Sans titre

[nachohypno]

(Uncensored @ My Bsky)

Power Star can be a bit uptight about his duties.

Good thing he doesn't take much "convincing" to relax and let go

Now he can be a mindless jockbro, rest some and show off his muscles without any worries💪

(Should keep him busy for a while, too~🤭)

[mrqjack]

The metal detector blared again. Officer Reyes, tall and broad-shouldered in his crisp TSA uniform, led Alex into the private screening room and locked the door with a heavy click.

“Sir, please empty your pockets.”

Alex smiled calmly and laid the items out on the stainless steel table. The polished metal cage, thick rings, and flared plug caught the overhead lights, gleaming with a bright, almost mesmerizing sheen.

Reyes froze. His professional mask cracked instantly, eyes widening in pure shock. “What the…?” A flush crept up his neck. He looked awkward, almost awestruck, unable to tear his gaze away from the way the steel reflected the light in smooth, captivating ripples. His mouth went dry. Something shifted in his mind the moment he stared at that hypnotic gleam.

“I… I’m confiscating these,” he stammered, voice strained. “This is completely inappropriate. You can’t just carry—”

“Of course, Officer,” Alex said softly, his voice warm and persuasive, like a gentle current pulling him under. “I’ll forfeit all of them. No argument at all. But it’s only fair that I confiscate something from you in return as well…”

Reyes blinked hard, still staring at the gleaming cage. His thoughts felt sluggish, foggy. “Fair…? What… what do you mean? This isn’t… I’m not sure…” He rubbed his temple, confused, the words coming out weaker than he wanted. “I should probably call backup… right?”

Alex stepped closer, his tone low and soothing, almost intimate. “Shh… just your cock. Let me lock it away nice and safe in that cage for you. Doesn’t that feel like the right way to balance things? You’ll only get to cum when I say it’s okay… won’t that be better?”

“No… I can’t…” Reyes murmured, voice meek and uncertain, his mind struggling to push back through the haze. “I’m straight… this doesn’t make any sense… why would I…” Even as he protested softly, his hands moved on their own with surprising care. He unzipped, picked up the cage, opened it, and fitted the cold steel around his thickening cock.

Click.

A deep, shaky groan rolled out of him as the cage gripped his cock tightly, forcing the growing erection to throb uselessly against the unyielding bars. 

Alex smiled, stepping in close enough for Reyes to feel his warmth. “There we go,” he murmured, voice rich with satisfaction. He reached down and gave the cage a gentle tug, then slowly palmed the heavy, trapped balls beneath it. “Look how perfectly it fits you.”

Reyes’ breath hitched. His powerful thighs trembled. Sweat darkened the collar of his uniform shirt and the pits as the full weight of the denial settled over him. He could only stare down in dazed awe at the gleaming cage straining against the front of his opened pants, his mind quiet now, wrapped in warm, heavy submission.

Alex continued the slow, teasing exploration, caressing Reyes possessively. “Feel that? Every throb belongs to me now. You’re going to wear this until I’m back from the vacation. No touching. No sneaking relief.”

He leaned in, lips brushing Reyes’ ear. “When I come back in a couple of weeks, I’ll find you again. Maybe I’ll unlock you… or maybe we’ll have some other fun first.”

Reyes let out a soft, broken whimper, hips twitching helplessly into Alex’s hand, leaking helplessly from his arousal.

Alex slipped the plug and rings into the guard’s pocket, patting it gently. “Keep the rest of my things safe too. We might need them in future.”

With one final squeeze of the cage, Alex stepped back, straightened his own clothes, and headed for the door. He glanced over his shoulder at the flushed, locked man still standing there, chest heaving, caged cock visibly tenting the fabric.

“Safe travels, Sir” Reyes whispered hoarsely, voice thick with new, overwhelming need.

Alex grinned. “Be good and stay denied.”

[many-of-max]

[max-the-many]

When he picked me up I just had to set up a scene the other way round. And more...

[id6sofmarch]

Ohoho I just read a thing. I have idea. [Read fic where Rocky tries to make a song for Grace but hypnotizes him by accident]

Rocky does it by accident once, then Grace goes to Rocky all stressed and needing a break and they agree to do it again.

Rocky lays by Grace in his xenonite suit and starts petting him, giving him attention and praise.

Grace gets hard from it by accident. Rocky helps.

-🔨

oooo wait that’s such a cool concept actually. i’m not that into hypnosis ngl but i really love that! i feel like it always circles back to ryland being taken care of when he’s in a vulnerable state and i love that for him 😌 he deserves it!

[deadinsalem]

(Not person who asked question; just a weird autistic pedant) No but like I’ve been thinking for a while now since I’ve started looking into it as a treatment option for my many uncountable ailments how weird of a concept aliens would probably find hypnosis to be. In any scenario, be it PHM or a type of “humans are space orcs” situation, imagine the ramifications/consequential events of telling a room full of aliens that there is a phenomenon that occurs with the human brain that when we get in just the right balanced state of focus and relaxation, we can become incredibly weak to the power of suggestion, and once we are out of the state, we can still be basically sleeper-agented into doing or not doing literally anything, including at the trigger of a specific signal. I’ve got like a million ideas about this but I wanna know what this made y’all think about I’m feeling philosophical

[aichavgooner]

This is a fag. It may look smart but deep down it's just hungry for submission.

As a Master it's your duty to collect its chastity key. Once locked a fag brain will start to function normally. The fag will realise it's born for submission.

When the fags start begging for permission to be unlocked you know it is ready to take big steps. Allow it to cum only after grand gesture towards your goal, for exemple an haircut.

At one point the fags will want to be humiliated. Keep everything it sends. With blackmailing and menace of breaking the keys you'll be sure to get him to spend all its money on new clothes.

Once its ruined and have low moral. Start being nice. Encourage it. Make it find a suitable job. Fags should work to buy gear and pay master.

It is always nice when your fag start getting addicted. Addiction will make it more dependent on you. It will help get its brain dumber. You should encourage your fag to go dumb.

At one point if you did all the right step the fag will gain autonomy. It will know which gear to buy. How to act.

But don't worry autonomy doesn't mean free will. The fag will always be addicted to you. You are his master, it's made for you. It will obey your every desire

[yoshi1517]

"Under the hot sun, my loyal workers are busy harvesting the corn. They are sweating so much from the heat that they have to strip down, but I must say, it's a highly satisfying view, given their muscular bodies. Would you like to come take a tour of the farm too?"

[yoshi1517]

"Living in the countryside is said to be healthy, being surrounded by nature, far from the city, the smog, and the chaos, far away from everyone. But it's a lot of work: cleaning after the animals, feeding them, working the land. Luckily, every now and then, some traveling men happen to pass by my farm. I host them, of course; I feed them and even let them stay the night. In return, I only ask for a helping hand, and soon enough, they grow attached to this lifestyle. Before long, they forget everything else to become excellent farmhands and helpers, all at my service."

[hypnobro50]

Loving this Snapchat filter

[risefromabyss]

The Work Wife

Lucas had always been proud of his life. Thirty-four, married to Sarah for eight years, two kids, a mortgage on a nice house in the suburbs, and a senior developer position at Meridian Tech. He was the kind of guy who wore his wedding ring like a badge of honor and kept a photo of his wife on his desk. His coworkers ribbed him about being boring sometimes, but Lucas didn't mind. Boring was stable. Boring was happy.

Daniel had joined the development team about six months ago. He was forty-one, with the kind of easy confidence that came from years of knowing exactly what he wanted. Unlike Lucas's practical button-downs and khakis, Daniel wore tailored shirts with the sleeves rolled up to expose muscular forearms, and he had this way of looking at people that made them feel like they were the only person in the room.

They'd become friends quickly. Daniel was brilliant at code, funny in a dry way, and he never gave Lucas shit about leaving happy hour early to call his wife. If anything, Daniel seemed to respect it.

"You're a good husband," Daniel had said once, and the way he'd said it had made Lucas feel strangely proud.

---

It started with a late night at the office. Their team was pushing to finish a major build before the end of the quarter, and Lucas had volunteered to stay and work through a persistent bug in the authentication system. Daniel had offered to stay too, which was typical of him. He was always looking out for Lucas that way.

They were the only ones left on their floor, the cubicles dark except for the glow of their monitors. Lucas had been staring at the same block of code for twenty minutes when Daniel rolled his chair over, close enough that their knees almost touched.

"Hey, I've been working on something," Daniel said, his voice casual. "A focus enhancement tool. It helps with deep concentration states. Want to try it? It might help you crack this bug."

Lucas rubbed his tired eyes. "What is it, some kind of meditation app?"

"More like a visual focus aid. It uses specific pattern sequences to help your brain reach optimal coding flow. I've been testing it myself. It's incredible for productivity."

Lucas shrugged. Daniel was always into experimental stuff like this. "Sure, why not."

Daniel pulled up a program on his screen. It looked innocuous enough, just a black window with a small white dot pulsing in the center. But as Lucas watched, the dot began to shift, expanding into spiraling geometric patterns that moved in ways that seemed to pull at his attention.

"Just focus on the center," Daniel said, his voice dropping to a lower, smoother register. "Let your eyes follow the patterns. Don't try to analyze them. Just watch. Let them in."

Lucas found himself staring. The patterns were beautiful, mesmirizing. His thoughts, which had been churning with frustration over the bug, began to slow and quiet.

"Good," Daniel murmured. "That's really good, Lucas. Just keep watching. Your conscious mind can take a break now. You've been working so hard. You deserve to rest."

The words slipped into Lucas's ears like warm water. He felt his shoulders dropping, tension draining from his neck and jaw. The patterns on the screen seemed to pulse in rhythm with his heartbeat.

"I'm going to help you access a deeper level of focus," Daniel continued, his voice steady and calm. "When you're in this state, you're going to find that you're very receptive to suggestions that help you be more productive. More efficient. More relaxed. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Lucas heard himself say. His voice sounded distant to his own ears.

"Perfect. Now, I'm going to give you a special trigger phrase. When I say these words, you'll immediately return to this deep, relaxed, receptive state. The phrase is 'work wife.' When you hear me say 'work wife,' you'll drop right back down into this peaceful place. You'll still be able to work, talk, function normally, but your conscious mind will step aside and let your deeper mind take over. Do you understand?"

"Yes." The word came easily, naturally. Of course he understood. Daniel was helping him.

