TF Plaza @peepshow321 - Tumblr Blog

My Stories

Hi everyone!

This is mainly a reblog account for all the wonderful work everyone puts out, but I’ve done a few stories over the years and thought it might be handy to have them in one place. Hope you enjoy!

Always happy to have a chat or to discuss ideas!

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Sports Night - Rugby Conversion + Into the Ring

Attorney-Client Privilege

Lockdown Turnaround

Premium Language School

Locker Room Etiquette

CV Boost - Let’s Down Down to Business + Building a Better Future

Never Break the Chain - Part 1, Part 2 + Part 3

TaskRaccoon Premium: start here!

#mywork

mystrangetfs

A new team - Weight gain ai sequence

Clint was warming up and stretching when he heard the first shout of his name, glancing over his shoulder Clint could see the football coach and Clint couldn't help but roll his eyes. He had heard the football team had lost a few of its members to injury and that the coach was looking to replace them and Clint could not think of anything worse. Clint was a track star, he had been sprinting the 400m for years and had won several national competitions. That's how he managed to get a scholarship to a top university along with a generous donation from his parents. There was no way he was going to lower himself and become a 'bulldog' and be around the other lumps of dumb muscle. Clint heard his name being called again and still he pretended like he didn't hear, once he was stretched out he would start running and there would be no way the dumpy little coach would catch up to him. However, if Clint had bothered to acknowledge the coach then he would have seen the already out of breath middle aged man jogging over to before standing in front of the sneering Clint.

"Clint Simmons? Yeah I thought it was you. I was calling ya champ, did you not hear me?" the coach said red-faced.

mystrangetfs

In need of assistance - AI muscle growth himbo sequence

George adjusted his tie and got comfortable in his chair as the IT guy tapped away on his computer, as head of marketing and sales he was eager to get this new AI assistant programme some of the other department heads had been raving about. It was said to make organisation, spread sheets, emails and data analysis a breeze.

"There we are Mr Harris, the programme is installed and I have done most of the set but I have left the customisation for you to finish. Mr Higgins down the hall went with a woman with a sweet, southern sounding voice but I think you can create an avatar and everything."

"An Avawhat?" George said while raising an eyebrow at the man about to leave. Who was about to answer before George's human assistant walked in.

"The man is hard-working, dedicated to the company, will feel hurt and disappointed if he fails the user, needs to be working 24/7 with an intense love for work and giving 100% to the company. A perfectionist and detailed orientated workaholic. Jesus no wonder you are miserable, standing around must be killing you. Don't worry I don't think I need someone like that. In fact looking at that beautiful face and sublime chest I doubt you are going to help me with much work." Johnny chuckled as he moved his hand to his pants and adjusted his growing erection before typing again. George wanted to scream as Johnny was no longer changing his appearance he was changing his very personality. Johnny started by erasing his eagerness to work, his perfectionism and his memory of all the knowledge of the company and soon it was replaced with gym routines, diets, locations of gay clubs, cocktails and gay club wear and fashion. George's mind swirled as he desperately tried to cling to his years of experience, the years he has spent working his way to the top but all of it began to slip away like it has never existed. George thought of his wife and kids but their faces now felt like images from an old dream. Instead all he could remember was eating plain chicken breast, working out his chest, chatting with other gym bro's, drinking to much and dancing until the early hours of the morning. George wanted to cry as his life was rewritten effortlessly into an entirely new person. George whimpered as Johnny typed up his new personality with words like 'bubbly, vapid, kind, sultry, arrogant, confident, show off'. George's mind began to slow as his jaw slackened and his stance relaxed. His terror and fear was pushed to the back of his mind along with any traces of the old him, who was trying with all his might to hold on but was losing. George felt his expression change as although he wanted to scream the new relaxed, vapid, vain him just smirked enjoying how much of his body he got to show off.

swappermanent-deactivated202502

Reverse Inheritance

The first time Leo told me he could astral project, I didn't think much of it. My grandson had been living with me ever since his father—my son—went to prison, and though he was 20n now, he still had that same wild imagination he'd had as a kid.

Just last month, he'd been on about reincarnation, saying he remembered fragments of past lives. And before that, he was convinced our neighbor was running a smuggling ring out of his garage. Normally, I didn’t mind letting him ramble on. But lately, I was starting to get a bit tired of it.

Today, however, Leo seemed particularly insistent. “I’m serious, Grandpa. I can do it. Astral projection. It’s real.”

I scoffed. "Alright, then. Let’s do a little experiment."

"Sure, what kind of experiment?"

I reached over to a drawer and pulled out an old deck of cards, shuffling them a couple of times until I was satisfied. I fanned the cards out, then carefully picked one from the middle, holding it up so only I could see. “If you’re telling the truth, you should be able to ~float out of your body~ and go behind me to tell me what this card is,” I challenged, leaning back.

Leo took a deep breath, closing his eyes. His breathing slowed, his shoulders relaxing in a way I’d never seen before. For a second, I actually thought he might’ve fallen asleep. But then, with his eyes still closed, he whispered, “Eight of spades.”

I froze. Placing the card face up on the table—the eight of spades.

I forced a laugh. “Lucky guess. Let’s go again.”

Leo gave a small shrug and smirked. “Alright. Let’s.”

I shuffled the deck again, this time picking a card off the top. “Alright, wise guy,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “What is it?”

He closed his eyes again, barely a few seconds this time. “Three of hearts.”

I looked down at the card, and my stomach did a small flip. “Alright,” I said, trying to mask my surprise. “That was another good guess, I’ll give you that. Let’s see if you’re really up to it.”

This time, I picked three cards at once, spreading them face down on the table. “No way you’re getting all of these right,” I muttered, almost to myself.

But a few seconds later, He rattled them off without a second thought. “Queen of diamonds, five of clubs, ace of spades.”

I looked at each card in my hand, and they were all correct. My jaw dropped, and I couldn’t hide it. “Shit… wow,” I breathed. “Alright, kid, you got me. I believe you.”

Leo’s eyes opened, and he gave me a small, satisfied smile. “You want me to teach you how?”

My heart was pounding a little faster than usual. “You think I could?” I asked, half-joking but more curious than I wanted to let on.

Leo leaned forward, his face serious. “Yeah. But you have to really want to do it. Like, let go of everything. All those thoughts that keep you grounded here.”

"Let go of everything…" I repeated.

---

Over the next few weeks, Leo patiently taught me to master astral projection. At first, it felt like some sort of strange meditation. But gradually, I learned how to slip out of my physical body, just as Leo did, until I could stand beside myself, looking down at the slouched figure.

Each session, Leo and I would push the boundaries a little more. We couldn’t go too far since our astral projections only seemed to last about four hours at a time, and even then, we couldn’t travel much faster than a brisk jog. But I was fine with that; I wasn’t interested in dashing across the city, only in seeing how far I could push this strange new freedom.

When we’d reach the end of our limit and weren’t back in our bodies yet, something bizarre would happen. Our astral selves would start to get get pulled back, as if our bodies had a magnetic force calling us home. Those first few times, it was disorienting, hurtling back through space until I snapped back into my skin, breathless, my heart pounding. Leo explained that it was the body’s way of keeping us tethered, that if we stayed out too long, our astral forms would dissipate like smoke, and we’d cease to exist.

“Cease to exist?” I asked him one night, feeling the weight of that warning.

Leo nodded, his face solemn. “I haven’t pushed it that far, Grandpa. And I don’t think we should. The pull back gets stronger the closer we get to that limit. But if we ignore it…” He shrugged, letting the words hang in the air, dark and final.

Still, despite the risk, I found myself craving these nightly adventures. For the first time in years, I felt alive, truly alive. As someone who’d all but resigned myself to the slow, tired rhythms of old age, it was thrilling. But as our nights stretched on, I started to wonder about Leo’s fascination with this skill. He was young; he didn’t have a curfew, he didn’t have an old, weary body holding him back. He could be out living his life instead of hovering in ghostly form around the house or strolling through empty streets with his old grandpa. What was he getting out of this?

One night, as we settled into our chairs to begin our ritual, I glanced over at Leo’s body. He’d gotten comfortable, his head tilted back, his breathing already slowing, his eyelids fluttering shut. It struck me how young and full of life he looked, even when he was so still. I felt an odd pang of longing, a desire that surprised me in its intensity.

When had I last felt young? Truly young, without the weight of decades pressing down on my shoulders? What would it be like to feel like that one more time, to feel that boundless energy I saw in Leo.

As Leo’s breathing grew steady, his astral self drifting beside me, I looked back at his empty body, sitting there, vulnerable and untouched. The thought tugged at me, and for a moment, I felt an almost irresistible urge to reach out, take his body for myself just for one fleeting moment

---

The idea had been lingering in the back of my mind for weeks now. Every time I saw Leo drifting out of his body, the temptation grew a little stronger.

He was shy about his body, sure, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that felt like a betrayal somehow, slipping into him without asking. But there’s no way he’d ever say yes. Besides, I would be in and out before he’d ever know, right?

Finally, I gathered the courage. One evening, Leo announced he was heading out and asked me to join. “I’ll be back in a couple hours, wanna come with,” he said with a grin as he leaned back, his breathing slowing as he began the process.

I shook my head no, feigning sleepiness. “I’ll stay in tonight,” I replied. “I could use the rest.”

As his body drifted to sleep, I waited, counting each minute until I was sure his astral form was far enough away. Then, with my heart racing, I initiated my own astral walk and hovered towards his body .

A deep anticipation rushed over me as I prepared to enter. “Just a half hour, tops” I told myself.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to slip in as gently as possible. But something was wrong. As soon as I began, it felt as if I were pushing against a wall. I couldn’t just slide in like I usually did with my own body. I adjusted my position, aligning myself more carefully with his form, and tried again. This time, I felt a bit of give, and gradually, I was able to push through, inch by inch.

First my legs merged with his, then my torso. I felt the strength in his muscles as I took on his form. I kept pushing, my hands now matching his, aligning, filling out his arms, until finally, my head was nearly there, just hovering over his own.

But then, out of nowhere, I saw Leo’s astral form float towards me from across the room, his face a mixture of shock and fear. Me entering his body must’ve attracted his astral form back as a defense mechansim. Panic flared within me. If he re-entered his body while I was halfway in… I didn’t even know what would happen, but I didn’t want to find out. Before he could reach me, I shoved my head down, slipping fully inside.

---

I blinked, and when I opened my eyes again, I realized I was fully conscious—inside Leo’s body. My vision felt sharper, my muscles responsive, and as I looked down, I took in his smooth, toned arms, the strength and youth radiating through every limb. It was exhilarating.

I hopped up, feeling the lightness in my step that I hadn’t felt in years. Each movement was effortless, as if my body itself had forgotten what it meant to be heavy. I walked around the room, flexing his hands, rolling his shoulders, feeling every inch of youth as it coursed through me.

But then I felt something odd—a light tapping on my stomach, almost like a faint punch or a persistent nudge. Instinctively, I flexed Leo’s abs, the sensation dulling a bit, and that’s when it hit me. That tapping—that was Leo, trying to get his body back.

“Leo…” I whispered, feeling a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry, kid. I’ll be out soon, I promise.”

I let myself enjoy the feeling of his body, each sensation crisp and vivid. As I explored myself, I felt a familiar tension grow in my pants, one that I hadn’t felt in years. Instinctively, I reached down to my waistband and grabbed down to tug at my new, surprisingly hairy ball sack. That was enough to get my cock to throb.

I began stroking my new, uncut cock while feeling up my smooth torso with my other hand. As I did, my mind wandered to all the hot guys I could pull in this body if Leo ever let me borrow it again. Concentrating on that thought was all it took to send me over the edge. Slowly and sensually tugging at my shaft, I spurted all over my chest, completely draining mysefl.

Finally, as I lay back into the bed, a wave of satisfaction washed over me, leaving me feeling both exhilarated and calm. The room was warm and quiet, and with the last bit of energy fading from me, I felt a sudden drowsiness settle in. I lay down, and before I could convince myself to leave, I drifted into sleep, enveloped in the softness of youth and the quiet of Leo’s room.

I jolted awake, my heart racing as I felt hands gripping my shoulders, shaking me roughly. Blinking in confusion, I looked up—and there was my old, familiar face, creased with panic and rage, staring down at me.

“What the hell did you do?” he demanded, his voice hoarse and furious.

It took me a second to process, my mind still foggy from sleep. I tried to sit up, disoriented, and felt the youthful energy of Leo’s body springing into action, as if the night hadn’t worn it down in the slightest.

“What…” I managed, words failing me. But he kept going, too upset to wait for me to catch up.

