Untitled @ljtf1004 - Tumblr Blog

Constructing the perfect man

The heat was getting to Franco, as a construction worker he barely had any time to relax. Always on the next project, always on the move– his existence was exhausting. He had been in construction since he was old enough to get a job. 16 years old, but back then he just worked in reception. Now he was on the field and salaried, but that didn't mean he hated his life any less. He had not grown into a man that he hoped he would, despite being quite strong from the nearly 35 years of work he wasn't the most attractive. Facial features that didn't make the most sense, a soft non existent jaw, and teeth that were more than a few steps away from perfect. His body ached like hell constantly, tinnitus and back pain had been constants in his life for more than a decade.

He stumbled into the small mobile breakroom, the AC his savior from the sweltering heat that only seemed to get hotter each year. He gulped down as much water as he possibly could as a younger guy, Tristan, watched him. Tristan tried to not show judgement, but his eyes betrayed him. He was a new hire, and in Franco’s eyes he was… okay. Franco seemed to not get along with any of the new people, especially Tristan. Although deep down he knew it was out of jealousy. Tristan; the fresh kind handsome face.

dreamertf

Rebalancing (Part 1)

/ happy pride! Got some requests for a twink tf so here ya go I also think this is my first ever 2 part story, I usually never do that! However the story got incredibly long and so I wanted to give you guys this one slowly ;)

/Straight to gay, the tf doesn't finish until part 2

/tw: use of f slur, misogyny

James hated being a personal trainer. He thought that he would get to hit on all the ladies but they barely came to him. Unbeknownst to him his reputation of being an asshole has dissuaded the general public to his services, the only ones that were willing were gay guys that had a thing for being talked down to. Constantly he would complain about the sissies coming in, but he tried to remain cordial. Although how well he was able to hide his animosity was another story. He admitted that he did feel a bit of a rush whenever a fag would be checking him out, not because he was gay or anything– but because he felt powerful. Like he had these gay men in the palm of his hand. He just wished that some bitches would come get trained by him too.

brandedx2

Happy Pride Month part 4

hunksandtwunksandtwinks

hothornyman47yo

manswaps

The Cursed Hunk

The deep groans were coming from his room. The door was left slightly ajar, and Seth could hear someone cursing under their breath. As he got closer, he recognized the wet sound of lotion on skin and the slapping sounds of heated sex.

“What the f—“

Laying on his bed was a tall man, one of the best looking he’s ever seen, flexing and desperately jerking off. His eyes were rolled back into his head and it seemed like his hands were touching anything possible. Each time they brushed along his body a shiver would travel and he’d get closer to climaxing.

“Who are you?”

The jock looked at him in shock, covering his rock hard penis with both hands and stood up. “Fuck, sorry man. Seth, it’s me!”

“Get the fuck out of my room!” Seth yelled, “I’m calling the police!”

“No man, wait! It’s me, Jared.”

“Fuck off, dude.”

“No I can prove it!” He began rattling off details about their friendship, his family, even what he ate yesterday.

“J-Jared? What happened to you?”

“I can’t explain right now, just shake my hand and say yes you’ll swap.”

“What? I’m not shaking your hand.”

“Just do it! Please! Fuck, dude.” He released one of the hands covering his sizable cock, giving Seth a glimpse at the hard rod buried in a perfect bush of hair. His eyes glazed over and he smirked. “Sniff my pits bro,” he grabbed his head and smashed it into one of his pits.

Seth’s cock hardened as he breathed in the sweat of the huge man in front of him. “Knock it off!” He yelled. “Fine!” He took out his hand. “I’ll swap!”

Jared grasped his smaller hand in his large one, and Seth felt a heat rise in his chest. It traveled up his throat until he felt it burst out of his mouth. Across from him, the strange man felt the same. Smoke exited both their mouths and Seth’s consciousness slipped from his body. Suddenly, he was in the air, staring down at himself.

A second later, he rushed toward the open mouth across from him. Smoke poured in and he felt himself come back down. He gained control of new limbs, and when it was over, he stared at himself.

He staggered away from his own body. Staring down, his mouth gaped in disbelief. He switched bodies!

His new body was bound in muscle, he gingerly touched the hair on his chest, so used to being skinny and hairless. The feeling of his fingertips was strange and sensitive, like his nerve endings were twice as sensitive as before.

“Thank god,” he heard his own voice say.

“What did you do?!” He was shocked at the booming bass of his voice.

“I’m sorry, I needed to get out of there.” Jared shook his head. “I’ll explain. I was at the gym showering and this man, your current body, came up to me. I thought he was looking for a good time since he had a full on boner, but he was crazy in the eyes. He begged me to swap with him, and I didn’t say no! Look at him! But he stole my body leaving me in his. It’s cursed. I spent a few hours in it and I had to jerk off every 10 minutes.”

“So this guy is walking around in your body?”

“Yes! I didn’t know what to do so I came to you for help, sorry I made I mess waiting. I could barely think as him so I had to swap to explain. Thanks for the break.” His arms patted down his friend’s skinny body, admiring it.

“Shit, look at me,” Seth breathed. His fingers grasped at his furry pecs, he flexed an arm and watched the muscle bounce, it revealed a hairy bush underneath, drenched in sweat. His attention looked downwards automatically, drawn to the hard cock swinging between his legs.

It was glorious, 10 inches, girthy and tan, the head leaking desperately with the need to release. Surrounding it was the bush he had seen earlier, dark brown and so dense, sweaty too. Except now it was attached to him. His own body had wisps, where this one had pubes to spare.

In the mirror, he turned his attention to his new back and ass. It was muscular and defined, and his ass consisted of two big beach ball buns covered in thick hair. He spanked them jokingly, but the sensation made him buck over in pleasure. Against his will, he turned and spread his hairy ass in the mirror, examining his jock hole, before shoving his fingers between the deep crack to massage it.

The sensation brought tears to his eyes. “Fuckkkk, this is so gay. Bro, please switch me back. I’m gonna cum!”

“I hope you don’t mind, but I can’t do that. Go find someone else to take that thing.”

Seth sat down on his muscular butt and began jerking his cock, he marveled at how hard it was, the heat coming off of it was intense.

“Fuckkkkk,” he lifted a bicep and licked along his arm, getting a whiff of the jock scent that drifted from his hairy manly pits. HIS pits. “I’m such a man…this body…”

Jared watched his friend touch every inch of his new body and couldn’t help but get hard himself. “Fuck…Seth. Are you gay? I’m turned on….”

“I’m bi….” He moaned.

They stared at each other a moment, then Jared stripped off his clothing to stand naked in Seth’s body, his smaller but respectable cock also hard.

Seth rutted like an animal against the mattress,

He turned his buns toward his friend. “Fuck me, please,” he gasped.

“Fuck, you want me to fuck you?”

“Please, I think I need it…” he wiggled his hairy globes more. Jared sat transfixed, his new bi body gravitated towards the jock’s sweaty hairy ass. In no time, he spread the cheeks and lapped at his hole.

“You’re so sexy…” Jared gasped, drowning between his friend’s sweaty ass cheeks.

Seth grunted like a beast as he got his ass eaten, he barely had time to register that Jared had lined up his skinny cock to his hole.

He gasped when his tight hole was penetrated. Jared gripped around his massive back to get a better purchase as he fucked his best friend. It was euphoric, seeing his new skinny body fuck the beast below him. In minutes, the room was hot and smelled like an old locker room, thanks to Seth.

The first time Seth came, they had flipped and faced each other. Jared watched his friend’s hairy pecs bounce up and down as his balls slapped his ass rhythmically. Seth had spit in his hand and was furiously hand-fucking his big rod, and his eyes crossed as he shot 7 ropes of hot cum all over his meaty torso.

They fucked for hours, the big jock’s body cumming over and over like a fountain.

That evening, Jared dismounted from Seth who was panting heavily. He was exhausted from fucking this jock for hours on end and headed for the shower.

He couldn’t bring himself to even jerk off again, his new skinny cock was so spent. Seth was the opposite.

When he returned to the room, he saw Seth on his ass again on the floor, both hands wrapped and rotating around his cock.

“We gotta get you out of there, man.” Jared sighed.

“Please, I’m so tired. I’m so fucking horny. Get me someone to swap with…” he groaned, another jet of jock cum spraying across his abs.

“We will, buddy, hang tight.”

Just then, the front door opened. “I’m home!” called Seth’s father, home from work.

Jared raised an eyebrow at his friend who stared back at him in shock. “No! Are you crazy?!”

gaytamorfosi

Il letto maledetto - The cursed bed

🇮🇹 La gigantesca casa abbandonata in fondo al paese era un vero e proprio labirinto di stanze e corridoi; nessuno era mai riuscito a esplorarla tutta. Gli abitanti del posto avevano imparato a girarci al largo, e quei pochi che osavano avvicinarsi tornavano raccontando le cose più assurde — sempre che tornassero.

Gli amici di Michael lo avevano sfidato a passarci la notte e lui, per spavalderia, aveva accettato. Dopo aver gironzolato per una ventina di minuti, si imbatté in una stanza decisamente diversa dalle altre: non c'era un filo di polvere né un oggetto fuori posto, e le lenzuola del letto profumavano persino di bucato. Senza pensarci troppo, Michael decise che quello era il posto perfetto per dormire, si spogliò e si sdraiò.