"Good. In this state, your deeper mind knows some things that your conscious mind has been too stubborn to admit. Your deeper mind knows that you've been craving a certain kind of connection. A certain kind of release. Your deeper mind knows that you want to be taken care of. That you want to be good for me. That you want to be my good boy."

Something in Lucas's chest fluttered. A distant part of him thought this was strange, but the thought dissolved before it could form completely, swallowed by the warm, pleasant fog filling his head.

"When I call you 'work wife,' you'll know what you really are. You're my wife here at work. You take care of me. You make me happy. You want me to feel good, because when I feel good, you feel good. Being my work wife makes you feel complete. It fills a need you didn't even know you had."

Lucas's breathing had deepened, his lips slightly parted. Watching Daniel's patterns, listening to Daniel's voice, he felt something shift inside him. A door opening. A truth settling into place.

"Being my work wife means you're mine," Daniel said, his voice dropping to nearly a whisper. "My pretty little wife who wears those practical clothes but has a body that deserves to be touched. You work out, don't you, Lucas? You've got those shoulders, that chest. You want me to appreciate it. You want me to touch it."

Lucas's nipples tightened under his shirt. He was distantly aware that he was getting hard.

"When you're in your work wife state, you'll be my sweet, obedient little slut. You'll do whatever I want because pleasing me makes you happy. And when you come out of this state, your mind will create perfectly normal memories to explain everything that happened. You'll remember working, having normal conversations, nothing out of the ordinary. The truth will stay buried safe and deep, where it belongs."

Daniel reached over and placed his hand on Lucas's thigh. Lucas didn't pull away. He couldn't. The warmth of Daniel's palm felt right.

"Now I'm going to count back from three," Daniel said. "When I reach one, you'll come back to full awareness. You'll remember that we tested my focus tool and it helped you concentrate. You'll feel refreshed and ready to work. Three... starting to return now... two... becoming more aware of your surroundings... one."

Lucas blinked. He was sitting at his desk, Daniel beside him, the code still on his screen. He felt strangely refreshed, like he'd just had a perfect power nap.

"Whoa," Lucas said, shaking his head slightly. "That actually worked. I feel way clearer."

Daniel smiled, closing the program on his screen. "Told you. Happy to let you use it whenever you want."

"Thanks, man. I might take you up on that." Lucas turned back to his code, and within fifteen minutes, he'd found the bug and squashed it. He drove home feeling proud and productive, kissed his wife, and slept deeply, not remembering his dreams.

---

Over the next two weeks, Daniel used the program on Lucas five more times. Each time, the trigger sank deeper. Each time, the suggestions grew more explicit. Each time, Lucas's conscious mind wove seamless false memories to cover the gaps.

Daniel was patient. He was thorough. He taught Lucas's deeper mind to associate the trigger phrase with pleasure, with obedience, with a desperate, aching need to be good for him. He taught Lucas that spreading his legs was natural, that arching his back was instinctive, that moaning Daniel's name was the sweetest sound he could make.

And then, on a Thursday evening when they were once again the last ones in the office, Daniel decided it was time to test his work fully.

Lucas was packing up to leave when Daniel came up behind him, close enough that Lucas could feel the heat of his body.

"Work wife," Daniel said softly, right next to Lucas's ear.

Lucas's hands stilled on his laptop bag. His posture changed, hips tilting slightly, shoulders relaxing. When he turned around, his eyes had gone soft and dreamy, his lips curved in a demure little smile.

"Hey, baby," Lucas said, his voice warmer than his normal tone, almost coquettish. "I was just thinking about you. Long day, huh?"

Daniel cupped Lucas's jaw, running his thumb over Lucas's bottom lip. "It was. But it's better now. Come here."

Lucas went willingly, pressing against Daniel's chest like he belonged there. Daniel kissed him, and Lucas melted into it, opening his mouth, letting Daniel's tongue slide inside. His arms came up around Daniel's neck, and he made a small, happy sound against Daniel's lips.

"Missed you," Lucas murmured when Daniel pulled back. "You've been so busy today. I was starting to feel neglected."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. Let me make it up to you." Daniel walked Lucas backward until his thighs hit his desk. "But first, I think you need to call your wife. Let her know you'll be working late."

Lucas's expression flickered for just a moment, some buried part of him trying to surface. But then it smoothed over, and he nodded obediently. "Of course. I don't want her to worry."

He pulled out his phone and dialed. Daniel stood behind him, hands settling on Lucas's hips, pulling Lucas's ass back against his crotch.

"Hey, Sarah? Yeah, it's me." Lucas's voice was perfectly normal, perfectly loving. "Listen, I'm going to be late tonight. We're in the middle of this deployment and Daniel and I need to—"

Daniel's hands slid up under Lucas's shirt, fingers finding his nipples and rolling them expertly. Lucas caught his breath, his hips bucking slightly.

"You okay?" Sarah's voice came through the phone.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Lucas managed, his voice only slightly strained. "Just, um, just tripped over a cord. Anyway—"

Daniel pinched harder, and Lucas bit his lip to stifle a moan. His cock was straining against his khakis, and he could feel Daniel's erection pressing against his ass.

"I should be home by midnight," Lucas continued, somehow keeping his voice steady even as Daniel unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders. "Don't wait up. Kiss the kids for me."

Daniel's mouth found Lucas's neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, and Lucas's eyes fluttered closed. He was getting so hard. So hard for his husband. No, Daniel was his man. His man who took such good care of him.

"Love you," Lucas said into the phone. "Bye."

The moment he hung up, Daniel spun him around and captured his mouth in a brutal kiss. Lucas moaned openly now, grinding against Daniel, letting Daniel manhandle him onto the desk.

"Such a good wife," Daniel growled against his throat, working at Lucas's belt. "Calling home like a good little spouse while I play with your tits. You're so fucking hot when you're trying to be good."

"I am good," Lucas whined, lifting his hips to help Daniel pull his pants and boxers down. "I'm so good for you. I'm your good wife."

Daniel pushed Lucas's knees apart and stepped between them, looking down at him with naked hunger. Lucas lay sprawled on his own desk, shirt hanging open, pants around his ankles, cock hard and leaking against his stomach, eyes glazed with desperate need.

"You're my perfect little work wife," Daniel said, unbuckling his own belt. "Now be good and take what I give you."

And Lucas, sweet obedient Lucas, spread his legs wider and begged for it.

---

When Lucas came back to himself later that night, he was fully dressed, sitting at his desk, working through a deployment checklist with Daniel sitting calmly at the adjacent desk. His body felt pleasantly tired, and he had a vague memory of them grabbing dinner from the cafeteria and having a productive working session.

"Good work tonight," Daniel said, and Lucas smiled.

"You too. Same time tomorrow?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

Lucas drove home, kissed his sleeping wife's forehead, and crawled into bed feeling satisfied with his productive evening. He didn't notice the beard burn on his inner thighs. He didn't notice the soreness in his ass. And when Sarah asked him the next morning why he was walking a little funny, he laughed and said he must have pulled something at the gym.

It was a perfectly normal, perfectly happy life. And it was only going to get better.

[nachohypno]

Haven't programmed some hypno glasses in a while🤔

Having the boy visualize mesmerizing spirals on the lenses, draining his thoughts as My control takes over~

(Even hotter if it's shades, gives the zonked boy a mindless drone/jock look🤭)

[shootingstarwritings]

Body a Day #13: Money

Kristoph was going through another boss in his favorite turn-based RPG before two muscled arms reached out and embraced him in an awkward hug. “Hey there, Kristoph! How’s my favorite step brother doing?” Ah, so that’s who it was.

Rolling his eyes, Kristoph asked, “So what do you need from me now, Calvin?” he said. His stepbrother, Calvin, let go and took a step back, allowing Kristoph to spin his chair so they were face-to-face. Already, Kristoph could see how nervous Calvin’s false smile was. He could feel his irritation growing.

“Well, I was hoping you’d be willing to… buy me back.”

#

It had happened last year. Their uncle had revealed a quick way to earn money. It was an embarrassing method, but he decided to share it with the family as though he was trying to show off. “I’ve been renting out my own body for cash. You’d be surprised how many men out there want to inhabit a guy like me,” he had shared with a boisterous and good-natured laugh. “They call me ‘bear’ and ‘daddy’ a lot, y’know. Dunno why, but they love it!”

Just about every person in that party shared a disgusted or unimpressed look—everyone except for Calvin. Kristoph should’ve kept an eye on his stepbrother, but had a bit too much hope in the fool to keep his head out of trouble.

Calvin was always trying to use his better and more gifted genes in the physical department because he lacked any natural talent. Born tone-deaf, artistically dull, and academically-challenged, all Calvin could do was use his body to earn any of the prestige and money that the rest of his family could very easily gain. He had managed to achieve several scholarships thanks to his football skills, but that was about it. Now, half-way through college and running out of cash, Calvin was looking for a job during the summer to keep paying his tuition.

“So, which client ended up buying up your body, and for how long?” Kristoph went ahead and asked.

When Calvin said the name, Kristoph could feel his eyes twitching. “Mr. Woodsworth,” said Calvin with a trembling voice. He was an old and perverted man that lived down the street and had a particular fascination with Calvin, going so far as to stalk him. Eventually, the law needed to get involved. However, doing something like this... Kristoph almost felt sick. “Well, how long did he pay for…?” he asked, fearing the answer.

“H-He bid for a month,” said Calvin, turning a shade paler.

Kristoph did far more than just facepalm. He dug into his closet, swearing under his breath, until he finally found an old teddy bear from his youth. He turned around and threw it at Calvin’s head.

Squeak!

It bounced harmlessly off Calvin’s head, but it did make Kristoph feel a bit better. He sat down back on his chair and “Dumbass,” he said. “So, what do you want me to do? Convince the pervert to withdraw or…?”

“I-I mean, I really do need the money, Kristoph. But… I dunno what to do. And the site I’ve been using won’t let me back out. It’s fucked up! I-I can’t go to mom and dad, so I was hoping… you’d buy me back, like I said.”

Kristoph rolled his eyes. “I hope you know how much I’m gonna put you to work to make up for this crap. That’s a lot of cash I’m gonna be dumping on you. And once I win that bid, you’re taking that page down. Got it?”

“Got it… Um, hey, Kristoph…?”

“Yeah?

“By, ‘put me to work,’ do you mean…?”

“I’m wasting almost a fortune for your body. I’m going to have to earn it back somehow.”