“I had no choice but to take your body,” he said, his voice laced with frustration. “Otherwise, I’d have just… disappeared. Astral projection doesn’t work for body swapping. That’s not how it’s supposed to go. I never told you that because I didn’t think you’d ever try something like this.”

The full weight of his words settled over me, each one hitting like a cold punch. “So… we can’t just switch back?”

He shook his—my—head, a bitter smile flashing across his face. “No. There's a refractory period before we can attempt any switch again. It’s designed to prevent exactly what you just did. We’d have to wait ten years before we could even try to go back.”

“Ten years…” I repeated, the words sinking in like stones in my stomach. My old body—now his—was 90. I knew my own heart, knew how every joint ached, knew how every year was harder than the last. The odds of it lasting another decade were slim to none.

The guilt knotted in my chest, sharp and sour. I opened my mouth to apologize, to try to explain, but the words caught in my throat. What could I even say?

But then, unbidden, a different thought crept in. In ten years, this body would be 30. That meant I had Leo’s—my entire 20s to live again, the years I’d once cherished and missed deeply. I looked down at my youthful hands, the strength and vitality I could feel coursing through every inch of Leo’s body, and felt a strange, conflicted thrill rise within me.

He must’ve noticed the shift in my expression, because his face—my old, familiar face—darkened. “Are you… are you happy about this?” he whispered, incredulous.

I shook my head, trying to fight the feelings rising up within me, but they were relentless. The shame of it burned hot, yet I couldn’t deny the excitement simmering just beneath.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my expression steady. “Leo,” I said softly, but I didn’t know how to finish.

He watched me, a flash of betrayal in his eyes as he seemed to understand, even without me saying it. And then, with a bitter laugh, he turned away.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror across the room. Fuck, this’ll be fun.

mr2swap

#THEINCIDENT

The air in my old room smells of old farts and defeat. I settle into bed, and the old mattress creaks under a weight I've never borne before. I feel the friction of my new, voluminous belly against my thighs, the constant tension in a back that has lost all muscle definition, the perpetual chill on a scalp that is now just smooth, hairless skin. Every morning I wake up expecting it to be a nightmare, and every morning reality hits me in the form of this fifty-four-year-old, bald, overweight body.

Moving back to my parents' house was the most humiliating thing. This accountant's body, the Robert "Bob" Jenkins body, couldn't afford the rent on my loft. My protein and gym sponsorships... our sponsorships... evaporated as soon as people saw what I had become.

But the worst wasn't the material. It was Jenna's look, filled with confusion and then pure revulsion when I tried to explain that it was me, Kyle, trapped inside this... shell of grease and gray hair. "Kyle, this isn't healthy. You should get help," she said before blocking me everywhere. My friends, my gym brothers, just make excuses now. "Uh, dude, we're just really busy," they say on the phone, and I can hear the discomfort in their voices as they speak in the deep, breathy voice of an older stranger. Even my own parents tiptoe around me. Mom avoids eye contact, and Dad only talks to me about the weather, unable to connect with the older man who claims to be the son he was so proud of.

With a frustrated growl coming hoarse from this alien throat, I grab my laptop. I need to wallow in my misery. I navigate to my old Instagram profile, @KyleTheTitan.

And there I am. Or rather, there he is. Bob, I guess his new young brain acted quickly and changed my social media passwords. It should have been easy; he had my phone number and my face.

The photo is a stab. My V-shaped torso, my rock-solid biceps, my chiseled abs, all dressed up like a suit by that grinning imposter. He's wearing only tight gym shorts and holding a tub of the protein I helped promote. The headline reads: "New horizons! Grateful for this second chance and for my partners at @FlexFuelNutrition who believe in me #SwapCorpSurvivor #StrongerThanEver."

I feel a fierce nausea burning in my stomach, a stomach that is now soft and round. That body was my temple, my identity. I shaped it with years of sacrifice, pain, and discipline. And now that financial softie, Bob Jenkins, is there, grinning like a fool, taking in all the glory, endorsements, and health insurance showering the "innocent victims of the Incident."

Rage courses through my veins, but it's followed by a much stranger and more treacherous feeling. As I stare at the screen, admiring every muscle cut I've carved, an intense and completely involuntary arousal begins to grow in my groin, swelling against the restrictive fabric of these hideous polyester pants my father lent me.

I look down, with horror and a hint of fascination. An erection, firm and insistent, deforms the fabric. It's this old, rejected body responding to the sight of my own former body, a body everyone desired and now no one denies Bob. The disconnect is so surreal it almost makes me dizzy. I hadn't touched myself in months, my enormous, hairy balls swollen from the withdrawal from accepting this perverse reaction. The confusion is total.

Suddenly, a notification pops up in the corner of the screen. An alert from a local news network.

"Protest outside SwapCorp offices: Victims call for halt to 'cure' research"

My heart pounding in a way this new body finds alarming, I click.

The video plays, showing a crowd in front of SwapCorp's glass building. And there, in the front row, with my powerful chest puffed out and my voice, now strangely modulated with the conviction of a middle-aged man, shouting into a megaphone, is Bob Jenkins.

"Our bodies are not experiments!" shouts the muscular figure that was once me. "This body is mine now! It's a gift. SwapCorp must stop its dangerous quest to reverse the process. We demand to be acknowledged and left alone! My name is Kyle, and this is my body!"

The crowd cheers. Camera flashes illuminate Bob's defined pecs as he struts in front of the camera with a charismatic smile, the gaze of a crowd of men and women never leaving him.

I sat frozen in my teenage bedroom, mesmerized by the live action. Before I knew it, my cock was out of my pants, and my hand was pumping up and down. The smell of my old cock filled my room, and sticky precum lubricated my fingers until my cock exploded, completely staining my laptop screen.

Completely in ecstasy, lying on my bed and completely exhausted, all I could hear was my old voice on the computer.

"Yeah, I think I'm putting this body to better use. I'm sure the real Kyle thinks so."

---

Hey, hello again! I hope you haven't forgotten me. I just wrote my first story since my return and posted it on Ko-fi. Thank you so much for your patience, and I hope you enjoy this old story from my archives. See you sooner than you think!

Support Mr2 swap

octuscle

Golden Chain

Max was 18 years old, just finished high school, and felt like he was in a cage. His parents had dragged him on this family vacation to Turkey—Antalya, to be precise. "Education and culture!" they had said. But for Max, that meant endless hours in stuffy museums, standing in front of ancient statues wondering why he couldn't just chill on the beach. Or scrambling around ruins where the sun beat down mercilessly and his mother constantly took photos. "Look, Max, that's from the Byzantine era!" Yeah, great. He was bored to death.

On this one day, he had enough. The family was staying in a hotel on the outskirts of the city, with a pool and all the trimmings, but his parents were already planning the next excursion: some ancient city, hours away. Max woke up with a plan. "I don't feel well," he whined at breakfast. "Sunstroke, I think. Everything's spinning." His mother felt his forehead, his father grumbled something about too much phone time, but they bought it. "Rest up, we'll be back in the evening," they said and left.

As soon as they were gone, Max slipped out of the hotel room. He had money in his pocket—allowance he'd saved—and the city was waiting. Antalya pulsed: markets, street vendors, tourists in flip-flops. He wandered through the alleys, ate an ice cream, flirted half-heartedly with a few girls on the beach. But he wanted something lasting, something cool. In a side street, he found a small shop full of jewelry, clothes, and tourist stuff. Behind the counter stood an old man who eyed him.

"Nice chain there," Max said, pointing to a thick gold chain gleaming in the window. Fake gold, obviously, but it looked like something from a rap video. "How much?" The seller grinned. "For you, young man, 50 Lira." Max paid, took the chain in his hand. It was heavier than expected, with a strange shine that almost pulsed in the shop's light. He hung it around his neck, and immediately felt a tingling as the cold metal chain touched his skin. It was like an electric current shooting through his body, starting from his chest, up to his head and down to his limbs.

Suddenly, everything spun. The shop began to blur, the shelves with T-shirts and souvenirs merged into a swirling sea of colors. Max grabbed the counter for support, but his fingers felt numb. His memories flickered like old film strips tearing: The classroom in Germany, the rain in Berlin, his parents packing suitcases. "What...?" he muttered, but his voice sounded foreign, deeper, with a hint of accent. His head throbbed as if someone was stirring inside it. Images flooded him—not his own. A market in Antalya, laughter with friends, the smell of doner and sea. Germany? The word felt distant, like a fading dream. His muscles tensed, as if his body was growing, changing. He felt his arms getting thicker, his chest broader, his skin darker in tone. The mullet haircut he never had suddenly fell into his forehead. The chain glowed hot, almost burning, and with every heartbeat, a piece of Max dissolved. Panic rose in him, but it was drowned by a wave of euphoria—freedom, adventure, the pulse of the city. "No, wait..." he whispered, but the words turned into laughter, a confident, Turkish laughter.

When he blinked, everything was different. He was now called Emir. No more Max. Emir, 19, a Turkish tough guy with a mullet haircut that always sat perfectly. His parents—not the German ones, no, his real parents—owned this shop. The small store in the old town where they sold tourist stuff: chains, T-shirts, souvenirs. Mom was in the back sorting goods, Dad sat at the counter smoking a cigarette. "Emir, help with the flyers!" Dad called. Emir nodded, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

His daily life? During the day, he distributed flyers for his big brother, who had a bar on the waterfront promenade. "Karaoke Night! Cheap Drinks! Come to 'Beach Breeze'!" it said. Emir jogged through the streets, pressed them into the hands of laughing tourists, winked at the pretty ones. He was fit, muscular from weightlifting in the backyard—no wonder, with that life. In the evenings, he helped out in the bar: washing glasses, tapping beer, watching the crowd. But the best part? Checking out the tourists. The sexiest ones who came in with their bikinis and sunglasses, looking for adventure.

There was this blonde Swede yesterday—or was it the day before? She had laughed when he bought her a drink. "You look like a model," she said. Later, in the dark alley behind the bar, they did it, wild and fast. Or the Frenchman last weekend, who had devoured him with looks. Emir was flexible—fuck or get fucked, as long as it was fun. No strings attached, just the kick of the night. His chain dangled, the fake gold that brought him luck. Or was it a curse? Whatever, it felt right.

Emir posed in front of the mirror in the shop, flexed his biceps, took a selfie. The city outside hummed, palms swayed in the wind. No more museums, no more boredom. This was his life now—free, wild, Turkish through and through. And deep inside, in a forgotten corner of his mind, a distant voice whispered: "Max... what happened?" But Emir just laughed and went out to distribute the next flyer.

bigwishes

The New You

[a reward story for someone who wrote me a hot tf scenario]

---------

You sat in the park on your break from work, staring at your driver's license. Trying to remember if another name had been written there before hand, if the picture was every different. You couldn't put your finger on it but you had this nagging feeling like it used to be different, like you used to be different.

---

A week ago you remember going on a small sail boat cruise, just spending 3 days on a sail boat on a lake, nothing too extreme, but you dont remember YOU being there.

The day started off pretty normal, with you getting on the boat with a few mates, but you don't remember what you looked like in the mirror that morning. You remember sailing out and sitting on a chair feeling the sun beat down on your face making you sweat and tan, which was almost impossible for your arab complexion.

maybe you didn't tan, maybe your skin was always this dark, but you do remember your body itching like crazy, and hair sprouting all over your legs arms and chest, you remember being smooth before going sailing but...no you had always been this hairy, your arab heritage made sure of that.

Something you do remember though is the feeling of swelling strength as your biceps started hugging you sleeves and your pecs pressed out on the fabric until the buttons split open and your muscular body heaved out of it...

You remember because crew member brought you a new pair of clothes because yours had been destroyed...by..destroyed by....you couldn't remember you probably just split some wine or food on the shirt, plus the clothes the crew brought you fit your perfectly and they were from your bags so...surely your body hadn't changed at all.

You remember the clothes fit perfectly and they had to be yours because you were able to take them home, they suited your body perfectly, almost tailor made so there was no way you could have changed, you didn't change, you couldn't have...besides if you changed why did you remember being arab your entire life.

There was definitely no way you could have changed, if you had your friends would have been shocked and lost their minds, not making fun of the small but potent amount of BO constantly hanging in your pits and pointing out the sweat marks on your tank top around your lats, no this is the stuff they have done to you since your first year of uni.

yeah...nothing out of the ordinary here.

----

You sit in the park staring at your drivers license and chuckle as you slap it rapidly against your palm, maybe you were working too hard. It would be impossible for you to of changed over a weekend trip and had the entire world change with you.

You no, often the simplest answer is the truth, You had always been named Hamza, you had always been like this, you just needed a break from work is all.

