too thrilled by the power I wielded to care.

I leaned back in the seat, savoring the strength in every muscle. I wasn’t content just to sit—I had to explore. I stood, stretching Juan’s long legs, feeling the denim tighten over his thighs. With a casual glance around the cabin, I headed to the bathroom.

Once inside the cramped space, I locked the door and faced the mirror. Juan’s handsome face stared back, but it was me behind his dark brown eyes.

“Hey, sorry for being such a bitch about earlier,” I made him say with an apologetic expression. Seeing him apologize felt bizarre but thrilling. I grinned, marveling at his cheeky smirk flashing back.

I flexed his muscles, feeling the fabric of his hoodie stretch over his pecs and biceps. “Glad I could give you back your space and more,” I made him say, lifting his hoodie to reveal his chiseled abs. I laughed at the absurdity of it all and continued to remove the hoodie, exposing his tanned, lean torso.

Seeing his reflection standing there was exhilarating. I felt his jeans strain against his growing member underneath. “Sorry man, I hope you understand that I needed the space earlier because of this,” I mockingly said in his voice as I groped the bulge with his hands. “It was getting a bit cramped as you can see”

I unfastened his jeans and pulled down the zipper, the sound echoing in the confined space. Excited, I slipped out of his jeans, leaving Juan in just his Tommy Hilfiger briefs.

I grabbed Juan’s phone and unlocked it with a bit of effort. Opening the camera, I switched to video mode. Time for some fun.

Looking into the camera, I said, “Fuckkk, this plane ride got me so horny,” palming his bulge and letting the camera focus on the action. I moved his hands into his briefs, breathing heavily with excitement. Slowly, I pulled his briefs down, revealing his thick cock.

I wrapped his hands around his hardening shaft and began pumping. “UGhhHHHhh, I need to drop this thick load n- now,” I groaned, his voice quivering. I aimed the camera at his stiffening member. “Mmmm fuck yeah.” I continued tp pump his shaft while watching his reflection under my control closely. A wicked grin spread across his face. His eyes, usually so intense, were now half-closed with a look of raw pleasure. His brows were furrowed, and his lips were pulled into a soft moan. He looked like he was trying to hold back a bigger groan, his expression a mix of satisfaction and vulnerability. It was a far cry from his usual cocky self, and the difference was striking

I watched myself pump his shaft, the foreskin rolling over the head of his cock. His balls tightened, and I yelled uncontrollably as his orgasm hit. Hot, white seed sprayed out, covering his six-pack.

“Awww fuck yeahhhh that was amazing,” his moans escaping my lips and I let his cock go. “Missed dinner for this,” I said in his voice, gathering his seed and lapping it up "ayyy… muy rico".

I smiled at the screen and ended the video. “Fuck man, you’re a slut,” I said, putting the phone back in his pocket. I pulled up his pants and adjusted the hoodie.

……………….

Juan’s eyes blinked open, confusion flashing across his face as he took in the cramped bathroom, his reflection in the mirror, and the mess surrounding him. He looked down at his disheveled jeans, and the dampness on his abs.

“What the—” Juan’s voice trailed off as he tried to make sense of the chaos. The reality of the mess and the strange salty taste in his mouth hit him with full force. He took a deep breath, trying to regain composure, but the embarrassment and frustration were evident.

Back in his seat, he tried to focus on the remainder of the flight. His legs now within his space and not sprawled out. He glanced at his phone, the last video’s thumbnail visible, and grimaced.

"The fuck happened to me?"

……………….

Juan rushed into his apartment, dropping his luggage hastily by the door. To any onlooker, it would have looked like he was eager to shower and unwind after the long flight. He staggered into his bedroom, he his hurried movements as he stripped off his clothes, tossing them aside with little care.

However, once the clothes were discarded, he stood naked in front of the bedroom mirror with a mischievous grin. He framed the shot and spoke smoothly into the camera. “What a fucking long flight, but looks like I’m ready for round two,” he said, flexing his muscles with a playful smirk and a mischievous glint in his eyes.

[permanentswaps]

Hello, Dad

Read Part 1 by @possessionbodythief.

Two years have passed since that fateful night, and I’ve settled into my new life as Jake with surprising ease. Watching the residents of the house over the years has proven invaluable in adapting to the modern world. My mannerisms have changed, but since the real Jake had always been uncertain about how his dad would react to being in a new body, it didn’t matter much. People around me simply chalk it up to growing up and finding myself.

After some time living with "my dad" - or Jake now in Robert's body - in the old house, I realized I needed my own space to truly embrace this new life. Moving out was a big step, but one I knew I had to take. I found a small apartment downtown with a view of the city skyline, a far cry from the haunted house I was confined to for decades. This place, with its modern amenities and vibrant surroundings, felt like a breath of fresh air. The sense of freedom and independence was exhilarating, something I had never known in my previous life.

"It's so good to be free," I whisper to myself, a smile spreading across my face.

My phone buzzes, pulling me out of my reverie. It's a text from "my dad."

"Hey Jake, you wanna grab dinner tonight? Been missing you."

My smile widens. I quickly text back.

"Sure, Dad. There's a new spot near here I've been meaning to try, wanna meet at 7?"

"Perfect. See you then, kiddo."

I put my phone down, thinking about how much has changed. Lately, I've been working out a lot. I feel a bit bad for Jake; he was just kinda impatient. It would've happened for him eventually if he had kept with a routine. I mean look at the transformation from then to now:

But hey, his impatience is my gain. I'm still more lean than buff right now, but that's how I like it. There are a bunch of cute guys checking me out all the time. I've even managed to get a hot boyfriend.

But it seems Jake has noticed the changes the most. He even jokingly muses, "Damn, what I would've done to have a body like yours at that age." He's kidding, of course. He never experienced this age. In fact, we still have never mentioned the swap – thank God, 'cause I don't want to risk him finding out who I really am in this body. Jake seems to be completely comfortable in his new body, never showing any signs of sadness or jealousy. He truly embraces his role as Robert and appears genuinely happy.

But sometimes, he throws in these playful comments that catch me off guard. Like the other day, I was stretching after a workout, and he walks in, giving me an exaggerated once-over.

"Look at you, all limber and toned. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to impress someone," he said with a wink.

He smirked, leaning against the doorframe. "Well, you're definitely turning heads. Just make sure you don't break too many hearts."

I grinned back at him. "And look at you, Dad. You're in fantastic shape. You've got those muscles everyone dreams of."

Jake's eyes gleamed with pride as he flexed his bicep. "Damn right. I know I've got it going on."

Another time, we were out for dinner, and I mentioned I was thinking of getting a new wardrobe.

"Oh really?" he replied, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Trying to show off those gains? I can't blame you. If I had your body, I'd probably never wear a shirt."

I chuckled, feeling a flush creep up my neck. "Maybe I'll take your advice and start a new trend."

It's not just my body that's improved, though. Jake has also been hitting the gym hard. He's in fantastic shape, even better than when I first took over this body. His muscles are more defined, and his confidence radiates in every movement.

As I step into the upscale restaurant, the blend of modern design and rustic charm immediately catches my eye. String lights are draped across the space, casting a warm, inviting glow over the wooden tables and cushioned benches. The walls are adorned with lush greenery and vibrant flower arrangements, creating a serene and picturesque ambiance. The gentle sound of a nearby water fountain adds to the tranquil atmosphere. The tantalizing aroma of freshly baked pizzas and herbed garlic bread fills the air, making my mouth water.

Jake is already there, waiting at our table. He looks up and grins when he sees me.

"Hey, kiddo," he says, standing up to give me a hug.

"Hey, Dad," I reply, embracing him warmly. "This place looks amazing. Ready for a feast?"

"You bet," he says with a laugh as we take our seats.

We start by ordering a variety of appetizers: bruschetta topped with fresh tomatoes and basil, crispy calamari, and a charcuterie board that looks almost too good to eat.

"These bruschettas are amazing," Jake says, biting into one.

I nod. "Definitely. This place is awesome."