“Aw c’mon, you don’t hafta—” Calvin stopped his protests when he saw Kristoph’s glare. He sighed and said, “Just don’t do anything too embarrassing. I still wanna be able to show my face around the bars. Oh! And keep up my gym routine, okay? And, and…” And Calvin continued, listing off several habits of his that he didn’t want to risk getting compromised.

Kristoph nodded along, pretending to listen while wondering what he should get up to with a nice vessel for the month. His stepbrother, while lacking in the brains department, wasn’t a bad looker. In fact, he couldn’t deny how much he enjoyed the stupid, impulsive, yet still innocent types. Getting to be one for a while wouldn’t be too bad, even if the money to do so was far beyond anything he would normally pay. Already, he was also planning on explaining to their parents why he wouldn’t be answering their calls or paying them a visit during the summer months.

This body better be worth it.

#

“And that’s the whole story,” Kristoph explained to his friends over a Discord call. As he finished his tale, he scrolled through some lines of code he was working on while speaking and noticed a few too many typos… again. “Goddamn meathead body,” he cursed under his breath as he flexed and unflexed his fingers. Calvin’s hands were not meant to code as they were far too big and often caused too many accidental fat-fingers while typing. Kristoph inwardly cringed at all the spelling mistakes he had made during his first week in Calvin’s much beefier body. “Calvin’s body is useless for coding,” he told them, trying to implant some kind of muscle memory for a keyboard for his stupid step-brother. “Any ideas on what I can use it for?”

What followed were a series of answers from his fellow queers in coding with most of them ranging from, “Be my himbo friend for the summer,” to “Be my fleshlight for the summer.” Luckily, Kristoph’s friend Cassandra offered an actual suggestion.

“My uncle runs a car wash during the summer months,” she said. “He’s usually on the look-out for college-aged and up. Beefy, mainly. Those tend to draw in the big crowds.” Before continuing, she made sure to add, “The guys there do ‘favors’ for the clients to get the really big tips. It’ll probably pay well, but it depends on how low you’re willing to go. Or rather, how much you’re willing to use your step-bro’s body for.”

And when Kristoph said he’d do it, Cassandra became swarmed by a horde of jock-hungry coders asking her for directions to her uncle’s car wash. “Ohmygawd, shut up! I can’t hear y’all when you’re all yelling at the same time,” she said, quickly deafening herself. With that, Kristoph disconnected from the call and went to look through Calvin’s wardrobe. There was no way a cocky guy like him didn’t own a pair of jean shorts, right?

Turns out Cassandra’s uncle was more than willing to give Kristoph a nice uniform that would get plenty of customers lining up. And line up they did, as pretty soon the whole block was full of anyone who remotely dabbled in loving men wanting a piece of Calvin’s ass. “One second, one second!” Kristoph called out, grinning happily as he slathered the foam all over himself, making sure to shake his hips and ass the whole time. “There’s plenty of me to go around folks!”

Not too long afterwards, Kristoph found himself behind the car wash surrounded by lustful men and their throbbing cocks. With Calvin’s stamina, he was able to service all of his new loyal customers—stroking, sucking, and bouncing on cocks until the sun began to set. By the end of the day, Calvin’s body was exhausted, panting, and covered in both semen and wads of cash from satisfied customers. “Hope to see you soon…!” Kristoph was able to say as he lay on the pavement, exhausted but happy at all the cash he had gotten. This was gonna be one hell of a summer!

[shootingstarwritings]

Day 28: Whole

This tale is a sequel/midquel/prequel/companion piece to Day 24: Sports

Welcome back, my dear readers. Allow me to shed some light onto this tale and provide the whole story. It was one of a simple desire: a perverted young man that simply wanted to indulge in some fun. Alfonso was just wanted to try out this little toy he had bought from a certain shop near the market district. It was a little toy wand that was meant to “expand the target’s mind and make it align more with the user’s.”

And what Alfonso wanted to do was open the mind of his father and brother, Carlos and Mario respectively. So as they slept peacefully at night, Alfonso sneaked into their rooms and blew streams of pink bubbles that popped without disturbing their sleep.

Mission accomplished, Alfonso snuck back into his room and went to bed after downing some magnesium vitamins. He always slept peacefully after injecting those, but the same could not be said for the family he had just hexed. Magic, when used irresponsibly, had a tendency to whip back much like karma did. None of the parties in this tale were innocent, and so their fates lacked any innocence as well.

Alfonso awoke, frustratingly enough, just a few minutes before his alarm would ring. Groaning, he grabbed his phone and turned the alarm off before slowly pulling himself off his warm and comfortable bed. If he went to bed now, he’d sleep the whole morning away and miss his shift at the local convenience store.

After washing up in the bathroom and changing to a fresh set of clothes, Alfonso walked into the kitchen and into a warzone. Eggs were burning on the frying pan, a sheet of charcoal that may have once been bread lay resting on a wet plate on the table, and both his brother and father were running around like headless chickens. They weren’t fully dressed, and their various articles of clothing were haphazardly scattered around the kitchen. In their rush to eat and properly prepare for the day, they failed to notice Alfonso walk in until he called out, “You guys need some help or something?”

Awkwardly chucking, both Mario and Carlos stared at Alfonso, glanced at the other, then back at Alfonso.

“Um… want me to take care of the eggs?"

Both of them ran up to Alfonso and demanded two things: “Can we have some of your ADHD meds?” was the first. The second and more odd of the two was, “Can we get a good morning kiss?” Neither man really waited for a response from the stupefied Alfonso. First up was Carlos, clad his decorated suit and just a pair of tighty-whities. He stepped up to Alfonso; wrapped an arm around his son’s waist; and pulled him in for a long, sensual kiss with tongue-play that would’ve made porn stars jealous.

Slap! A strong hand smacked and squeezed Alfonso’s ass. As they broke away, both panting deeply as they tried to breathe as much as they could, neither could meet the other’s gaze. “I… sorry, that was—I’ll be heading out now!” Carlos grabbed his pants, slipped on his nice shoes, and then walked out the door while munching on the burnt toast.

“What the fuck was—mmffh!” Alfonso barely had any time to react before Mario tackled him towards the hard and passionately made out with him. Their fingers interlocked as Mario pushed him against the wall, nearly crushing him with the sheer amount of weight difference between the two of them. When he drew back, a single thread of saliva still bridging their lips together, Mario quickly turned away and served himself the burnt eggs for breakfast.

“If I don’t hurry I’m gonna be late,” he explained, not looking back at Alfonso. “See ya.” And he left the house without another word.

What the hell was in those bubbles…? Alfonso thought.

Carlos’s day was still quite off, even as he peeled out of his home and into the highway. Several times did he nearly crash into another car as he was heavily distracted while driving. Nothing like this had happened to him before. It was like he could hardly focus on any one thing, similar to whatever his son was always complaining about. But he had online that some fish oil and exercise could make those concentration issues a thing of the past, so he encouraged his son to just try and do that.

Now, in that same dilemma, Carlos pondered what he could do as he let the time slip from his grasp. He ended up thinking in his car until he was 20 minutes late clocking in. “Hello, Brooke,” he greeted the front desk lady before rushing to the elevator and being unable to process what she had even said until he was halfway to the third floor.

Carlos worked at a multi-media empire, and was currently just one cog in the machine. Today was supposed to be a 1-on-1 meeting with the two to discuss Carlos' performance the past few quarters. He had been gearing up for this meeting for months. As long as it went well… promotion, baby! But now, on today of all days, this was happening. Need to figure this out, he thought. If I can get back under control before the meeting, I might be able to get pull myself together.

Once finally sitting down in his cubicle and letting himself take a breather, Carlos’ mind wandered off again as he tried to rationalize the past few hours. Was this contagious? Surely not, right? He opened a browser and began to look up whatever his kid had. ADHD? Well, better do some quick research on it before he got some work down.

One tab.

Then another.

Oooh, an interesting fact and quite a beautiful blue link to click on. This will surely be useful in the future. Better bookmark it but also keep it as a visible tab as well.

At some point, the titles of the tabs became unreadable, and soon not even Carlos could remember whatever it was he saw in them.

One thread leads to another until Mario’s entire morning was pretty much gone—and he only realized it when Brooks called his office phone. “Montgomery and Montgomery are waiting to see you now,” she said in her husky voice that drove many of the men in the building mad with lust. Oddly enough, he wasn’t a part of that group this morning—er, afternoon. But it was likely because he had more pressing issues before him.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK…!” Carlos kept swearing to himself, biting his knuckles as he realized how much time was lost and how unprepared he was for this meeting. He had been planning on using today to rehearse what he was going to say to the two, but now his head was full of useless information and now he had to struggle with this ‘executive dysfunction’ hogwash while trying to get a promotion!

Still, if he tried to make up an excuse or feign being sick it might reflect back. Steeling himself with a deep breath and a small tug on his cock beneath his slacks, Carlos stood up and marched towards the elevator. On the ride to the near top of the building, he carefully rehearsed what he was going to say as his heart raced to new heights. He paced around the metal box, finding himself almost laughing as his mind worked overtime. In that state of adrenaline rush, it was as if he was unlocking the secrets of the universe. Chains that had been restricting him all morning suddenly snapped, and he was already imagining several pitches he could throw at Montgomery before the meeting was even over!

Carlos stopped by the floor’s bathroom to make sure he was presentable. As he thought, he was covered in a sheen of sweat, and that maniacal grin nearly made him jump out of his own clothes when he saw his reflection the mirror for the first time. Luckily the suit jacket was covering the armpit stains. He took a moment to catch his breath, practice his smile, and made him way into the meeting room to face Montgomery and Montgomery.

The oldest of the two and the father was Montgomery Wayne. Salt-and-pepper hair with a mustache that bristled with indignation whenever he saw something he didn’t like—namely, unfortunate quarterly reports. The younger of the two was Montgomery Wayne, Montgomery's son and likely to be the scion of the enterprise. Because it was often impossible to tell the two apart with just a simple conversation, the staff (behind the two’s backs) just referred to them as Senior and Junior, the latter of which had apparently found out and took great offense to.

Senior cleared his throat as he looked over the folder Carlos brought with him. Father and son sat about a chair apart while Mario sat on the opposite side, legs folded. So maybe it isn’t just the ADHD that is contagious, he thought, but also the gay—somehow?

He did his best not to stare, or at least not make it plainly obvious, but he hadn’t realized just how attractive both of the Montgomery men were. The Senior had a handsome, sophisticated air with him.the burly body and beefy arms with hair just slightly poking out of the cuffs of his sleeves nearly made Carlos swoon.