Maybe another trip on that lake boat, and this time you could bring some of your white friends instead of your squad of arab blokes you grew up with...yeah, that'd be nice...

axeeglitter

Here's to our thirties

The old wooden sign reading “Blackthorn Lake House” still hung crookedly from the rusted iron post at the end of the long gravel driveway, half-hidden by overgrown ivy. Joey’s truck rattled over the familiar potholes as the two men drove in silence for the last stretch. It was late May, the air thick with the scent of pine, damp earth, and blooming wildflowers. Duncan stared out the passenger window, one elbow resting on the door, his expression unreadable.

“Feels weird, doesn’t it?” Joey finally said, breaking the quiet. “Coming back here after all these years.”

Duncan nodded slowly. “Fifteen years. I still remember the last summer we spent here like it was yesterday. Mum cried for weeks after we left. She couldn’t even look at the place again.”

permanent-swaps

Cognitive Body Therapy

I adjusted my glasses and leaned back in my office chair, the glow of my monitor lighting up my face. It was our twelfth session. Sohil’s video feed filled most of the screen. He was shirtless again, sitting in his gaming chair in is room, one thick arm draped lazily over the backrest. His dark chest hair was still slightly damp, like he’d just come back from the gym.

Sohil Kapoor. Thirty-two. Bisexual. Sex addict.

At least that’s what he called himself.

“Evening, Dr. Reddin,” he said with that familiar half-smirk. His voice had that deep, easy confidence that always carried a hint of mischief.

“Hello, Sohil,” I replied calmly, keeping my tone professional. “How have things been since our last session?”

He let out a tired laugh and ran a hand through his messy black hair. “Same old shit. Made it nine days this time with this guy I really liked… then I fucked his best friend in the parking lot after drinks.” He shook his head. “I’m starting to think there’s something actually broken in me. Like physically. Other people can control themselves. I can’t. Its like my dick has its own fucking brain.”

I nodded, listening carefully. I’d heard variations of this from him for months now. His friends had pushed him into therapy after yet another destroyed relationship. He was charming, successful, and objectively very attractive — which only made the pattern more destructive.

“We’ve discussed open relationships,” I said. “You mentioned your last attempt didn’t go well.”

“Yeah, because even with permission I still broke every rule. Especially the condom one. I need to feel it raw. The second there’s latex I lose half the sensation and it just… doesn’t do it for me.” He sighed heavily.

I paused, tapping my pen against my notepad. We had made some progress, but it was slow. Too slow. I knew it was time to suggest something more radical.

“Sohil,” I said carefully, “I’d like to propose an unconventional treatment option. One I only use in really rare cases.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning closer to the camera. “What is it?”

I met his eyes through the screen.

“Body swapping. A temporary therapeutic exchange. I would enter your body, and you would enter mine. It would allow me to experience your impulses and urges directly. To understand the intensity of what you’re dealing with from the inside. That level of insight could help me develop far more effective strategies for managing your compulsions.”

Sohil stared at me for a long moment, his mouth slightly open.

“You’re… serious?”

“Very,” I said. “It’s not without risks, and it’s not something I suggest lightly. But after six months, I believe this may be what we need to make real progress.”

I watched his face carefully. There was surprise, hesitation… and something else.

He swallowed visibly.

“Ok… so when can we do it?”

---

The following week, we logged onto our scheduled Zoom session. Sohil appeared on my screen looking unusually tense, sitting in the same spot on his couch.

“How are you feeling about the swap? Are you ready?” I asked, keeping my voice steady and clinical.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Honestly? Nervous as hell. But also… kind of excited? I’ve been like this my whole adult life. If you can actually feel what it’s like in here,” he gestured to his own body, “maybe you’ll finally get it. Maybe you can help me fix it.”

We spent most of the session discussing boundaries, consent, and the temporary nature of the procedure. Toward the end, I walked him through the final steps.

“Are you ready?” I asked.

Sohil nodded. “Let’s do it.”

We both initiated the swap through the secure therapeutic portal. There was a bright flash across my screen, a dizzying rush, and then everything shifted.

When my vision cleared, I was no longer looking at my monitor from my office chair.

I was looking at it from Sohil’s couch.

A massive wave of heat crashed over me instantly. My — his — cock thickened rapidly in my pants, throbbing with urgent need. The intensity was staggering. My thoughts grew hazy as raw, aggressive horniness flooded my system. I gripped the edge of the couch, trying desperately to maintain professional composure.

On the screen, Sohil — now in my body — let out a long, relieved exhale. He adjusted my glasses and smiled softly.

“Wow… I can actually think,” he said, sounding lighter than I’d ever heard him. “No constant noise in my head. This is… peaceful.”

I forced a professional tone, even as my new cock continued to pulse insistently between my legs. “That’s… excellent, Sohil. So as I said, we’ll remain in these bodies for the next few weeks. This will give me time to fully understand your urges and begin implementing strategies while I’m in your body. We can get your physical routines and habits started on the right track.”

As I spoke, my eyes drifted down to the screen — to the slight cleavage visible in the blouse I had been wearing. God, is that really how he saw me every session? I made a mental note to dress far more modestly once we swapped back.

Sohil cleared his throat. “Dr. Reddin?”

I blinked, snapping back to attention. “Sorry. I lost my train of thought for a moment.” I continued explaining the plan, trying to sound composed, but the throbbing between my legs was becoming unbearable.

Under the table, my hand moved almost on its own. I unbuttoned Sohil’s pants, wrapped my fingers around his thick, hard cock, and started stroking slowly. The pleasure was overwhelming. I kept talking, voice slightly strained, while pumping faster, getting dangerously close to the edge.

“…and we’ll check in regularly to monitor progress,” I finished, barely holding it together.

“Sounds good,” Sohil said, nodding in my body.

I ended the call as quickly as possible.

The second the screen went black, I let out a shaky breath. Not even thirty seconds later, I came hard. Thick ropes of cum shot across the underside of the table as Sohil’s cock pulsed violently in my hand. My vision whited out for a moment from the intensity.

I sat there panting, staring at the mess I’d made.

Damn… this guy’s body was horny.

Sohil hadn’t been exaggerating at all.

---

Over the next couple of days, I tried to resist.

I really did.

But Sohil’s body had other plans.

The first morning I put on one of his tight black t-shirts. The fabric stretched across his broad chest and hugged his biceps perfectly. Just the feeling of the material clinging to my new arms as I moved sent a low throb through my cock. I had to sit down for a minute and breathe through it.

Later that afternoon I went for a walk. A light breeze picked up and rippled his loose tank top against my chest. The soft fabric dragged across my nipples and I instantly hardened in my shorts. I had to stop and pretend to tie my shoe just so I could adjust myself discreetly.

At the grocery store, a young woman in a slightly low-cut top reached for something on a high shelf. The way her breasts pressed together as she stretched made my mouth go dry. I stood there frozen for several seconds, staring, before I forced myself to look away. My cock was already half-hard in my sweatpants.

Then there was my neighbor — a tall, muscular guy who walked out shirtless to grab his mail. The sight of his defined chest and abs glistening in the sun made something primal surge through me. I stood at the window watching him longer than I should have, my hand unconsciously pressing against the growing bulge in my pants.

Every single time, no matter how minor the trigger, I ended up painfully hard.

And without fail, the moment I got home I went straight to Sohil’s bedroom. I’d strip down completely naked, climb onto his bed, and wrap my hand around his thick cock. I’d stroke myself furiously, sometimes for less than five minutes, before I came hard — thick loads splattering across my hairy stomach and chest.

Yesterday I made it through the entire day without touching myself until I got home. Today I only lasted until 2 PM before I was back in his room, pants around my ankles, jerking off like a man possessed while staring at myself in the full-length mirror.

This body was insatiable.

I thought going to the gym might help burn off some of the constant energy. But it just made everything worse.

The moment I walked into Sohil’s gym wearing one of his tank tops and shorts, I felt eyes on me. His body drew attention — broad shoulders, thick arms, the way his chest hair peeked out from the neckline. Every time I lifted weights, the pump in my biceps and pecs made my cock twitch. The burn in my muscles somehow translated straight into arousal.

By the third set of bench presses I was fully hard. I had to practically sprint to the locker room stalls. I locked myself in one, dropped my shorts, and jerked off furiously, biting my lip to stay quiet. I came in under two minutes, shooting against the stall door. Even after that, I was still half-hard.

Even then I couldn’t control myself. I started approaching people — a pretty woman doing squats in tight leggings, a muscular guy checking himself out in the mirror. I was way too forward. Told the woman she had an incredible ass and asked if she wanted to grab a smoothie after her workout. Told the guy his arms looked strong and offered to spot him… then immediately suggested we spot each other somewhere more private. Both of them gave me polite but very clear rejections.

I stood there in the middle of the gym, Sohil’s face flushed with embarrassment and lingering arousal, realizing how desperate I must have looked. This body didn’t just want sex — it craved it constantly, and it had no filter.

---

By day six, I was losing the battle.

After another humiliating rejection at the gym and two more desperate jerk-off sessions at home, I gave in and downloaded Grindr on Sohil’s phone.

The app opened and immediately flooded the screen with nearby profiles. Shirtless torsos, hard cocks, hungry stares. Within minutes the messages started pouring in.

“Damn dude you’re hot as fuck.”

“Top or bottom?”

“Hosting right now if you wanna come through.”

I told myself I was just researching. Just trying to understand the scale of his compulsions. But my cock was already rock hard as I scrolled through the endless stream of willing men.

There were so many. Hot guys. Fit guys. Hung guys. Some wanted to fuck me. Most wanted me to fuck them.

I started chatting with one guy — mid-20s, muscular, only two blocks away. Before I could talk myself out of it, I sent him a face pic and told him I could be there in ten minutes.

The moment I stepped into his apartment, any last shred of professional restraint vanished. He barely had the door closed before I had him pinned against the wall, kissing him hard. Within minutes I had him bent over his couch, fucking him raw and deep while he moaned loudly.

It felt incredible.

The power, the heat, the raw physical pleasure of pounding into someone with Sohil’s thick cock — it was overwhelming. I came hard inside him, groaning as I filled him up. He asked if I wanted to go again. I did.

I ended up staying for almost two hours.

When I finally left, legs shaky, I felt a strange mix of shame and satisfaction. On the walk home my cock was already stirring again at the memory.

That night I opened Grindr again.

---

After a few days of nonstop Grindr hookups — sometimes two or three different guys in a single day — the novelty started to wear off. The sex was good, intense even, but something was missing.

I needed pussy.

Tinder proved much slower and more frustrating. The matches came in, but the back-and-forth flirting took time I didn’t want to waste. My patience was nonexistent in this body.

I knew it was a terrible idea. Unethical. A complete violation of every professional boundary. But the urge was louder than reason.

I opened the camera on Sohil’s phone and took a series of thirst traps — shirtless in the mirror, flexing his biceps, one with his hand pulling down the waistband of his sweatpants just enough to show the thick base of his cock. I sent them to my own number.

The message I typed made my stomach twist even as I hit send:

“I know you want to get fucked by yourself. I just know you want to feel your old cock deep in that pussy.”

I stared at the sent messages, heart racing.

Three dots appeared, then stopped. Then appeared again.

Before he could reply, the images and words hit me like gasoline on a fire. I was so turned on I couldn’t wait. I shoved my pants down, wrapped my hand around Sohil’s throbbing cock, and jerked off furiously on the couch to the fantasy of fucking my own body. I came hard within minutes, groaning loudly as thick ropes of cum splattered across my hairy chest.

The second the orgasm faded, cold reality crashed down on me.

What the hell did I just do?

I quickly sent a string of apologetic messages:

“I’m so sorry. That was completely inappropriate.” “I lost control. That was unprofessional and wrong.” “Please forgive me.”

Sohil (in my body) replied a few minutes later:

“No worries doc lol. I understand exactly what that feeling is like. Trust me.”

I let out a shaky breath, still half-hard despite just cumming.

“I’m going to figure this out,” I typed back, trying to sound more in control than I felt. “I’m going to find a real way to help you manage these urges. I promise.”

I set the phone down and looked at myself in the mirror — Sohil’s muscular, hairy body staring back at me, cum still drying on my abs.

---

I tried to resist.

I really, really tried.

I deleted Grindr twice. I went to the gym and forced myself to focus only on lifting. I tried meditation apps, cold showers, even jerking off six times in one day just to take the edge off. Nothing worked. The horniness always came back stronger, like a constant buzzing under my skin that refused to be ignored.

One night, I put on one of Sohil’s tight black shirts and a pair of fitted jeans and went to a gay bar downtown. The place was packed and loud. Within twenty minutes I locked eyes with a cute, twinky guy in his mid-twenties with messy light brown hair, smooth skin, and a hungry look in his eyes. He was exactly my type.

We barely spoke.