As we work our way through the appetizers and move on to the main course, a handsome waiter catches Jake's eye. He can't help but flirt, turning on the charm with every word. The waiter, clearly interested, flirts back, and by the time dessert arrives, Jake has the waiter's phone number scrawled on a napkin.

I can't help but laugh. "Wow, Dad, you're really on fire tonight."

Jake grins, waving the napkin. "What can I say? When you've got it, you've got it."

We finish our meal with splitting a tiramisu. As we're wrapping up, Jake leans over, a serious look in his eyes. "Hey, why don't you come back home tonight? I've missed having you around recently. I'd really like it if you stayed over."

"Sure, Dad," I say, smiling. "I'd love to."

When we get home, he catches me looking at myself in the mirror, admiring my progress. The muscles I've worked so hard to develop are finally starting to show, and there's a newfound confidence in my reflection. Jake walks up behind me, his presence warm and reassuring.

"You know, you've got this whole 'boy-next-door' vibe going, but with an edge. It's... intriguing."

I chuckle, a bit embarrassed but also pleased by his words. He steps closer and grabs my waist, his hands firm yet gentle.

He looks at me in the mirror, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "See, I told you," he says with a twinge of irony, "You just needed to wait for your growth spurt."

I turn to face him, our eyes meeting. "I guess you were right," I say, with a knowing smile. "It just took a little time."

A look of lust flashes over his eyes, and I feel a thrill run down my spine. He moves closer, his hands sliding up to my shoulders, giving them a firm, appreciative squeeze.

"And now you’re all grown up," he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

Before I can respond, his lips are on mine, capturing me in a deep, passionate kiss. My body reacts instantly, pressing against him, the heat between us igniting something primal and intense. It's been two years since we last shared this kind of intimacy, and the hunger in his eyes tells me he’s been waiting just as long.

He guides me to the bedroom, our kisses growing more urgent, our touches more desperate. The anticipation builds as we shed our clothes, revealing the bodies we’ve both worked so hard to perfect. The air is charged with electricity, the desire between us palpable.

Jake pushes me gently onto the bed, his eyes roaming over my body with a mix of pride and lust. "You're perfect," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

He joins me on the bed, his hands exploring every inch of my skin, rekindling the flames of our past encounters. I gasp as his lips find the sensitive spots on my neck, my chest, my inner thighs. The pleasure is overwhelming, each touch sending waves of ecstasy through me.

When he finally enters me, it’s like coming home. The connection between us is deeper than ever, our bodies moving in perfect harmony. Every thrust brings us closer to the edge, the intensity building until it’s almost unbearable. I grip his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin as I match his rhythm, our breaths coming in ragged gasps.

"It's been too long," Jake groans, his breath hot against my ear. "I’ve missed this."

"Me too," I gasp, my hands clutching at his back, urging him deeper. "God, I've missed this."

His pace quickens, each thrust more powerful than the last. The room is filled with the sounds of our passion—the slap of skin against skin, the low moans and gasps, the whispered words of desire. I can feel myself getting closer, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in my core.

Jake's hands grip my hips, pulling me closer, deeper. "You're mine," he whispers fiercely, his eyes locked on mine. "Always."

"Yes, Daddy," I moan, the words slipping out naturally, a thrill of submission coursing through me. "I'm yours."

The intensity of his gaze, the possessiveness in his voice, sends me over the edge. I cry out, my body arching beneath him as pleasure crashes over me, wave after wave. He follows moments later, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as he finds his release, collapsing onto me, spent and sated.

We lie there, tangled in each other’s arms, the afterglow of our lovemaking still shimmering around us. His weight is comforting, his presence a soothing balm. I run my fingers through his hair, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against mine.

"That was incredible," I murmur, my voice soft and breathless.

He leans down to kiss me again, slow and sweet, a promise of more to come.

[possessmedude]

Possessing Jake

Jake was a tan, hot, and muscular 25 year old jock. He was the definition of sexy and manliness, and he knew it. Jake had chiseled 6 pack abs, huge pecs, and bulging biceps. While at the gym, Jake finished his rigorous workout and walked to the locker room confidently, proud of his day’s lift.

As Jake stripped off his drenched clothes, he lifted his sweaty skin tight shirt to his nose and took a deep whiff. “Ahh the smell of a real man” he smirked. He continued to undress at his locker.

Little did he know, a symbiote in the form of goo was watching him intently from the shadows. The goo was in need of a body and was looking for an alpha male worthy of being its host.

The goo crept closer, its amorphous form shifting and pulsating. The goo knew it would be better to have a willing host so it can make its new host it’s permanent vessel, so it had to convince him. Once it was behind Jake, the goo started growing and forming into the shape of a towering, muscular, and chiseled man. The goo remained made up completely of goo. The goo had a broad frame and bulging muscles that were even bigger than Jake’s. Between his legs, the goo sported a 10” cock and big balls.

Jake finished removing his jock strap and turned around with eyes widened with excitement. He felt a mixture of feelings including confusion and excitement seeing the goo man. “Who the fuck are you?!” Jake asked. “I am looking for a host to contain my form, being a vessel for all my strength and power.” the Goo said, while puffing his chest and flexing his huge arms. Jake was eyeing up the goo’s impressive form, feeling small compared to him. He felt a sense of jealousy and admiration for the goo.

“Damn dude you’re huge. So you are looking to give a guy all your big muscles and strength?” he asked. “Yes, the host I bond with will get all of my body and more.” the goo told him. Jake looked at the goo man’s huge cock. Jake already had a big dick, but he was impressed by the girth and length of the goo’s.

The idea of possessing even more impressive muscles and having that cock added to his own thrilled Jake. The goo noticed Jake’s curiosity and stepped forward so he was right in front of him with the tips of their cocks touching. Jake reached out his hand and started touching the goo’s biceps, feeling the tone and definition. Jake pressed his body more against the goo’s and they both flexed together, rubbing their bodies and feeling each other’s. Jake ran his hands over the goo man's solid, glistening muscles, feeling the strength that radiated from them. Jake was getting hard at the idea and decided he wanted all the goo’s mass inside him and added to his body. He couldn’t stand the thought of the goo offering itself to another guy, he wanted it. It was as if the goo man's presence was igniting something primal in him, awakening desires he didn't even know he had.

“Give me your muscles," Jake whispered, a sense of power coursing through him. “You agree to let me bond with you?” the goo smiled. Jake took a step back and opened his arms wide and confidently declared “Take my body, it’s all yours”. The goo smirked and said “MY body”. The biggest smile formed on Jake’s face as he was bursting with anticipation for the goo’s mass to enter him. “Open wide” the goo commanded of his new vessel.

Jake opened his mouth and the goo started flowing into his body, filling out every part of him. He gasped as he sensed his muscles expanding, his body growing more powerful by the second. His legs instantly grew to thick proportions, Jake groaned as he felt the goo’s cock start sliding into his own, making it rock hard and a new huge 12”. The goo’s abs pushed against his own, turning them into a rock hard 8 pack. Next Jake’s pecs ballooned up to the biggest pecs he has ever seen. Jake looked at the mirror and saw the goo entering his body. He noticed how defined and muscular his body is growing to with the goo entering him. He couldn’t wait any longer and started gulping the goo down to help it enter its new host. His arms tripled in size as he felt the goo’s biceps sliding into his own, as if his body was being put on like a glove by an even more alpha male than himself. It made him so excited to be the vessel for such an alpha, manly mass.

The symbiote bonded with his muscular fibers, enhancing his already impressive physique. It was as if the goo was fulfilling Jake's deepest desires for strength and dominance, but also to be dominated. The goo finished entering Jake’s body and he was pushed back into his locker, with his back hitting it. He stretched his arms up and wide, feeling incredibly filled. He was captivated by the sensation of power under his fingertips, an anticipation building within him. Jake flexed his newfound muscles, admiring the raw power at his disposal. He raised his arm to his nose and took a deep whiff of his hairy armpit, relishing the stronger musky scent that emanated from his body. “Ahhh fuck yeah, I’m the ultimate alpha”. A cocky grin crossed his face as he reveled in his new, muscular form.