Ma quel letto era maledetto e proiettò nella sua mente un'allucinazione vividissima: un ragazzo dalla pelle chiara gli succhiando l'uccello, ed era incredibilmente piacevole. Mentre si godeva il momento, rapito dal piacere dell'orgasmo imminente, il corpo di Michael iniziò a cambiare.

Quella stanza era infatti legata a una delle tante leggende della casa: chiunque si sdraiasse su quel letto avrebbe sognato di fare sesso con l'ultimo occupante, per poi trasformarsi fisicamente in lui. Quando Michael raggiunse il culmine e riaprì gli occhi, tornò alla realtà, ma realizzò subito che i suoi amici non gli avrebbero mai creduto. Ormai aveva l'aspetto di un perfetto sconosciuto.

🇬🇧 The gigantic abandoned house at the edge of the village was a literal labyrinth of rooms and corridors; no one had ever managed to explore it entirely. The locals had learned to steer clear of it, and those few who dared to approach returned telling the most absurd stories — assuming they returned at all.

Michael's friends had dared him to spend the night there and he, out of bravado, had accepted. After wandering around for about twenty minutes, he stumbled upon a room that was decidedly different from the others: there wasn't a speck of dust nor an object out of place, and the bedsheets even smelled of fresh laundry. Without thinking twice, Michael decided that was the perfect place to sleep, stripped down, and layed.

But that bed was cursed and projected a vivid hallucination into his mind: a fair-skinned boy was sucking his cock, and it was incredibly pleasurable. As he enjoyed the moment, captivated by the pleasure of the impending orgasm, Michael's body began to change.

That room was, in fact, tied to one of the house's many legends: anyone who lay on that bed would dream of having sex with its last occupant, only to physically transform into him. When Michael reached his climax and opened his eyes, he returned to reality, but immediately realized that his friends would never believe him. He now looked like a complete stranger.

repossesseddesires

0. The Fool

CONTENT WARNING: This story includes themes of transformation and body control with a suggestive approach. If this type of narrative is not to your liking or you do not meet the recommended age, we suggest you do not continue. All images used (if any) belong to their respective owners. I claim no authorship over them and they are only used for illustrative purposes. If you decide to go ahead, welcome to Possessed Desires, where mind and body are never completely under your control.

0. The Fool

Professor Hudson's gaze darted wearily from side to side as he surveyed the university's end-of-semester fair. He could see his stupid students running around, the occasional amorous couple practically devouring each other, athletes flexing, and some overweight guy stuffing himself with cotton candy. They all seemed so... idiotic.

Hudson was the typical academic who made life miserable for his students, always thinking he was a brilliant genius walking the earth (and, well, his almost three doctorates plus a master's degree only made him more arrogant and prone to exploding at the slightest idiotic action).

He despised athletes above all else, those fraternity members who didn't strive for anything other than getting ripped at the gym to impress girls, or even guys. All this talk about inclusion, for crying out loud. How could anyone prefer having muscles over brains? And it wasn't like he didn't take care of himself, of course he did, but he had brains.

— Stop running, you're going to cause an accident! – The professor practically barked at some students who were running around carelessly. Those brats were going to give him an aneurysm.

His gaze lingered on one of the fair's tents; there were hundreds and hundreds of them, some for target games, others for food, and there were even photo booths, but this one The tent was different… It had intense, striking, yet calming blue colors on its walls and ceiling, and a scent that seemed to be sea breeze emanated from it.

In no time, the man was already walking inside. There was only very dim candlelight and… sand? He looked up, finding a young, blonde woman with a slight smile behind a glass table.

— Hello, welcome. Can I help you?

— I… Excuse me, what is this? – the man said, somewhat confused. He didn't even know how he had gotten there; it was as if an alluring, hypnotic force, almost pure magnetism, had drawn him in.

— Would you like me to tell your fortune? I think it's better if I explain it this way – Cirse moved the deck in her hands; the cards shifted elegantly from side to side, almost floating in the air. They were engraved with bluish details and vibrant colors, as if they wanted to convey the essence of the summer that was almost upon them.

— Fortune? – the man asked. He let out a mocking laugh, shaking his head – That's for charlatans and people without their own judgment. It's obviously false – He was about to turn away when she spoke again.

— Of course, it's easy to believe what you can see, but what's imperceptible to the human eye, that's what's truly fascinating. If you're a man of fact and not faith. Great philosophers have pondered this doubt, the real question here is… If you're so sure of your knowledge, why would it matter to put it to the test?

The professor's jaw tightened. The most sensible thing would have been to leave the shop and leave the woman alone, but the urge to prove a point took hold of him. He approached the table and sat down on the other side.

— Cost?

— Our first reading is always free – She winked at him confidently as she passed the cards from one side to the other. The sound between them was like clicks. Everything moved so quickly that he didn't have a second to distinguish the different cards. The Magician, Judgment, Fortune, Knight of Wands – everything moved like a hurricane until finally one touched the table, sliding across it. Circe's smile appeared like a painting, accompanied by a giggle.

— And what's that?

She turned the card over to reveal the Fool.

— Wow, what a great turn… – she whispered, fascinated, touching the card with her elegant nails – The Fool card tells us about the beginning of a new journey, and I think it will be a very long one... With all the potential that's trapped inside you. And more than anything, liberation.

Her lips pronounced that last word as if it were silk, letter by letter. The candles slowly extinguished until the place was plunged into complete darkness. The man just rolled his eyes.

— Yes, yes, it's clear you know how to put on a good show. Can I go now? – The silence was total. Hudson sighed, about to stand up when he felt a sharp pain in his chest. He had to throw himself back down in the chair; it was a pain Disabled. Shit, was he having a heart attack? – Hello?! Something's wrong with me, I need help!

He expected to hear the woman's voice again, but only felt another pain in his ribs. He clenched his jaw, trying to stifle a scream, but it was useless. He felt as if his bones were being torn apart. He gripped the armrests tightly, gasping for breath.

— MFHHH! H-Help! – he pleaded again, desperately seeking someone's attention. Without hearing the way his clothes began to rustle, as if the seams were about to burst, the man groaned. Suddenly, his pectoral muscles expanded forward, like the yeast baking a cake fresh from the oven. He felt his shirt begin to tighten, trying to accommodate his new changes, but without much success. Buttons flew off, and the "elegant" sweater he was wearing ripped like cracks in an earthquake. The pain was excruciating; his skin burned. Something similar was happening to his lower torso, his abs heating up to melt away all the accumulated fat. His years-long belly began to reintegrate with the rest of his body, leaving behind a well-defined six-pack and a glistening, pearly complexion.

— MFHH! M-Miss! – He shouted again, a burp escaping his lips inexplicably. He tried to cover his mouth when he felt another one, but instead felt a tingling in his arms that quickly filled with that same wave of energy, expanding in a snap of his fingers. His biceps were defined, though not usually so exaggerated, but now they had grown exponentially, as if he were a gym addict. His armpits, usually hairless, were now covered in hair, and a strong smell hit his nose. Shit, why did he smell like a gym? It was the same smell that filled his classroom when the damn athletes came in after a rigorous training session. The aroma left him so confused that he didn't realize when the sensation shifted to his legs, his muscles beginning to expand, using stored fat to transform it into pure, dense muscle. The man groaned, feeling his pants begin to rip.

— Shit! No! – He watched as his tailored trousers tore to shreds, his boxers tightening as his tool began to mutate in the same way. He was well-endowed, a good 15cm, but these began to grow longer and longer, becoming heavier, thicker, and longer. His balls followed suit, becoming more rounded and filled with that precious whitish fluid. The sensation was still uncomfortable, but there was a more lustful charge in these final stimuli. The man gasped, his tongue lolling out, caressing himself as the transformation moved down to shape his calves. Again, the changes accelerated in his feet. The khaki shoes ended up torn and shredded as his feet grew, smelling and sweaty. Hudson let out a loud, confused groan, his face flushed.

— S-shit, t-this isn't right – he stammered, trying to stand. He paced aimlessly, trying to lean against the table for air, but his shoulders and back swelled, becoming larger and more massive. The stern professor's careless hand brushed against his manhood, panting. Slowly, he felt his rear end begin to grow and become rounder, as if air were being pumped into a pair of shiny balloons. The little that remained of his clothing tightened around the new shape. The air was warm, though a loud thud from his buttocks shattered it completely – PPFFRHHHHT.

His stomach ached as if tons of protein were inside him. Another thunderous fart escaped. The professor had no idea what was happening.

— N-no, it can't be – He tried to take another step forward, another burp escaping his lips. He was so desperate and confused that he didn't even notice the body he now had, which bore no resemblance to his usual physique. It looked as if his head had been attached to the body of some college athlete, and in fact, that was the extent of the change.

Energy surged up his spine to his neck.

— Shit! – What came out of his mouth was a sound completely foreign to his polite and refined tone. Now it was deep, resonant, as if he didn't have many brain cells. His voice sounded almost 20 years younger, hmmm! Little by little, his neck changed, becoming more muscular and rugged.