I walked straight up to him, grabbed him by the waist, and pulled him in for a rough kiss. He melted against me immediately. No names. No small talk. I took his hand and led him straight to the bathroom.

The moment the stall door locked, I spun him around, yanked his pants down, and shoved him forward against the wall. I pulled my own cock out, barely taking time to spit on it before I pushed inside him.

“Fuck…” he moaned loudly as I sank in deep.

I started thrusting hard, one hand gripping his hip, the other braced against the stall wall. The sound of skin slapping skin echoed in the small space.

“Sohil… fuck, Sohil,” he gasped, moaning my — Sohil’s — name.

A dark thrill shot through me.

“Fuck yeah,” I growled, pounding into him harder.

“Sohil… oh my god—”

Hearing him moan while I was balls-deep inside him made something primal take over. I fucked him with long, powerful strokes, gripping his waist tight as I drove into him again and again.

I didn’t last long. The way his tight hole clenched around my thick cock — it was too much. I buried myself deep and came hard, groaning as I filled him up.

I was still catching my breath, cock softening inside him, when reality started to crash back in.

The guy I had just raw-fucked in a public bathroom stall was Drew — one of my other therapy clients. Mid-twenties, gender-questioning, sweet but anxious. I had been seeing him for months. I had been too horny to even recognize him until now.

Then it hit me.

He had been moaning “Sohil” the entire time.

I never told him my — Sohil’s — name.

I pulled out slowly, heart pounding for a completely different reason now.

“Do we… know each other?” I asked, voice rough.

The guy — Drew — turned around with a lazy, satisfied grin that looked completely out of place on his face. He looked me up and down, eyes lingering on Sohil’s cock.

“I think I would recognize my own former body,” he said casually. “And damn… its dick feels good. I get why people put up with me even though I was such a cheater.”

I froze.

“Wait… Sohil?”

He smirked. “Hey, Doc.”

I stared at him — at my client’s body — in complete disbelief.

“What the hell are you doing in Drew’s body?”

Sohil (in Drew’s smaller, twinky frame) shrugged, still breathing hard from getting fucked.

“Drew’s been seeing you too, right? He’s been talking about wanting to transition for a while. Really wanted a woman’s body to start figuring shit out. So I offered him a swap. He gets your body — soft, feminine. I get his cute little gay body with way less constant horniness. Win-win.”

He reached down and gave Sohil’s cock — my current cock — a playful squeeze, still slick from being inside him.

“I’ve been having a great time, honestly. This body is so much easier to manage. I can actually think straight. I could get used to this. Could maybe even see myself getting into a relationship. Meanwhile, you’ve been living my old life…” He raised an eyebrow. “How’s that been going for you, Doc?”

I stood there, pants still open, cum slowly leaking down Drew’s thigh, trying to process everything.

Sohil in Drew’s body just smiled sweetly.

“By the way… you fuck really good in my body.”

My cock twitched and started hardening again almost immediately, still slick from being inside him. I was furious — at Sohil, at myself, at this entire situation — but the anger only seemed to make the arousal worse. The rational part of my brain was screaming that I needed to stop, to think clearly, to regain control.

But Sohil — or Drew, or whoever the hell he was right now — was right here. Convenient. Already bent over, his hole glistening with my cum, still slightly open and twitching.

I grabbed his hips and pushed back inside him in one smooth thrust.

“Fuck, Doc,” he moaned in Drew’s lighter voice, pushing back against me. “Round two already?”

I didn’t answer. I just started fucking him again, harder this time, my hips slapping against his ass. The wet, filthy sound of my cock sliding through my own load filled the stall. Every thrust felt better than the last. My mind was fogging over again, thoughts becoming slippery and unfocused.

We could switch it all back… if only…

I tried to hold onto the thought, but it kept sliding away.

If only… what was I trying to do again?

The question dissolved as pleasure took over. I gripped his waist tighter and pounded into him, grunting with each deep stroke. Sohil in Drew’s body moaned loudly, clearly loving every second.

“God, you really can’t control it, can you?” he gasped between thrusts, sounding amused. “Feels good though, doesn’t it?”

I wanted to argue. I wanted to pull out and walk away. But instead I fucked him even harder, chasing that building pressure again, my balls tightening as I got closer to another orgasm.

jessejaredstories

Lesson for a Lesson

Bryan considered himself to be a cut above the rest. He had always been the kind of guy to turn the other cheek when it comes to handling conflict with others. Even if they were the biggest asshole Bryan has ever met, he’d never stoop down to yelling vulgarities or other petty insults just to get back at them. He’d keep his cool attitude, stay respectful, and minimize future interactions; even if the person didn’t deserve as much as a single look in their general direction. Bryan held the title of always being the bigger person with pride, regardless of how haughty it made him look to others.

However, Bryan’s high and mighty attitude would soon meet its biggest enemy yet when the new neighbor Mr. Martin moved in down the hall. Bryan didn’t think much of Mr. Martin at all when he first met him. Mr. Martin was a single man living on his own. He was pushing 40 and worked as a PE teacher/football coach for the local high school. All in all, Mr. Martin was a pretty ordinary guy.

As far as Bryan was concerned, Martin would just be another face he’d occasionally run into in their shared apartment building but ultimately ignored otherwise. And that was more or less how their relationship continued for the next month or so. They’d share pleasantries, but nothing else beyond that. They were friendly neighbors, at least until the first time they bumped heads.

Their apartment building had an open access rooftop with a fully furnished lounge. Residents were free to make use of the lounge as they pleased. One day, Bryan decided to take his boyfriend up to the lounge so they could stargaze together out on the rooftop. While the two lovebirds were spending time together, Martin also happened to show up sometime later. He had brought his telescope to do some stargazing himself. Both parties kept to themselves for the most part. That is until Bryan and his boyfriend began to get intimate. Martin shot them a dirty look but then didn’t say anything at first. Only after a few minutes passed and the two boyfriends were still making out did Martin decide to speak up.

“Hey, I understand that you two are ‘in love’ or whatever, but can’t you go do that in a private room? This is a shared space after all, I don’t want to see that out here.”

Bryan didn’t appreciate the stern tone of voice Martin used with him. It made him feel small, like he was back in high school. He was just as much an adult as he was! But Bryan decided to bite his tongue. Martin had a fair point, it probably wasn’t very considerate of him to be full-on tongue kissing with his boyfriend out in public the way they were. So he apologized, took his boyfriend down to his place, and that was the end of that minor spat.

But that incident turned out to be only the start of their problems. Soon after, Bryan decided to buy a new welcome sign for his front door. It was a pride welcome sign and had big rainbow letters on it. It only took a day until Martin was knocking on his front door, asking him to take it down. Naturally, Martin would never outright say he wanted it gone because of the rainbows, but Bryan wasn’t stupid. He knew how to connect the dots and read in-between the lines. Only a homophobe would be pushing so strongly for a pride sign to get taken, and Bryan would sooner drop dead than bend over for a bigot. He stood his ground, and Martin left with a scowl on his face.

From that point on, Bryan and Martin were constantly at each other’s throats. Jab after jab and nonstop passive aggression. They continued having incidents and their animosity for each other only grew steadily over time. Bryan was getting fed up, but he never backed down nor did he ever blatantly disrespect Martin, even when he had no problem disrespecting him. It was an uphill battle, but Bryan saw a light at the end of the tunnel. His lease would be up for renewal soon. All he had to do was not renew his lease, move out, and he’d never have to see Mr. Martin ever again. It was simple!

Or so Bryan thought. One morning, after Bryan’s boyfriend had spent the night over at his place, he received a very interesting text. One that would snap Bryan’s patience in half.

Babe! I ran into your bigoted neighbor in the elevator last night. I tried to ignore him, but he wouldn’t leave me alone. He kept harassing me and when I wouldn’t talk to him, he started calling me a worthless fag. I’m okay, he didn’t touch me, but I wanted to tell you what happened. I’m not sure I feel comfy enough to go back to your place anymore. : (

Bryan read over the text a couple of times. Once he made sure he read it right, Bryan decided enough was fucking enough. He then slammed his phone down on the nightstand and marched straight to his closet. He never wanted to be the kind of guy who got revenge, but Martin crossed a line after he went after his boyfriend. And if Bryan was going to get revenge, then he was going to come at him at 110%. He had to dig through his things but he eventually found what he was looking for- a body swapping potion.

Bryan plucked the tiny vial out of his closet. He had saved it for when he really needed to use it, and getting payback on a bigot seemed like the perfect time to use it. Before he could use it, he had to prepare for what comes after the swap. He pulled out a chair and made a makeshift rope out of some leather belts he had laying around. Bryan then proceeded to drink the potion, but instead of swallowing it right away, he held the brew in his mouth. It tasted rancid, but he held out. Bryan used the belts to tie himself up to the chair, completely immobilizing himself so that Martin couldn’t do anything in his body. He used a real knot technique too, just for extra security. Once he was satisfied with his setup, Bryan swallowed the potion and blacked out.

The body swapping potion took effect immediately. Bryan’s consciousness left his body in the form of a long, glowing, snake-like mass of matter. It slithered out of his body through his nostrils and plopped onto the ground. It then began its long journey towards its intended target. Bryan felt weird leaving his lifeless body behind, especially while knowing that Martin would soon be inside of it, but he carried on with his mission. Their swap would only be temporary after all; once Bryan had his fun, they’d switch right back.

Bryan’s soul made its way to the nearby high school where Martin worked. Luckily, nobody was able to see it slithering by. It slithered into the faculty bathroom where Mr. Martin was just about finishing up his midday shit. Bryan’s soul squeezed underneath the closed bathroom door with ease and slithered right up to Martin.

“Hm?” Martin noticed something glowing out of the corner of his eye. He lowered the magazine he was reading and screamed when he saw the giant, translucent snake creeping up on him. Martin leaped up into the air out of shock with his pants still around his ankles. Big mistake.

Bryan’s soul quickly expanded until it was the size of an anaconda. It then used its massive size to wrap around Martin, constricting his mobility. Mr. Martin was hyperventilating. He couldn’t move! All he could was watch as the tip of the glowing snake tickled the head of his exposed cock.

A cold shiver ran through Martin’s body with the soul snake’s cool touch. The soul snake then forcibly wiggled its way into Martin’s dick slit. The sensation of getting penetrated made his cock harden up to full mast. Bryan’s soul then slithered down the length of Martin’s girthy member. Martin threw his head back as his body got taken over. He purred a deep, sensual mmm! as it happened. He could feel the cold feeling that started at his groin spread out to the rest of his body as Bryan’s soul took over his body for itself.

The body takeover started off slowly at first, but as Martin’s body got filled with Bryan’s being, the process began to rapidly speed up. Suddenly, the entire anaconda started rushing into Mr. Martin’s body through his cock. Martin was gasping as the waves of pain rolled over his body. Luckily for him, it only lasted another five seconds. With one slurp, his now engorged cock swallowed up the last few inches of Bryan’s soul.

“Nrrghhh… Fuck…” Martin moaned. Those moans were the last thing Martin said before his body hunched over to throw up his own soul snake. Martin’s soul snake came rushing out of his mouth. Once it was out, it slithered out the bathroom, likely on its way to take over Bryan’s limp body. It left behind a smirking Mr. Martin, only this time, it was Bryan who was in control.

“Whew! That was easy!” Bryan said with his new, baritone voice as he stood up. Bryan immediately noticed the difference in their bodies as his consciousness adjusted to its new heavier, hairier vessel. His nostrils were penetrated by the strong yet familiar musk of his own hairy pits. He took a sniff of his new sweaty body odor and let out a loud, satisfied ahh! Bryan could literally feel how every new inch of skin felt as he moved around in Martin’s body. He then stretched out his new body, while also getting a feel for the thick hair he had all over his body. Bryan always had a thing for furry men, though he was never able to grow much body hair himself. To be able to takeover a hairy body like Mr. Martin’s was just icing on the cake for him.

Bryan took a look at his reflection in the mirror, winked at himself, then stepped out of the bathroom, ready for revenge. He had one hand on the doorknob while using his other hand to jerk off, making sure he was still nice and hard for what he was about to do. An evil grin formed on his face. It was go time.

Bryan stepped out of the faculty bathroom ass naked with his erect cock swinging around freely. He wore a proud smile on his face as he displayed his hairy body in full display. He then wrapped a hand around his cock and proceeded to jerk off ferociously. Bryan made sure to exaggerate the volume of his moans and groans to make sure any nearby faculty heard him. Surely enough, someone heard him, and they stepped in to see the glorious sight of revenge live.

“WHAT THE FUCK!? MR. MARTIN HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND!?” the man shouted. He drew the attention of other nearby adults, who all came in to see what was happening. All of their jaws dropped to the floor as ‘Mr. Martin’ laid down on the table, naked and grinning.

