Hey there. I've been teaching my introduction to theatre class for about 10 years now, however this semester has to be the worst. They've stuck me with the absolute worst group of students. Listen, I love being able to teach students and help them better connect to the wonders of performing, but this Gen Ed class of freshman couldn't care less. It's full of straight jocks, guys who think they'll get famous on TikTok, exchange students from the middle east and a bunch of stuck up religious homophobic nepo babies who write slurs on the chalkboard. I can't stand it. I'm ready to quit. But this Friday, I found a box of chocolate on my desk with a typed note saying that it was time I learned a lesson. I have no idea which one of these assholes gave it to me and I'm sure they are laced with something but I can't help but want to try one of the chocolates....
You knew you should just throw it away. Put the small box of stupid chocolates in the nearest garbage and forget about it. The box itself looked like it was handcrafted with cardboard and tape. The chocolates inside? Probably made in one of your student's kitchens. Sloppy, made hastily- being homemade alone didn't make something good. As a teacher, you did get gifts on occasion. But in all of your years of teaching, this one was certainly the absolute worst.
"Alright, alright." You mutter, "I'm a teacher, not a food critic."
You relent and grab one of the small truffles, inspecting it closely. It was obviously coated in milk chocolate, a few red, white, and blue sprinkles garnished the top.
"CJ." You think, "Yeah, bet it was him."
Loud, obnoxious, patriotic- the ultimate stupid all-American jock who probably spent the same amount of time drinking beers as he did in the gym. With a sigh, you plop the truffle into your mouth and start to chew. You taste the milk chocolate and get a few notes of peanuts and apple pie. Not the worst thing you've ever eaten, but definitely not...
"Oh fuck..." You grunt and catch yourself on the nearest table, "Oh fuck it hurts." You grab your stomach and wince, "Wh...?"
Your eyes widen as you watch your dress shirt start to shred into pieces, unveiling more and more of your average frame. You let out another yelp as your dress pants start to come undone, leaving you in nothing but your underwear.
"What the fuck?" You grunt as the room begins to spin around you.
The humble walls of your classroom give way to a raucous tailgate. The smell of brats, burgers, and beers fill your nose. The sound of boisterous laughter, cheering, and shit talk fill your ears. But as you stumble in confusion amidst the new setting, you gasp as you look down at your hand.
"Brody, bro!" One of the jocks yells out, "You good man?"
You watch in terror as your hand thickens and becomes calloused from all those lifting sessions with your bros at the gym. You watch as the muscle expands rapidly in your forearms, before your biceps explode with it. Your triceps aren't spared either as your previous twigs-for-arms thicken from all the lifting, creatine, and protein powder you've been using. But you quickly found out your arms were just the start. The air was knocked out of you as your pecs swelled rapidly, back cracking and widening. You stumble, still trying to get used to your increasing bulk.
"Woah, bro..." You mutter, giving your swollen pecs a squeeze, "All right..." You shake your head, "No... no what am I saying?" You can feel a weed sprouting in your head- another voice, another being.
"Yeah this is the shit." It says using your mouth, "Grow baby, grow."
You laugh, deep and dumb. And as you do, your gut packs on more weight and muscle, pushing out with the firmness of extra bulk. Your abs covered by a soft layer of fat brought to you by all the late night snacking and beers you've downed with your bros.
"Check this, bros." Your voice is slower, dumber, and clearly tipsy from the alcohol. But you don't have time to consider that as you let out a massive fart, "Bro! You hear that? Fuckin' legend, dude!"
You grunt as your ass beefs up, swelling with muscle and fat. Jiggling with each step you take. Your thighs and legs bulk up, as your feet crack and expand into wide, size 15" monsters.
"Alright bros!" Brody says, pumping his fists, "Let's fuckin' go!"
You can't do much as Brody has the best fucking time of his life. You do a keg stand, make-out with some blond cheerleader, wrestle with your bros, and bounce your muscle tits while your dick chubs up. To Brody, its the fucking life. But to you- trapped in this smelly, brutish frat bro- you're in hell. Was this the lesson? Was this what your asshole students wanted to teach you? To...
"Yo what're those?" Brody drunkenly makes his way over to a small box of chocolates, "Don't mind if I do." He guffaws and grabs one.
He plops it into his mouth and you can taste it. Cardamom, cinnamon, and dates. Brody wrinkles his nose as he chews it.
"The fuck kinda flavor is that?" But he doesn't have much time to think more on it as the world around him starts to spin, "Oh fuck, too many beers..."