A huge Adam's apple rose, and his skin gradually became smoother, perfect, like that of a high-level athlete. His chin sculpted, and every trace of a double chin disappeared in the blink of an eye. His cheeks followed the same path, becoming firmer, his nose more upturned, his head grew a little, his old glasses broke from the sides and fell to the ground, shattering into pieces.

— MFHH! SOMEONE HELP! – he shouted again, his voice unfamiliar to him. The transformation reached his hair, turning it a deeper brown, styled in a shorter, more modern way. The man was slamming against the walls. But that wasn't the worst of it.

Like a jolt of energy, he suddenly froze, face up, his eyes slightly crossed, his mouth ajar with saliva escaping.

— Ughh… – He was almost in a catatonic state, only grunts and guttural sounds escaping his thick throat – Mfhhh…

His eyes remained almost blank. Apparently, from the outside, nothing was happening. But inside his mind, it was as if the Library of Alexandria were under fire again; all his knowledge, his academic degrees, everything was being thrown away while something else was forming in its place. Why worry so much about IQ when he could keep training to grow those fantastic pecs? Hehehe, one more size and he'd have to wear a sports bra, hehe. His brain was slowly slowing down as other priorities tore down each of the islands that were important to him in his psyche. Goodbye to teaching, hello to partying. Why would he be interested in teaching others when he was barely in college, bro? What kind of nerd would he be?

His mind was slowly adapting to the new frat-brother body he now had, with those nice muscles, that attractive face that could make anyone swoon. He wouldn't have a fixed preference; bread is for everyone to enjoy, right? He'd be like a beast in bed, bro! Although nervous twinks were definitely his weakness, hammering them for hours, so damn sweaty. With that damn stench emanating from every part of their bodies that he loved so much.

His mind was slowly adapting to the new frat-brother body he now had, with those nice muscles, that attractive face that could make anyone swoon. He could sweat like nobody else on campus; they called him "Stinky Danny" for a reason. Ha, his farts were fucking legendary! They smell like tear gas, but he loved them – pure protein, honey!

The old, strict, and bitter professor was a complete jock now. The image of the student he so detested, the one he thought was a waste of student funds, was now Danny.

The good old Danny, a member of the football team – hopefully he'd be captain someday, stinky, he spent more time in the gym than in his classes, which were fucking boring. He didn't think much, duh. He'd gotten into college on an athletic scholarship; he could pay some nerd to do his homework for him (or better yet, do it "in person").

The whirlwind of hormones and testosterone settled within him, his tool still hard, as were his areolas. His hand automatically moved to the area, beginning to stroke it back and forth, lost in this final mental transformation. One drop and it would completely seal off this change; there would be no going back, no more Professor Hudson, no more teaching, only being a stupid jock.

— MFHH! I-I… I… This is wrong! H-help. I-I… – The deep, gravelly voice of the new college student body rang out, his eyes rolling back in his head again. He tried to speak, but a jet of whitish substance shot out like an avalanche, spreading the stench of dampness and chlorine everywhere. His thick pecs rose and fell before his vision slowly cleared.

— Ugh, shit, my head, bro – he muttered. Around him, only the rest of the fair remained; it couldn't have been more than five in the afternoon. Perfect for finding his fraternity bros and going on other rides. Shit, he even saw a guy working at the mirror house earlier; he was so cute. Maybe he could convince him to take him downstairs and show him how good he was at hide-and-seek, damn, hehe.

The jock stretched a little. Inhaling the scent of his hairy armpits, he stroked his pecs; he looked fantastic. He'd been training nonstop for when summer came. He planned to go to the beach in the tiniest swimsuit he could find. He might go with his friends for the holidays, or even by himself. He didn't want to share all the hotties he'd hook up with when he was in the middle of the saltwater and sand. Ah… It felt so good to be free. Screw college.

— BRAWWWPP – he blurted out, letting out a laugh and shaking his head as he walked away, patting his belly. Those hot dogs hadn't agreed with him, haha. Lol. Danny let out a soft laugh as he scratched his fat butt with his hand. He loved being a stinky, farting jock so much, ha. Wait, why did he have some kind of handkerchief in his pocket? Ugh, like he's some kind of refined loser or something, get ready world, because Stinky Danny is here to have some fun, booyaaaah!

Circe could only watch from afar as old Professor Hudson, now ridiculously improved in all his glory (well, surely if he were still aware of his new appearance, he'd be going crazy), but that was the least of her concerns.

— Mwhaaaa – she heard a kind of soft, gentle grunt from her bag, and she just patted it.

— Shhh, calm down – she whispered into her deck of cards – I promise there will be more transformations soon. Litha is just around the corner, and magical energy is more abundant – She seemed to feel the air around her, taking in the sea breeze, the color of seashells etched against the sky, the refreshing sound of waves crashing against the shore – I think I know exactly where we need to go, buddy. Let's go.

----

Hey everyone!

I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you liked it, don't forget to follow it and share it so more people can discover it. Summer it's almost here, and as you know, I love writing with the thematic of the months / seasons. So in the next months, I'll try to write about summer transformation, bodyswap, possessions and more.

I really love writing about this Tarot series, so. I have a question for you:

Which Tarot / Major Arcana Card would you like to see next?

The Wheel of Fortune

The Sun

The Temperance

The Hierophant

Voting ended onJun 3

The cards of The Lovers, The Strenght, The Justice, The Tower, The Star, The Moon and The Judgement are available on my blog. If you have any particular ideas, I'd love to hear them. Thank you!

I'm always open to suggestions and ideas, so if you have any fantasy or scenario in mind, let me know in the comments or in messages. See you in the next story... Who knows what body you will occupy this time?

----

misctf

Alright. I’ve seen a lot of requests about turning cocky guys into twinks — totally fair. But I’d like to ask for the opposite, or almost that.

My favorite stories of yours are the ones where some poor guy is in the wrong place at the wrong time and ends up becoming a cocky bastard (Gridirion Brew, Make Sense, Gone Fishing).

So how about a story about a needy twink looking for a cocky, dominant top… and a poor, recently engaged guy — studious, respectfull, devoted to his beautiful fiancée, — who crosses paths with the wrong person at the wrong time.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, buddy,” Adam slowly shut the door to his best man's room. “Drink some water before you pass out this time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” somebody groaned from inside. “You’re about to be someone’s husband and still sound like my mom.”

Adam shook his head, smiling as he headed toward the elevators. His bachelor party had turned into exactly what he expected: too much drinking, too much yelling, and the people he loved most acting like complete idiots together... He’d loved every second of it.

“Wouldn’t trade those idiots for anything,” Adam muttered as he stepped into the elevator, scrolling through reels Claire had sent him.

The doors had barely started closing before hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway.

“Wait! Hold it!”

“Got you.” Adam stuck his arm out automatically.

“Oh, thank god,” the stranger breathed, his eyes lighting up the moment he saw Adam. “You seriously just saved my evening. I was starting to think I’d have to go upstairs alone.”

Adam laughed awkwardly, “I think you might’ve misunderstood something, I’m not looking for…”

“Shhhhh.” The guy stepped closer. “That’s okay. You’re gonna make me feel really fucking good tonight, stud.”

Adam blinked. “What?”

“Name's Nico,” he said lazily. “Don’t ruin this for me.”

Before Adam could answer, Nico leaned forward and kissed him. Adam's hands came up to shove him away, but he froze.

“I… sorry, I think you got the wrong...”

Then Adam looked at him again, words catching in his throat. His eyes dropped to Nico’s ass in those tight black jeans.

"You like?"

“Oh...” Adam swallowed hard. “No, I... I shouldn’t…” His thoughts raced. “I’m not into guys. I’m getting married…”

“Mhm.” Nico stepped closer again. “Go ahead, baby.”

“Oh fuck…” Adam panted suddenly as his hand grabbed a fistful of Nico’s ass.

Nico smiled instantly. “There you go.”

Nico's hands slipped beneath Adam’s shirt, cool palms dragging over his stomach and chest before squeezing a growing pec. Adam’s breath caught instantly, the kiss turning rougher before he even realized it.

“Mmm… fuck,” Nico sighed against his mouth.

Adam groaned, fingers kneading the firm curve of Nico’s ass, while rough stubble grew along his jaw with every slow squeeze.

“You’re really into this now.”

“No… Nico, I can’t…” Adam broke away, face flushed, hands still on Nico's ass. “Jesus Christ… I’m getting married…”

“Shhhh.” Nico smirked, sliding his hands up Adam's shirt and through the hair spreading across his chest, “Oh my god,” Nico breathed. “You feel so fucking good already.”

“Fuck…” Adam gripped his ass harder as nails scratched down his back. “I need dis…” The words hit his ears wrong. “No… what de hell...?”

"Follow me, big guy."

And he did. The second the elevator doors opened, Adam followed. Right to Nico's room. The guilt twisted hard through his stomach.

“Claire...” Adam shuddered. “Can never know... about dis… fuck… she can’t…”

"Oh she never will." Nico giggled and pulled Adam into his hotel room.

Clothes were quickly discarded and Adam groaned as Nico's smooth bare skin pressed against his increasingly bulkier, hairier, and sweatier form.

“Fuck…” Nico’s hands slid over the thickening muscle in Adam’s arms, “I needed a man like you tonight.” He buried his face against Adam’s increasingly hairier pit and inhaled. “Mmm… you smell incredible.”