The goo was still adjusting in his body and was now starting to move up his neck. Jake felt pressure in his neck moving upward and he started thinking about the goo taking full control of his body. He felt a mixture of awe and submission, a thrilling surrender to the symbiote's power. “Come on man, give me all of it! Make us the strongest man there is.” Jake shouted. Jake knew he was going to lose control of his body, but he was so excited for it. Any hesitation was gone, as he wanted to be dominated and watch his sexy, muscular body be controlled by the only man more of an alpha than him.

Jake's consciousness began to blur. He could feel himself slipping into the back seat of his own mind, while the goo man took over the driver's seat. A sense of euphoria washed over him as he realized that the goo had chosen his body over all the others in the gym. He reveled in the thought that the goo recognized his unparalleled masculinity.

Jake’s head stretched upward and then lowered back to normal, with a big sexy grin forming on his face. The goo was now fully in control of Jake’s body, with Jake being aware but only able to watch and feel his body, which felt incredible. As the goo man flexed Jake's newfound muscles, an overwhelming feeling of pride surged within Jake. The goo admired his reflection in the gym mirrors, his cocky grin a testament to the combination of both Jake and the goo’s cocky personnas. Jake relished the feeling of the goo coursing through his veins, controlling every movement, every breath.

With newfound confidence, the goo man spoke through Jake's lips, his voice dripping with arrogance. "What a rush! Fuck, I am a stud inside you, Jake. Thanks for the body, bro.” he declared, his words laced with a blend of cockiness and satisfaction. Jake’s body had willingly welcomed and accepted the goo, allowing every part of their combined bodies to bond. The goo, mimicking Jake’s whiff of his manly armpit earlier, raised his new arm up and deeply inhaled his other hairy pit. It now had an even stronger and muskier smell. “It’s cause I’m the alpha now, with two of us inside together.” the goo said. The goo continued to inspect his new rock hard physical body, touching and caressing every crevice like him and Jake were doing before. He felt his huge cock and shuttered at the ecstasy, massaging it.

After admiring his reflection, the goo man's attention turned toward the showers. He strode confidently toward the tiled room, his enhanced body glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. The powerful water jets cascaded over him, washing away the grime of the workout. Jake's body moved with a fluid grace, every movement a testament to the symbiote's control.

In the showers, the goo man ran his hands over his new body, relishing in the sensation of every contour, every ripple of muscle. His touch was exploratory, appreciative of the masterpiece he now possessed. As steam billowed around him, the goo man reveled in the musky scent of manliness that enveloped the space.

Jake's mind lingered in the background, an observer to the sensations and experiences that the goo man was indulging in. He had become a vessel for the goo's dominance, his former self now intertwined with the confidence and swagger of the goo man's persona.

Thanks for reading! This was my first ever story I wrote, I hope you enjoyed and let me know what you think!

[amendingreality-deactivated2025]

“Let me be a top today then”

…

“Oh yeah”

[amendingreality-deactivated2025]

“Let me try to be a bottom today”

!!!…

“That’s better”

[immortalmrwavell]

The Transfer Auction - Vince

(Original story posted June 29th 2023) This story has been Updated!

When I wrote this story back in the day, I did so with the intention of following it up with some kind of series. It didn’t end up happening unfortunately but after revisiting it I’m once again considering the idea of writing up some more stories surrounding the auction. I’ve already got a handful of ideas. Once I’ve finished reuploading my archive I’ll try to remember to write something else for the auction!

Late on the first Sunday evening of every month, an auction was held. But this was no ordinary auction of course. It was held at a private location where only a few were privileged and trusted enough to be allowed entry. These people were either those with vast amounts of wealth or those who had special connections. Or simply of course. The only other way to enter the auction was to ‘compete’.

It all took place in a large showroom with a huge luxurious stage up front. There were multiple rows of chairs seated before the stage, many of which were already being filled by those arriving. Each one of them understandably eager for the show to start. As this was the men’s auction, naturally the crowd was made up almost entirely of rich men. The kind of rich you’d be able to sense at a mere glance. High end tailored suits, designer clothes, expensive watches, perfect hairstyles. The type of men that could spend thousands in a single day and hardly bat an eye. And yet, because of its unique and fascinating nature, this auction had drawn them all here. Because at this auction they could buy something they wouldn’t be able to buy anywhere else. So naturally when the lights dimmed, the crowd erupted with applause while a man made his way to the left side of the stage where a podium sat.

“Good evening everyone! My name is Gavin Alexander and I’ll be your host for the night!” He announced via the microphone with a wide grin. “I can’t help but notice just how many of you there are! I suppose it’s only appropriate for me to lay the ground rules. You’ve probably all read the pamphlet but allow me to reiterate the basics for anyone who didn’t.” He took a small breath before continuing with a more serious demeanor. “To start, we expect everyone here today to conduct themselves with professionalism. Any rowdy behaviour during the bidding process will not be tolerated. Second, anyone caught bribing the staff will be permanently banned. Same goes for any kind of manipulation of the event. Third, you are not to harass any of the men seen on stage here today after the event regardless of which group they enter from. And Finally, we kindly ask that all mobile phones be silenced along with any other devices on your person that may cause unnecessary disruption.”

He paused for a moment, allowing the people before him to do as instructed. His eyes flickered across the room as he watched the crowd of well groomed men checking their pockets to make sure the phones were on silent.

Gavin's smile swiftly returned moments later. “Now, with that out of the way, let’s get this show started!” He announced, causing the crowd to erupt with applause once more. Moments later the overhead lights began to dim as the main stage beamed to life with gleaming spotlights, preparing for what was to come.

Moments later a group of ten men came onto stage, all in nothing but a tight speedo with a number and letter pinned to it. Nothing was left to the imagination. The men varied slightly in age with the youngest looking around 20 years old and the oldest seeming to be in his mid 40’s. They also varied in height, appearance and race but the one thing that remained consistent throughout all ten men was that they were in great shape. Most of them were the size of huge bodybuilder’s you’d typically see showing off their gains and giving out tips online. That said it almost seemed like a bodybuilding competition to see all those massive meatheads all lined up together on stage.

“As is tradition by now, we like to start every auction off with some of the biggest, beefiest and hunkiest men we have to offer. Each and every one of them is a tower of thick muscle mass that I’m sure any one of you wealthy gentlemen in the crowd will be eager to strike a transfer with.” He said as he gestured towards the line up, prompting the brutes on stage to begin hitting an array of poses to show off their physiques. “No prizes for guessing what most of you are going to want from these adonis’!” He joked, kindling a hearty chuckle from the crowd.

Gavin took the microphone with him as he stepped down from the podium. “As per usual each one of our transfer models here today have been given the chance to set a few guidelines as to what is off limits and what’s up for grabs. They’ll be happy to share these with you as we proceed. Naturally this will be the same for each group we bring on stage tonight with the exception of our criminal selection. These are of course men who’ve been ordered to take part in our auction in addition as part of their sentences. As such these men don’t have the luxury of setting guidelines and so everything is up for grabs with them.” He said clear and sharp before making his way across the stage to the first hunk in line.

“Now to our first model of the night. Mr Chase Adams!” The crowd let out another swift applause. “What are your terms Chase?” He asked before holding the mic up towards the hunk with 1A pinned to his speedo.

“Well I’m cool with most stuff to be honest. I’m happy to transfer muscle, body fat, hair and all that stuff. The only things that are off the table for me I’d say are genitals and anything to do with my face.” Chase happily listed-off rather fairly. Soon after the bidding for his body began at around 300K. Many of the spectators were very eager to buy an opportunity to transfer with the well proportioned, fair skinned hunk. But there was one man in the crowd who wasn't the least bit interested in Chase.

Vince Hamlin.

He wore a casual grey suit that flattered his unassuming form fairly. Yet that very casual tone of his outfit made him seem a little underdressed when compared to some of the other men in the audience. Besides that he was easily identifiable by his shaven head and a nicely trimmed beard that framed his handsome looks perfectly. Vince leaned back in his chair as he waited patiently for the bidding on Chase to come to a close. The quicker they got to the sixth man in line, the better. Number six was only one Vince really had his eye on.