You can feel it too. The world spinning. Its disorienting, terrifying. And you can feel a burning and itching sensation across your chest. You watch in horror as a patch of coarse black hair sprouts from Brody's chest, spreading rapidly like wildfire. It itches intensely as it grows thicker and longer, soon covering his entire torso in a dark pelt. Brody lets out a grunt, rubbing his hands over his new fur.
"Wh-what's going on, bro? I'm so fuckin' hairy."
Meanwhile, the burning sensation spreads to your face. Black stubble erupts on your jawline, quickly forming a thick, unkempt beard. Your once fair skin blotches with an olive tint.
"Dude, I'm American. Why do I look… fuck…"
Every inch of your skin is now olive tinted. There's a grunt as you pack on a little more extra weight and muscle to your previous jock-bro frame. A wave of vertigo hits you hard as reality warps and shifts yet again. The tailgate scene dissolves into a sleek sports car interior. This new man grips the steering wheel tightly, weaving through traffic at dangerous speeds. His bulks grows more, as do his muscles.
"Yallah, move it bitch!" he yells, honking aggressively at a minivan.
"Samir, chill bro." The other Arab man in the passenger seat says.
"Chill? We got places to be, yaar." Samir replies, revving the engine.
You can only watch as this new version of you pulls up to a hookah bar. And as Samir enters, you can smell it too- the air is thick with fragrant smoke and the sound of Arabic music pulses through the speakers. Samir struts in confidently, his broad shoulders, hairy chest, and musculature on full display.
"Marhaba, habibi," he greets the hostess, flashing her a charming smile. She giggles and leads them to a plush booth in the back.
As they settle in, Samir leans back and lights up a large hookah pipe. His arms stretched behind his head. The smell of his musky pits invading your sense.
"Ahhh, perfect," he sighs contentedly. He takes a long drag, holding the sweet smoke in his lungs before exhaling slowly. His friend nods in agreement. "This is the life, yaar. No worries, just good times with the boys."
And as Samir takes another drag, you can feel your mind swimming. The smell of hookah, the laughter, the pride in your middle-eastern heritage. It hurts your head as your identities mix. Teacher? Frat bro? Prideful Arab man? Who are you? What are...
"I... Please, I want this to..."
"Yo who're you?" You freeze. Brody was still here. In your head. Talking to you, "Brah, this whole shits fucked. I got a party to get back to."
You find yourself nodding slowly, "Yeah... a party..." Makes sense, right? You should be partying... at the tailgate... But... you're a teacher, you're a...
Samir takes another long drag from the hookah, blowing the smoke out slowly. "These Americans, they don't know how to live," he says, shaking his head, "Americans, they're weak. Greedy and self indulgent. But us? We're real men, yaar. Strong, proud." He takes another drag, "Inshallah, may Allah bless us with more days like this."
And as the hookah invades his lungs, you too feel it invade your mind. The smell, the camaraderie. The sight of your olive skin, the scraggliness of your beard. And as your buddies pat Samir on the back, you feel like you're part of something more. Something greater.
"Feels nice." You think, "This... this is living... how it should be..."
And as your mind swims with your newfound appreciation for Samir's culture, Samir's attention is captured by a box of chocolates. He smirks and grabs one of the truffles plopping it into his mouth. And almost immediately you can taste it. The bourbon. The hint of vanilla. Maybe even some lavender.
"Wha-" he starts to say, but the words dissolve on his tongue.
You can feel it again. The world spinning around you. Faster and faster. And with it comes the changes. You can feel the heftiness around your midsection starts to dissolve, while the abs underneath are molded perfectly, leaving you with an impressive six-pack. You can hear Samir yelp as his pecs start to puff out further with dense muscle, the hairs starting to dissolve away, leaving behind clean shaven, smooth skin.
"Ugh so pathetic." He groans, running his increasingly meatier hand against his smooth skin, "What is this?"
His skin suddenly begins to lighten once again. His dark eyes become blue, and narrow as a new attitude starts to swell up in your increasingly more crowded mental space.
"This is disgusting."
"Brah, check these muscles."
Your head is spinning with all these different voices. Your body aches as the bulk continues, giving you the body of a greek adonis. Arms swollen, chest solid, abs proudly displayed. The hookah bar finally vanishes, replaced by the glittering expanse of a private pool. Sunlight glints off the water. And you find yourself coming up for air, water falling from your brunette, styled hair.
A girl in a skimpy bikini approaches, carrying a tray of drinks. "Here you go, Mr. Westley," she says, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously. This new man takes a drink without even looking at her, already bored. Just another servant. Just another pretty face.