With a grunt, he shoved Nico against a wall, hand wrapping around his bare ass. Warm skin flexed beneath his palm, impossibly soft without the denim in the way... smooth, firm, and perfect in a way Adam had never thought about another man's ass before.

“Oh fuck…” Adam groaned shakily against Nico’s throat. “Ya Allah… you're drivin' me crazy…”

Nico smiled lazily while grinding up against him. “Mmm. Been thinking about you fucking me since the elevator…”

The words hit Adam hard and Claire’s face flashed through his mind again... Unaware her fiancé was naked in a hotel room with another man. The guilt swelled, but Adam still shoved Nico onto the mattress.

“Yeah…” Adam breathed heavily. “You... like dis? You want dis?" Adam climbed over him, their eyes locking as dark brown rings spread slowly through Adam’s blue irises.

“Fuck…” Nico's hands slid across Adam’s sweaty, hairier pecs, “That’s it… come here, big guy…”

Nico shifted and rolled onto his front, raising his bare ass against Adam's throbbing cock. Adam’s breathing turned ragged, stomach twisting hard. He wasn't this kind of man... He was Claire's dependable fiancé. Her best friend. Her future husband... Not the man currently grinding his cheating cock against another man’s ass.

“Fuck…” Adam tightened his grip on Nico’s hips. “Dis isn’t me… 'uqsim, hadha lays 'ana." Adam froze... that language... he didn't...

"Huh? Wh... fuck... Wh-what did you say?" Nico smirked and looked over his shoulder, "Oh fuck..."

Adam felt it before he saw it. His cock throbbed and grew to a size beyond anything Adam ever possessed. His cock head emerging from a sheath of foreskin he knew shouldn't be there.

"Dere is no way..." He whispered, "It's so..." He moaned as he grew another inch, cock now pressing against Nico's tight entrance.

"Please... I need it." Nico begged, "It's all I need tonight."

Adam gasped suddenly as his pecs filled with muscle. And as they did, his new chest hairs suddenly curled longer and darkened toward black against his heavier muscle.

“Fuck…” Claire used to fall asleep with her head against his lean chest. But these heavier pecs were damp with sweat and dark curling hair now, nothing like the body she loved. “Ya Allah… look at dis… it just keeps gettin’ thicker…”

“Mmm…” Nico moaned, glancing back at him.

“Oh fuck… what’s dat smell?” Adam grimaced.

“That's… you big guy."

“Mustaheel…” Adam muttered, lifting an arm and grimacing at the thick musk clinging to his sweat-soaked, matted pit hair, “Y-you like dis…?”

"Fuck… yeah. Smell like a real man… mmm, so fucking hot…" Nico whimpered.

Adam shuddered hard at the words. Claire used to steal his hoodies because they smelled clean and comforting. She would’ve recoiled from this heavy masculine musk pouring off him now.

"You're perfect..." Nico groaned, pressing his ass against Adam's erection, "Just... fuck me already."

“Wallah…” Adam nearly obliged, but Claire’s smile flashed suddenly through his mind, "What de fuck is wrong wit me?”

He dragged a shaking hand through his hair, catching on something unfamiliar along his cheek. He touched his jaw again instinctively and recoiled. Stubble. Thick, perfect stubble. He'd always joke about never being able to grow a real beard. Claire always told him she loved his clean-shaven look.

"How de fuck....?" He watched as dark hair thickened across swelling forearms and olive blotches crept slowly over pale skin, "Wallah?"

The mirror caught him briefly and he froze. Damp blond hair darkened toward black while brown swallowed the blue in his eyes. Those eyes Claire adored. The hair she loved threading through her fingers.

"I... I want you inside me..." Nico moaned, "J-just..."

Adam looked down and back to the mirror. The man staring back at him still carried traces of Adam in places, but not enough. Not enough for his friends or best man to recognize him. Barely enough for Claire. Even his own mother would hesitate… And panic rose in his chest. He just wanted to go back downstairs, back to his friends, back to the man Claire loved, back to being Adam again. Because right now, Adam didn’t feel like Adam anymore.

He grunted suddenly before he could even process that thought. His cock leaked as a low groan vibrated deep through his chest before he could stop it.

“Ya Allah…” His rough hands spread Nico’s ass cheeks. “You’re gonna take all dis for me, yeah?” The words hadn’t felt chosen. Neither had the smug grin slowly pulling across his face while his heavier body settled more naturally over Nico.

“Mmm… there you are...” Nico whispered softly, sounding relieved.

He couldn't hold back any longer. With a guttural growl, he buried his cock deep into Nico's ass. The twink let out a choked cry, back arching sharply as he was impaled.

Thrust.

Dense muscle any gym bro would be proud of settled over him in all the right places. Stronger hands pinned Nico down instinctively while his pace roughened.

“Fuck… ya Allah…” He stared down at himself breathlessly. “Bro… look at dese… fuck… Havin’ a body like dis feels so fuckin' good…”

“Mmm… trust me...” Nico whimpered. “Feels even better underneath you.”

Thrust.

Warm olive swallowed the last pale traces across his skin while heavy musk and cheap cologne clung permanently to his body.

“Mmm… such a slut... for my scent.” He grunted.

“Fuck…” Nico whimpered. “I wanna bury my face in your pits so bad…”

Thrust.

The last traces of his old facial features disappeared forever behind the thick beard, dark brown eyes, and a permanent cocky grin devoid of his usual warmth.

“Mmm… dat’s right,” He smirked when Nico stared up at him breathlessly. “Keep lookin’ at me like dat while I fuck you…”

Thrust.

“Wh-what’s your name, big guy…?”

“Kareem,” he answered immediately.

“Mhmm… that name...is... always popular…”

“Den scream it for me."

Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.

Kareem slapped Nico's jiggling ass, “Mmm… dat’s right, habibi… take it,” he groaned smugly, "Fuck... Dis hole was... made for my... fat Arab cock... wasn't it?"

Thrust, thrust, thrust, thrust...

Kareem grunted, pace quickening. The engagement ring felt uncomfortable around his swollen finger, so he instinctively pulled it off and tossed it somewhere in the room.

“Mmm… fuckin' slut…” Kareem groaned, "Ya Allah… look at dis… all dis fuckin’ muscle… you fuckin' love it.” He slowed down, "You want me to finish?" He teased, "Want Kareem to fill you?"

"Pl-please..." Nico moaned into the mattress, "Kareem... oh fuck!"

"Ya Allah… you needed dis dick so bad.” Hands squeezing Nico’s hip harder. “Slut gets one real Arab guy smellin’ like dis on top of him and forgets his own name…”

"Kareem!" Nico moaned, "Kar... Kareem... oh fuck... please..."

Kareem buried himself deep inside Nico's ass, followed by a guttural roar as his cock erupted, flooding Nico's insides with thick, hot seed.

"Take it all, bitch... fuckin' take it!" he growled, his body shuddering with the force of his climax.

As the last pulses subsided, Kareem collapsed forward, his sweaty chest pressing against Nico. His softening cock still inside Nico. And Kareem's eyes closed.

-------------------

He woke slowly beneath tangled sheets, groaning as dense muscle shifted across his chest and arms. He scratched at the dark hair on his chest, his nose twitching at the scent of sweat, cologne... of him. For a few moments, he stared at his body, processing the sight.

“Ya Allah…” Kareem smirked to himself, “Dat twink ain’t ever recoverin’ from me…”

“Oh, you’re awake.” Nico glanced up from his phone. “Yeah... you're one of my best works yet...”

“What da fuck does dat mean?”

“Nothing.” Nico shrugged casually. “Anyway, you should leave... like now.” The words landed and the larger man froze.

Kareem blinked, sitting up slowly. “W-wait…” Uncertainty cracked faintly through the swagger for the first time. “Where do I go? What should I...?”

“Always the same questions.” Nico smirked, unable to recall the number of times he'd heard them, “I dunno. There’s a gym down the street? Download Grindr? Yeah... You’re hot. Someone’ll take you in.”

“Dat’s it?”

“I don’t really care.”

------------

Kareem stared in the mirror of a public restroom, wresting with the sense that he was supposed to be somewhere else doing something important. But without a phone, wallet, or anything else, he was lost.

But then he caught him. Some twink washing his hands, staring at him. And Kareem knew that look. The lust... A cocky grin spread across Kareem’s face.

“Mmm… you keep lookin’ at me like dat, I’m gonna start thinkin’ you want somethin’.”

The guy flushed immediately. “S-sorry, I just…”

Kareem smiled lazily. Cute. Nervous. Kareem would have him wrapped around his finger easily.

“Mmm… yeah. You’ll do just fine for now, habibi. You got a place nearby or what?”

possesseddesiress

BFB: Part One

If you decide to go ahead, welcome to Possessed Desires, where mind and body are never completely under your control.

BFB: Borrowed From Bro

Part Two: BFB - Be Friend's Body

Part Three: BFB - Bro's Forbidden Bliss

Luca and I have been friends since we were about six years old, and for as long as I can remember... I've had a crush on Beckett, his older brother.

We were four years apart, but gosh... he was always so funny, with a unique charisma. Or well, that was a few years ago, suddenly he became cold, cutting, hardly ever wanted to spend time with me or Luca; but he had become hot...