Junior was different. Much younger than his father yet still a few years older than Carlos’ youngest son Alfonzo yet still retaining a boyish charm. Oftentimes Carlos would catch the guy glancing at his father with a look of either indignation or just plain resentment. He likely hated living in his father’s shadow and not being taken seriously enough. Even just the nickname “Junior” was something he got due to his father. Perhaps he’d be a brat in bed? Carlos wasn’t sure how exactly the Junior would be in bed, but he so wanted to find out.

Focus, focus, Carlos tried reminding himself. He folded his legs to hide his erection and instead tried to zone out by staring at the rich skyline through the pane glass windows behind the two men. But no matter what he did, his attention was still on those two men and how they would be if they double-teamed him. Carlos could hardly get it out of his mind. Was he drooling? He wasn’t sure, but his underwear was getting wet and his whole body was burning up with envy. Oh god, he was sweating. He could feel his armpits dampening even more as his arousal increased. Not only that, there was something terrible happening inside of him. His stomach was gurgling like mad, and he was beginning to wonder if he was going to throw up. He should excuse himself. Ohhh! But then there was a chance they might see his erection! They might even think he was going to the bathroom to masturbate.

Maybe they could join, thought Carlos before digging him nails into his thigh in order to bring himself down back to earth.

“Well, Mr. Gonzales,” began Senior, a rare smile appearing on his round yet rugged face, “I believe we’ve seen enough of your achievements these past few years. I must say, I didn’t expect much from you when you first joined our team,” he continued, unaware of Junior rolling his eyes at such a statement, “but you sure made a believer out of me. What do you think, son?”

“Yes, yes, it’s impressive,” he remarked, the ire in his voice just barely audible.

“And your average turnover has managed to bring the company’s profits rates up a fair margin.”

“I concur,” said Junior, saying little else and appearing quite pissed about it.

Carlos nodded and tried to ignore the pain in his stomach. His toes curled in his nice loafers as he tried to contain himself and bring his erection down. Once he did, he could excuse himself and—”

“Are you quite all right, Mr. Gonzales?” said Junior, his brow furrowed. “You’re looking quite pale and all sweaty.”

“You’re right, my boy,” said Senior. “Do you need to excuse yourself, Gonzales? If you’re not feeling well you should just say so.” Carlos kept his mouth shut and shook his head while trying to remain composed. If he opened it, even once, he was worried he would vomit all over the two men. However, that seemed to only tick the Senior Montgomery even more.

He shot up from his chair and marched along the table’s edges to reach Carlos. “I do not need you getting sick in this office, Gonzales. Now if you’re feeling ill, let me take you to the bathroom and call someone up for you!" Carlos shook his head, cheeks filling up as the pressure traveled from his stomach, up his throat, and into his mouth. "Good god, man!" cried Senior. "speak, already!”

Carlos couldn’t resist. He opened his mouth to protest, but just as he managed to get a few words out, something rose from his stomach and launched out of his mouth before he could cover it up. A torrent of pink bubbles and foam filled the entire room as Senior and Junior screamed in horror at the supernatural sight. Before long, the foam began to dissipate, and Carlos sat down and stared as the father and son convulsed on the ground before him. Although a part of him felt horrified at the sight, he could ignore his cock threatening to burst from his slacks.

Ziiip…!

On the other side of town, Alfonso was on the phone with a friend. “What the hell even was in that thing you gave me?” he demanded

On the side side of the call was the usual—someone with excuses. “Well, like I said I took a bit of your essence to brew this little concoction, so aspects of your mind must’ve invaded the minds of your family," said Hank Billard.

"Aspects of my mind?" repeated Alfonso. Already he was putting the pieces together. "Including any mental illnesses I got? Or my sexuality?"

"Well, whether sexuality involves an aspects of one's mind or merely a part of one's identity is still under debate—"

"Yes or no, man!"

"Probably, yes. Although I haven't tested it enough to really figure it out."

Alfonso threw his hands into the air. "Great, just great! So now my father and brother are becoming sick sex fiends and there's nothing I can do to stop them."

Hank let out a groan on the other line and audible clawed at his scalp while trying to figure out some kinda miracle solution. "Listen, I'm gonna do some extra research and do a few more tests on a couple lab rats I got. In the meantime…" he sighed and said, "just try to keep your family under control for now. I'm sure whatever is wrong with them isn't nearly as bad as you think it is."

"How the hell would you even know that, bast—he hung up on me!" Alfonso nearly threw his phone against the wall in frustration, but took a deep breath to calm himself down. His head was racing with the worst kind of scenarios possible, but Hank did have a point. As long as he coached his family through this and made sure this didn't impact their lives too much they might be able to avoid a worst-case scenario, right? "And if they got my personality," Alfonso said, trying to reassure himself, "they'll probably keep calm and understand what's happened to them. Hell, I'm sure they're having a great time."

Junior let out a low, long moan as he sat back up, rubbing his throbbing head. "Mr. Gonzales…?" he uttered, squinting. His youthful face was flushed and winced as he uncomfortably pulled at the collar choking his sweaty throat. "Damn, it's hot in here," he said, utterly unphased by Carlos still jacking his dick in the office. "What happened to my father?" asked Junior as he undid his tie and slipped off the suit jacket.

Senior was no longer convulsing, just like his son, but he was still unconscious and not responding. Still, that sleeping face was just too adorable for Carlos to ignore. Senior usually had such a stern scowl on his face whenever he walked the halls of the company so seeing him relaxed truly felt like a rare and miraculous sight that it only made Carlos even more bricked up. However, he knew he couldn't touch—that was just a tad too much. Too risky if he wanted that promotion.

"N-No clue," said Carlos, his breathing picking up.

Junior tilted his head in confusion while expertly unbuttoning his dress shirt with just practiced fingers and without even looking down t his work. With a couple more practiced fingers, he last button was unfastened and he threw the constraining shirt away. Then went the pants, and soon Junior was stretching his thing yet still muscular body while wearing just and undershirt and a pair of boxers. "I suppose I have no choice," he said, looking down at his father.

"Should we call someone…?" asked Carlos.

"Call someone? If they want to watch like you, sure," said Junior, grinning with a certain freshness to his voice. "They say only with a kiss could Sleeping Beauty awaken. It's always been my favorite fairy tale. Wonder if the same applies to my father."

Carlos could only watch, mouth hanging open, as Junior sat on his father's pelvis and leaned down to plant a passionate kiss on his father's sleeping lips.

"Urgh…" Immediately, Senior began to stir. Junior drew back, placing his hands on his father's chest and pushing on them to help him sit back up. "Wa-Wayne… you…" However, instead of being outraged, Senior smiled at his son. "I never thought I'd see the day you woke me up with a kiss like that. I really do feel like Snow White."

"So that's your favorite—like Alan Turing. Makes sense considering who you are," said Junior, leg bouncing as he spoke to his father. "You're not repulsed, dad?"

Already Senior's hands were hard at work unbuckling his belt. "How could I be, son?" he said, chuckling in a low, husky voice. His breathing was deep and needy—his hands were trembling with anticipation. His hairs that peeked through his shirt and sleeves stood on end. He was like a hunter ready to strike. He gripped his expensive dress shirt with both hands and ripped it open. Buttons spread throughout the floor, and Carlos could've sworn he was cumming right at that display of raw masculinity.

The slacks went next, and soon Senior was dressed in just a plain white undershirt and briefs, matching his son but not quite. "I don't know why, but I feel like I've wanted something like this all my life," he said. With a low, manly groan, he grabbed Junior with both hands and together the two tumbled onto the floor into a tangle of limbs.

To both his and Carlos' surprise, Junior drew back. His face was twisted into an irritated scowl, as though he couldn't believe what his father was doing. "Not like this," he said.

"S-Son…?" began Senior with a crestfallen look of despair.

"I do love you, dad—but I don't want to be topped by you," declared Junior. He shrugged, helplessly throwing his arms into the air as he spoke. "Do you know what they call me out there? 'Junior.' Junior Montgomery. How am I ever supposed to stand on my own if all I do is get overshadowed by you? If all I am is just an extension of you… if I get fucked by you?"

Erection briefly forgotten, Carlos kept glancing back and forth between the duo. Just how was this supposed to be resolved? At some point this scene out of a porno became a genuine family drama. He didn't dare speak and ruin this raw yet tender moment between father and soon, but he was on the edge of his seat and on the edge of bursting into tears.

Eventually, Senior's shoulders sagged. "I suppose I have been babying you all this time, son. You're a man now, and I supposed I wasn't able to see that. Maybe I was too focused on training you to become more like me that I forgot to see you building who you are. Could you ever forgive me…?" he asked, on his knees and clasping his hands like a sinner confessing in church.

Junior looked down at his father, hesitating. But then, a smirk… "I guess I could… if you let me top you, instead."

Ah, what a smart bastard, thought Carlos. This company's in safe hands, indeed.

Senior apparently had the same idea, because he burst out into a fit of laughter, clutching his belly. "Ahaha… oh son! Of course! Of course you can." Perhaps a little too eagerly, Senior hooked the mouth of his briefs with his fingers and slid the underwear off. He threw it to the side and it landed right next to Carlos, who scooped it up and started taking a quick whiff. It wasn't everyday one was able to snatch up their boss' underwear.

Senior got up and walked over to the table. He pushed the chairs away and threw the papers to the side to make for more room. "Show me, son," he said as he lied supine on top of his table. He spread his legs, pink hole in full view, and teased it by rubbing the rim with a finger. "I want to see what kind of a man you've become. Show it to me, paint my inside and fill me up with your juices, son!"

This time it was Junior's turn to rip his underwear off. The pieces of fabric fell to the floor as Junior ran, cock first, towards his father. "I love you so much, dad," he said breathlessly, desperation heavy in his voice. He spoke in a much lower tone, huskier—like he was trying to imitate his father. But then, as his hands gripped Senior's trembling thighs, he said, "I'm gonna get you pregnant with my kids, now," in a tone that matched his own naturally higher pitch. "The future's with me, dad. I'm the one that's gonna bring it to you."

He placed one of his digits in his mouth, making sure to get it nice and wet before starting with just one finger in his dad's rosebud. Senior gritted his teeth and immediately slammed his hands onto the table in response to the sudden pressure. "Hey hey hey, c'mere." Junior climbed onto the table himself and on top of his father's much larger frame. "I'll be gentle, I promise." He said, cupping his father's cheek in his free hand before pulling his in for a kiss.