"Get me another one while you're at it." He calls out. He watches her walk away, smirking as he stares at her ass.
He takes a swig of the martini and sighs. Everything looks so bright and crisp. Like the world had been put through a filter. The sky is bluer, the grass greener. Even the water sparkles. And his physique? Toned, tanned, and dripping wet. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
"Yeah... I can... I can get used to this..." You mumble as if in a trance.
"Same brah." Brody joins in.
"Fuck that." Samir lashes out, "Spoiled white boy."
The new man exits the pool, tousling his hair, and finding the nearest lounge chair. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, basking in the sun.
"Chad?" He turns towards a man in business attire, "Your father would like a word."
"Tell dear old dad I'm busy." Chad replied dismissively, "And while you're at it, find the groundskeeper and tell him to get this place cleaned up, its a fucking disgrace."
"But sir, your father..."
"You fuckin' deaf or something?" Chad stands up, towering over the man, "I'm. Busy."
The servant scurries away, while Chad just flashes his signature, entitled smirk. And as he gets back to lounging, you feel disgust welling up inside you. This guy was an asshole. A totally self-obsessed douchebag. Even Brody seemed to quiet down, while Samir went on ranting about spoiled Americans.
"I just want to go back." You feel so lost, so hopeless, "I don't want to be this... I want to be me..."
But you're trapped. Trapped in your own mind with Brody and Samir. Trapped and forced to feel everything Chad did. Watch as Chad sends some shirtless selfies to a few blond bimbos. Made plans with an older married woman down the street to meet up when her husband leaves for the day. He messages his friends about using his father's private jet to travel to Tahoe for the weekend.
"Get what I want, when I want." He stretches his arms behind his head and sighs, basking in the sunlight reflecting off his greek god physique.
And that's when you feel it. The power. The musculature of his body. Each flex of his bicep. His massive pecs. You understand now. Understand just how easy his confidence comes to him. Understand why he deserves it. And it felt... good. Yeah... It felt real good. But as you got drunk on everything that was Chad, you were interrupted.
"Chad!" Chad's eyes widen as his father walks over- a man of similar build, height, but older, "You lazy piece of crap!"
"Dad, what... what're you talking about?"
His father's eyes narrow, "I told you before." He points at him, "You want to live like this? You want to use my money for trips to Europe, fuck any bimbo that moves, and lounge around." He frowns, "Then you got to get a degree. An education. Prove you can take over the family business."
"You can't be fucking..."
"Oh I am."
You can feel the anger boiling up in Chad's body. A degree? Having to go to school? With what? A bunch of stupid, poor, ugly freaks that have to work a 9-5 to experience just 1/1000 of Chad's lifestyle.
"That's... not fair." You whisper, as your mind is overwhelmed by Chad's emotions.
Chad stands up, eyes narrowed and pushes past his father. The older man couldn't be serious. Couldn't really be thinking of making him go to college. He stormed past a servant, who simply smiled.
"Would you like a chocolate?"
Chad freezes, "Yeah, sure, why the fuck not?" And plops it into his mouth.
The world around you shifts once more as the flavors of the chocolate hit your tongue - artificial sweetness, fruity candy, and a hint of energy drink. You can feel your muscles beginning to shrink and change, the bulk melting away.
"Whoa, what's happening to me?" Chad's voice whines.
The opulent halls of the mansion are closing in, shifting into that of a studio apartment. Clothes and empty energy drink cans litter the floor. The air smells stale and musty. You glance down at your changing body - the muscles thinning out, becoming leaner and more defined rather than bulky. Body hair recedes until your skin is smooth and hairless. Your face feels tight as it reshapes itself, cheekbones becoming more pronounced, jawline sharpening into an angular cuteness. Curly locks sprout from your head, styled in a trendy, slightly messy fashion. Your beard starts to fall away, leaving you clean-shaven.
This new form - young, attractive, and youthfully energetic - bounds over to the bed. Sitting cross-legged, and pulls out his phone. The lock screen displays a grid of selfies and short video clips, all carefully curated to showcase his best angles and moments.
"Okay, gotta up my game," He mutters, scrolling through TikTok trends. "More followers mean more clout, and clout means everything."
He spends hours creating and posting videos - dance challenges, skits, pranks, and thirst traps. Each upload is meticulously planned and executed to maximize engagement. Between posts, he constantly refreshes his feed, comparing likes and views to his peers.
"This is exhausting," the old you whispers weakly in the back of your mind. But the new you barely registers the complaint, too focused on growing your online presence.