For the next half an hour or so Vince sat skimming through the pages of the pamphlet again or using his bidding paddle as a fan while he waited. He watched as the host descended down the line of hunks. The one after Chase was an asian man who had the face of a super model that almost seemed a little out of place atop his hulking body. After him was another white dude who was the smallest of the bunch but still huge compared to the average gym goer. Vince couldn’t help noticing how more of the overweight men in the crowd began bidding once when each guy mentioned that body fat transferral was on the table. At last however he found himself sitting up a little straighter when the host finally approached the sixth man in line.

“Next up is our 1F model for this month, Mr Darius Crawford! By the looks of it he’s our tallest hunk here tonight! But before we start fighting over him, what are your terms Mr Crawford?” He asked the looming man.

Just as the host had said, Darius was certainly the tallest contestant out of the bodybuilding batch. Naturally he was huge all over with enormous muscles that rippled along his rich ebony skin. Some of the gay men in the crowd were practically drooling at his mere presence, Vince included though he tried to hide it.

“For me, the things that are off limits are my genitals, my race and my age in either direction. Besides that everything else is up for grabs.” He spoke with a deep, masculine tone into the mic before giving a thumbs up to the audience.

“You heard him folks!” Gavin said as he turned back towards the audience. “Now how about we start the bidding at… let’s say Six Hundred Grand? That sound fair to you Darius?” He turned back towards the bodybuilder who gave a satisfactory nod. “Six Hundred Grand it is!”

Right away people in the crowd began raising their paddles. 650K, 700K, 800K, 950K! The number kept rising at a rapid rate and it was no surprise considering Darius seemed to be one of the biggest prizes of this selection. Just as the numbers were reaching the mid one millions however, Vince raised his paddle and shouted “Four Million!” There were a few glances in his direction, people slightly surprised at the sudden jump in bid.

“Going once!” The host beamed in Vince’s direction. “Going Twice?!” He added. “Any more bid’s!? This is your last chance! Go-” before he could finish he was interrupted by another bidder.

“Five Million!” Shouted a 60-something year old man.

“Seven Million!” Another one screamed with his paddle in the air.

“Twelve Million!!!” One more chimed in.

These bidders were persistent. More so than Vince had expected. Then again most of them are middle aged dudes with far too much money on their hands so he should’ve anticipated this. What he’d thought might’ve scared the other bidders off had only made them more eager as the numbers only went into higher and higher millions. And so with a big sigh he threw his paddle up again and shouted…

“TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY MILLION!!!”

The host and the audience were stunned. “T-two hundred and fifty… million? I don’t think we’ve ever had a bid that high on one person before.” The host muttered before quickly trying to regain his composure. “G-Going once!” He began. “Going Twice! Any last competitors?!” There was a brief moment of silence and… nothing. “Sold! To the handsome gentleman in the grey suit!” He announced proudly with wonder in his voice.

Vince practically fell back into his seat, grateful that he didn’t have to increase his bid any higher. “Fuck this had better be worth it…” he grumbled to himself before resigning to sit through the remaining men on stage.

After that the bidding returned to normal. The host continued down the line of remaining hunks on the stage as each of them sold for a decent price around a few million or more but none bothered to bid much higher. Vince couldn’t really care either way though. He’d already secured exactly what he’d come here for. And so it wasn’t long before the tenth and final man in line was sold meaning the show could continue on to its next phase.

“Alright everyone! That’s all for our bodybuilders tonight!” Gavin announced. “They’ll all be ready and waiting for those of you that won the bids after the show but before that we have our second wave of men!”

With that the hulking brutes made their way off stage to make room for the next group. Moments later ten more men stepped up on stage. Like the former group they were clad in nothing but speedos however they weren’t meatheads this time. Instead this group was a line up of some of the burliest and hairiest men Vance had ever seen. Most of them have strong builds made up of a generous mix of fat and muscle. Some of them were noticeably fatter and/or thicker than others with hairy bellies of varying sizes that all seemed to protrude over the waist of their speedos.

“Here we have tonight’s big burly bear selection! They’re some of the most prime beef furballs we know. Any one of these fabulously thick hirsute men would be perfect for anyone in the crowd looking to add a little more fur to their frame. Assuming they’re willing to part with it of course. Not to mention they’ve all got plenty of meaty thickness to share with anybody looking to fill out their frames with a few extra pounds of comforting fat!” Gavin said as he walked along the line of bears on stage, selling them to the audience perfectly.

The bidding began with Gavin introducing the first macho daddy bear in line but Vince wasn’t the least bit interested. He’d already gotten what he came for so he pretty much just zoned out for the rest of the bidding. Most of the bears had much lower starting bids than the bodybuilders due to them not being in as high demand. The highest the bids got up to during that second group was Eight Million. Respectable of course but nowhere near the massive bid he’d made. Though in honesty Vance still wasn’t sure whether he was proud or embarrassed to have bid as much as he did. He just had to keep thinking about his reward. It would soon be worth it.

Eventually the tenth man of the bear group was sold before they exited the stage together. After them came a bunch of brainiacs who were all highly intelligent in one area or more and were willing to transfer some of that intelligence. Each of them proved their intelligence by answering a few rapid but complex questions in their area of expertise. Once they were finished however, the next set were all lean and skinny men who were advertised mainly as group that the more rotund men in the bidding crowd could transfer as much of their bodyfat as they wanted onto. More and more batches of men across the stage during the night. Once all the specialised groups had gone through, they simply had groups of miscellaneous men of varying body types randomly put together go up on stage as well for anything niche or different they may have to offer. Or simply to have a cheaper bid.

Vince hadn’t stayed to watch the whole of the show after making his bid on Darius. At some point he’d wandered off to the bar for a drink and some food while he waited for the bidding to conclude. Every now and then he’d hear the announcement speakers mention which group of men were coming on stage next. Though he hadn’t really planned on going back to watch the rest of the bidding, when the speakers mentioned that the criminal group was coming up last, he found himself pulling away from the bar and heading back into the main showroom to watch the final batch of men.

He got there just in time to watch as security escorted the criminal group up on stage. They were a mix and match of men who’d all broken the law in some way or another to land themselves on that stage and up for auction. If Vince was being honest none of them seemed all that special physically. Mostly average dudes without a whole bunch going for them, hence why their bids started fairly low. However it wasn’t their looks alone that made them stand out, it was the fact that they weren't allowed to set guidelines. The winning bidders would be allowed to transfer as much as they wanted between themselves and the criminal models regardless of agreement. No doubt some people in the crowd would get off on that. And so Vince watched as the host Gavin went down the line of criminal men, putting each one of them up for bidding until all of them had been sold.

“And with that, the bidding part of tonight’s event comes to close!” Gavin stated after returning to the podium. “Those of you who won the bids, please allow members of our staff to escort you to our transfer facilities. Everyone else feel free to help yourselves to the buffet near the bar if you haven’t already. There’s plenty of free food and drinks as a thank you from us for attending tonight!”

Vince got up from his chair and made his way over towards a group of staff with the other winners. The staff checked the numbers as well as each winner’s bidding paddle to make sure everything was in order. Once that was taken care of they were led through a pair of double doors, down a flight of stairs and through a maze of corridors with a seemingly endless amount of rooms. Each room however had a number and letter that matched what each model had clipped to their speedos. Every man from the first batch, the bodybuilders, had from 1A, 1B, 1C onwards up until 1J. Then moved onto 2A onwards for the second group of models, the bears. Vince wouldn’t get anywhere near those doors however as his journey ended quickly at 1F, the same number and letter that’d been pinned to Darius on stage.