Senior's thighs relaxed somewhat, and even though he was moaning into Junior's mouth as the latter kept stretching his hole it seemed like he was much more comfortable. Was it due to his son's words or because of the expert technique? Had Junior always been this good at sex?

Fuck, maybe I should've been asking this guy to rearrange my insides, thought Carlos. Seeing such a sight before him made him think about his own family and his own boys, and that only made him hornier. The stifled the moan as best he could while imagining Mario and Alfonso double-teaming him, treating him like the whore he was as they stripped him naked and started plugging all of his holes full of their delicious cocks.

"Haaah…! Argh! Son, y-you've grown so much!" Senior's shouts broke Carlos' concentration, but the sight brought him back to full hardness. Junior threw himself onto his father's chest, groping and rubbing his face against the hairy mounds while his cock was pounding away at his father's hole. "F-Fuck…! Oh my god…" In the meantime, Senior was made a sweaty mess. His back arched from the pleasure as Junior thrust in and out—each slap of flesh meeting flesh becoming louder and wetter.

"AAAH, FUCK!" Senior's toes curled and his hands scratched at the table as Junior's fit the last few inches of his cock in his father's tight hole. Senior was beyond words, only able to scream and groan in the indescribable pleasure.

Junior was panting with a large, relieved smile on his face one his bush met his dad's rim. "Oh, dad… you feel sooo nice and warm right now." He pulled away, each inch causing Senior to tremble from the pressure. But just about halfway out, Junior thrust in again.

Senior's whole body seized from the sudden penetration, eyes rolling back and mouth slack-jawed in a mix of agony and euphoria.

From there, Junior picked up the pace again. He gripped both of Senior's thigh and pulled him in with each thrust, desperately trying to get in deeper. "Shit, shit…! This feel so fucking good!" Junior cried out in-between desperate, labored pants. He was utterly transfixed by how hot his father's hole felt. It was as if his cock was meant to dig deep and unleash his load—claiming Senior as his own. Just the idea of that further motivated him, and he smacked his father's jiggling, soaked thighs as he put all of his body weight into abusing that hole. "Keep it tight, keep it tight… fuck, fuck...!"

Junior's expression shifted. He could his feel his climax approaching, but he feared it. He didn't want this moment to ever end. Holding his father like this and this feeling of connecting—of becoming one. He hesitated, slowing down to let this act of intimacy last longer.

A hand clasped over his Junior's and squeezed. Cheeks red, eyes moist, and mind hanging on the edge of madness—Senior Montgomery told his son, "Keep going. Cum in me, son.. I want—no, I need your load inside me, Monty. Cum inside and prove that you're a grown man to your father."

Junior could hardly believe those words that tugged so fondly on his heartstrings. He nodded and once more threw his body on top of his father, embracing him as he picked up the pace. "Take it, take it all!" he growled with the ferocity of an animal in heat. "Say my name! Who owns this ass, huh?!"

"Hah…! Ah, y-you do, son…!" said Senior, his whole body trembling with the pleasure once more coursing.

"Fuck, fuck! You feel so damn good! I can't take it!" Junior shouting, nearly crushing his father as he squeezed tighter, trying to pull him closer and deeper. He dint' want to let go, he wanted to wrap his arms around this large frame and never let go. But that wasn't what his father wanted. Junior need that, and he knew he was being selfish. So he picke dup the pacer again, thrusting harder until his whole body was alight with the need to cum. "So hot, FUCK! D-Dad, I-I'm cumming…!" he cried out, teeth gritted as he thrust as deep as he could.

"Fuck, fuck! S-Son, I-I feel it! It's so warm…!" was all Senior was able to shout as Junior's hot, sticky cum filled him up. Both men screamed to the heavens above as they came. Senior's untouched cock blew his own load between the two men, coating them both in Senior's juices and adding to the filth.

"Nrgh…! F-Fuck…" was all Junior was able to say as he pulled his cock out of dad's ass. A trail of his cum dribbled out. "Damn, it really does look like an eclair," he said, truly allowing just about every intrusive thought leak out.

Senior grinned and ruffled Junior's damp, sweaty hair. "I'm proud of you, really I am," he said between exhausted yet satisfied pants. "I haven't been worn out like this in years. It figures my own kid is the only one to overwhelm me like this."

Sheepishly, Junior nodded and tried smiling back. He rubbed his cheek against his dad's chest and said, "I don't mind being spoiled like this every once in a while though, even as a real man now."

Senior chuckled and wrapped his own arms around Junior. "Of course. Anything for the boy that made me his bitch," and the two started laughing.

"Wow," said Carlos, sniffling as he tried to blink the tears that threatened to cascade away. Such a touching scene. From porn to just straight-up a family drama. While he figured he would need tissues today he didn't expect it to be his tears. "That was beautiful."

Both Junior and Senior whipped their heads to glare at him, and suddenly the room's atmosphere grew heavy. "Who the hell does this guy think he is, interrupting a tender moment like this?" said Junior, the disdain in his words somehow pointedly cruel. Did he even know Carlos' name?"

"Honestly, Mr. Gonzales," said Senior in the usual stern tone he used whenever he was reprimanding someone. Carlos had heard it many times before, usually to someone else, and prayed to God that it would never happen to him. Unfortunately, both God and the gentle father were gone. "Can you truly not read a room when you see it? It's frankly a bit insulting you even remained here and decided to become a voyeur for this heartwarming moment between a father and son." He scowled, his mustache bristling as he regarded Carlos. "Come to think of it, you were here because Junior and I were considering promoting you, were you not?"

Junior smirked, and Carlos could've sworn the sight of which shaved years off his life. "I think Carlos needs a little bit of a punishment for watching us, Mr. Wayne. And if he can withstand it, we can give him a promotion." Both of their cocks were hardening again as they shared a sadistic, mischievous grin. They pushed themselves off the table and strode over to Carlos, who was hardly even able to get a word for his case.

Two hands clasped each shoulder and pushed Carlos down to his knees. "It's time you showed this company your loyalty, Mr. Gonzales," said Senior. He looked up at his son and asked, "Are you ready for a second round, my boy?"

Junior nodded, clearly confident. "I've got enough energy to breed just about every employee here, dad. I'm ready."

"That's my boy! Such a stud of a man," cheered Senior, clapping his own hand on his son's shoulder while kicking Carlos to start servicing them.

Although not quite how he imagined it, Carlos did get his promotion. Both his ass and throat were much more sore than he would've wished, but it was all worth it in the end—everything was worth in order to provide for two young, hot sons. Although perhaps Senior and Junior had been just a bit too rough with him, he considered, wincing as he opened the car door and collapsed onto the seat.

He had wanted to get a nice dicking from Alfonso when he arrived home, but with how exhausted he was there was no hope of that happening. Oh well, tomorrow was another day. And with it would inevitable come with a whole new set of problems.

[shootingstarwritings]

Day 24: Sports

Today, we have a tale that will make very little sense until a certain points afterwards, so enjoy how much you don’t understand, my dear reader.

Our protagonist today is a young man named Mario, fresh out college and already having landed a job as an assistant coach in the college he attended due to nepotism—er, his dedication to teaching and guiding others, as he would often say. He was also, unbeknownst to him, recipient of an untested, recently-developed spell. Because of the nature of such spells, he has become a sort of… carrier. It’s not a disease, but it wouldn’t be inaccurate to compare it as such. And the cause of this little ailment is his younger brother, the college junior Alfonso, but more on him at a later date.

Mario was an assistant coach for Coach Hernandez, who was taking charge and helping the college’s swimming team practice to keep in shape for the upcoming Fall semester. This week, Coach Hernandez was in vacation with his wife in Hawaii, so the swim team was relying on Mario to help them train and manage the facilities so they could keep up their routine throughout the summer. Because of that, Mario had to wake up extremely early in morning, something he was already quite accustomed to; which is why he was so surprised when he woke up late and had the type of morning he did.

Since getting up, Mario found himself unable to focus on anything for a significant point of time. He honestly couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him. His brain was foggy, he was constantly misplacing things, and he had a hard time getting everything organized. Come to think of it, his father—a rather well-put together and sharp-minded man—seemed have the same issue that morning as well. For Christ’s sake, the man has been walking around the house without his pants on. So maybe there was some kind of bug passing around. However, Mario didn’t have a lot of time to think about that. Honestly, he felt as though he had no time at all, considering how late he was getting to the university’s pool.

When Mario arrived, panting and sweaty, to practice about forty-five minutes late. Most of the men there were already getting their feet wet or doing warm-ups. A few were on their phones, though they did look up to glare at Mario as he approached. Embarrassed, Mario blew his whistle and began barking orders at the team to get some semblance of organization going. There was some grumbling from the team about his tardiness, but Mario tried his best to ignore those and focused on getting them back on track.

Of course, Mario couldn’t keep very good track of the team’s times, either. He found himself staring at the swimmers’ bodies instead of their techniques or their speed. When several of the members came up to him asking for how they could improve or what their times were like, all Mario could do was reply with empty compliments or flat critiques. “Focus a bit more of keeping your motions smooth… breathe as much as you can while going up for air…” Seeing several faces turn crestfallen as they received no useful advice broke Mario's heart, but he had no idea what else he could do for the poor swimmers.

What the hell is wrong with me? Mario thought, rubbing his forehead as though he had a fever. He had never felt any sort of attraction towards men, but now… all he could do was focus on the way their bulges bounced in their speedos and their muscles that flexed as they swam in the water.

After a few agonizing hours of this, Mario called the team over and gave them their praises. “Many of you showed initiative today, and I recognize that,” he said, not missing several of the swimmers giving each other bemused looks. Still, he tried to remain professional, and that included thinking unsexy things to keep his erection under control. “Y-Yes, well… I believe this team has a great shot at the next swim meet. All of you, keep practicing, keep challenging—and supporting—each other, and I will see you all next Monday. Dismissed!”

Then, after the most dispirited chorus of “Yes, sir,” Mario hustled over to the coach's office while trying to keep a casual appearance.. Not only did he have to get away from all of these hot, sexy swimmers, he also had some nasty gurgling in his stomach. He felt as though he might throw up. Passing through the men’s locker rooms, he burst into Coach Hernandez’s office, Mario’s for now, and tried to calm his breathing. Memories of throwing up when he was a child got him nearly hyperventilating. Not again, he did not want to go through that shit ever again.

Knock, knock, knock!

Time passed.

Knock, knock, knock!

It was far too many knocks for him to ignore. Sighing, Mario tried to compose himself and prayed this wouldn’t take too long as he wandered over to the door.