"Hey there! Zac here!" He starts.
You watch helplessly as this new version of you, Zac, throws himself into the world of social media with reckless abandon. Hours blur together as he creates and posts video after video, thirst trap after thirst trap, desperate for that sweet validation of likes and comments.
"Ugh, this sucks," Zac grunts in frustration, deleting yet another failed attempt at a viral dance challenge. "Why isn't this working? I'm hot, I'm funny, I should be blowing up by now!"
The other voices in your head stir.
"Forget this noise, brah. Let's hit the gym, get jacked!" Brody chimes in enthusiastically.
"No way, man. This social media crap is beneath us." Samir scoffs, his accent thick with disdain.
"He's so fucking desperate." Chad chimes in, "He's never going to amount to shit. Just wishes he could have a sliver of what I got."
The voices swim in your head. Painfully. Overwhelmingly. You just want it to stop. Just want them to leave you be. To let you go back to... to what? You're realizing with increasing terror that you're having a hard time remembering just who you were. Someone in education? A teacher? Right? Or were you...
"Pl-please... just... stop." But your voice is crowded out by these other selves, all bickering internally.
"Fuck it," Zac mutters, tossing his phone aside in frustration. He flops back onto the unmade bed, surrounded by the musky scent of sweat-stained sheets and stale air. With a heavy sigh, he reaches for his phone again, navigating to his preferred porn site with practiced ease.
"Just need to blow off some steam," he mumbles, stroking himself through his thin sweatpants as the first video loads. The lewd sounds of moaning and flesh slapping against flesh fill the small room.
Zac's breathing quickens as he loses himself in porn, his toned muscles relaxing under his touch. The stench of his own arousal mingles with the aroma of the slovenly apartment. Sweat beads on his smooth, hairless chest as he pleasures himself. The sensations wash over you too, drowning out the cacophony of voices in your head. Your mind starts to feel hazy, thoughts growing sluggish and scattered. The world narrows down to the intense physical pleasure radiating from your core.
"Hnnngh… feels so good…" you groan, as rational thought slips away, replaced by base instinct and desire.
Brody, Samir, and Chad's voices fade to distant murmurs, easily ignored as you lose yourself in Zac's pleasure. All that matters is chasing this peak of ecstasy.
"F-fuck yeah… gonna cum so hard…"
And in that moment… you're just Zac. Obsessed with social media. Obsessed with the latest trend. Obsessed with views and likes and getting famous. And when you're not chasing fame, you're jerking off. Endlessly. In your musky apartment. And it feels good. No worries. No cares. No more voices. Yeah… Zac… you're Zac… it makes sense… it…
You blink, disoriented as the familiar sight of your classroom comes into focus. The musky stench and lewd sounds vanish, replaced by the sterile scent of chalk dust and the dull murmur of students. Your body feels foreign, like it belongs to someone else entirely.
"W-what… what happened?" you stammer, gripping the edge of your desk for support. The lingering echoes of Zac's obsession and pleasure slowly fade, but the memory of inhabiting that shallow, hedonistic existence lingers.
Around you, your students smile. The straight-laced jocks, the fame-hungry TikTokers, the entitled rich kids, and the cultural exchange students. They're staring at you.
"Learn your lesson, bro?"
"No, please! Leave me alone!" you cry out, clutching your head as the voices of Samir, Brody, Chad, and Zac continue to echo and taunt you. "I don't want to be any of you! I just want to be myself again!"
But even as you beg, you can feel the changes starting to take hold once more. Your muscles begin to swell and bulk up, taking on a chiseled, masculine form.
"You're built like a god now. Act like it." Chad's voice rings out, "Walk around like you own the place, 'cause you do. Entitlement is your birthright, remember that."
Your muscles ripple and grow, becoming impressively defined. The bulges of your biceps and pecs send pleasure straight to your heavy balls and thick cock. You stand taller, chest puffed out proudly.
"Fuck yeah, we gotta document this!" Zac squeals excitedly. "Get the camera out, bro! Show the world what we're working with. Hashtag blessed, hashtag gains, hashtag fitness goals! Gotta get them followers, man!"
You pull out your phone with a grin, snapping selfie after selfie from every angle. You look hot. You look good. And you know it. And so will everyone else.
"Look at you." Samir's voice echos in your brain. Dark, glossy hair springs from your scalp, curling slightly. A well-groomed beard spreads across your jawline and chin, "Embrace your heritage, yaar. You're a son of the Middle East now."