“Right this way sir.” One of the staff kindly ushered Vince inside room 1F while the remaining winners continued down the hallway. Once inside he was almost shocked by the large futuristic looking machine that took up most of the room. It was a massive device that was connected to two chairs, both of which seemed to have some kind of helmet above them that was directly wired to the machine. He’d never seen anything quite like it… and they had god knows how many of these things?? It was only then that he finally noticed Darius, the gigantic hunk he’d won in the bid. He’d been sitting patiently waiting since the bodybuilders bid ended and was eager to get up from his seat and greet Vince.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr…?” Darius began, holding out a large hand.

“Mr Hamlin. But you can just call me Vince.” The rich man responded while accepting the handshake. “So I assume you’ve done this before?”

“Once yeah. A couple years ago.” Darius confirmed. “It didn’t hurt or anything. You just feel a bit weird for a while afterwards as you try to adjust.” He explained rather nonchalantly. “And thank you by the way. I never imagined someone would bid that much for me. I know the organisers take 40% but that’s still one hundred and fifty million my way… I can’t thank you enough.”

Vince smirked as his eyes scanned over the hulking man’s form once again. “Your body is all the thanks I need.” He then turned his attention to the staff in the room with them. “So what’s next?” He asked.

The staff explained that all they needed to do now was agree on what was being transferred. After that they just needed to get seated and the machine would do the rest.

“So what’s it gonna be?” Darius prompted, taking a couple steps back to allow Vince a chance to take in everything that was up for offer.

“Your muscle. I want as much of it as you can give.” Vince didn’t hesitate for a second. He knew exactly what he wanted and who could blame him. Darius was a monster with how massive he was. “It’s always been a dream of mine to be huge like you. I’ve worked out a lot over the years but I’ve always struggled to put on any decent size. But now… suddenly it’s all possible.” Vince had to try and stop himself from salivating over the pure adonis before him. If he hadn’t been imagining having all that muscle for himself, he’d have been picturing himself fucking Darius’ huge bubbly muscle ass instead. If he didn’t have so much restraint, he’d certainly have a boner right now.

Darius didn’t particularly mind the lustful stares the other man was giving him. He wasn’t gay but, with how much this guy was paying him, he couldn’t really complain. The least he could do was let Vince admire the merchandise. “Yeah I figured you’d say that. I am pretty huge huh?” He gave one of arms a quick flex. “Was there anything else you had in mind?”

Vince thought about it for a second as he looked up at the giant before him. That’s when it hit. “How about some of your height as well? I’m 5’10 but I’ve always wanted to know what it feels like to be over 6 foot and you look like you’ve got plenty to spare.”

Vince certainly wasn’t wrong. Last Darius had checked he was about 6’5. Naturally he was accustomed to always being the tallest man in a room.

“Depends. How much are you thinkin?” Darius queried.

Vince thought for a moment before answering. “How does 5 inches sound?”

Darius went back and forth in his head for a moment. 5 inches wouldn’t be too much right? He’d still be about 6 foot afterwards… “Alright, fine. 5 inches. But no more!” Darius put his foot down on that. He might’ve been getting paid a lot but he wasn’t about to drop down to 5’11 or below. He was a tall fucker and he wanted it to stay that way. Thankfully Vince seemed more than satisfied with that.

Just then some of the staff chimed in. “Alright so we’ve got 5 inches of height and as much muscle as can be safely transferred… Is there anything else you want to request, Mr Hamlin?” They were already inputting settings into the machine regarding the previous requests to prep the machine.

Vince pondered on it for a second. Tall and muscular, what more could he want? He was about to say that was all until his eyes nestled onto Darius’s bulge. “Well… I know on stage you said it was off limits but I was wondering…”

“Nope. Not happening.” Darius didn’t even need to hear the rest to know exactly what Vince was about to ask. “Sorry man. My girl doesn’t care how huge and buff I am but she loves my big dick. Can’t help you I’m afraid.”

For a moment Vince thought of offering Darius a little extra money in exchange but he could tell just by the look on the hunks face that it wasn’t going to happen. Luckily for Vince he had a backup plan… “Oh alright. Just muscle and height it is.” He waved his hands about a little before turning to the staff. “I suppose we’re ready now.”

Once all was decided both Darius and Vince were made to sign a few documents confirming that they both consented to the transfer and that Vince would pay his fee afterwards or would be reprimanded accordingly. And once that was taken care of, they were taken back over to the machine…

As the pair of them were getting strapped into the chairs however, Vince whispered to the man that was doing his straps. “Hey. I’ve got a deal for ya.” Then, as quickly and quietly as possible, Vince proposed that he would give the man and his co-workers in the room a hefty amount of money if they agreed to transfer some of Darius’ dick size to him despite what the hunk had said.

The staff member gave him an awkward look for a second, his moral compass clearly being challenged. “S-sir… you should know that’s against the rules. You shouldn’t-” he was cut off before he could finish

“It’s only against the rules if you or your buddies tell someone. Wouldn’t you rather earn a personal bonus on top of your pay check?” Vince continued to sweet talk the man into doing his bidding. “Come on. Just say yes. Nobody has to know…”

The man looked at Vince nervously. “I… well…” but before he could get a sentence out, Darius spoke up from around the other side of the machine.

“Yo! What’s taking so long over there?” I asked pointedly.

The staff member glanced back at Vince, thinking for a second before nodding at him. Vince grinned back in return, glad to see that his little gamble might’ve paid off. He watched as the staff member returned to his colleges, seemingly pitching Vince’s proposal to them as well. Thankfully for Vince, they all seemed eager to go ahead.

Before long both Vince and Darius had the helmets placed on their heads, ready for the transfer. Soon enough there was a loud engine-like roar as the machine blazed to life. For a moment Vince didn’t feel anything besides the buzzing of the huge device behind him so he was taken by surprise when a bolt of energy from the helmet came surging through his body. It was an almost indescribable feeling, as though he was being flooded with electricity. Yet instead of frying him to a crisp it was energising him instead! It felt… exhilarating! So much so that he didn’t even realise the transfer was already starting to take place.

Slowly but surely Darius’s muscle mass began to decrease. His arms getting smaller, his huge chest deflating, his legs shrinking. With every second that passed he lost more and more size. All of that muscle he’d worked tirelessly to gain steadily drained away along with all the strength that came with it. All of it being converted into pure energy that was processed by the machine. Before long Darius was a far cry of his former self, looking rather thin and lanky rather than the imposing he’d been previously.

Of course all that energy had to go somewhere and that place was Vince. As soon as the machine had finished absorbing Darius’ muscle mass, it began pumping all of that energy into Vince’s body. He felt it immediately. A burgeoning power growing inside him. Gradually his once average body started to inflate with newfound muscle. His biceps and triceps were the first things he felt. The way they ballooned with size as pulsing veins snaked across his skin. His back and chest were quick to follow as they broadened at a rate that caused Vince’s shirt and jacket to groan under the pressure. Even his thighs and calves began to thicken significantly by the second, causing his growing legs to strain against his suit pants. Before long a series of ripping sounds could be heard coming from all across Vince’s suit.

His jacket was the first to give in as the sleeves started to tear under the pressure of his ever growing shoulders and biceps. The sound alone was music to his ears. Vince couldn’t actually see what was going on due to the helmet but the ripping of his clothes was a good indicator of how huge he was getting! His upper body continued to broaden and expand until his jacket pretty much exploded to reveal the already ripping shirt underneath which no doubt wouldn’t last long. But before his shirt had the chance to give, his quads had the honour of bursting through his suit pants first in all their muscular glory. Their sheer mass couldn’t be contained any longer. And not a moment later the top button on his pants came flying off as well as his hips and waist grew thicker to accommodate. But not as thick as his ass. Vince’s once average butt ballooned to a colossal size, practically elevating him in his chair with its mass and giving him a nice round bubble butt just like Darius once had. Soon after he couldn’t help but let out a stifled grunt as his chest heaved forwards, two enormous pecs forming at last with hardened nipples capping each one off. Those being the final straw that caused his shirt to tear apart at last.