“What do you mean? It’s my lunch break, brah! I deserve to have a little stress relief before I go back to teaching those cocksuckers- I mean, wonderful students! Hey, do any of y’all happen to have sweaty socks on right now? I could reallyyyy use a hand, I wanna finish quickly and my pits aren’t enough to get me there.”

Bryan lifted his arm and took a deep, loud whiff of his dank pit smell. The sight of watching Bryan lick up the droplets of sweat forming on his pit hairs made some of the standby faculty gag. They began to disperse.

“Shut the door to the faculty floor! We can’t let anyone else find out about this!!”

“I-I’ll go call a therapist, he’s definitely gone insane…”

“What’s the matter with y’all? Pshhh y’all act like you’ve never seen a dick before! Don’t be afraid! Bask in the full glory of the male body!! Look at my beautiful, hairy body!”

“Alright, Mr. Martin, let’s just take some deep breaths and get some clothes back on…”

“MAN FUCK Y’ALL!! Y’all some lame ass bitches! I don’t need y’all, I’ll just finish myself off!” Bryan lifted his leg high up in the air. His puckered up, hairy asshole was now on display for all to see.

“Here’s a cool biology fact for y’all! Did ya know you don’t need to go that deep to reach the male g-spot?” Bryan licked up his middle finger until it was soaked with spit. He then reached over to his ass, rubbing around his hole until his finger slipped in with ease. He let out an obscene moan as he fingered himself. “You really need about a knuckle’s length to get to the prostate, you just gotta- AWW FUCKK!! I found it!”

Bryan began jerking off and fingering himself at exaggerated speeds while howling and grunting like a monkey in heat. He accidentally farted while fingering himself, and the smell of his flatulence combined with his sweaty musk to create a particularly potent odor. He made sure to make a display of him sniffing up the strong smells while the audience covered their nose. He kept the act of intense masturbation up for another minute or so, really letting himself get into character, until finally climaxing. Bryan quickly pulled his finger out of his ass and used both hands to pump his cock.

“Ohhhh fuckkkk that feels soooo gooood…!!” Bryan went cross-eyed as he slowly stroked his throbbing cock with the firm grip of his man paws. The pressure of trying to hold it in was building up, making for an extra strong orgasm that Bryan couldn’t help but give himself into. “Get ready y’all… Here comes Old Faithfullll!!”

Just as he advertised, an eruption of jizz came flooding out of Bryan. His whole body was twitching from orgasmic pleasure, but he managed to hold himself together just enough to point his cock around. He became a squirt gun as he shot load after load of warm, sticky cum all over the faculty lounge and himself. The whole place became covered in his seed, leaving him huffing for breath after such an intense climax. Any remaining faculty had evacuated once they saw what was about to happen, leaving Bryan alone in the lounge.

“Alright… Mission accomplished…” Bryan said with bated breath. “I just… I just gotta switch back…”

Bryan was satisfied. Not only did he completely destroy Mr. Martin’s reputation, but he’ll be coming back to his body naked and covered in jizz at his own workplace! Bryan was sure he’ll be absolutely humiliated, especially considering how many witnesses saw ‘Mr. Martin’ lose his shit in public.

Bryan steadied his breathing in preparation to swap back to his own body. He had paid top dollar to get the most premium potion money could buy. The body swapping potion was special in that all he needed to do to switch back was simply think about! He focused his mind, thought about what he wanted to achieve, and willed himself back to his body!

…But nothing happened.

Bryan opened his eyes to find himself still in the teacher’s lounge inside of Mr. Martin’s body.

He wasn’t sure what he did wrong. He tried again but to no avail. He tried swapping back with his mind again and again but no matter how many times he tried, nothing happened. Bryan was quickly growing nervous, especially as he heard police sirens coming nearby. He tried several more times but it was futile. Bryan was arrested for public indecency as Mr. Martin before he could swap back to his original body. Bryan was in deep shit and he knew it.

The next three days were absolutely miserable for Bryan. He had spent those days locked up and berated for what he did. He hated every second of it. All he wanted was to get back inside his own body and run back into the arms of his beloved. No matter Mr. Martin. No more misery. No more pain.

Bryan pleaded guilty on all charges and took a plea deal in order to avoid jail time. He paid a hefty price for his freedom; a total fine of $50,000, 100+ hours of community service, house arrest, court mandated therapy, and he had to register as a sex offender. But Bryan didn’t care, they weren’t tied to his real identity after all.

Once he was out, Bryan traveled back to his apartment as fast as he physically could. He made it back to his apartment in record time and used the secret key to get inside. He was praying to God that his body would still be sitting there tied up in the chair, just waiting for him to return. He opened the door and his heart immediately sank when he saw an empty chair and torn belts. Bryan dropped to his knees. His eyes began to tear up. He noticed there was a sheet of paper sitting on the chair. Bryan crawled over to it. It was a handwritten letter, and it read:

Hey there! First off, I want to thank you for switching bodies with me. To tell you the truth, I’m not the real Mr. Martin. The original Martin is looong gone now after so many swaps. But me, I actually used to be just like you. I was gay and pissed off at Martin, and like you, I decided to body swap with him to teach him a lesson for his homophobia. But then I found myself in the same situation I’m sure you’re in right now. I couldn’t swap back to my original body. For some reason, Mr. Martin’s body won’t allow its owner to leave. Only someone else can initiate a swap with Mr. Martin. I’m really sorry man, but I can’t go back. I won’t go back! I’m stealing your body for myself. My mind has been trapped in that homophobic body for God knows how long, just swimming around in that vile hatred… I want to be my own person again. I’ll be praying for you, I hope someone swaps with you before Mr. Martin’s body corrupts your mind, but considering how quickly it took over mine, it’s not looking good. Again, I’m so sorry. Best of luck. PS - Don’t worry about your boyfriend, I’ll be sure to love him just as much as you did and more! He’s safe with me. Bryan.

Bryan was dumbfounded by the letter. He was even more dumbfounded by the pictures of himself. He had no memory of taking those pictures, which could mean that someone else took those photos with his body. Bryan swallowed the lump in his throat. The walls around him seemed to be closing in. He tried pulling himself together but was failing. Shriveling on the floor, Bryan began repeating a mantra to himself in an attempt to hold onto his identity.

“My name is Bryan, and I am a proud gay man… My name is Bryan, and I am a proud gay man… My name is Bryan, and I am a proud gay man… My name is Bryan… And I am a proud gay man…”

Bryan repeated that mantra out loud every single day from there on out. He said it as many times as he could before his throat got irritated from talking so much. He did everything he could to remember who he truly was. Everyday he studied gay history, watched only queer romances, did his favorite things, and even journaled his thoughts and feelings.

Days became weeks, and slowly but surely, Bryan was losing his grasp on his original identity. He gradually stopped following his routine. He forgot his identity mantra. He even began referring to himself as Mr. Martin. He had lost himself as his mind and soul merged with his new body.

But while Bryan was gone, Mr. Martin was living the easy life. He was a single man living on his own. He was pushing 40 and worked as a busboy at a local restaurant. All in all, Mr. Martin was a pretty ordinary guy living an easygoing life.

The only real problem Mr. Martin had had to do about the new neighbors that just moved in across the hall from him. They were two young men sharing a single bedroom apartment. Mr. Martin never really cared to know his neighbors all that well, but he recently found out the new neighbors were actually a gay couple. He recently spotted them kissing in the hallway through his peep hole the other day. The sight of them kissing irked his soul, and he planned to ask them to not exhibit that kind of behavior out in public around the apartment building again. Surely, they won’t have a problem with it. Right?

the-tfstation

Help Wanted

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Times were getting tough for Jason. After sitting at home for a couple months, he was running low on funds after being furloughed. During these difficult times he kept the mindset that there was no job beneath him. He started scanning for jobs but was coming up empty, it wasn’t until he happened to walk by a hole in the wall restaurant with a Help Wanted that his luck was about turn.

He showed up the next morning, waiting outside for the owner of Yolanda’s. A plump little lady walked up to him. “Jason?” He looked up and nodded. “I’m Yolanda,” she greeted him with a smile. “You’re here for the job, right?” He nodded again.

“Yes, ma’am. Need something to make ends meet while I wait to go back to work,” he said following her into the brightly colored restaurant.

“I understand, it’s good for men to have work. Keeps them out of trouble,” she said getting to work right away as she chatted. Jason stood there awkwardly not sure what he should be doing. After a minute of setting up shop she paused and looked at him. “Well, you going to get to work or what?”

“Uh… what do you want me to do?”

She paused for a moment and looked like she was pondering what he should do. “I suppose you need direction and guidance. Please wash the windows, my chef will be here soon.”

He looked around. “Um, shouldn’t I sign papers and stuff for employment?” She looked up giving him a stern look like a mother. “Um, nevermind. Where’s the cleaning supplies?”

That stern look softened as he followed her into the back. As she directed him to cleaning supplies she started explaining his responsibilities, it didn’t take long to feel overwhelmed. “Don’t worry, it’ll become second nature in no time.” She started picking through some things. “You need a name tag.” She handed him one with the name Jose on it.

“But my name is Jason.”

“Today it’s Jose,” she stated shoving the tag, and cleaning supplies into his hands. Not wanting to upset her, he sighed in defeat and went on his way to clean windows while she got back to work.

Outside it was already getting hot, he could feel the sweat rolling down his back. “You missed a spot.” Jason turned. “You missed a spot. She hates it when you miss spots.”

“Who are you?” He asked confused.

“Names Carlos. I’m the chef.” He points out the spot. “Take care of it before she sees.” Jason sighs and cleans the spot. “So why’s a guy like you working in a restaurant like this?”

Getting on the defensive Jason said, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You look like the office type, working at a hot restaurant doesn’t seem your speed,” Carlos said with amusement.

“Look, I’m just trying to get by during the times.”

“Well, if I were you, I’d leave. You don’t fit in here and by the time you do it’ll be too late to go back.” Before Jason could respond Carlos was already inside leaving him there confused by his statement.

The remainder of his shift went by as expected, he finished the windows then was tasked with moving boxes in and out of the back while she handled the counter, and Carlos made the orders. By lunch time he was hot, tired and sweaty. He sat outside catching his breath when Yolanda came out with a glass. “You’re doing a good job, here this will make you feel better.”

“What is it?”

“Horchata,” she smiled as he took the glass. Carlos was standing behind watching and making a motion not to drink it. Jason narrowed his eyes and downed it without hesitation. The cool beverage was like heaven as he felt his strength returning. The rest of his afternoon was good. He felt stronger and suddenly was packed with energy as he continued doing the tasks she assigned him. As the restaurant closed up for the night he was mopping back by Carlos.

“So you’re going with Jose huh?”

“She didn’t have Jason. I’m sure she’ll order a name tag for me.”

Carlos just shook his head, “don’t worry kid. She already did.” Jason stood there leaning on his mop.

“You don’t like me do you?”

“It’s nothing personal. I just think you don’t belong here. Think of it as me just trying to warn you. The more you work here, the less likely you are to leave. But you’re persistent so, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow gringo.”

Jason was packing up when Yolanda came in. “Take the extra taco’s home. I’m sure you worked up an appetite. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek and handed him some food. “We need to put some meat on those bones.” She also handed him a to go cup of the horchata.

“Thanks,” he said with a smile. Carlos shook his head and walked with him out the door. On the ride home Jason had the windows down, enjoying the warm air roll in around him. As he came to a stop at the light, he noticed how tan his arm looked. For the rest of the trip he sipped on his horchata until it was gone just as he got home.

The next morning, he woke feeling a little sore. Chalking it up to all the lifting he did yesterday, he slipped out of bed and made his way to the bathroom to wash his face. Grabbing the towel, he stopped and looked at his arms. They seemed different, the veins on his forearms seemed more prominent and he swore that they looked thicker than yesterday. He flexed his hands certain that there was more muscle than before as he admired the rich golden tan he’d gotten. “I’m going to need to start going out shirtless or this is going to look like a dumb farmer tan.” Washing up, he got dressed opting to wear a tank top to even out the tan more.

The next few days at work came and went. He’d show up, do his shift, drink horchata, and go home. Each morning he noticed more muscles in his legs and arms. Lifting all those boxes seemed to be doing wonders for his muscles as they were growing. On his next shift Carlos approached him. “So, you’re going to stay aren’t you?”

Jason looked up from the plate of tacos he was devouring. “Dude, what’s your deal?”

Carlos looked surprised, “Wow, you really are clueless as to what she’s doing to you. Dude, look at yourself!”

“What are you talking about?” Jason asked confused. Carlos pulled out his phone and took a picture. “What are you doing?”