He had really focused on improving his physique, he wasn't a sportsman as such, but he spent all his time in the gym, flexing those fat, sweaty muscles… It was like martyrdom.

I was about to turn eighteen in about three days. I was pretty excited at the thought of it plus all that it entailed like the party, the presents. However, my parents would not be there because of their work, they used to travel a lot; actually it was not the first time they missed my birthday, but it felt a strange emptiness to turn this age without them being there.

possesseddesiress

Fraternity Fallout

If you decide to go ahead, welcome to Possessed Desires, where mind and body are never completely under your control.

Fraternity Fallout

— Dude!? Why are you in that athlete's body!?

— I don't know, dude! What the hell is going on!?

Both guys shouted as dawn broke.

Last night had been one of the best parties (or at least it was at the beginning) of Kappa Eros Lambda — ΚΕΛ, the typical university fraternity with so many athletes that protein oozed from the walls. It was a “welcome” party, looking for new members, athletes with huge muscles and little brains, millionaires with enough ego or a pretty face to fit in. Clearly, the “losers” like nerds and anyone outside the mainstream were completely out of the equation, it was one of the most controversial and scandal-ridden fraternities, but one of the most desirable to join on campus. So it was an open-door party, anyone could come in (another thing was whether they would let you join). The women weren't allowed for that night.

— Dude. Are you sure this is a good idea? — Adam muttered, hiding in the bushes next to Rick, his best friend. Both were outcasts at university, left behind because of their thin appearance, pimples, and lack of social skills. They weren't even nerds because they weren't particularly intelligent either; they were simply rejected, in all their glory, but at least they always had each other.

— Sure. What can they do? Nothing, it's an open house party, that's the rule.

— But why do you want to go in, man? They're going to ignore us, maybe even kick us out.

— Or maybe not, don't be so pessimistic – he gave him a light tap on the shoulder – This is the closest we'll ever get to being part of a fraternity, come on.

Like the pair of friends, other guys had similar ideas. Although ΚΕΛ was trying to be as exclusive as possible in relation to its future athletes, they knew full well that these were few and far between, either because of their lack of interest in belonging to a fraternity or because they were already in one.

The athletes watched as “ordinary people” entered, and could only sneer at them.

— At least there are more millionaires this time – muttered Kendrew, one of the university's “star” athletes and, of course, one of the right-hand men of Jason, the president of ΚΕΛ.

— And most of them are skinnier than spaghetti. My girlfriend could lift more weight than they can.

He narrowed his eyes, somewhat irritated.

Nerds, athletes, and other normal types entered, despite the athletes' annoyance at their presence. The drinks kept flowing, and it seemed that rookies, future hopefuls, and ordinary people were coexisting peacefully, dancing, talking, some of them having more in common than they might have thought.

— No way! You really like that video game? – one of the athletes, part of the swim team, commented while talking to a random nerd.

— Yes! It's one of my favorite video games.

The music was loud, the pizzas were arriving in droves, and the atmosphere was totally crazy.

— Chug, chug, chug! – the athletes shouted as they held a nerd upside down, who had a system of tubes connected to him to drop the drink from a barrel above.

Even a professor and a campus security guard had to come and try to control the situation due to some anonymous complaints (probably from the nearby sororities or the student complex behind them). Until, at some point during the night, everyone seemed to completely forget what had happened, like a black hole that lasted until 5 a.m., with the first rays of sunlight.

— Uh… – Rick muttered, opening his eyes as best he could. His head was throbbing relentlessly, everything around him was blurry. Had he drunk too much last night? Perhaps there was a complete void in his mind, as if the night had vanished from that moment to this. He looked around; most people had left the party, there was no one around him, the music was playing softly, there was trash everywhere, but most importantly, HE was still inside the house.

The athletes would kick him out at any moment, if they hadn't already hazing him in the process. He looked down at himself. There was nothing strange like flour, marker marks, or even a rope, but there were two strangely different things about him: pectorals. He was wearing a compression shirt and a kind of jumpsuit, completely different from what he had worn the night before. He moved as best he could toward the bathroom, feeling his center of gravity acting differently, bigger and heavier, even having trouble coordinating his legs. Until he finally reached the bathroom, he staggered forward and finally saw his reflection.

semperidem227

インスタグラムで見つけた

@topprettymenn

permanent-swaps

Playing With The Numbers: A SwapService Story

I was lying in bed scrolling through Grindr with one hand, the other resting on my stomach. The apartment was quiet except for the low hum of the fan. It was a Thursday night and I wasn’t expecting much — just killing time before I passed out.

I swiped past a few generic torso shots and blank profiles when a new face popped up. My thumb froze mid-air.

Ryan Callahan. Coach Ryan. My high school swimming coach. For four years I had shamelessly tried to get his attention. I used to “accidentally” flex every time I climbed out of the pool and knew he was watching. I’d linger in the locker room with my towel slung low, joking around with the other guys while making sure he got a good look. I was still deep in the closet back then, so I played it off as regular jock shit. But he never took the bait. Never even gave me a second glance that I could tell.

Now here he was. Less than three miles away. Active twenty minutes ago.

Now forty years old, he had a beard with streaks of gray, short hair going silver at the temples, and the same heavy, hairy chest I used to stare at every day in high school. He was shirtless in the bathroom mirror selfie. His shoulders and pecs still looked solid, the dark hair across his chest even thicker than I remembered. The profile listed him at 5'11", 205 lbs, and looking for “fun, no strings.”

My heart started beating harder. I let out a slow breath and tapped the message button.

Before I could even type anything, the typing bubble appeared.

“Fuck dude you’re super cute.”

Two pictures followed right after. The first was a close-up of his cock, thick and heavy, hanging soft but already filling out. The second showed the same dick gripped in his hand, now mostly hard, head flushed dark. A thick vein ran along the top. His hand looked big around it.

I was practically salivating.

“Damn, you don’t know how happy I am to hear you say that,” I replied.

He didn’t waste any time.

“Looking to get off tonight. You down?” He said.

“I have work in the morning but fuck it. Send me the address.” I responded.

Twenty minutes later I stood outside his apartment door on the third floor of a quiet building a couple towns over. My heart was pounding hard. I knocked twice.

The door opened.

Ryan stood there shirtless in nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants sitting low on his hips. His chest and stomach were covered in dark hair mixed with gray. His shoulders and arms still carried the muscle from years of coaching and lifting. He looked at me with heavy, hungry eyes and stepped aside.

“Holy fuck,” I said under my breath as I walked in.

He closed the door, turned to the kitchen counter, and poured two glasses of whiskey. He handed one to me. I took a sip. The burn went straight down.

Ryan didn’t speak. He stepped closer, set his glass down, and reached for my shirt. His thick fingers undid the top three buttons smoothly. Then he leaned in, pressed his mouth to the side of my neck, and started kissing me there. His beard scratched against my skin. One hand slid under the back of my shirt, rough and warm as it moved up my spine.

I took another sip of whiskey while his mouth worked lower, sucking lightly at the spot where my neck met my shoulder. His other hand stayed on my lower back, pulling me closer until my hips bumped against his.

We never finished the drinks. Ryan took the glass from my hand, set it aside, and nodded toward the hallway. I followed him into the bedroom. The only light came from a small lamp on the nightstand. The bed was already turned down.

He pushed the door shut and took full control. He stripped the rest of my clothes off slowly, then shoved me back onto the bed. He climbed on top of me, his heavy, hairy body pressing me into the mattress.

He took his time. He pushed my legs up and back, then buried his face between my cheeks. His beard rubbed rough against my skin while his tongue worked me open, slow and wet. I gripped the sheets and let out low groans every time he pushed deeper. He kept going until my hole was slick and relaxed.

When he finally pulled back, he grabbed a condom, rolled it on, and lubed up. He lined himself up and pushed inside me. The stretch burned at first, but once he was all the way in, pure bliss took over. Ryan fucked me deep and steady, his hips rolling in a strong, controlled rhythm. His hairy chest hovered over me as he held my legs open. Every thrust felt better than the last.

We fucked for at least half an hour. The room filled with the sound of skin slapping skin and my moans growing louder. Ryan stayed in charge, shifting angles until he hit the spot that made my back arch off the bed.

Finally I couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Please take off the condom,” I said, voice rough.

Ryan paused mid-thrust, eyes dark. “Fuck kid, you don’t have to tell me twice.”

He pulled out, ripped the condom off, and tossed it aside. His bare cock looked even thicker now, slick and flushed. He pushed back inside me in one smooth motion.

He leaned down closer, still fucking me deep. One big hand wrapped around my lubed cock and started stroking me slowly, twisting at the head on every upstroke. His other hand found my left nipple, rolling and pinching it. Then he leaned in and kissed me, beard scratching my face, tongue sliding into my mouth.

That pushed me over the edge. My whole body tensed and I came hard, shooting across my stomach and chest while he kept stroking me through it. My hole clenched tight around him.

Ryan lasted another five minutes. His thrusts got shorter and harder. Then his breathing changed. He buried himself deep, let out a low guttural groan, and came. His face twisted in the hottest way — jaw tight, eyes half-shut, mouth open just enough to show his teeth. I felt every pulse as he filled me up.