But of course just because Vince’s clothes were in tatters didn’t mean the growth was about to stop. There was still more energy from Darius the machine had to give! And so his body kept expanding, growing even larger with muscle. His thighs had grown so thick that it was impossible for them to not press against one another. His upper body had become so swole that his arms had been forced almost comically out to the sides both due to the enormity of his arms themselves and sheer size of his lats. By the time the machine had finally run out of energy to pump into Vince’s body, his muscles looked engorged with unbelievable size and strength. No wonder since it was cramming all the muscle of a 6’5 man into 5’10 body. He was so swole now that if the transfer ended now, he’d hardly be able to move properly. But of course that had been accounted for and was about to change with the wave of the transfer.

The machine returned its attention to Darius once again, sucking even more energy out of him. Only this time instead of taking his muscle, it was slowly shrinking his body in another way. His limbs and torso all diminished until his height had reduced its way down to 6 foot exactly. On the plus side for Darius, his body didn’t look quite lanky now as it had moments ago.

Of course as soon as this was done the energy was once again redirected towards Vince. He felt the energy filling him once again, only this time it felt a little different. Instead of expanding, he felt himself stretching out instead! His arms and legs all grew longer as his height increased. Only coming to a halt once Vince reached an impressive 6’3. Simultaneously the muscle he’d gained moments prior was now able to spread itself out more evenly across his larger frame in a way that allowed him to actually move.

Now was the moment of truth. Had that bribe truly been enough to get Vince the last thing he wanted? There was silence for a moment as if the staff were still debating amongst themselves on what to do. For a second Vince was worried his little plan had failed. That perhaps they weren’t going to go through with it. Or worse, the staff were considering reporting him. That is until the machine roared to life one more time…

“Hey uhhh… sorry you two but we just need to make sure there’s no ummm… imbalances between you both before we shut this thing down.” Said a voice over the speaker.

Darius was of course none the wiser but Vince knew exactly what that meant.

The machine slowly and carefully started sucking more energy out of Darius so that he wouldn’t take notice. Unbeknownst to the once massive man, his penis was gradually getting smaller until it had lost about 3 inches of its length and a bit of its girth. Even his balls shrunk slightly to match.

When the machine turned its energy Vince however, it made the transfer nice and fast. Within seconds he felt his cock inflate rapidly, going from an average 5 inch cock to an impressive 8 incher with some added girth to top it off. The rich, conniving man couldn’t help but grin maliciously underneath the helmet as his balls swelled fatter as well.

A few minutes later the transfer machine was powered down properly before the staff returned to remove the helmets. As soon as they did, Vince looked down at himself in wonder. His body. It was everything he’d ever dreamed. Gigantic in every sense of the word with bulging muscle all over! He then glanced over at Darius who looked tiny in comparison. The intimidating bodybuilder he’d once been was now replaced by an average and rather skinny looking dude.

As soon as his restraints were removed, Vince tore away the remaining shreds of clothes leaving him in nothing but his dress shoes, socks and underwear. His ass cheeks were practically eating the underwear from behind while his fat new cock and balls created an unmistakable outline.

The very first thing Vince did was lift his hands up to grope his pecs, squeezing the muscle with pure wonder. They felt so soft yet when he tensed his pecs they became firm and hard. After that he bent forwards slightly and flexed both his arms together, feeling as they bulged with strength. His biceps looked like mountains on his arms as they peaked with insane size that not many would be able to match. And his lats… they were gigantic! Even after his increase in height, they were still pushing his huge arms permanently out to the sides, giving him more of a natural alpha stance. It was incredible. He felt incredible!

Before Vince could continue exploring his god-like build however, one of the staff members stepped up carrying a pair of large black boxer briefs, some white joggers and a huge black t-shirt. “We figured you might want a change of clothes before you leave Mr Hamlin. We always have backups.”

The rich Adonis smirked before taking the clothes. “Thanks. I had such a one track mind towards getting this muscle that I hadn’t even considered my clothes.” He glanced down at the remains of his suit strewn across the floor. “Sorry about that by the way.”

“It’s no problem at all sir. We’ve found most people actually prefer keeping their clothes on during a muscle transfer so they can rip out of them anyway. We assumed that’s why you didn’t undress.”

Without another word, Vince pulled down his insanely tight underwear and kicked them onto the floor. The staff turned away but not before getting a glance at Vince's huge cock swinging free. It seemed that despite his self control, he was still rocking a semi hard on already. Of course the new hunk couldn’t help smirking at this, knowing full well his cock already looked bigger semi-erect right now than it did fully hard before all this. He didn’t dwell on it too much though. After all, Darius was still in the room. Instead he just pulled up the new pair of briefs and joggers he’d been offered, loving how despite their huge size they still fit him perfectly. He did however decide to keep the t-shirt off for now. He wanted to savour this a little longer…

Meanwhile, as Vince marched over towards a mirror to admire himself further, Darius stood looking down at his own thin lanky body. He hadn’t been this skinny since he was a teenager. The last time he did a muscle transfer, the other guy already had a decent bit of muscle himself so the transfer wasn’t too crazy. But now? Lord knows how long it was gonna take him to put all that size back on. “Well… back to square one I guess.” He huffed, looking over at the rich white dude across the room who was now enjoying all his hard work. He couldn’t be mad. After all, he was getting an insane amount of money for this. But still. It just felt weird seeing and feeling himself like this.

The now miniature sized bodybuilder made his way over towards Vince who had now begun posing and flexing in the mirror, enamoured by his new reflection. To be expected after a transfer like this honestly. Even watching as he pulled down the joggers for a second to get a look at how juicy his new muscle ass was. Vince certainly wasn’t disappointed by the results.

“Hey man. Lookin pretty swole! You’re happy with the transfer then I take it?” Darius questioned, keeping a positive and warming attitude.

Vince turned to face Darius with a cocky smirk. “Oh you have no idea. It feels even better than I could’ve imagined. Happy would be an understatement!” He confirmed, flexing again. He also couldn’t help but relish in the fact that he was now the one looking down at Darius thanks to the height transfer. “Thank you Darius. I promise you I’ll take good care of all this.” He vowed before extending a hand out.

“You better. I certainly didn’t sculpt all that muscle so a rich white guy could waste it away.” Darius half-joked as he clasped the other man’s hand and shook it firmly.

As they shook Vince couldn’t help but grin inwardly. Darius still hadn’t noticed the extra dick transfer he got the staff the throw in. Not that it mattered if he did because soon enough he’d get the staff to erase any data logs on the dick size transfer from the machine's memory bank. By the time Darius realises what’s happened, he’ll have no way to prove it as all the staff in the room will be sworn to secrecy with Vince’s money. It was slightly evil, he knew that. But how could Vince pass up the chance to fuck and dominate dudes not only with all this muscle but with an even longer and fatter cock too! Besides, he needs bigger equipment to match his bigger body right??

The staff then took some time to go over a few details with the men. Listing possible side effects post transfer such as headaches and mild nausea for the first 24 hours while their bodies adjust and minds adjust to the change. Vince was hardly listening though, only focusing on how fucking jacked he was now. Once they were done with the formalities however, they said the pair of them were free to either leave or join the rest of the attendees at the buffet.

At last Vince slipped on his t-shirt, adoring how it clung desperately to his giant pecs while the sleeves struggled to hold his biceps. He made his way out to the buffet where some of the other winners were already being admired after their own transfers. There were a fair few others who’d buffed up considerably. Some seemed to have gotten younger with an age transfer no doubt. Some were fatter, some were thinner. Some had different faces and voices. And some looked the same as they did before, likely having taken nothing but intelligence or other mental traits.

The moment someone noticed Vince however, everyone stopped and looked. His transformation was the most insane of them all and it was no surprise considering who he’d won on the bid. Within moments the attendees and other winners alike came over to ask him how it felt and what it was like. All of them seemingly blown away by his transferral. Of course Vince revelled in the attention and it was now easier than ever to pick out the other gay men from the crowd by the way some of them gazed at him.