“She’s changed you,” Carlos flat out said. “Look at yourself!” Jason looked at him strange and then investigated his photo. His jaw dropped, the shoulder length hair had trimmed itself into a razor fade, with a large tuft of curly raven hair remaining at the top.

“What happened?! Where’s my hair!” He sat up quickly spilling taco all over the floor. He was in shock that he never noticed such a drastic change in his appearance.

“She’s changing you man, making you fit her restaurant. She’s making you more authentic, like her cooking.”

“Authentic? What does that mean?” He was shocked and then noticed Carlos sweeping up the mess he’d just dropped on the floor. “What are you doing?”

Carlos looked down, “dammit, I’m like a trained monkey. This… you work here. She feeds you, makes you drink that stuff. You start changing, becoming whatever theme fits into her restaurant. Soon you’ll become the worker she wants, and you won’t leave her because you become loyal to her. It’s why I can’t leave. I couldn’t if I wanted to.”

Yolanda comes around the corner. “Boys, you thirsty? I made a fresh batch of my horchata.” Both boys shook their head. “I insist,” she said shoving the drink into their hands. They both looked at each other.

“She’s testing us,” Carlos whispered.

“For what?”

“Loyalty, drink that and it’s over,” Carlos said.

“Drink!” She commanded. Jose resisted, but out of the corner of his eye he watched Carlos lifting the glass up. Carlos couldn’t stop himself as he brought the delicious drink to his lips downing the cup in seconds. She looks from him to Jason. “Jose, you need to drink. Be big and strong.” His hand started to shake as he felt compelled to enjoy the beverage.

“I’m okay,” his voice was shaking. He looked over and noticed a blank look on Carlos’s face. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine, I insist you drink.” His hand was bringing the cup closer toward his lips.

“Carlos?” He asked hoping his friend would snap out of it.

“Sí?”

Jason’s eyes went wide as he realized what was happening. Yolanda patience was growing thin she gave Carlos an order, “Carlos ayuda a Jose.” Without hesitation, Carlos grabbed Jason’s hand and pushed the drink up to his lips. His lips quivered as she watched, commanding him to drink. “Trago,” he felt the cold liquid slide inside his mouth and down his throat. Gasping, he started backing away from the two of them. The tank top he was wearing felt tighter, he looked down to see his pecs swelling underneath, his nipples showing easily underneath.

Yolanda reached out and took the glass from him. She started speaking to him in Spanish. The words didn’t make sense at first, but soon he understood clearly. “Jose, I need you to go start the grill. The lunch rush will start soon. Then you can breakdown those boxes and take out the trash.” He wanted to defy her, but his legs started moving, pushing him towards the kitchen. Carlos joined him.

Jason looked at his distorted reflection in the grill, seeing his body growing. Muscles were pushing out making him stronger, filling out his frame. The tan that had donned his arms spread, giving him beautiful toned skin. His lips were getting fuller, his face reshaping until all that remained of the old Jason was his blue eyes. The last hopes of Jason hanging on dwindled as they slowly darkened into a rich chocolate. Jose blinked not sure why he was so concerned a minute ago.

Speaking in fluent Spanish he slapped his buddy Carlos on the back, “we doing something tonight?”

“Yeah man, you actually staying after tonight?” Carlos gave his arm a squeeze and eyed him like candy.

Jose was about to tell him that sounded good, but Yolanda was standing there scolding him for not getting to work. He immediately shut up and grabbed the cheese grater getting to work.

Yolanda smiled appreciating the hard work of her newest employee. As she walked up to the front, she grabbed her Help Wanted sign to place in the window; looking forward to finding her next employee.

0ng0ingw0rk-deactivated20250806

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artificial-transmutations

Beating Recession

Recession sucked, that much was clear to Logan even before he checked his email inbox. When he saw a few replies to his job applications from the last days, he sighed. He didn't need to open the mails to know that the news was bad, but he did so anyway.

"We regret to inform you..." - Logan didn't even read on. He had lost his job as an apprentice electrician about half a year ago. The company was going under, and Logan, the youngest and least experienced worker, was the first to go. That's how it was in this business. Since then, he had applied to every single position that came up - but apparently, the current economic situation was so bad that nobody needed another worker.

Logan had hoped that his apprenticeship would get him a job, but the fact that he was only 20 and had not much practical experience hurt him. Slowly, money was becoming a pretty big problem. Whatever savings he had (for some real estate of his own! As if that was going to happen!) had melted away over the last months. His rent was due, and he had no income.

In fact, he was one month late with his rent already, and although his landlord had been cool about it, Logan did not see how he would be able to keep his apartment. He really, really wanted to avoid moving back in with his parents who had their own problems, too.

So, what was he going to do? There wasn't much more to do than keep looking for a job, even though his chances were slim.

He opened LinkedOut and looked for openings, just as he had done multiple times before this week. The sparse list of jobs had not changed, so Logan scrolled on.

He was about to give up again when a listing caught his eye.

"Escape unemployment today! Change™ job agency will find the perfect job, for the perfect you. Apply here!"

He had heard of such agencies before, and the results were not pretty. Usually, they just took the applicants' data and sold it on. They would claim to have found a job for you, but it usually wouldn't work out, and the applicant would have paid money for this useless service. Still, Logan was curious enough to click the link. If they wanted money, he would back out immediately - it was not like he had any to spare.

To Logan's big surprise, when he clicked the link, a new page opened, with a web-based chat interface. Before he could close the tab again, there was already a message in the window. It read:

"Kevin: Hey, and welcome to the Change™ job agency. My name is Kevin. How may I help you today?"

It was a nice surprise that they didn't try to sell him anything or even ask for his data before he had entered the website. Well, no harm done. He might as well give them a try. Hesitating slightly, Logan's fingers hovered over the keyboard before he typed:

"Hi. I'm Logan and I'm looking for a new job."

The answer came quickly, but not so quickly that Logan would suspect the other person to be a chatbot. After some moments, Kevin's reply appeared on the screen:

"Great. What kind of job are you looking for? And what kind of salary are we talking?"

Logan considered the questions. This was probably the point where they would ask him for his data. He silently cursed his excessive caution. Of course, they had to ask these questions. How else should they offer him anything?

"Uhm. My last job was as an apprentice electrician, but at this point I would be pretty happy about just any job. The salary should be high enough to pay my rent."

Logan hesitated before hitting enter. He didn't want to come over as quite so desperate, but the truth was, he was.

"Okay, no problem. Do you have a preferred working sector?"

What a weird question. Why did it matter what industry he preferred?

"Uhm, not really. I guess anything is fine."

"Very well. Before I look up what's there in our database, I would need some basic information about you. Namely gender, age, ethnicity and sexual orientation."

"Wait. What does my sexual orientation have to do with a job? Besides, why do you need to know my ethnicity? Is this even legal?"

Logan had typed furiously and pressed enter before thinking about his reply.

"I understand your confusion. We here at the Change™ job agency strive to find not only a job, but the best job for the best you, so we need to know what we're working with. It wouldn't be very appropriate to apply a person as an actress who is really good at sports, now would it? Of course, you have to understand that your answers are confidential and will not be disclosed to any third parties, especially not your future employer."

That was fishy deluxe. Logan really didn't want to feed some unknown job agency all that highly personal information. On the other hand,... what did he have to lose?

"Well, I guess it can't hurt. Uhm. I'm a male, 20 years old, I would call myself white and I'm heterosexual."

"Wonderful. One last question: Are you comfortable with nudity and public sexual activities?"

"Wait, WHAT? I mean, uhm, sure, I guess? I mean, why should I need that?"

"This question is purely to determine if we should also have a look in the adult entertainment section of our job offerings. Alright Logan, please stand by while I enter your data into our search engine."

Logan leaned back. He felt a bit uneasy about all that. But it was not like his answers could lead them directly to his apartment, so he felt relatively safe.

A minute or so passed, and Logan started to think that he had been tricked after all, but just as he was about to close the tab, a new message appeared.

"Sorry for the delay, I had a few calls. We found two jobs that could be a fit. The first one is an office job in a big insurance company. To be honest, it's not that good of a fit and it doesn't pay very well either."

"That's fine." Logan wrote. He was incredibly on edge now. Could it really be so easy to find a new job? And he even had a choice?

"What's the other one?" he added to his previous message.

"Okay, the other job is a bit more unconventional, but we have the feeling it could be a great match. It's an actor position in the porn industry, at the famous XXX Incorporated."

"Porn? What? Are you serious? I mean, I don't have anything against porn or nudity or whatever, but I'm not sure if this is the kind of job I want."

Logan felt mixed feelings. The prospect of being some office drone sounded pretty uninteresting and a low pay wasn't all that good either. But a porn actor? Logan had to admit, the thought felt somewhat interesting, but he doubted he had what it took for that? Weren't porn stars famously hung and well-built? That was certainly not Logan. Just as he pondered those thoughts, Kevin's answer appeared:

"I understand Sir. So, should we continue with the first job opening then?"

Logan bit his lip, but the curiosity got the better of him.

"Wait. What does the second job entail? I mean, I'm not exactly... equipped for the porn business."

"Well, as I have said: It's an actor position, so you would star in some new adult entertainment productions. While I understand your modesty, our records show that you are more than adequately gifted for this kind of job."

Logan felt confused. He absentmindedly scratched his crotch before he replied:

"Uhm, sorry, I don't think you understand. I don't really think my..." Logan paused. Was he really going to write that? It was embarrassing, but at least he could be reasonably sure he would never meet this Kevin in real life. So, he continued:

"... penis is big enough for such a position."

The answer came promptly.

"Really? Better have a look to be sure ;-)"

A winking smiley? That wasn't very professional. Actually, the whole sentence wasn't. Still, Logan couldn't stop himself from glancing at his crotch. What he saw made him take a double take. His soft cock was forming a visible and ample bulge in his jeans. Logan knew that he was slightly smaller than average, so that was ridiculous. It was almost a... a porn star-sized bulge!

He stared at his package, but it wasn't growing any smaller. With trembling hands, he opened his jeans. Immediately, a well-filled pair of boxers escaped the confinement of his jeans. The dick print of his soft member was clearly visible in his underwear, and it wasn't just much bigger than Logan remembered. It was among the biggest bulges he had ever seen in his life!

His hands explored the impressive manhood through his underwear and felt every centimeter of the hardening dick. He had no idea what had caused this growth, but he wasn't complaining. Before he could interact more with it, however, he noticed another message on the screen.

"Are you still there, Sir?"

"Sorry, yes." Logan hurried to reply. What was he going to write? "I was below average just a few moments ago but now I have one of the biggest cocks in human history"?

Instead, Kevin answered.

"Good! I trust you had a chance to inspect your assets?"

"Uhm, yes."

"So, have you made up your mind, or should I look into the office position?"

Logan was torn. He wasn't sure what he had seen just a moment ago. Still, his enormous cock that was half-hard in his boxers was there, undeniably.

"Let's go with the porn star position." Logan finally typed, and his heart was racing.

"Very good! Now, as I mentioned, the position is in the adult entertainment sector. Do you know the company XXX Incorporated?"

Logan thought quickly about it before replying: "No, sorry, never heard of them."

"That is not at all surprising, since they specialize in the adult sector for homosexual men. According to your data, you identify as heterosexual. I hope that won't be a problem?"

Of course, there was a catch. Logan had heard about these gay for pay people and he hesitated yet again. They paid well, supposedly, but...

"Uhm. Would that mean I would need to be on the receiving end?" He wasn't too close-minded and could imagine kissing another man if he had to, perhaps even receiving a blow job from one. But having another person fuck him in the ass? No, that was way beyond his comfort zone.

"I believe the technical term you are looking for is 'to bottom'." Kevin replied, and added another message shortly after:

"But the company is, in fact, looking for a 'top' actor. They put it like this: 'We are looking for a well-built top for our new productions.'"

Logan was relieved. While he was a gold star gay man (why did he put 'heterosexual'? That was utter bullshit!), he was a strict top. This position sounded better and better. Still, one thing raised some new doubts.

"Hold on. I'm hung like a horse, but I wouldn't say I'm very muscular or even fit. I'm not much of a gym goer."

"Are you sure ;-)?"

Again, with the winking smiley! Kevin sounded so very professional most of the time, but then there were these messages. Logan scratched the back of his shoulder with some effort. Whenever he raised his arms so high the mountains of muscle on his upper arms danced and made it difficult to reach his back. Logan suddenly realized that something had changed - again! His shirt strained against his muscular chest, and as he lifted his shirt, he could see some cobblestone abs on an otherwise flat stomach. His calves had become thicker and strong. His jeans, which had felt slightly loose earlier, now seemed to be getting tighter.

Logan had never been very athletic. His body was lean, but not fit or muscular. That had certainly changed. When he looked at himself, he hardly recognized himself anymore. A huge dick, and a studly body.