You feel warmth as your skin takes on a warm, healthy olive tone. You run a hand through your thick, black hair, admiring how it contrasts with your chiseled features. Your beard feels soft and stylish as you run your fingers along it. You feel a surge of pride in your Arab roots.
"Holy shit dude, we are ripped!" Brody exclaims gleefully, slurring his words slightly. "Time to hit the town and get fucked up! Gonna be the life of the party with these sick muscles, bro!"
You can feel the intelligence draining from your mind, replaced by a happy-go-lucky, dim-witted enthusiasm. Your tongue lolls out as you grin dopily. The voices blend together into a confusing chorus as your body and mind warp to accommodate all four personas simultaneously. You're left standing in the middle of your classroom, nothing more than a muscular, entitled, self-absorbed Arab party bro, with the combined traits and attitudes of Chad, Zac, Samir, and Brody.
"Yo, teach!" One of your students calls out, "You learn your lesson?"
You turn to face him, your muscular physique on full display as you cross your arms over your broad chest. A cocky smirk plays across your handsome, bearded face. You flash a brilliant, charismatic smile at the student, your teeth gleaming white against your olive skin.
Benito and Mike are ordered by Mike's father to go buy chocolate eggs at the last minute. On the store they find a suspicious box of chocolate eggs, that promises wonderful swaps and transformations.
Will the stepbrothers find a way to get along? Or will they try to destroy each other with chocolate tasting magic?
Dedicated to @ollie26684: here I grant your wish of a nerd and a jock swapping traits.
The store was full, as it was to be expected.
Everything had simply to be as terrible as possible, shouldn't it?
"Do you see any chocolate eggs, fatty?" Mike asked Benito, "Shouldn't you have like, a fifth sense for that or something?"
Benito rolled his eyes. Mike was his step brother. But beside living in the same house and being of similar age, they couldn't be more different.
Benito was short, chubby, and undeniably Hispanic. He wasn't bad looking necessarily, but his nerdy tastes didn't do him many favors. Mike, on the other hand, was a tall jock, white, and way too handsome.
"It's a sixth sense, Mike. Sixth. And no, I don't have a sixth sense to detect where the nearest chocolate eggs are," Benito said, more tired than annoyed at his step brother's stupidity.
Benito looked at the amount of people around them with trepidation. At this stage they wouldn't find any damn eggs.
It was his sept father's fault, Mike's dad. He had forgot to buy any earlier. And, instead of going himself, he sent Benito and Mike to purchase them.
Never mind the fact Benito and Mike had never gotten along.
"Whats the use of you, then?" Mike said, cruelly, yet with a smile that could sell sand in a desert.
"I brought the money. And I have a driver's license, unlike certain someone."
Mike's grin dissolved instantly. He didn't have a comeback. Although Mike had gorgeous looks, he had never been very clever. Mike didn't have many talents or skills, and the few he had he was bad at them. Very much unlike Benito, who was a wonderful singer and a brainiac.
Both step brothers began their odyssey, keeping close to each other as they stepped into the crowd. It proved harder than expected. Yet, despite their obvious dislike for the other, they didn't dare to separate. It'd be annoying to lose the other among all these people, either involving waiting for too long… Or worse, actively seeking each other, wasting both time and effort.
However, Benito couldn't help but get hard. Which he hated. Mike was a douche, but he was a hot douche. They only met a year and a half ago, some months before they turned seventeen. Their parents surprising them both with their relationship and quick marriage. Which was the only reason Mike and Benito would have ever interacted. Benito, as much as he lusted after jocks, he often kept himself away from them. Certainly not all of them were bad, but... Better safe than sorry.
Living with Mike, thusly, was at once a nightmare and a dream. A nightmare because he was an absolute asshole, cocky and miserable. But a dream because Benito got to see Mike parade the house half naked, got to feel the strong manly smell of his body, and, since their rooms were next to each other, Benito could hear the grunts of Mike's jerking off sessions… Which Benito often joined, from across the wall.
Mike's bulge was so big, Benito knew Mike was hung. And the idea of riding that cock was enough to cure any distress he could ever feel.
It was only natural, then, that he had a hard on. Because Mike's hot body was pressed against his back. Benito knew it was because of the amount of people around them (there was little space available), yet it didn't diminish the pleasure of feeling his towering step brother's torso leaning on his back. Especially because the heat of all this people had made Mike sweat. And with it, stink. And what a delightful musk Mike had!
"Yo, this is madness," Mike said. "It ain't even Christmas. Why is everyone buying now?"
"No idea. Perhaps Easter is more important than we thought, or everyone is buying at the latest possible time," Benito replied. "Can you see if we're close? You're tall enough for that."