The rest of his evening was spent being admired and complimented on his new body. It gave Vince a sense of confidence and cockiness he’d never experienced before but he couldn’t deny how much he loved it. He was frequently asked to flex his biceps by the increasingly drunk attendees and some people had even asked him to pick them up off the ground to which he did with ease. He even learnt how to bounce his pecs, much to his and everyone else’s delight. One very drunk dude even made a comment about how he wanted to shove his face between Vince’s juicy pecs. A wish that Vince was happy to grant as he pulled the guy in for a hug and made sure to squish the dude's face between the two slabs of meat on his chest. After which Vince even gave the guy his number so they could maybe meet up another time when he wasn’t so drunk.

Eventually the night came to an end and everyone piled out of the event, eager to get home. On his drive home, Vince couldn’t help thinking about everything he was going to do now. Besides checking himself out every morning he was going to love the attention he was gonna get every time he walked into a room from now on. He was also going to have a ton of fun buying new clothes to fit his gigantic physique. Not to mention how empowering it was going to feel to be the biggest guy at the gym as he works to maintain all this size. And most of all he couldn’t wait to get some hot guys to worship all his muscle before he fucks their brains out. He already knew he’d be pounding the guy he gave his number to in the near future. Maybe he could even get ahold of some of the dudes from the auction who’d had some delicious upgrades.

Regardless Vince knew that he was gonna have the time of his life being this muscle beast of a man from now. He reached down and groped his now fully hard cock through his joggers, smiling as he felt a full 8 inches of thick man meat down there. Oh yeah he had A LOT of self worshiping to do when he got home.

[ghostinthedude-deactivated20200]

“Oh yeahh! Now this is what I’m talking about!” The possessed hunk flexed his huge arms and walked onto the balcony of ‘his’ new flat. He stood overlooking the busy streey below in nothing but some tight undies. He loved the feeling of having such a big, strong fleshie body again, especially someone this attractive.

He cleared his throat until his voice was a perfect copy of Julien’s. A big smile crept across his face as he realized he could now perfectly imitate his sexy host’s mannerisms.

“Man, I could get used to this! Think our girlfriend will have any idea her boy Julien is actually possessed by a geeky white boy? Nah, I’m not gonna ruin your life dude, just enjoy myself. A secret grindr account never hurt anyone though!”

‘Julien’ walked back inside his flat and started to make a new account on his phone. “Oh and sorry bro, I’m totally a bottom too.”

[verus-veritas]

The Field Trip to Swap Institute

(AI-Generated)

Tyler’s fascination with body-swapping wasn’t just a passing curiosity. It was a consuming obsession that had taken root three years ago when the government unveiled the groundbreaking technology to the world. 

The idea of shedding his skin, stepping into someone else’s body, and claiming their existence as his own became a fixation that haunted his every waking moment. He spent hours online, scouring forums and scientific journals, masturbating to the thought of inhabiting a stronger, taller, more powerful body. His classmates thought his endless chatter about swapping lives was just quirky banter. They had no idea how deep his perverse desires ran or how meticulously he’d begun to plan.

When the school announced a field trip to the National Institute of Swap Science, a gleaming monument to human potential, Tyler saw his chance. He campaigned relentlessly, convincing his teachers that the trip would be a transformative experience for the senior class. His enthusiasm was contagious, and soon the entire group of thirty students was buzzing with excitement. 

However, the field trip to the institute required a parent chaperone to assist Ms. Petunia, the overworked biology teacher tasked with wrangling the students. Fortunately, Tyler’s classmate Jack had a father, Clifford Donovan, who was free that day. 

Cliff was a construction manager in his mid-forties, a man whose rugged handsomeness turned heads. His broad chest, thick arms, and stubbled jaw radiated authority, and his bald head gleamed under the sun. Tyler had noticed him at school events, his eyes lingering on the man’s confident stride, his deep laugh, the way his work boots thudded against the ground.

When his classmate Jack suddenly fell ill with a fever the morning of the trip, Tyler’s pulse quickened. The stars were aligning.

—

At the institute, the tour began with a clinical precision that showcased the revolutionary technology within. Scientists in crisp white coats led the group through sterile corridors, explaining the intricacies of neural transfer with detached professionalism. The air hummed with the promise of transformation, and Tyler’s heart pounded as they approached the swap pods, sleek capsules that could rewrite reality in seconds. The students were to pair up for a temporary swap, a controlled demonstration to experience the technology’s power. 

With the ill Jack absent however, the group was left with an odd number, and Ms. Petunia hesitated, her brow furrowing as she scanned the room. Tyler seized the moment, his voice calm but his insides electric.

“Why don’t we let Mr. Donovan swap with someone? It’s only for an hour, and it’d be a waste for him to miss out.” His eyes locked onto Cliff, who shifted uncomfortably, his large hands flexing at his sides. 

The other students chimed in, their excitement overriding Cliff’s reluctance. After a moment, he nodded, his jaw tight. “Fine. But just for the demo.”

Tyler volunteered to swap with Mr. Donovan instantly, as it was his idea to begin with, his smile disarming but his mind racing with possibilities. 

The pods whirred to life, a low vibration filling the room as the swap initiated. Tyler felt a jolt, a fleeting sensation of falling through darkness, and then he was somewhere else. He opened his eyes, or rather, Cliff’s eyes, and stepped out of the pod. The world felt heavier, more grounded. His new body was tall, solid, the muscles dense under a layer of coarse hair. He ran his hands over his broad chest, feeling the weight of his pecs, the roughness of his stubble. His fingers brushed his bald head, the sensation sending a shiver of delight down his spine.

He glanced down, lifting the waistband of his pants to peek at the thick, veined cock nestled in a patch of dark hair. A wicked grin spread across his face, his new deeper voice rumbling in his throat. 

“Holy shit,” he whispered, savoring the sound.

Cliff, now in Tyler’s lanky teenage body, emerged from his pod looking disoriented, his movements awkward in the smaller frame. He caught Tyler’s grin and frowned, his high-pitched voice jarring. “Hey, cut that out! Stop touching my body like that. That's inappropriate.” 

Tyler just chuckled, his new voice rich and deep. “Relax, Mr. Donovan. I’m just getting the full experience. You should try it too.”

Cliff’s unease was palpable, his teenage face flushing, but he said nothing more as the tour continued.

The group moved through the institute, marveling at holographic displays of neural pathways and listening to lectures on synaptic mapping. Tyler barely paid attention though, too consumed by the sensations of his new body. Every step felt powerful, his work boots thudding against the floor. His hands kept wandering, brushing against his thighs, grazing his crotch, each touch sending sparks of pleasure through him.

He caught his reflection in a glass panel and paused, staring at the handsome, weathered face staring back. Cliff’s features were strong, his jaw square, his eyes a piercing blue. Tyler ran a hand over his bald head again, his cock twitching at the smooth sensation.

Cliff, in Tyler’s body, kept shooting him wary glances, his discomfort growing with every inappropriate touch. 

“Tyler, enough!” he hissed at one point, but Tyler just smirked, his new face radiating confidence.

The tour reached its midpoint in a darkened theater, where a documentary on the history of swap technology was to play. As the lights dimmed and the screen flickered to life, Tyler saw his opportunity. His heart pounded with a mix of nerves and exhilaration as he slipped out of his seat, moving silently through the shadows even in his bigger form. 

Cliff noticed a few minutes later, his parental instincts kicking in. He excused himself and followed, his sneakers squeaking faintly as he navigated the institute’s long corridors. The sound of deep, guttural groans stopped him cold outside the nearby public restrooms. His stomach churned as he pushed open the door, the air thick with the stench of sweat and cum, the groans growing louder, unmistakable in their rhythm. They were coming from the farthest stall.

Cliff’s hands trembled as he crept inside, his teenage body feeling frail and unsteady. He followed the noise, each grunt sending a chill through him. He climbed onto the toilet in the adjacent stall, balancing carefully as he peered over the partition. The sight that greeted him was a nightmare made flesh. 

There was Tyler, in Cliff’s body, completely naked. His clothes were discarded in a heap, his boots kicked aside. He stood in front of a phone propped against the stall wall, its camera recording every moment. His large hands roamed his stolen body with obscene worship, one gripping his thick, throbbing cock, stroking it with a slow, deliberate intensity. The other hand clawed at his hairy chest, fingers twisting the dark curls as he groaned. His bald head glistened with sweat, and his former face was twisted in a perverse ecstasy.