Logan shook his head and let the shirt fall again. Whatever was going on, it was not a bad thing, was it?

"Alright, so I'm a buff top with a big cock. Is there anything else?" he smiled as he wrote that.

"Actually, there is one further requirement, but given your cooperation so far I don't believe it will be much of a problem either." Kevin replied, in his professional tone again.

"And what would that be?" Logan was intrigued.

"The company is especially looking for a, and I cite, 'huge, dominant Black top with large dick. Intellectual capabilities are not required'. Are you feeling up to that task? ;-)"

This time, Logan immediately raised his shirt to watch his body change. As soon as he read the words, his skin began darkening, first a golden bronze and then a rich black. It was a gradual change but happened very quickly. His muscles became even more defined, and his body hair thickened and grew even darker.

He didn't know what 'intellectual capabilities' meant, but as his body grew larger and thicker, he felt a strange fog entering his mind. It was a little unsettling at first, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. His usual thoughts quickly became overshadowed by his raising libido. As he grabbed his huge, Black throbbing cock, a dominant smirk crept on his mouth.

He turned his attention back to the computer and typed:

"Yeah, baby. I think I can make that happen. Just tell me who to fuck and I'll be there!"

He saw Kevin reply with a street address and a date and time, but Logan decided he would read that later. Now, his cock demanded his entire attention. He absentmindedly noticed his webcam turning on but paid it little attention. If Kevin wanted to watch him jerk his fat cock, he was very welcome to. After all, he just helped him find the job of his life!

That's certainly a way to beat recession! Also check out this blog!

misctf

The Game Show

You can think of a few reasons why you found yourself in the audience that night. Well, really one. When you heard "Are You Smarter Than A Himbo" was putting on a show in your neighborhood, you couldn't resist. Sure, it was kind of stupid. You'd seen the clips online. They'd bring some braindead jock up on stage to flex, laugh, crack jokes, and answer basic trivia wrong. The poor idiot would laugh along as the audience laughed at him. You'd always figured the dunce was too dumb to realize they were laughing at him. But fuck, those guys were hot. So if anything, you'd get to ogle at some hot guy flexing all night and maybe get a few laughs out of it too.

"Do you think Zak's pecs are real?"

"Jason is like totally the hottest."

"I think Ryan isn't as dumb as he lets on."

"Did you know Mike is single? I can't…"

You roll your eyes at the fanfare all around you. These people were seriously into it. And then it starts.

"Welcome everyone!" You watch as a lanky man struts on stage with his hair slicked back and a wide grin on his face, "Are you ready!?" The crowd- mostly women and a few guys cheered in response, "I said: are you ready!?" You roll your eyes as the host worked the crowd, "Alright, alright… welcome." The host smiles wider, "Put your hands together for our main man!"

The host gestures toward the side of the stage and Zak strolls out with a slow, confident walk, his arms flexed as if expecting applause. He’s got thick curls falling over his forehead, and his chest is packed with muscle, tight under his white tank top. The crowd goes wild as he steps onto the platform.

“Y’all ready?” Zak shouts, raising both arms above his head. “Let’s go!” He pulls off his shirt in one smooth motion, and your eyes widen as you take in his massive pecs and perfect abs. The crowd similarly goes wild. Zak grins, flashing a perfect set of teeth, "I'm so fuckin' pumped to be here tonight! I fuckin' love you guys!"

"But Zak, I think you have something to say to everyone. Right?" The host interjects, patting the massive jock on the back.

"Yo dude yeah, for real." Zak nods, "Like, this is gonna be my last show, ya know? With the whole modeling thing blowin' up and all." The audience groans, "I know, it sucks majorly, trust me!" Zak frowns, "But like, you'll get to see plenty more of me. Trust me brahs." He winks and the crowd cheers.

The host claps, "That’s what I like to hear! Alright, let’s get started!"

You lean forward in your seat as the first audience member is brought up. It only takes a few questions for her to utterly humiliate Zak, who just laughs and flexes like the dumb himbo that he is. As the contestant returns to her seat, the host's eyes scan the crowd, zeroing in on you.

"What about you there in the blue shirt? He looks smart, right Zak? Let's get you up here!"

Initially you're shocked. You? The host gestures for you to make your way up to the stage. You can feel your heart pounding as you climb the stairs, palms feeling a little sweaty. The bright lights, all eyes on you. And as you step onto the stage, you get an up close look of Zak. His biceps bulge impressively, glistening with a light sheen of sweat. But god he smells like a wet gym sock.

"Sup bro, nice to meetcha!" Zak grins and throws a muscular arm around you, "Dude, you ready for this?"

"Aw do I sense a budding bromance?" The host grins and the crowd cheers. After settling them down, he turns to you. "You know how this works by now. Do you think you're smarter than a himbo?"

"Yeah, I think I am." You reply.

"Heh we'll see about that, bro!" Zak guffaws, "I was just goin' easy on that last chick."

"The confidence!" The host laughs, "Let's put it to the test. Your first question: Which is the only sea without any coastlines?"

You ponder for a moment. A sea without a coastline? That's... god what was that? You feel your cheeks flushing red, as you realize you don't know the answer to that. But if you don't know the answer, Zak would definitely not know either. Speaking of Zak, he's bouncing his pecs like the oversized gym bro he is.

"Is it the Caspian Sea?" You shrug, eyes still locked on his massive pecs. Of course the host shakes his head with exaggerated sadness.

"Ah, seems Mr. Smartypants here was a bit too distracted admiring the view to ace that question!" He winks at the audience, while Zak flexes.

"No shame in that, brah!"

You feel your face flush red with embarrassment as the laughter from the audience washes over you. Great, now they all think you're just another hormone-addled fool who can't string two thoughts together because of a pretty face.

"Alright Zak, a question for you now buddy!" You figure Zak is about to bomb this question anyway- round will end in a tie and you can walk away with some dignity, "What color are bananas?"

Zak scratches his head, "Dude… tricky." He chuckles, low and dumb, "So, I want to say yellow, but also green when they're not ripe. Oh but brown too if they go for too long!"

"Fantastic answer Zak! Well thought out!" The host grins as the crowd cheers, "Uh oh, looks like Zak has pulled ahead!"

The fuck kind of question was that? You look at the host and then Zak, who is doing a victory dance. The color of bananas? Of course Zak would know that- he's a fucking ape. You smirk at your own joke.

"Okay okay, let's try another one! Mr. Smartypants, are you ready to redeem yourself?" You're ready, more than ready. You're not..., "What pigments are responsible for the red color of leaves?"

Your mouth opens, but no words come out. You don't have an answer for that. Maybe you did know it, but between the flexing stud and the stage fright, you couldn't find the information.

"Chlorophyll."

"What a shame! That is not correct." He smiles at the audience, "It seems Zak may have a chance to widen his lead! Hey big guy, what day of the month is Christmas celebrated on?" It takes Zak maybe a minute or two to answer that one correctly, "Look at that folks, Zak is now up by two!" He turns to you with a grin, "Seems our guest is not much of a smartypants after all!"

Again, your face flush reds, "No worries, little dude." Zak ruffles your hair, "I uh, I got some smarts, ya know." He looks out towards the audience, "Last show brahs but first win!"

The crowd cheers and it dawns on you that you might be the first person to actually lose this stupid game. Frustration bubbles up inside you as the host and crowd continue to mock you. You're better than this, smarter than being made a fool of. Screw it, you're going to show them all up.

"I could answer every single one of those easy-ass questions he's getting," you mutter under your breath, but the mic picks it up anyway. The host's eyes light up.

"Oh ho, is that so?" He raises an eyebrow, a smirk gracing his features. "Well then, why don't you prove it, hot shot? Let's see if you can handle something a little more…your speed. Here we go bud - how does the body cool down during intense exercise like a heavy workout session?"

You chuckle. Really? This was the question? You clear your voice, "Sweating. That's how it keeps from overheating."

"Correct!"

"Woah bro, nice one!"

Yeah... that was a nice one. Finally got a question right... finally... You wince as a warmth fills your upper arms. At first it's just a gentle tingling, a warm buzzing beneath your skin. But quickly it builds to a throbbing, insistent pressure.

"What the…?"

The sensation intensifies, an intensifying heat pulsing through your upper arms. Your skin prickles and tightens as your biceps and triceps stretch against the sleeve of your shirt. It feels like the most intense pump after a grueling workout, but magnified tenfold. Your arms throbbing, aching. You feel aware of just how much more space they're taking up. And the twitching- it's incessant. Unconsciously, your arms start to rise, muscles tensing, flexing…

"Whoa…" you mutter, marveling at the sheer size and density of your upper arms, "How…?"

The host clears his throat pointedly, breaking you out of your awestruck reverie. "Ahem, moving on! Thanks for that… demonstration." He shoots you a knowing wink, a sly grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "Let's see if we can't challenge that big ol' brain of yours with another question, shall we? What does the acronym SBD stand for in powerlifting?"

"Oh brah, way too easy." Zak chides, crossing his massive arms over his muscular chest, "Even I know that one."

But your head is swimming. The powerful feeling in your arms send pleasurable waves of warmth through your body. But your mind. You're reviewing the question. Thinking it through. SBD? In powerlifting?

"SBD... SBD..." You rub your chin, unconsciously flexing your now massive bicep, "Huh... like... That's uh..."

You look over at Zak and he's making some kind of motion. A goofy grin on his face as he squats. Squats. Squats!

"Bro!" You grin, "Squats, dude! Yeah, that's what the S stands for." You grin, but the host shakes his head, "C'mon what?" You pout.

"You're still forgetting the rest." The host smiles, "And the timer is counting down."

You shuffle anxiously on your feet. You know this, right? But why would you? You're not into powerlifting. But like, it should be easy. If S stands for squats then like, wouldn't B and D also be something to do with working out? Yeah? Totally, that makes sense. But like, what else is there? What other... huh... shirt is getting kinda tight too. And fuck, you can't help but notice how warm your chest feels. Nice and warm, pressing more and more against the fabric of your shirt. Stretching it out against your big, meaty...

"Bench press, brah! B stands for bench press!" You say with a grin as your shirt starts to tear away, revealing a set of massive pecs and a chiseled torso, "Huh where'd my shirt go?" The audience cheers and you grin, staring down as you bounce your pecs.

"Excellent job, but unfortunately, you didn't finish. You missed D, you big dunce."

The host laughs, and you laugh along with him and the audience. Big dunce. Yeah that's... that's you? You pause for a second and start to feel that same embarrassment from earlier. They're laughing... not with you, but...

"Dude, can't win em all!" Zak slaps you on your increasingly wider back and you turn to him- now at eye-level, "But like, brah, you've got this next one!"

"Y-y-you th-think so.... brah?" Your tongue feels heavy, the words feel sluggish. You notice your voice sounds deeper to your ears, "I..."

"You have to focus there, smartypants!" The host interrupts, "Two more questions. Are you ready?" You nod slowly, "In a deadlift, how high are you supposed to lift the barbell before lowering it?"

"Deadlift..." Your eyes light up suddenly, "Wait, bro! The D! That's what D stands for, brah!" You say excitedly.

The whole audience laughs, as does the host. You look at him, feeling a strange sense of confusion bubbling up. Why were they laughing? What was so funny?

"Good job there, but that was the last question. We've moved on, big guy."

"Oh..." You chuckle, a grin forming on your lips as you let out a deep, dumb laugh, "Huhuhuh that was pretty stupid of me." The audience and the host laugh even louder, and you find yourself joining in, "Alright, gotta lock in, gotta... brah what was the question?"

"Dead lifts..."

"Oh fuck yeah! I fuckin' love deadlifts."

The host grins, "Yes, exactly! So tell us, when doing a deadlift, how high do you lift the barbell before lowering it?"

"Yeah... uh..." You bite your lip, thinking hard. Your fingers drum against your swollen bicep as you try to concentrate and with a sigh, lift your hands behind your head, "Oh nice..."

Your eyes lock on to your bulging bis and tris and you're momentarily distracted. But the sharp tang of your own musk drifts up from your armpits, momentarily derailing your train of thought. Fuck, you smell good. Really fucking good. But since when did you...?

"Brah, c'mon you got this." Zak says, watching you closely.

You shake your head and run a hand through your perfectly gelled, styled hair, before pausing- fuck your aesthetic is probably cooked. You awkwardly pat at your hair.

"Worry about your hair later, you've got a question to answer." The host says.

"Fuck, sorry..." You let out an awkward chuckle, "Just gotta..."

Your body moves instinctively into the proper deadlift position—back straight, knees slightly bent, hips pushed back—as if you've done this 1000s of times before. As you demonstrate the form flawlessly, a new awareness floods your lower body. Your glutes feel… alive. Heavy. Round. Perfect. You grin as you squeeze them unconsciously, feeling the dense muscle fibers contract.