It wasn't a good jab, but Mike's body was nearly if not entirely flawless. So Benito didn't have an equivalent for 'fatty'. Still, he could still use Mike's height for his own advantage.
"Huh? Oh, right. I actually wasn't looking. I thought you had that covered. Uh… Let's see. There, fatty! There! Look!"
Mike pointed to an aisle. It was somewhat close, but heavily obscured by all the people in between. It was almost as bad as a Black Friday. Benito had to raise to his tip toes to see the aisle well, given the crowd. He was barely tall enough to see the sign indicating the chocolate eggs were there.
Benito adjusted his pants, after Mike's hand strongly took hold of his shoulder. The erection needed concealing, and Mike touching him further (as platonic as that contact was) only made things worse. Still, Benito didn't mind the inconvenience nor the embarrassment. Not at that moment.
At last they reached the aisle. It was almost entirely empty, and some people were already fighting for some of the bags, boxes and baskets available.
Mike just stared at the chaos, while Benito lunched for whatever he could get. Despite being 5'4", his portly figure was enough to intimidate some people away from his path. Mike normally would have made a fat joke about that. Perhaps because it was convenient, he had remained quiet.
After taking a box and a bag of Easter eggs, Benito readied himself to leave. But something stopped him. An urge, whose origin he couldn't explain, made him look at the shelf again.
There it was.
It was another Easter egg box. But it was different from all the others offered by the store. It didn't have the rainbow coloring. It wasn't meant for kids. There was no rabbit. No discernible marketable theme from a franchise or popular IP.
The box, instead, felt like it came from a luxury store. Not from a regular supermarket. The box itself was a very soft pink, so light and warm it was almost beige. While the eggs inside alternated between a cerise pink and a classic rose color. The typography was elegant, engraved with golden letters.
"Mr. Hexum Chocolate Eggs," Benito read, to himself mostly, as his voice couldn't have been more than a whisper. "Guaranteed to be life changing…"
The box seemed too fancy. Perhaps too expensive to buy at a day such as this. But Benito didn't return it. The idea simply never formed in his mind. Instead, he added the box to what he had already taken.
I just know I have to take it with me…
Mike looked at the box, his blue eyes curious. Yet he didn't, for once, debate Benito's decision. Keeping quiet any thoughts he may had, whether positive or not.
Once in the car, silence ceased, however. Mike, from the copilot seat looked at Benito with raised eyebrows, and a douchey smirk.
"So, what were those pink chocolates you bought. Got a date or something, fatty? It ain't even February to be buying that sort of thing. Are you sure they're even good?"
"They're Easter eggs, you moron! Just because they're pink it doesn't mean they're for Valentine's day," Benito answered, vexed. His chubby hands tightened on the driving wheel. "I was going to share, but since you're being such an asshole, maybe I shouldn't."
Mike's smirk softened, just a bit.
"Hey, don't be like that. What's a little teasing between brothers?"
"We aren't brothers!" Benito yelled, thankful his skin was dark enough for his blushing not to show.
Mike chuckled. Looking at Benito in a way that was actually difficult to read. A rarity when it came to the jock's simple mind.
"You wound me, fatty!" Mike said with fake affectation. "And here I thought we were getting closer. The best of chums, as my dad would say. Are you really not gonna share with me? I thought I was the mean one between us. You wouldn't want to be mean, would you? You're not me, after all."
"Asshole."
No other response came from Benito's mouth, after that. Mike tried to continue their conversation, but soon gave up since Benito remained unresponsive.
Yet, every once in a while, each caught their step brother looking at them. Benito often looked when he needed to stop the car. While Mike looked on a less predictable manner.
Neither acknowledged when their eyes ended up meeting.
Finally, they reach home. Benito took the Easter eggs he had bought, and put the ones his stepfather had asked for inside the fridge.
But that box… Mr. Hexum Chocolate Eggs… He couldn't bring himself to put it away. Benito wanted to try the eggs now. The reason was as unclear to him as it was unimportant. Wherever the motive of his feeling, he just knew he would follow it.
Mike stood behind him. Benito could see Mike's blurry reflection on the fridge's door. The jock was struggling to read the box of chocolate eggs.
"Who's Mr. Hexum? I've never head of him," He finally asked.
"It doesn't matter who he is. These eggs are not for you," Benito replied, beginning to walk away. To the peace of his own bedroom.
"You were serious on the car? Come on. Don't be like that, bro. I'll be nice. I can be nice. I'm curious about that box. There's something weird about it."