Tyler’s strokes were methodical at first, savoring every inch of his new cock, his thumb circling the swollen head, smearing precum across the tip.

“Fuck, this is better than I dreamed,” he muttered, his voice a low growl that echoed off the tiles. He leaned forward, spitting onto his cock, the saliva mixing with the precum to create a slick, obscene sound as he pumped faster. “This body… this fucking body… it’s mine now.” 

He reached down, cupping his heavy balls, rolling them in his palm as he groaned louder. “I’m never going back… Never! I’m Cliff Donovan now."

His strokes grew frenzied, his hips bucking as he fucked his own rugged hand, the stall shaking with his movements. He grabbed the phone, angling it to capture every detail, his voice dropping to a guttural whisper. “Look at this perfectly curved cock. Look at this ruggedly sexy face. This is me…Forever!”

Cliff’s horror rooted him to the spot, his hands gripping the partition as he watched Tyler defile his body. Tyler’s groans grew louder, more animalistic, as he spat again, the saliva dripping down his shaft and onto the floor. He smeared it across his cock, his movements sloppy and desperate, the wet sounds filling the stall. 

“I’m gonna live your life,” he growled, his eyes wild and frenzied. “Your wife, your job, your identity… all mine!”

His hand moved faster, his other clawing at his chest, leaving red marks in the hair. His body tensed, his breathing ragged, until he let out a primal roar, his cock erupting in thick, ropy streams of cum. The first spurt hit the phone, coating the screen, while the rest splattered across the stall door, dripping down in viscous trails.

Tyler’s knees buckled, his head thrown back in ecstasy, and then his eyes snapped open, locking onto Cliff’s.

For a moment, time stopped. Then Tyler’s lips curled into a slow, mischievous grin. He reached up, scooping a glob of cum from the stall door, and brought it to his mouth, licking it off his fingers with deliberate slowness, his eyes never leaving Cliff’s. 

“Like what you see?” he taunted, his voice dripping with malice. He grabbed the phone, stopping the recording, and began pulling on his pants, his movements casual despite the cum still dripping from his cock.

Cliff scrambled down, his teenage limbs clumsy, and bolted for the door. But Tyler was faster, his broad powerful body blocking the exit with ease.

His grin widened, a twisted mockery of Cliff’s usual warmth. “Where do you think you’re going, kid?”

—

Half an hour later, the tour group gathered in the pod room to reverse the swaps. Suddenly, the father Cliff burst into the room, sweat streaming down his bald head, his hands stained with blood. 

“Help!” he shouted, his voice hoarse with feigned panic. “It’s Tyler! We were in the bathroom, and he slipped… cracked his head! I-I think he’s dead!” 

The room erupted in chaos. Ms. Petunia and the tour guide rushed to follow him, the students whispering in shock. Cliff led them to the bathroom, where Tyler’s body lay crumpled, a pool of blood spreading from a gash on his head. His story poured out in a rush, of how he and Tyler had gone to the bathroom during the documentary. As Cliff, in Tyler’s body, stepped out of the stall, he’d slipped on a wet patch, hitting his head. Fortunately enough for him, the impact had somehow reversed the swap, his mind snapping back into his own body. 

By the time he woke up, back in his own adult body, he’d found Tyler unconscious on the floor. He tried CPR, but it was too late.

The tour guide, pale and shaken, called for medical assistance while the scientists ushered the students back to the pods. The remaining swaps were reversed, and the institute’s staff ran tests on Cliff, confirming his mind was intact and his story plausible. The lack of cameras in the bathroom, a privacy measure, left no evidence to contradict him. 

Tyler’s body was pronounced dead once the police came, his death ruled an accident caused by a fall. Cliff was taken to the police station, where he recounted the same story with practiced grief, his blue eyes glistening with crocodile tears. The investigators, finding no inconsistencies, released him that evening.

Cliff drove home in silence, the weight of his new reality a heady mix of triumph and secrecy. His wife, Ellen, and son, Jack, greeted him with concern, having heard fragments of the tragedy. Cliff hugged them tightly, his large hands lingering on their shoulders, savoring the warmth of his family. Over dinner, he recounted the “accident” with a mournful tone, his voice steady despite the glee bubbling beneath. 

“It was awful,” he said softly, his eyes downcast. “Please, let’s not talk about it anymore. I need some time alone.”

Ellen squeezed his hand, and Jack nodded, their faces etched with sympathy. After kissing them both on the forehead, Cliff retreated to his office, locking the door with a soft click.

—

Alone at last, Cliff sat behind the oak desk, his reflection staring back from a small mirror. He held the mask of grief for a moment, his lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes somber. Then, like a switch flipping, his face split into a gleeful, manic chuckle, his blue eyes blazing with unadulterated joy.

“Clifford Arthur Donovan,” he whispered, the name a delicious weight on his tongue. He ran his hands over his stubbled cheeks, the coarse hair sending shivers through him. 

“Yes, Sir,” he mocked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It was a horrific accident. Absolutely, Sir.”

But he knew the truth. In that bathroom, he had surrendered to his darkest temptations, orchestrating a permanent swap by ensuring Tyler’s body would never wake again. The violence had been swift, calculated, the blood on his hands a small price to pay for this body, this life. Every moment since had been pure ecstasy; the lies he’d told, the touches he’d stolen, the weight of this mature, powerful form.

He couldn’t hold back any longer. With a savage urgency, he tore off his shirt, buttons scattering across the floor. His pants followed, ripped open with a ferocity that left the zipper mangled. His broad, hairy chest heaved as he ran his hands over it, fingers digging into the thick muscle, twisting the dark curls until his skin burned red.

He gripped his cock, already rock-hard, and began stroking with a violence that shook the desk. His other hand clawed at his chest, ripping out clumps of hair, the pain mingling with pleasure in a dizzying rush. He spat onto his cock, the saliva mixing with precum as he pumped faster, the wet sounds obscene in the quiet office. He leaned forward, staring into the mirror, watching Cliff’s face contort with feral intensity. 

“This is mine,” he growled, his voice a guttural snarl. “All mine! I’m Clifford Arthur Donovan now… and this is my body, my life, my perfectly thick cock! Forever!”

His strokes grew faster, his hips bucking as he fucked his hand, the chair creaking under his weight. He grabbed his balls, squeezing them hard, the pain pushing him closer to the edge. His other hand roamed his body, stroking his bald head, clawing at his thighs, leaving red marks in its wake.

His moans filled the room, growing louder, more desperate, until they became screams. “This is me! My body! Forever and ever!!!”

His body convulsed, his back arching so violently the chair groaned, threatening to snap. His cock erupted in a torrent of cum, thick ropes shooting across the desk, splattering the mirror, dripping onto the floor. The release kept coming, wave after wave, his legs spasming uncontrollably, his vision blurring as he rode the orgasm to its brutal end.

Panting, sweat pouring down his bald head, Cliff smeared the cum across his chest, rubbing it into his skin like a ritual. He scooped a glob from the desk and brought it to his mouth, sucking it off his fingers with a moan, the taste sending another shudder through him.

He stared at his reflection, stroking his stubble with a wicked, blissful grin. His cock still throbbed, twitching with aftershocks, and he gave it a slow, deliberate stroke, savoring the sensitivity.

“Clifford Arthur Donovan,” he whispered, the name a vow. He would play the role perfectly. A loving husband, a proud father, a real man, until his very last breath.

Days later, an envelope arrived from the institute, containing a letter and a hefty check. The message was clear: keep the incident quiet to protect the institute’s funding. Cliff, with no intention of awaking suspicion, accepted the payment and buried the secret deep. Months turned to years, and the truth of what happened in that bathroom faded into oblivion. Cliff Donovan lived on, his perverse claim and true identity hidden behind a ruggedly handsome smile. His stolen life and body a deception that would remain a secret forever...