To his surprised, it wasn’t just one disgruntled swimmer, but three of them. Mario only knew of their names because the three of them had apparently decided that Mario was far too lonely and needed friends that were somewhat around his age. Leading the three was a young man named Evan, who was the quintessential all-American boy with a magazine cover-worthy smile.

“Heya there, coach. I was—you good?” His irritated scowl quickly turned to a look of concern as he saw Mario struggling to remain standing.

“Yeesh, you look like garbage. Got a summer fever or something?” The shorter and by far most annoying of the three was named Davis.

The last of the three was named Ray, a tall and stoic young man who hardly said a word, but somehow Mario could tell that he was also worried.

Mario weakly shrugged. It was difficult for him to respond because he was far too afraid to open his mouth. He tried to do something, anything, to assure them that he was fine, but in doing so he nearly lost his balance. He would’ve fallen if Evan hadn’t rushed forward his support for Mario to stand.

“Goddamn, coach. Is this why you were late? Wish you had been more honest earlier!” said Evan as he guided Mario back inside the office and towards desk chair. Ray and Davis trailed after them, Davis running his mouth about something or other until Ray lightly smacked the back of his head. Even shot them a quick glare before telling Mario, “You should really trust us more often, coach. We’re your buddies, remember?”

Mario frowned wryly at Evan, but grimaced as another surge of pain shot throughout his body. It was getting worse. The gurgling, the pain… he wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to hold it together. Was he going to vomit in front of all these nice hunks? After they did such a good job being nice eye-candy for him all day? Was that any way to thank them? He had never really been attracted to men before, but what was so wrong about surrendering to these urges completely? There was nothing wrong with that.

He thought back to that one argument that his younger brother had—about how homosexuality was observed in various species of social animals. Most of them Mario couldn’t remember off the top of his head, but he was certain that there were multiple, enough that it couldn't be denied.

But there was no time to consider that. Evan’s hands were still touching Mario and caressing his back. The pain was still there, and intensifying every moment. And of course, the other two chose that moment to crowd around and gawk at him. It is nice, thought Mario allowed them to worry about him, to have all these attractive men fawn and care about me. Is this a kind of power fantasy? That should’ve been his first red flag. Mario’s mind having any amount of literary knowledge should’ve informed him that his mind was no longer just his own. However, he was far too caught up in the moment for him to acknowledge it. Maybe I died and went to heaven.

If that was the case, I need to thank them. And so he opened his mouth to do so, but nothing heavenly came afterwards. In fact, what rushed out of Mario's mouth could only be described as coming straight out of hell. As his lips parted, out shot a stream of bright, pink bubbles which quickly filled the closed office. The three swimmers cried out in shock and confusion as pink foam filled their vision and invaded their orifices. They slapped their arms and hands around in a panic, trying to pop the bubbles but it was already far too late. By the time the room cleared up, the trio collapsed and began convulsing on the office floor.

Mario stared in confusion. He should’ve been horrified at seeing three young men on the ground, shaking as their tight, hot bodies struggled against some kind of invisible force invading them, but he couldn’t help but rub his cock through his pants as he stared. What was so appealing about seeing these men suffer and have their minds rewritten? He wasn’t sure, but he did know how hot it was for him.

Minds… rewritten? Those thoughts weren’t his own, he was certain of that. Knowledge he shouldn't know about was bouncing around in his head, as if there was another mind inside his skull and would occasionally jump in to mess around with the controls in his brain. But, in a way, that was its own relief. If Mario was merely the victim of some other force, then what did it matter if he just went with the flow? Swimming against the current just exhausted you.

His eyes focused on the closest one to him. Evan. He knelt down and straddled Evan’s convulsing body on his lap and began to gently stroke his cheek. How had he not noticed how handsome Evan was? How cute his youthful looks were. Mario was just a few years younger but was deeply jealous of just how flawless Evan’s skin was.

Then, the convulsions slowed until finally the three swimmers were lying still. Evan’s eyes snapped open first and immediately focused on Mario. “W-Well, hello…” Mario stammered out, smiling awkwardly at the odd position they now found themselves in. To his disappointment, Evan rose up to a seated position, legs criss-crossed, and began to orient himself. He blinked and glanced down at his body, running his hands down his torso and then flexing his arms. Just a few feet away, his fellow swim club members began doing the same thing. “A-Are you okay…?” Mario asked, but on a subconscious level he knew the answer was far more complex than that.

Evan glanced at Mario and shuffled forward. He brought a hand up and wiped away a few drops of sweat—or perhaps they were tears—from Mario’s face. Then, he leaned in for a deep, sensual kiss. Their tongues met as they shared hot breaths between the two of them. Mario flinched back, breaking the kiss, before going with the flow once more and kissing Evan again. Ray and Davis began to jeer while Mario hungrily drank in as much of this taboo bliss as he could. His hands pushed forwards and groped Evan's chest, caressing the soft pecs before trailing down and tracing the various muscles down there.

Evan drew back and gently broke the film of saliva that still bridged their two lips, but he still caressed Mario's cheek with one hands while squeezing his thigh with the other.

“C’mon, Evan! No fair,” said Davis with a pout. “Leave some for the rest of us.”

“…” Ray didn't verbally express his displeasure, but his intense glare was enough to even shake Mario’s newly-found blissful composure. Even without any words, Ray was able to express his dissatisfaction with the scene before him. “…”Once more, this time with even more feeling, if such a thing was even possible.

Evan shot the two a smirk as he kept rubbing and squeezing Mario. “Early worm gets the old man cock, bros. Everybody knows that!”

“I’m only a couple years older than you guys,” muttered Mario, far too swept up to care too much about the discussion. He knew that baldness might eventually come for him soon, considering his father, but all this talk about how old he was made him want to schedule an appointment for a hair transplant quickly. His family, especially his younger brother, had already been cracking jokes about his thinning hair and receding hair line, the bastards.

Davis, Ray, and Evan continued arguing until one of them one loudly (in his own way) suddenly shared a brilliant idea. “…!” As if struck by lightning, Ray’s eyes lit up. A few animated gestures; of which Mario only barely got the gist of; later, all three of the swimming hunks stared at Mario like hungry sharks. For his part, Mario—far too shaken up by the past few hours, gave little resistance as the three descended upon him like vultures on a fresh carcass.

He was lying down on a lock room bench. His sun-kissed flesh shivered as the much stronger men made him their meal. Ray, sitting down in front of him and still towering over everyone, spread Mario’s legs. On the opposite side was Evan, who held Mario by the wrists and was rubbing his own erect cock, covered only by the thin cloth of his speedo, against Mario’s cheek. Meanwhile, Davis rubbed his own cheek against the fabric of Mario’s jockstrap (as it was summer break) and was itching to tear it off to get at the erect cock already leaking precum just beneath.

“Yooo, check out how hard coach is!” Davis shouted as he pulled the thin fabric to the side and revealed the flopping hard-on. “Oh wow, I think he’s even more hung than I am!”

Evan scoffed. Using one of the bench’s corners, he pulled down his own speed and lightly smacked Mario’s cheek with his cock. The latter let out a moan as his whole body shivered in an odd mix of fear and anticipation.

“Like that’s hard to pull off," Evan scoffed at Davis before focusing back on Mario. "I gave ya a kiss with my lips already, coach. It’s only right your pair services my cock next.” Mario didn’t bother replying. The past few hours had already eroded the logical part of his brain, and he was far too afraid of admitting just how excited he was to get face-fucked to reply.

I-I’ve hard sex before, with tons of girls! S-So why does this feel like my first time. Guess I’ve never done it in public before, especially with men—three of them, even! Mario glanced over at Ray and balked. His dick was huge! Monstrous, even! How did this guy walk around with this thing between his legs?

“…” Ray’s blank stare made Mario too self-conscious to ask.

“Let’s begin this little team-building exercise,” said Evan. Mario opened his mouth and nearly gagged when Evan forced most of his inches down his throat. He shivered and let out a muffled cry as Ray teased his hole by tracing circles on it with his large, girthy cock. Then, Mario flinched and struggled against the tight hold the two swimmers had on him as Davis began deep-throating his cock. He kept licking up and down the shaft of Mario's dick like a lollipop. Already there was precum dripping from the tip, and Davis made him to lick it all clean.

“MRGH! MMRFFGH...!” Never in his life did Mario think this would happen for him, used and abused by these college jocks for their own lustful ends. But… it wasn’t just for them. No, Mario knew that, deep inside—far deeper than he could ever imagine—he needed this to happen, and they needed this too. There was something linking the four of them—more than lust, but a need. And it completed them. No, not quite. It brought them a sense of fulfillment, but they weren’t quite complete.

And only when I’m getting stuffed like this, thought Mario, moving his hips and shifting to better handle the two cocks penetrating him, that I am even close to feeling fulfilled.

It felt like he was in some pornography just for him. Evan howled in pleasure, laughing with tears streaming down his eyes as Mario made sure to tease the tip of his cock with his tongue. Ray let out a few surprised grunts as Mario expertly squeezed his cock and couldn't accept him pulling out. With each thrust, Mario tightened his hole, unable to bear having his ass be so empty for even a second. He needed to be plugged, and luckily for him Ray slammed into him harder with each thrust. Both of the men writhed in pleasure as Mario’s pleasured them both.

Ah, dear god…! The way that Davis was blowing him…! The guy put practiced whores to shame the way he just gobbled down on Mario’s cock like a pro. Mario couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous, but far too much of his brain was occupied enjoying the way Davis fit the whole thing down his warm throat. The way be could fondle Mario’s sensitive balls from time to time—making the older man’s brain short-circuit—and how he’d even plant some small kisses up and down the shaft as he worked it.

Mario smacked his head against the wooden bench, his mind having a complete meltdown as pleasured coursed all of his body. This was his fate—to be used as a dirty cum-slut for these men. And to be frank, he didn’t mind at all. If anything, he was a little disappointed. If only the entirety of the swim team was here. Oh, if only he had more holes to get stuffed and filled by more men!

“F-Fuck, aww, fuck yeah! Slutty coaches are the best!” said Even in-between pants. “Oh if only Coach Hernandez was like you, Mario!”

“Mffrgh, mm-hmm!” Davis said, his own mouth full of cock.

“…” Ray nodded and gave his own approval.

“Coach Hernandez will be like us soon,” said Davis, letting the cock slid from his lips. Despite the sinister and sadistic tone in his voice, this was still very clearly Davis speaking. “This thing’ll spread beyond us, beyond Coach Mario, even the swimming meet, even. Every last man will become like us, whether they want to or not.” There was an eerie glint in his eyes as he spoke. It was Davis, but also something else.