Benito stopped.
He looked back, and up, at his step brother.
"How so? What do you feel it's weird about it?"
Mike, for once, looked sheepish. He smiled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.
"I dunno. Look, I know I made fun of them earlier. But I really feel like I should open them. Whatever I was thinking on the way home was cut off by the need to eat one of them. I don't even eat chocolate, normally. Dad doesn't like it. I'm sure he wanted us the chocolate eggs more for you than for me."
Benito sighed. To be fair, he felt something similar. Although, he would never admit it what had actually gone through his mind. As he drove, other than worrying about driving, he had thought about how sexy Mike was. So tall, with such a virile body. Only to see his mind lustful ideas interrupted by the desire to open that box of chocolate eggs, to try at least one.
Although chubby, he had never considered himself obsessed with food. At least not to the extent of getting his lustfil thoughts interrupted by food ones. Something strange was going in with these eggs. And Benito wanted to know what it was.
"Okay. We'll try them together. But on my room," Benito declared, walking once again.
"Why on your room?" Mike asked as he followed, confused.
"Because your room stinks," Benito replied, simply.
I'll never admit how much I like your sweaty stench, he thought, stopping a sigh as he reached the stairs.
They went up. Mike was again too close. Benito began to suggest his step brother didn't know about personal space, at this point. At the supermarket it was one thing… But here?
Mike was also humming. Out of tune. So badly Benito didn't even recognize the melody ar first. Benito looked back, but before he could say anything, Mike looked away and grew quiet. The jock loved music, Benito knew, but was terribly untalented at it.
They finally entered Benito's room. Benito locked the door behind them, hoping no one would bother the two of them. He didn't know why he felt the need to do thusly, especially because neither his mother or his stepfather were home at present. Yet he didn't question himself much.
Both men sat on the bed. Benito lay the box between them. The feeling of something ominous made them both stop for a moment. To look at the box as if it could answer all their questions.
Then, Benito opened it.
Inside, there was card. White, with dark pink letters. Mike groaned as he saw it. Benito took pity of him, and decided to read out loud. He cleared his throat, and said:
Dear Benito and Michael:
This box of Easter Eggs is for you, and for you alone. As delicious as they are, they offer something more than simple delight. If you speak what you want to take from the other, or to give to the other, before eating one of them, you'll trade the trait you wished for. Use the eggs wisely, for there are only twelve.
Sweet Regards, Mr. Hexum.
"How the fuck does this Mr. Hexum guy even know our names?" Mike asked, almost as soon as Benito stopped speaking.
Benito had the same inquiry. He left the card where he had found it, and began thinking.
Realistically, the intelligent thing to do would be to ignore the eggs. The weird pulling feeling, plus the card, suggested something was afoot. What? Benito couldn't say.
However, temptation wasn't so easily vanquished yet. Reason argued the eggs wouldn't have any effect. But, if what the card said was true, then…
He could get a body like Mike's. That wonderful, hard on inducing body. That muscular, smelly, white body.
Benito had to admit himself, at the moment, he was jealous of Mike. He seemed to have everything. Sure, he wasn't smart at all. If anything, he struggled at school. And Mike couldn't sing a note in tune to save his life, despite his efforts. But otherwise his life was perfect.
Son of a football coach, who may be benched most games, but still is part of the team. Handsome, tall, with a god-like body. All with the added white privilege. Benito was sure Mike had to be straight and hung. With how cocky Mike was… Plus, he always had a massive bulge. So what other alternative could there be?
The eggs couldn't be real… But the chance of them actually working was simply to appealing to pass it up.
"Hey! Yo! Earth to bro! Are you listening?" Mike said, waving his hand over Benito's face. "I don't trust those eggs, fatty. And you shouldn't either. I don't care I still feel I should eat one. I won't. They make me not trust my gut, and that ain't a good thing, bro."
Benito knew, at that moment, he had three choices. One was to let him go, and swap things without his knowledge. If they didn't work, there wouldn't be any harm. If they did… Well, if he was quick after some changes there would be little Mike could do.
Second choice was to take Mike's advice and ignore the eggs. Maybe throw them out, ignore the chaos that they could so easily cause. After all, if Mike is making sense, the eggs can't be as good as they seemed.
The third option… Was to convince Mike to join.
"What, are you scared?" Benito said, his voice confident. "You always say you're not a sissy, and now you're scared of what some chocolate eggs can do? I thought you were s man, maybe I was mistaken all along!"
"Asshole," Mike said, almost spitting the word out.