He stayed inside me for a long moment afterward, both of us breathing hard. His sweaty, hairy chest pressed against mine while his cock slowly softened.

We lay there in the afterglow, bodies slick with sweat. Ryan’s heavy chest rose and fell against my side, his arm resting across my stomach.

After a few minutes he turned his head toward me.

“You clean?” he asked, voice low and rough.

I let out a small laugh. “Damn Coach, don’t you trust me?”

Ryan gave me a strange look and pushed himself up on one elbow.

“Wait, fuck… do you know me?”

What a weird way to phrase that question, I thought.

“Yeah Coach,” I said. “I was on your team for four years. You made me captain senior year. Don’t you remember?”

His face changed. “Fuck… shit shit.” He rubbed a hand across his face. “He told me not to do this. He’s gonna be pissed.”

He stared at the ceiling, then shrugged. “Oh well. Nothing I can do about it now. Guess it’s his problem.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

Ryan let out a long breath. “This isn’t my real body. I’m not actually Ryan. My name is Cruz. We swapped for a few days using this site called SwapService.”

I stared at him. “Swapped?”

“Yeah. Ryan and I swapped bodies.” He ran a hand through the short graying hair. “How it works is you enter your own body stats — height, weight, age, build, everything. Then you put in the type of guy you want to swap with. The site gives you compatibility percentages with people looking to swap. Ryan and I hit like 85%.”

I stayed quiet for a second, then asked, “Why would Ryan ever want to swap?”

Cruz scratched at the thick hair on his chest. “I don’t remember every detail, but he said he’s been reckoning with his sexuality. He wanted to experiment with being an openly gay man for a few days. Guess he’s been in the closet a long time.”

He shrugged Ryan’s broad shoulders.

“The only rules he gave me was to stay DL and safe. He’s not out to anyone, not even his doctor, so he’s not on PrEP. He didn’t want it getting back to anyone he knows. So fucking one of his old swimmers raw…” He let out a short laugh. “That was a double no in his book.”

I looked at him and gave a stunted, incredulous laugh. “So do you swap often then?”

Cruz laughed low in Ryan’s deep voice and scratched at the thick hair on his chest. “Oh, I do it all the time. I like being older muscle hunks. Lets me fuck guys like you.” He looked me up and down slowly, eyes still hungry. “Young, lean, blonde jocks with tight asses. Never gets old.” He reached over and gave my thigh a squeeze before continuing. “And you felt even better and tighter than most.”

I felt my face heat up. Cruz leaned back against the pillows, looking completely relaxed in Ryan’s body.

I couldn’t stop myself from asking more. I was dying to know what kind of guy Ryan would actually trade this body for.

“So… what kind of body did you leave behind?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual. “You must have offered Ryan something he really wanted if he agreed to the swap.”

Cruz grinned, Ryan’s bearded face looking amused. He reached over to the nightstand, grabbed his phone, and scrolled for a second before turning the screen toward me. The photo showed a 23-year-old Latino guy with a muscular twink build — smooth tan skin, sharp jawline, dark hair, and a tight six-pack. He was shirtless in a gym mirror, flexing with a cocky smile.

“That’s me,” Cruz said. “My real body.”

He locked the phone and tossed it back onto the nightstand. “I don’t like being a twink. Never have. So I swap all the time. Usually, once I’m a few days into a swap and the guy is really enjoying himself, I ask if he wants to make it permanent. Still haven't gotten on to say yes though. It's a big commitment I guess and I only offer to swap with the hottest guys.”

Cruz shrugged Ryan’s broad shoulders, his thick fingers idly scratching through the graying hair on his chest.

“I haven’t asked Ryan yet, though. Wasn’t sure how he’d react.”

My mind started spinning with possibilities.

If Ryan was willing to swap with a guy like Cruz — a complete stranger — then maybe he’d be open to swapping with me too. And if he liked being in my younger, lean, blonde body… maybe he’d agree to make it permanent.

All of the sudden, I pictured myself waking up inside Ryan’s body for good. Looking down at this thick, hairy chest every morning. Feeling the weight of these heavy muscles. Walking around with this deep voice and this powerful build. My cock started getting hard again just thinking about it, twitching against my stomach as the fantasy took hold.

Cruz noticed immediately. His eyes dropped to my growing erection and a slow, knowing smirk spread across Ryan’s face.

“Looks like you’re ready for round two already.”

He rolled on top of me again and pushed my legs apart. “And for the rest of the night, you still call me Ryan. Got it?”

“Yes, Ryan,” I breathed, voice already thick with need.

He lined himself up and slid back inside me raw, slow and deep. I groaned loudly as he bottomed out.

Ryan started thrusting in a steady, powerful rhythm, his heavy, hairy body moving over mine.

With every thrust, I imagined running my hands over this thick chest, feeling the weight of Ryan’s muscles under my fingers.

“Ryan…” I moaned.

He picked up the pace, hips snapping harder as he drove deeper into me.

I pictured myself lifting his arm and burying my face in his hairy pit, inhaling his scent while I was in his body.

“Fuck… Ryan,” I gasped.

Cruz leaned down, beard scraping against my neck as he growled in my ear, “You like that, kid?”

Another deep thrust made my back arch.

I imagined wrapping my hand around Ryan’s thick cock — my new cock — and jerking off slowly in front of the mirror, watching his body respond.

“Ryan… fuck, Ryan!” I cried out, voice breaking.

His thrusts grew rougher, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room.

The more he fucked me, the more certain I became.

I was going to become Ryan.

No matter what it took.

He pinned my wrist harder to the bed, pounding into me with deep, possessive strokes.

I saw myself bending Ryan over in my old body, sliding this fat cock inside him and fucking him deep after he finally agreed to make the swap permanent. I imagined finally cumming inside him.

“Ryan… don’t stop,” I moaned desperately, my hole clenching around him.

Cruz leaned closer, voice low and rough against my ear. “You’re so fucking tight.”

Every powerful thrust pushed me closer to the edge while the fantasy burned hotter in my mind.

This body was going to be mine.

merryy3dbhsjsk

Project THC: Product Testing

File name:DF-CR-Minivan

Manufacturing details:produced by Ford, modified by Graystone Ford dealership

Key transformation components:

Aging Chemical Paint-Coat - Exterior coated in DadBond™ compounds designed to accelerate maturation to 34–40 years old.

Seat Leather Enhancement - Saturated with D.I.L.F. Extracts, a bioengineered blend of paternal instincts, gym-body memory, and suburban docility

Radio Frequency Manipulation - Channels broadcast subliminal “sports-talk,” dad-jokes, and midlife complacency tones.

Testing:The dealership lot shimmered under the afternoon sun—rows of vehicles posed like obedient livestock, Marissa wandered between the rows, sunglasses on, purse slung tight. She’d come for something fuel-efficient, maybe a hatchback, something sensible for a woman who lived alone, worked remotely, and swore she’d never, ever be married.

But then she saw it.

A buff black minivan parked at the far end of the lot, and paused. “Ah,” the salesman said behind her. She hadn’t heard him approach. “I see you’ve found the Voyager MaxFit XL.”

“I wasn’t really looking for—”

“Oh, sure.” He nodded sympathetically. “No one thinks they’re a minivan person. But you’d be surprised.” Marissa frowned, but her feet were already carrying her closer.

“Why don’t you take her for a spin?” the salesman said lightly, dangling the keys.

Inside, the seat felt warm. Familiar. Like she’d been driving this thing for years. She buckled herself automatically, except the belt felt tight. Strange. She tugged it again. The belt hadn’t changed.

Her chest had, it was far broader then before. A strange heaviness pressing against the strap—pecs? She adjusted the seat, only to realize the steering wheel felt small in her hands. She shook all this off and shifted into drive.

The moment she rolled onto the road, the radio switched itself on, blasting some bassy 90s rock anthem she’d never heard but somehow knew every word to. Her voice dropped half an octave trying to sing along, cracking embarrassingly.

Her hands grow bigger on the steering wheel, Her nails shorter. Her hips spread on the seat—no, his hips. Denim loosened as it became cotton workout shorts. His blouse thickened into a thin gray polo that hugged newly broad shoulders. A slight bring could be felt on him as tattoos suddenly appeared on his arm and across his chest. A faint dusting of graying body hair covered his skin, as he admired the tattoo he remembered always having. A hat appears on his head with a pop and plastic sandals slide onto his massive feet with a similar sound.

“What the—?” He rubbed his now hair covered throat. His Adam's apple bulged faintly under his beard.

A warm buzz flooded his brain, washing away thoughts of work, bills, independence, relationships, responsibilities. too complicated.

A simpler idea slid into the space where his personality used to be: Kids, new thoughts filling his head: Gotta get the kiddos to practice. Kiddos love this kinda van. He slapped the steering wheel approvingly.

“Sheeeesh,” he laughed. “My lil’ dudes are gonna flip when they see this bad boy.”

He didn’t have kids.

Well—he hadn’t.

But now he remembered them perfectly. Their names. Their soccer schedules. Their picky snack preferences.

By the time he pulled back into the dealership, he was bouncing with excitement. The salesman approached, smirking.

“So,” he asked, “how’d the test drive go?”