If Mario had his wits together he might’ve noticed how such a monologue somehow resembled how Mario’s younger brother would talk sometimes—just busting out performative soliloquies during the plays he would put on with the rest of the drama club.

Ray suddenly burst out laughing, caressing his muscles as he kept thrusting into Mario. The shock of such an occurrence nearly caused the other three men to freeze in their tracks and stared at him. But then Evan continued pumping his cock, rubbing his smooth body. Flashes of pink danced across their eyes—and the two easily became transfixed in their own bodies just as much as they were with Mario’s rougher, hairier form. The same happened for Davis as well. He threw his head back, eyes tinted pink, and then he began caressing his round, fuckable ass as he continued sucking Mario off.

It was if the three were more than just in sync. A force was filling all three of their souls and allowing them to become something beyond human. Their minds were slowly melding into one—the walls that separated their souls and upheld their individuality began to wane. Ray and Evan clasped their hands together as they painted both of Mario’s soft, silky-smooth hole completely white. “Ohhh, coach!” shouted Ray with Evan's, “your ass if a gift from god! Fuck, ahhh! I’m fucking cumming!”

“Nrgh… Mmmff…!” Evan said, silent as he came.

Hands now free, Mario clasped David’s head and pushed it down as much as he could down his cock and pumped his own loads down David’s throat—straight into his stomach—as the swimmer pumped his own cock and came all over the floor. Mario remained slack on the bench, breathing heavily. He was covered in sweat, exhausted, and feeling fuller than he ever did in his life.

But of course they weren’t done with him. Mario continued being used like a cheap sex toy by the three. Three virile athletes would not be satisfied by just cumming once.

Ray loved using Mario’s chest in a pec-job while Evan blew his load all over Mario’s hair. The three of them greedily made out in the communal shower while Mario was on his knees, servicing their cocks to quench the lustful fire within himself. He was exhausted, but he couldn’t stop himself. Feeling those warm cocks down his throat and being covered in cum satisfied him in a way that he couldn’t explain. He wasn’t just physically full, but emotionally full. These three used him, but there was something warm in this relationship between them. Blood was thicker than water, but cum was thicker than them both.

Davis, Ray, and Evan toweled themselves off after another day of training. Before, all three of them had unique reasons for competing. Evan had done all of this to help pay for college; David loved all the attention he got from winning; and Ray, stoic as ever, did it to connect with his even more anti-social and stoic father. Now? Things had changed, and the three were thrilled about it. Their original goals remained, but they had another reason to compete for: their love for each other, themselves, and the need to spread.

As they dried off, they couldn’t help but admire their own bodies. Ray continued giggling to himself as he played with the air on his happy trail and his pits. It was more than the clean-shaved Davis and Evan—who didn’t grow nearly as much body hair as he did.

Davis’ hands kept finding themselves rubbing, smacking, and even teasing his own ass and rim. Every part of him was sensitive, and Davis couldn’t help but just continue teasing and groping himself. He shook his hips a few times and loved the attention from the lustful Ray and Evan.

Speaking of Evan, he kept flexing and taking selfies of himself. There were simply far too many good sides, and he wanted to try and capture them all. So much so that Ray had to smack the back of his head and remind him to hurry and get changed. “We got shit to do,” said Davis in a tone reminiscent of Ray.

“Yo coach!” Ray called out with the boyish charm Davis usually had. “You good?”

Mario was barely able to respond. Legs trembling and asshole still leaking cum, stumbled out of the communal-style showers and leaned against the wall for support. “I-I’ll be fine,” he said in-between pants. He looked at the scene before him. These three couldn’t be anymore different and yet the grin they all wore was familiar to Mario. It was the same stupid, dopey grin Alfonso always wore when he was zoning out.

Yes, somehow Alfonso had something to do with this. But instead of getting heated as he tended to do when thinking about that fool, Mario became flushed as he felt an uncontrollable wave of arousal wash over him again. Fuck, he though, gonna make that motherfucker cry uncle when I get his cock up my fat ass…! Fuck, he was hard again, and in front of these students, too. What was happening to him. It felt like his head would explode from all the thoughts racing through it! And this horrible, untamable sex drive… It was as if another mind was inside of his head and wanted to call all the shots. And frankly, Mario wasn’t entirely opposed to that idea.

“Gonna go visit your brother?” Evan called out, breaking Mario out of his stupor. “I can tell by the boner you’ve got again,” Evan laughed. “Well, me and the boys are gonna be heading out now.” Mario glanced over. A day ago the sight would’ve left him slack-jawed. Now, it felt completely ordinary. Evan had his arms around around Ray and Davis’ shoulders the two kept groping and prodding Evan through his clothes. They just couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. It went beyond love and lust; devotion and depravity; it was something grotesquely beautiful—enough so that it almost made Mario want to weep from the sheer beauty of it.

“One of Ray’s cute friends is working at the ice cream bar just down the street. We figured we’d spread to him. Good luck rearranging your guts on your cute li’l bro’s cock!”

Mario waved them off and wished them good luck and a good fuck before getting himself dressed. Already, he was succumbing to the infection of another’s mind inside of his own. He was halfway home before wondering how Evan knew Mario had a younger brother.

[shootingstarwritings]

Giving ‘em a Ranch Hand

Phew! Barely managed to snatch this guy up.

My family traveled to the deep south to visit my uncle in his farm. I was travelling the place, bored outta my mind and trying to get away from the stench of cow dung when I stumbled unto this handsome fella. “The name’s Colt! I own a farm nearby,” he said, offering his hand alongside the good old southern hospitality.

Unfortunately for him, my touch was how I managed to get my rocks off when I saw a man that caught my eye.

Afficher davantage

[shootingstarwritings]

"Mmm, that's good. Keep that pose." Natasha said as she took another photo.

Snap!

"Great! Your pictures look wonderful, Landon," said Natasha, giving him a thumbs up. "I'll send them to you in a minute."

"Thanks, darlin'. Lemme just get yer payment. 's in the kitchen." Landon excused himself and made his way inside his home. As he passed the hallways mirror, he couldn't help but stop and admire his face. Although it was technically the first time he had ever shaved himself, he really did a good job.

"All right, Nat, here's yer pay. Thanks fer the pics. I'll make a killin' sellin' 'em online."

"Didn't see you as the OnlyFans guy, Landon. What changed?"

"What can I say? It's time the world saw a whole new me." Landon couldn't help but flex a little as he said that. He inwardly chuckled as he saw Natasha stare just a second too long.

"Ah, well," she said, quickly regaining her composure. "Either way, it's nice to get a commission. You don't mind if I post a pic or two on my site, right?"

Landon shook his head and shot her a suave grin. "No prob, darlin'. Don't mind the whole world seein' this new me." Natasha thanked him for the boost in her new photography career and left.

Finally alone, Landon made his way to his room and lied down on the floor, enjoying his stolen flesh.

"Lookin' cute, cowboy," Landon said to himself as he took a selfie of himself on the bed. Natasha's pictures were on the way, but he couldn't help but take a quick pic to admire.

"So glad I took your body, earthlin'." When the alien fell to earth one fateful, it quickly slithered into Landon's home in search of a worthwhile host. It found the cowboy resting, clad in just a pair of heart-print boxers, after a hard day's work.

Its slimy form slithered into his cock, causing Landon to wake and panic as a foreign being invaded him. The possession caused Landon to climax, and the little alien quickly fell in love with its new host. Now it planned to share its beautiful new home with all its new lovers, both its sexual partners and those who would admire from a screen.

"It's me, Landon," the alien spoke with its southern accent. "Lemme make all yer dreams come true."

[shootingstarwritings]

Body Surfing Lesson

“’Body surfing,’ is an important skill to learn as fledgling body possessors,” Gerald spoke to the hidden camera, putting on his teacher persona as best he could considering the ciscumstances. “Normally, it takes a lot of mana for us to take over other people, but the body surfing technique involves taking over multiple people over the course of a single day, using their own mana as a sort of ‘surfboard,’ to ride the waves of mana that flow inside of us all.” He inwardly cringed as he spoke, his current body very clearly unfitting for his lesson.

Gerald had no idea who had come up with such awful terminology, but it was far too late to change that. The small yet tight-knit community the possessors in the area had formed needed to have a sense of unity. Too much innocent blood had been shed for shame to hold Gerald back. ‘Far too many of you have been lost for me to get cold feet now,’ he thought to himself. Taking a deep breath, he continued his explanation for the future viewers.

“I’ve already spent quite a lot of my own mana to possess this young man,” Gerald forced his host to say. What was his name again…? He focused, face visibly tightening before his eyes widened in realization. “Jerry! Huh, it’s so close to my name.” He winced and made a mental note to himself to delete that part of the video. “It was difficult, y’know,” he said, pacing around in Jerry’s underwear with very little shame. He couldn’t help but strut, already enjoying the tight muscle in this youthful form. “I had to float into his cute little butt to take him over.”

Gerald grinned and slapped Jerry’s butt, enjoying the slight jiggling. He thought back earlier today as he launched into a story of how he had taken Jerry over for his class.

Gerald’s misty form had crawled through the apartment building’s pipes, searching for a nice and hot host that would catch people’s eyes while he tried to educate them. Then, he found Jerry exiting the shower and clad in just a pair of new-age briefs. Gerald stared at it in confusion, unsure if this is really what the young ones were really wearing. ‘Am I getting old?’ Gerald had briefly mused before launching himself towards Jerry’s ass.

“AH! Woah, ahhh…!” Jerry collapsed on his stomach, ass facing the ceiling as Gerald’s essence took him over. “Ah, pl-please… help…!” gasped Jerry, his hips thrusting on their own as he lost consciousness.

“Mmm, nice…” Gerald muttered as he sat up. He rubbed his stomach and then his bare, youthful legs. “It’s been a while since I was someone so young. And so hairless,” he chuckled.

“And that’s what happened,” he finished for his class. “It was lucky that this young man enjoys filming so much. Now I’ve got a nice and high-quality camera for this lesson rather than some janky phone.” It truly had been serendipity for him. Gerald giggled as he sat cross-legged in front of the camera, enjoying just how his borrowed form felt so exposed and yet so confident in his near-nudity. “So, I’ve got a dilemma. I want to move on and yet I’m pretty much exhausted my mana supplies—the essence of the soul. Say I even got into the trouble and I have to evacuate for whatever reason. What could I do in this situation?”