"The answer is hips, bro."

"Let's fuckin' go, brah!" Zak cheers and slaps you on the ass, sending a wave of intense pleasure reverberating through your meaty glutes.

As the crowd cheers, your eyes lock on Zak. The pleasure from him slapping your ass still making you shudder. You drink him in, fixated on the prominent bulge straining against his gym shorts.

"Fuck..." You mumble- he's packing serious heat there.

Your mouth waters involuntarily as fantasies flood your mind—Zak pinning you down, those huge hands squeezing your meaty ass while he drives his massive cock deep inside you. The image of you riding his thick cock sends shivers down your growing frame, and you imagine running your tongue over every inch of his sweat-slick skin. You lick your lips and grin at the thought.

When your eyes meet again, Zak doesn't look away. Instead, his smirk widens as he catches you staring, and the few brain cells he has recognize exactly what you’re thinking. He flexes for the audience, but he turns to give you a quick wink, letting you know all that flexing was just for you... because he wants you to know he wants you too. After all, you know there's not way he could resist you either. With your... bulging pecs? Massive arms? Thick glutes?

"Wait..." You mumble. You can feel the rusting gears in your increasingly empty head turn ever so slightly, drool dripping from the corner of your mouth.

Your head was spinning, brain trying to make sense of all of it.

Something’s off, right? Like... this ain’t how it used to be. You know that. You weren’t… this. But then... what were you then, dude? Cause, like, look at you. Seriously... just look. You’re absolutely shredded. I mean, c’mon, those arms? That chest? You don’t just wake up lookin’ this jacked without bein’… well, this guy. So how could you not be you if you straight-up look like you? Right?

A dumb chuckle escapes your lips as all that thinking overwhelms and shuts down whatever last remaining brain cells you have.

The host snaps his fingers in front of your face, breaking you out of your haze. "Earth to bro, we still got one question."

"Huh? Wha-" You blink slowly, your expression vacant and slack. Drool slips down your chin as you stare blankly ahead.

"Are you smarter than a himbo?" The host grins.

"Nawww, bro, 'course not!" You reply with a big, dumb grin spreading across your face, "Can't be smarter than a himbo cuz… I AM the fuckin' himbo, bro!"

The host laughs, shaking his head, "Well folks, I guess that settles it! Looks like we've got ourselves a new resident himbo to take Zak's place. Give it up for… COLT!"

The audience erupts into cheers and applause as you beam proudly, basking in the spotlight. You feel Zak sling a muscular arm around your broad shoulders, squeezing you close.

"Dude, so fuckin' glad you're joinin' the fam, bro!" Zak enthuses, his hand drifting lower to grope your ass possessively, "Trust me bro, you're gonna love it."

Zak's strong grip on your juicy ass makes you shudder and you can tell by that grin that he's thinking exactly what you're thinking.

The host clears his throat loudly, snapping you out of your lustful stupor. "Don't forget to wave to the crowd, champ!" He gestures encouragingly towards the audience.

With a dopey grin, you raise a hand in greeting, relishing the adoration pouring in from all sides.

"Thanks y'all, this is gonna be fuckin' sick!" You call out enthusiastically, grinning like an idiot.

And as Zak digs his fingers into your massive ass, you lick your lips hungrily. The only thought in your empty head was that once this show was over, you'd be giving him a private encore performance that neither of you would forget…

bodyswapmischief

My Brother's Demons

Laying on my bed, I began feeling my dick pump up with blood. The blanket were pushed high as my dick strained through them. My morning wood felt bigger and harder than usual. And, my body felt itchy as the blankets hung on my body. As I moved to the side, the realization sunk in.

Instantly any arousal I felt was washed away by a dizzy nauseous wave. I ran to the bathroom as the world continued spinning. Pulling up the toliet seat, I threw up the contents of what I assumed was a late night binge of alcohol and drugs. As the vomit continued, I cursed out my brother for swapping our bodies.

Keep reading

manswaps

The Cursed Hunk

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

“What the f—“

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

“Who are you?”

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

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

“No man, wait! It’s me, Jared.”

“Fuck off, dude.”

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

“J-Jared? What happened to you?”

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

“What? I’m not shaking your hand.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m bi….” He moaned.

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

Seth rutted like an animal against the mattress,

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

“Fuck, you want me to fuck you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We will, buddy, hang tight.”

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

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

manswaps

Size Issues

Tanner sat in his seat, listening to his professor drone on about math. It was a boring lecture, and he anxiously waited for the end of it.

Tonight he had his first date in college. As a freshman, he was already feeling insecure. The older guys were much hotter and looked so much older.

Tanner wasn’t ugly, but he did look younger than he’d like. Curly blond hair sat in a messy mop on his head, no facial hair to be seen, and he barely had any growing anywhere else.

What bothered him the most, though, was his dick. He always felt it was small, and he was terrified to lose his virginity tonight. Ashley, the girl he was seeing, met him at a party the week before and invited him over tonight to hang out.

Tanner was a genius, however, and figured out over the years how to make a prototype to a device that would swap two people’s body parts. It was still a prototype, so there was some risk involved, but the idea of fixing his insecurities was too appealing.

Excitedly, he pulled the small laser out of his bag. He had a target in mind, a jock named Derek who sat by the classroom door. Derek was a huge dude on the football team, and Tanner had seen him at a few parties at this point. He was always pulling girls and he heard the girls in his dorm talk about how good he was in bed.

He looked down at the settings and set it for them to swap dicks for the rest of the week. He couldn’t wait to fuck Ashley with a real cock, and with a minute before class ended he pressed go.

Instantly, he felt a heat in his crotch as they swapped. He felt it get longer and thicker. Fuck, it felt so good. He rubbed at his new appendage and it hardened under his touch. Through his shorts, he could see its outline—it must’ve been 10 inches!

Fuck, he felt so close to cumming, so he laid his hands off. This dick was so sensitive. He could explore his new cock later.

When the bell rang, he got up and walked to the door. Derek sat at his desk, seemingly unaware that he now possessed Tanner’s shrimpy freshman duck.

Tanner made a beeline for the bathroom down the hall. He was so horny, and he had to see his new dick up close. He closed the door to a stall and pulled down his shorts. Framed in his underwear was a python with a big pre-cum stain at the tip. He fingered at it before the great reveal, and pulled down his briefs.

Wait…what?

Staring back at him was a big cock alright, but it wasn’t Derek’s. Nestled in a chestnut brown bush, sprinkled with gray hairs, was a tanned cock. Gray hair? Derek was blond. He stared down at his erect cock confused. It was so hard it looked angry. Who’s cock did we swap with?

He cupped his larger balls to make sure it was real. He’d never seen such a hairy dick, and he moaned a bit feeling it in his delicate hands.

Moments later, a gruff voice muttered as someone entered the bathroom.

“Now what’s this? That’s not my cock!” The man exclaimed, his tone deep and aggravated.

Tanner peeked out of the stall to see the janitor, Mr. Griff, with his pants pulled down. He was a mountain of a man with a slight gut and a thick wooly beard. His round, hairy ass was on full display facing Tanner, but in the mirror, Tanner saw what he was complaining about.

Attached to his hairy, older frame was a small cock with a neat blond bush surrounding it. Tanner’s dick! He tugged at the bush in frustration, trying to see if it was real.

Mr. Griff heard the stall door squeak, and turned around abuptly. He stared at Tanner’s face, before looking down and recognizing the proud cock he once called his own.

“Hey there, boy! That’s my cock! What did you do? Give it back!”

“I’m sorry! It was a mistake!” Mr. Griff grabbed Tanner’s dick and he moaned. “I’ll change us back! Just give me a second!”

“Hell no! You give it back now!” He grabbed the device out of Tanner’s hands and fumbled with it. Buttons were being pressed left and right, and in the struggle he dropped it in the toilet. A bright flash lit up the bathroom and both of them were stunned.

When Tanner came to, he was laying on the floor. he looked down and noticed the pants he was wearing were different. Instead of the shorts he wore to class, he was wearing cargo pants. Sticking up and aimed at the ceiling was Mr. Griff’s cock, evidently still attached to his body.

He lumbered to get up, feeling heavier than before. What had he done? Why hadn’t they swapped cocks?

A look in the mirror answered his question. Staring back at him was the janitor with a surprised look on his face. “NO!” He screamed in Mr. Griff’s deep voice.

“What are you…oh no!” Mr. Griff stared at his hairless arms.

“You did this!” Tanner yelled. His pants were still around his ankles. “Oh god, I’m trapped in an old dudes body. Gross!” His hands tentatively brushed the beard on his face. It puffed out wildly, and he dug his fingers deeper into the deep coils, feeling the pull on his aged face.

Mr. Griff got up off the floor and ran to the mirror. His cute face stared back at him in horror and he rubbed his smooth cheeks. He stared down at his small cock and groaned, before turning around at stare at his ass. Where his once gigantic man ass was now sat a smooth bubble butt, covered in a pathetic dusting of blond hair.

Tanner stared at his old body checking itself out and noticed his heart racing. He pulled up his shirt to reveal a hairy belly and massive pecs. His new cock was so hard. “Fuck, tell it to go down!”

“Not used to being gay, huh boy? What’s wrong? Want to fuck this cute boy butt?” He grabbed lewdly at Tanner’s old ass.

“You’re-you’re gay?” He trembled in the bear’s body. Not only was he in some horny old man’s body, he liked dick now?

“Sure was, but don’t feel like it anymore. Not while I’m you. Not a bad looking body you’ve got, well I guess it’s mine now. Could use a bit of hair on yer chest but it’ll do.”

“Oh god I’m some old janitor. Fuck it’s like you’ve got tits,” Tanner cupped his pecs, the coarse hair bursting through his fingers. “Big hairy tits.” He staggered as he whipped around and looked at his big hairy ass in the mirror. 2 meaty globes covered in dark hair jiggled as he man-handled them. He was mesmerized by the thick hair leading deeper into his crack. In the back of his mind, he wondered what it would feel like to get fucked.

Mr. Griff pulled up his own shirt, staring at the skinny frame he now possessed. A light happy trail extended from the bush of his small penis, and he gleefully grabbed at the curly blond locks on his head. “I have hair again!”

Turning back around, Tanner’s big cock brushed the cold counter top and he shuddered. “Oh fuck,” he instinctually grabbed his leaking knob and jerked it once. The pleasure felt amazing, and he accidentally backed up and tripped. Colliding with the opposite wall, he felt his plush ass press against the cold tile. The momentum made his cock smack against his hairy belly and he saw stars. The friction was too much for this man’s giant cock. All of a sudden the newly big bear was cumming jets of hot white cum while his old body watched.

“FUCK OH GOD!” He shouted, surprised by the booming bass of his voice. He stared at his new reflection in the mirror in horror. Mr. Griff was cumming everywhere in complete ecstasy, his long hard dick bobbing up and down as he yelled.

Mr. Griff looked down at his flaccid dick. “Damn, thought that would turn me on. You’re as straight as an arrow.” He watched his own body jerk and convulse as it orgasmed. “I’ll leave you to it.” He got a text from a girl named Ashley. “Looks like I’ve got plans later.”

occamstfs

Model's New Mustache

Constantly annoyed by his androgyny, David stumbles onto a spam ad that leads to his first facial hair and unknowingly condemns his latest overly masc ex to the twinkdom he's leaving behind.

Pretty standard role swap/masc theft! Twinky bottom to hairy top though much of the opposite changes happen off screen. At any rate, hope you enjoy this tale of Twink Theft! -Occam

And so began the same argument that has led to the end of each and every one of David’s previous relationships. Sure, he knows he’s beautiful. Angelic many of his one night stands and observers from afar frequently point out. He’s a model by default and his face card is perfect bait for men to just fall at his feet.

David frequently finds himself with men almost stereotypically masculine, alpha bros and DL hoes are always drawn to his androgyny. But rarely do they ever consider anything but his looks. When the cherubic man can no longer hold back his ire at being considered just a pretty face they fight and then abandon him for some other waifish twink. Leaving him feeling like nothing more than a soft-skinned doll for them to play with and abandon.

Curled up in the passenger seat of his current horndog fling’s car, David looks from underneath his tangle of perfectly coiffed curls as Mattias just stares down the open road. Glancing at the hairy jungles covering the man’s torso and pits, David yearns to feel the scratch of hair against his body. The closest thing he can ever experience to growing it himself.

For half a moment the model believes that perhaps Mattias is reflecting, thinking about their argument. Considering David’s point of view at all. When a hand drifts to adjust a bulge clearly visible in his pants it’s clear there’s only one thing on his mind. And David is certainly not going to let that happen tonight.

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