“Haha! Buddy!” the transformed dad boomed, clapping him on the back with newfound strength. “This thing’s PERFECT for my kiddos, man. I’m soooo gettin’ it.”

He signed the paperwork without reading a word.

File name: TK-EB-Lollypop

Manufacturing details: Developed by Graystone labs

Key transformation components:

Horniness Hormones - Candy core filled with libido magnifiers and confidence-enhancing endocrine triggers.

Youth Hormones - AdoLEssence™ woven into sugar crystals for high absorption through saliva.

Stick Coating - Surface treated with Hair-Reversal Serum, causing body hair loss and smoothing of skin.

Flavor Bindings - Synthetic chemicals stimulate dopamine flooding, enforcing dependency and hyper-sexualized twink personality imprint.

Testing: Harvey bought it on impulse. A single swirl-patterned lollipop at checkout. Sugar was his vice, his treat, his comfort snack. He unwrapped it as soon as he got home.

He popped it into his mouth. It was sweet. Really sweet. Shockingly sweet in fact.

“Mmm—wow,” he mumbled, sucking harder. “Oh this is—this is good.”

His lips tingled. Then numbed, plumping into fluffy pillows.

He sucked harder, almost without meaning to, his cheeks hollowing into a soft, pretty pout. His jawline narrowed and his chin sharpened into a V-shape. His stubble dissolved like smoke.

“Mmmph—” he gasped around the candy, trying to form a cohesive thought, “this is… wow… sooo…”

He sucked harder and his shirt slipped off one shoulder, then vanished. His torso thinned, waist cinching, abs sharpening. His arms shrank into smooth, slender lines. His height dropped by inches. His hips swayed. His eyelashes lengthened. His skin tanned into irresistible golden softness.

His voice cracked upward, breathy and singsong.

“Ohmygoooood,” he exhaled around the stick, “I’m like—mmm—soo… dizzy…”

He sucked even harder. His hair softened into fluffy, product-perfect curly, only to be covered by a hat. His shorts tightened into something borderline indecent. His walk became a hip-swinging glide, a sway in his step. His eyes sparkled with vacant hunger for attention.

He stared at his reflection in a mirror as the final changes hit. His brain recalibrates to make way for a changed sexuality. A faint aching could be felt in his ass, as if needing to be filled. He giggled. His tongue curled around the candy obscenely as he made sucking gestures in the mirror

“Ohhhh my gooood I’m sooo cute,” he whimpered, fanning himself. He got out his phone, checking every single app he had, which has a lot more than before. He saw a message from a particularly hairy young man.

“Hi cutie, send pics.😉💦”

Harvey popped the lollipop out with a wet slurp, cheeks flushed. He wasted no time ripping off his shorts and posing for a selfie,

The old Harvey was gone. The new one was a sex-obsessed airhead twink, and he was about to get laid.

File name: BH-EB-Chips

Manufacturing details: Manufactured and sourced by Graystone Farms.

Key transformation components:

Bag plastics - reflective plastic of packaging woven with all-natural brainwave modifications to induce thoughts of: veganism, reduced stress, and conspiracy theories.

Farm grown ingredients - locally sourced vegetables, lightly coated in AdoLEssence™ growth serums.

Flavor coating - mixture of spices, BEVEGAN™ organic chemicals, salt harvested from teenage foot sweat to coat chips making for instantaneous aging deceleration, dislike of clothing, soy muscle growth and decreased mental capacity.

Testing: He was tired. It was the End of a long day. And All he wanted was something salty, greasy, cheap—a bag of chips, nothing fancy.

But the shelves were bare except for one bag sitting on the rack: a bizarre, matte-green pouch with watercolor carrots on it.

“NatureMunch: Raw Vegan Veggie Crisps.”

He snorted but grabbed it. Whatever. He was starving.

He opened the bag in the parking lot. The smell hit him immediately—earthy, grassy, and almost too fresh, like he’d stuck his face into a garden. He wrinkled his nose but tossed a chip into his mouth.

Crunch.

Warmth spread across his tongue. Then down his throat. And then through his chest like sunshine pushing outwards. He blinked hard and his thoughts wobbled like a dropped stack of papers. But he kept eating.

With every crisp he chewed, his body loosened. His shoulders relaxed. His spine slouched. His heart beat slower, calmer, almost sleepy.

His hair brushed his cheek. He froze and reached up to touch it. It had grown several inches in seconds, soft, wavy, sunbleached at the ends like he spent all day in nature.

His clothes sagged as his frame shrank into something skinny, lanky, teenaged.

He shoved another chip into his mouth, unable to help himself. His stomach fluttered pleasantly. His face smoothed into soft, youthful lines. A faint sprinkle of freckles dusted his nose and a healthy tan spread down his whole body.

His voice came out airy, dazed:

“Like… wow… these are totally righteous for my chakra flow…”

Chakra flow? He laughed and wiggled his toes, barefoot suddenly, though he didn’t remember kicking off his shoes. His pants had turned into loose black shorts. His shirt just gone, as if it had never been there.

The bag in his hand looked enormous now. He nibbled another chip, smiling softly at nothing at all. He looked down, faintly registering a worn skateboard as his own. Just a dumb vegan teen hippie wandering home thinking about kale and planet vibesss.

File name:FBO/PR-TI-Deodorant

Manufacturing details: produced in partnership with Alpha Pi BrO national

Key transformation components:

Base formula - made primarily from H2O and alcohol Denat with odor control designed to gradually increase the body's natural musk.

Artificial fragrance - compounds that produce scents meant to reshape cognitive patterns including fresh cut grass, ocean breeze, and overpowering luxury.

Behavioral framing additives - final form coating to create stability and preservation, and decrease intellect by 68%.

Testing:Ryan didn’t even remember signing up for any promo, but there it was in the package— a matte navy stick of deodorant with gold lettering that just said:

“SMELL GRAYT.”

He tossed it into the bathroom drawer and forgot about it until days later, when he realized he’d scraped the last crumbs out of his old stick. With a sigh, he twisted open the promo one. A faint, musky smell drifted out. Clean. Sharp. Weirdly… expensive.

He swiped it under one arm. And the coolness hit first, then a slow, syrupy warmth.

By the time he dragged it across his other pit, the warmth had already begun to spread, up his ribs, down his stomach, pooling somewhere low and lazy in his hips. He blinked, suddenly feeling a little lightheaded, he leaned on the counter.

“Whoa… dude…” Dude? He hadn’t said “dude” aloud since college.

His reflection stared back at him, breath fogging the mirror. His eyelids drooped lower. Then lower. That heavy, half-mast, can’t-be or to-dumb-to-be bothered gaze.

His jaw thickened. A faint shadow of stubble dissolved into a clean, sculpted, totally-effortless jawline. His hair lifted into that floppy, pushed-up style guys online paid barbers $150 for,

He lifted an arm, flexed without meaning to, grinning dopily at his own reflection. Shoulders broadened. His shirt darkened as it warped over his body becoming a long sleeved navy quarter zip. White linen pants now hung on his wide hips.

Why had he been stressed again? About work? Bills? Something smart and boring like that? Whatever, bro, I smell amazing.

He gave that deodorant a final sniff as he put the cap back on, laughing as a fuzzy, warm fog filled his head. By the time he left the bathroom, he didn’t even remember what he used to look like. Just that he was fresh, and chill, and hot. Just a preppy, dopey frat boy snapping quick pics in the mirror and living the dream.

(Seems like people really seemed to vibe with this series, writing shorter is so much fun. Some different stories, might try writing more in theme shorts as this series goes on. Hope you enjoy!!!)

casanovaproject-deactivated2026

FCA Files: “Heritage Extraction”

Federal Containment Authority

File: AE-1184

Nickname: “The Extraction”

Status: Active

⸻

Acquisition Log:

AE-1184 is a recently identified drug first reported by local authorities in Medellín, Colombia. Since its initial appearance, distribution has spread across multiple criminal networks throughout South America, with confirmed cases in Bogotá, Lima, and São Paulo.

The substance is primarily used by organized groups targeting foreign tourists. All recorded victims have been Caucasian males from upper-middle-class or affluent backgrounds. Confirmed cases include individuals from the United States (87), the United Kingdom (43), Australia (4), and Ireland (1). Victims are typically identified in high-end hotels, bars, and nightlife venues.

Perpetrators approach in small groups, engage targets in casual conversation, and build trust before guiding them away from populated areas—most commonly into quiet streets or private vehicles.

Administration is direct and controlled. In most cases, the substance is injected into the side of the subject’s neck using a fine-gauge needle. A secondary syringe is then used to extract [REDACTED] from the subject.

The effects begin within seconds. Subjects enter a dazed, compliant state, showing no resistance or awareness of their surroundings.

Following exposure, subjects are abandoned. Extracted [REDACTED] is trafficked through underground networks and sold to [REDACTED] individuals for the purpose of [REDACTED].

No subject has been successfully reverted.

———————-———————-——————————-

Case File – Subject B-3 (FKA: Daniel Gallagher)

Daniel Gallagher squinted at his phone as he walked, the bright screen lighting his face in the otherwise dim street. The music from the club still rang faintly in his ears, bass echoing in his chest as he tried to follow the map back to his hotel.