Gerald waited a quick second before continuing, “If you don’t know, that’s fine. This technique’s quite advanced. Not even some of our more veteran community members have even mastered it. Yours truly, however,” Gerald paused to place a hand on his chest, making sure to lightly tweak a nipple, “is well-versed enough in the arts to enlighten you.”

It wasn’t a secret nor difficult to figure out the theoretical part, but it was a challenge to divert the flow of energy instead of letting it be lost to entropy. It was similar to having a rush of anger and trying to convert the energy of that anger to something productive. In other words, it was turning anger to passion, turning sadness to compassion, and turning joy to kindness. The emotion behind it was just as important, if not more so, than the actual intention. 

‘Easier said than done,’ Gerald thought. ‘Honestly, I’d have to do a one-on-one with all of these new possessors for them to even get proficient at it. However, just imparting the knowledge would be enough… for now, at least.’

“Now, I have invited my host’s friend to come over soon. Before he arrives, I’m going to start masturbating my host’s body and preparing my mana.” One of the ways that mana flowed was through bodily fluids, with semen being one of the most potent ones. The emotions surrounding a climax allows a large flow of magic to surge through and even be present in the semen that one shoots at that moment of peak pleasure. “I won’t use my own mana,” summarized Gerald, “but instead use this young man’s mana from his own climax to possess his friend, Mike.”

Gerald was about to continue, but bit his lower lip as he heard the faintest knock from the front door. Then, Mike’s voice called out to be let in.

Grinning, Gerald placed a finger to his lips and winked at the camera. “Let the show begin.” It wasn’t difficult to begin jacking off in this youth’s body. Even stroke felt like a lightning strike and even gasp was just fuel to Gerald’s fiery lust--now reborn in this young vessel… for the time.

“C-C’mon in,” Gerald forced Jerry to say. He had left the apartment’s front door unlocked on purpose. With any luck, Mike would get curious and explore the lustful noises straight to Jerry’s room. “Door’s unlocked.” Everything was falling into place. Gerald had seen a few pictures of Mike. He was a cute ginger with a good body that used to play hockey in high school. Though his sports days were behind him, Mike still regularly went to the gym to keep a nice form. “Mmm…!” The thought of taking over another young hunk, one with fiery curly hair that was so much like his own during his teenage years, almost made Gerald cum on the spot.

“Hurry up…!” Gerald hissed. Just how much more did his thick cock need to finally cum. It was such a tease--to be on the verge of cumming but not getting there quite yet. “You stupid fucking himbo, fucking cum already!” Although he was on the verge of running out of time, Gerald couldn’t help but find the verbal abuse arousing as well. “Cum for me, boy. Lemme feel that stallion cock of yours burst all over your hairless, himbo body…”

“Jerry? That you? What’re you doing…?” Gerald could hear Mike’s approaching footfalls, and that only made the whole situation more erotic. Before losing his body, Mike would see his best friend cum all over himself like a shameless exhibitionist. And then, Gerald would do the same thing to Mike. Forget the class or keeping the peace, Gerald could only think of hopping between men and turning each of them into cum-obsessed cocksuckers.

“Hrrngh! Oh god…!” 

Yes… it was approaching. All Gerald needed to really turn this body on as he cranked the cock was a bit of foreplay. His core was beginning to tense, and he could feel himself rush past the point of no return.

Right at the precise moment, the door opened. “Jerry, what the fuck?!” Mike cried out as he saw his best friend beating his meat without a lick of shame.

Grining, Gerald forced Jerry to shout, “I’m fucking cumming…!” as torrents of cum shot high into the air in Mike’s direction.

‘Now, give me your body, boy.’

Riding that climatic wave, Gerald used the large pool mana that Jerry’s young body was shooting to propel his soul forward. Even though all of his own energy was spent, he felt rejuvenated, as though he was 20 years younger, as Jerry came. However, just like a normal wave crashing into the sea, it would not last forever. The energy could not be stored, only spent in that very moment; but that small burst in power was all Gerald needed as he dove into Mike’s body.

“Oomph!” Mike huffed as the force of Gerald diving into his body was enough to knock him off balance. He fell backwards and hit the ground, body convulsing as an invisible, unknowable force began to take him over. “Wh-What the fuck…?!” was all he could say as a cold and numb sensation spread from the tips of his fingers and toes into his core. “H-Help… ohh… please don’t…” Mike reached a trembling arm towards the doorknob, his fingers twitching as they tried to find anything to grab onto.

By the time Mike’s fingers gripped the brass knob, Gerald was already in control. “Mmm… delicious.” Something that Gerald noticed from certain bodies was that they somehow had some kind of spiritual ‘flavor.’ Mike reminded him of strawberries in a shortcake somehow. He licked his lips and chuckled at the light bristle of Mike’s bushy and manly beard. “Trying to be a real man, boy?”

Gerald forced Mike to sit up and then lie on his stomach. “Just a young man trying to be a big boy,” he chuckled as he positioned Mike’s ass high in the air, wiggling his hips the whole time. “But then a real man like Gerald took over my body. All with my best friend’s spunk as a springboard. God, what kinda friend--what kinda man--am I for letting that happen?”

A horrible idea suddenly crossed Gerald’s mind. Crawling back into Jerry’s room, Gerald opened Mike’s mouth and began to suck the remaining cum off of Jerry’s still twitching cock. “God, Mike, you’re so virile. I’m so glad you’re this cumslut’s friend,” said Gerald. Then he realized that he was still supposed to be explaining a lesson. 

Grabbing the camera, Gerald focused it on Mike’s face and began to speak. “Well, did you see that? I was all out of mana, but masturbating with a man’s other body, I was able to use his energy to possess this hunk of meat.” To illustrate his point, Gerald stripped most of Mike’s clothes until he was down to his boxer briefs. “See? And--” he stopped as he heard the front door open.

“Jerry? You home? What’d I tell you about leaving the front door unlocked?”

Jerry’s father. A tall and broad-shouldered man that, from what Gerald could tell from Jerry’s memory, wasn’t particularly fond of Mike due to his… ‘lifestyle.’ Was it due to something repressed? Mike certainly seemed to think so, but Gerald couldn’t make heads or tails of the situation. Taking a look around and seeing the scene before him, Gerald began to internally panic--twisting Mike’s generally nonchalant expression into a stressed grimace.

‘Shit. His son’s unconscious, covered in cum,  and his best friend’s stripped down to his underwear.  If I saw this scene I’d think Mike was trying to date-rape my son! Don’t think I’ll be able to simply laugh off this little excursion. But… the only way to get out of this would be…’

Gerald had never attempted a double possession, with or without an explosive orgasm catapult. Was it a good thing that the camera was still recording? He wasn’t sure anymore. To be frank, he wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Loud, boisterous footfalls continued to ring in his ears.

Even in times of danger, Gerald knew he could rely on his libido to get him out. Throwing Mike’s underwear away, no longer caring about maintaining any sense of professionalism, Gerald got to work. Using what was left of Jerry’s cum as makeshift lube, he began to explore Mike’s tasty body with horned-up haste.

“The hell’s that, Jerry? Got a girl over?” Jerry’s father called out again. Gerald couldn’t help but giggle in-betweens his moans. If only he knew.

Mike’s gruff voice contrasted so wonderfully with his high-pitched and needy groans. His back arched and his toes curled as Gerald continued to beat his dick. The other hand freely explored the nice pelt of orange hair that coated Mike’s body.

‘What I wouldn’t give to just have a day with this guy,’ thought Gerald. A few tweeks of the nipples and he could already feel an orgasm building up. Just a few more minute and vigorous strokes and he’d be home free. “C’mon, cum for me…! Just a bit more.”

Jerry’s door flew open for the second time that day, and this time Jerry’s father roared in horror at the scene before him. “MIKE! What the fuck are you doing?! Jerry?!”

‘An audience,’ Gerald thought, smirking at the older man. ‘And not a bad looker either.’

“Hey, daddy-o,” Gerald forced Mike to say. He thrust into his grip, gyrating his hips as though to show off what his body could do to Jerry’s father. “Like the show? Have a seat, I can do so much for you if you want. I don’t mind some audience participation.” To emphasize his own point, Gerald raised a hand with a bit of pre-cum and slowly licked it off--savoring the sweet flavor.

Jerry’s father, mouth slightly agape and expression somewhere between horror and arousal, just stared at Gerald abusing Mike’s body. “Y-You’re sick,” he finally said, eyes glued to Mike’s swinging cock as it twitched. “What did you do to Jerry…?”

“Same thing I’m gonna do to you, daddy!” Gerald cried out in glee as Mike’s abused cock shot the first few rounds of semen. He bit his bottom lip, moans just barely muffled, as Mike’s hips naturally thrust with each shot. As the orgasm reached its end, Mike’s body began to tremble and grow limp as Gerald shot himself out. He rushed through the air and quickly dove right into Jerry’s father through his large chest.

“Hurugh! Ohh, what the fuck…?!” Unlike Mike, Jerry’s father remained standing even after Gerald dive bombed into his chest. However, despite his stronger will, he was unable to stop the tidal wave that crashed over his body. His broad arms gripped the door frame for support as his knees bent from the pressure. 

The invasive presence washed over him, filling him up slowly. It wasn’t unlike the first time his ex-wife had pegged him. The fear that came from being filled for the first time was matched only by the pleasure that followed. Just the thought of that night made his cargo shorts tighten. He knew that he should’ve been afraid and even outraged, but his body betrayed him in favor of the invasive presence. “M-More, please fuck me more…!” he whispered as his grip on the door frame tightened. Sweat dripped from his body as his soul let the tides carry him to a blissful and erotic rest.

“And that class,” Gerald forced his host to say, “is how you use your host to your advantage. Now, this is a more advanced technique, so don’t worry if you find it tricky at first.” Bill, Jerry’s father, was far more comfortable to Gerald than Jerry or Mike. The beefy look and authoritative voice also helped Gerald really get into the persona of a professor. It was like putting on a custom before getting into character. “But, as you can see from my improvised lesson plan, it’s possible to even chain multiple possessions in just one day! Really beats having to wait for the refractory period to end, huh?” He chuckled in Bill’s deep baritone, hands on his stomach as he felt Bill’s stolen body jiggle and quake with life. This was more like it.

And with the lesson done, Gerald now had plenty of time on his own to get familiar with Bill. Maybe Jerry and Mike would like to get involved as well…