The Irish tourist had been in the city three days, thinking he knew the area by now. But São Paulo looked different at night. It didn’t help that there weren’t as many people out now. Not as many lights either.

Daniel slowed, turning slightly as the map recalculated. “So, left… here?” he muttered to himself.

“E aí, mano.”

Daniel looked up. A man stood a few feet away, hands relaxed at his sides. Early-20s, casual clothes, nothing threatening about him.

“You… not from here, yes?” the guy said, his English broken but clear enough.

Daniel gave a small laugh. “Uh-”

The guy was young - Daniel’s age. There felt like there was an unspoken bond. The guy smiled, nodding. “This area… not so good. Especially with phone.” He gestured toward Daniel’s hand. “People see. They take.”

Daniel instinctively lowered the phone. “Right. Yeah, fair.”

“I help you,” the man continued, friendly, easy. “Where you go?”

“Uh—hotel,” Daniel said, turning the screen toward him. “This one.”

The man leaned in, glancing at it. “Ah, yes. I know. Is not far. I go same way.” He straightened up, already turning slightly down the street. “Come. I walk you for safety.”

Daniel smiled graciously.

“Thank you. I appreciate it. What is your name?”

“João.” The boy shook the Irish tourists hand firmly and the two begin walking.

The man kept an easy pace, hands in his pockets, occasionally glancing back to make sure Daniel was following. The street grew quieter the further they went. The lights were dimmer here. Fewer windows. No people.

Daniel noticed it, faintly. Something about it felt… off.

“Hotel is this way?” he asked.

“Yes, yes,” the man said quickly. “Shortcut.”

They turned down a narrower street.

That was when Daniel felt it.

Two men grabbing him from behind, forcing his hands behind him holding him in position. They knock the tourist to his knees.

“Jaysus!”

As his knees hit the ground, João pressed something sharp into Daniel’s neck. He felt whatever liquid enter his vein spreading throughout his body. The world didn’t spin. It didn’t go black.

It just… slowed.

The tension in his body drained almost instantly. His thoughts, sharp and alert a second ago, dulled like someone had turned the volume down.

“Hey—what—”

The words came out wrong. Too slow. Little did Daniel know, his DNA was becoming like puddy. Completely mailable.

“Segurem-no firme. Prontos para a extração.” João readied a second device. This one was empty.

Before Daniel could react, João jabbed the device into Daniel’s neck, slowly draining a white liquid substance out of him. It just kept coming and coming, filling up the vial in the device.

As the gang member extracted the white liquid from Daniel, Daniel’s awareness dimmed. He didn’t notice as his skin slowly darkened, taking on the warm, sun-kissed tone of someone raised under the blistering sun, not the pale green pastures of his family’s farm back in Ireland.

His features shifted subtly but unmistakably. His nose broadened, eyebrows thickened, and his lips grew fuller. Each change felt impossible, yet inevitable, as if his body was being extracted of everything that made Daniel the Irish man he was.

Heaviness plumped into Daniel’s glutes, as two fat brown globes bounced outwards, splitting his pants. His two jiggling Brazilian cheeks begging to be free from his tight constricting Irish jeans. The same for his front. His average 5 inch white cock fattened and pushed forwards into a fat 7 inch uncut brown cock.

One of the men leaned closer, watching Daniel’s face rapidly grow facial hair. It was ginger, just like the hair on his head. One of the men holding Daniel scanned Daniel’s ginger beard. Against his darkening skin, it looked almost comical. A comical reminder of his diminishing Irish heritage.

“Olha a barba ruiva dele.” One of the men said, voice low and amused. “Eles vão pagar muito por um ruivo.”

Daniel felt it before he saw it—his beard losing its fiery hue. Slowly, the ginger strands darkened, blending into a uniform black, indistinguishable from the men holding him down.

João continued the extraction, the vial already three-quarters full.

Daniel’s mind began to fog. Words jumbled in his head, English slipping away like sand through his fingers. He tried to speak, to protest, but the sounds coming out were broken, confused. Two vocabularies warring inside him, one destined to win, the other to vanish entirely. Portuguese words eliminating his English vocab, like cells killing a virus.

“Por fa… me ajuda,” Danogo croaked, his voice weak and lethargic. His limbs felt like lead, as they thickened up with big beefy muscle. But even with his new Brazilian muscles, he couldn’t push the men off him, though he desperately tried.

Memories surged through his mind like a virus, rewriting him from the inside out. He saw himself as he used to be—skinny, pale, ginger, standing in front of a mirror.

That image flickered, unstable, before being overtaken by something else. A darker, fuller body. Broader. Warmer. Bigger. Round oversized pecs. Big large thick hands. His fat brown Brazilian cheeks wobbling behind him.

His memories of growing up... the cold, open fields of his family’s Irish farm. The green grass, grey skies, early mornings. They didn’t exist anymore, replaced by hot sunlight and salt air, long days by the sea, heat pressing into his skin. His massive body bouncing on the sand as passerbys ogled him up and down.

His years of GAA training, discipline, dedication. All of it began to be overwritten. In its place came football in the streets, laughing with friends. It came so naturally. Like his body was meant for it. Fuck, he was obsessed with it. Football took up so much of his mind. A new obsession that felt like it had been there forever. It was at that point where he questioned what GAA even was.

His memories of himself were overwritten too. His self perception of being a quiet dedicated bookworm with a love for Irish sports VANISHED. As if it was never there. In its place came something louder. Music thumping through crowded rooms. Late nights. Easy laughter. A need to be around people, to be seen.

He tried to push the memories away. To hold onto his Irishness, but it was no use. His thick Brazilian accent prevented anything he said from even sounding vaguely English.

“Sou irlandês… sou… eu… por favor.” Diogo cried to the men, in his dazed stupor. But he looked anything but Irish. “Estou tão confuso.”

He slumped onto the concrete as the men withdrew the device from his neck. The vial was full of the thick, white liquid.

Diogo moaned softly, every movement painful, his body heavy and unresponsive.

“Boa sorte, cara.” João said with a casual wink, leaving the newly Brazilian man sprawled on the ground.

The gang melted into the night. Diogo inspected his unmistakably Latino hand before passing out.

———————-———————-——————————-

Post-Exposure Analysis – AE-1184

AE-1184 does more than just sedate or confuse its targets. The drug extracts the subject’s whiteness (their background, heritage, English fluency, cultural knowledge and memories) - storing it in the white liquid from the subject.

Evidence shows that local gangs are selling this material on the black market. Buyers are often non-white individuals who aim to attain the advantages, social status and privilege associated with white populations, by injecting the stolen whiteness, making themselves privileged white men.

The network appears highly organized and the drug is highly sought after. Victims are carefully chosen for appearance and socioeconomic background, targeted in wealthy areas, and then harvested efficiently.

FCA continues to investigate the buyers and distribution channels. The scale suggests a deliberate, profit-driven trade in human cultural and social capital, with international implications.

Victim Overview – AE-1184

Recovered individuals have been effectively stripped of their original racial and national identities. White, Caucasian tourists lose their English fluency entirely, and in cases in South America, their genetic markers are altered to align with local Latin American populations. Skin tone, facial features, and other inherited traits shift accordingly, leaving the subject biologically and socially indistinguishable from local populations.

Despite some awareness that they no longer belong to their former nationality, subjects are unable to recall meaningful details about their previous lives—names, family, education, or social history are largely inaccessible. Memories of cultural practices and social structures are erased, replaced by the cognitive void left after extraction of privilege and heritage.

All victims are taken in for monitoring and initial assessment. Following containment, they are relocated to supervised housing across Colombia, Peru & Spain (for now Spanish speaking subjects) and Brazil & Portugal (for now Portuguese speaking subjects). Subjects are effectively unable to return to their countries of origin, as the loss of English fluency and cultural familiarity renders them incapable of independent functioning in those societies.

Image of Diogo Galvão (formerly Daniel Gallagher) in São Paulo.

Ongoing Notes

New cases of AE-1184 exposure are reported daily. The drug appears to be spreading beyond South America, with victims now appearing in parts of Africa and India. In these cases, subjects are observed to adopt local racial and cultural traits, effectively becoming African or Indian men following the extraction of their original identities.

At present, it is unknown whether affected individuals can ever be returned to their original identities. By this stage, their original cultural, linguistic, and genetic essence is likely too extensively extracted, used, and dispersed to recover.

transformheaven

The things we do for love - a Chronivac story

Dorian was on his way home from work with a pit in his stomach. Unfortunately, there weren't any traffic jams, so it seemed Dorian would have to face his boyfriend without delay.

Dorian and Patrick loved each other more than anything, but somewhere along the way, the sexual spark had started to fade. To Dorian, this was fine, but Patrick's libido was much higher. Dorian agreed to an open relationship, but Patrick always said he wanted Dorian more than anyone else. To try and reignite the spark, they made Wednesdays their sex day — and ever since, Dorian dreaded going home on Wednesdays.

As expected, Dorian got home right on time. As he opened the door, the usual smells from the kitchen were already missing. Patrick always made the most delicious meals for them both. Today, no noise came from the kitchen.

As Dorian walked towards the kitchen, he heard some murmuring from upstairs. When he arrived in their bedroom, Dorian saw a behemoth of a man standing next to their bed.

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