He began to stomp his way out. But before he could reach the door, he turned on his heels.
"I ain't a sissy. And I'll prove it. I'll eat one damn egg. But I go first."
Benito shrugged. He wasn't necessarily glad about the idea of Mike going first. Still, he acted as if didn't care. After all, there was a dozen eggs. Because of that, who went second would get the last trade… Assuming they work, that is.
Mike took one of the eggs. It had a cerise pink wrapping. Mike undid it without much regard, uncovering the dark chocolate underneath. Shiny, well tempered chocolate.
"I want to swap… Hair colors, or whatever," Mike said, and then put the egg inside his mouth.
As he began to chew, Mike closed his eyes.
"Fuck, it tastes so fucking good," Mike said, as he continued chewing."What the fuck is this made of? It's… fuck… Why is it so good, bro?"
As he swallowed, the changes began. Benito didn't feel anything. He didn't need to. For he could see the changes taking place on Mike's head. And that was more than enough.
The golden blond hair soon became a light brown. Then regular brown. It kept going darker, until it was undeniably black. Not just the hair on the top of his head. But also his eyebrows, his eyelashes, and the bit of stubble he had missed when shaving.
Benito's eyes wandered down, to Mike's bare forearms. Thank goodness he had removed his jacket once they got home. The blond hair of Mike's arms had also darkened completely.
"Dude! Your hair!" Mike said, before Benito could. Mike was pointing at Benito.
"Look at yours too!"
Both step siblings ran to the standing mirror. Mike leaning down to see himself properly.
Indeed, Benito had also changed. Instead of his familiar black hair, he was completely blond. It wasn't the best look. His skin was naturally brown, and his features weren't commonly seen having natural blond hair. Yet, his hair was fully blond.
Benito lifted his shirt, ignoring how Mike looked at his gut. His pubes and chest hair had also turned a golden color.
"So they were for real? I fucking knew it," Mike said, taking a lock of his own hair. As if still trying to come to terms it was so dark now. It didn't look bad on him, but blond did suit him better.
Or so Benito thought.
"Yeah. They're real. I can't believe it! We have magic eggs. What the fuck?" Benito replied, struggling to keep his composure. "How is it even possible?"
Mike began pacing around the room.
"We should swap our hair colors back, and then get rid of the eggs. I don't want to be you… And you may want to be me, but I ain't letting you become me while screwing me over."
Benito knew he had to be fast. Mike wasn't smart enough as to evade being tricked.
"Come on, let's just do it for fun. Then I'll use the last egg to revert everything. Aren't you curious about being like someone else? Just for a tiny bit?"
Mike looked at Benito. Whatever his mind was debating, Benito didn't know. The jock kept quiet for a moment. Clearly not wanting to accept.
"Fine. I'll do it. Just because I ain't a sissy… And because you asked so nicely, fatty. As long as we reverse everything with the last egg, then I don't mind becoming anyone. Not even if it's you."
After the agreement was settled, Benito made sure to hide the blooming smile his face demanded to show. If he was too excited, Mike may go back on his decision.
And it was too early for that.
He took another egg, getting rid of the wrapping almost too hasty. Taking a deep breath, Benito looked at Mike. The jock was a foot taller than him.
Or was he?
"I want to trade heights," Benito said, getting the egg inside his mouth while Mike's eyes widened.
As soon as he tasted it, Benito knew all other chocolate would be forever ruined for him. It was the perfect combination of cacao and milk. The best texture. The best finish. And the filling? Out of this world. The raspberry was just as sweet as it needed to be, with the acid balancing the tastes. It also smelled divine.
He almost didn't want to swallow. Benito was tempted to just take all the eggs, and eat them without trading anything with Mike. They were just that good.
Fortunately, since they were standing close to each other and to the mirror, both step brothers could see the new change without any special effort. Benito saw how Mike's head was slowly getting lower on the room. While Benito's eye of sight continued rising as seconds went by.
Benito's shirt soon grew tight. Revealing his stomach, for it was too short now. Yet it didn't feel as embarrassing as it would have been otherwise. For the most past, because as he gained inches in height, his weight was less obvious.
Enough so, he didn't really look fat once he finally reached his new height of 6'4". At most he looked soft. Doughy. But chubby felt almost exaggerated.
As for Mike, his height compression also had changed the way his body looked. Instead of the well proportioned stud he had always been, he looked stocky. What Benito imagined Wolverine would look like, if he was less hairy.
Mike had gone from a 6'4" linebacker to a 5'4" bodybuilder. He looked so ridiculously muscular. Mike didn't seem completely displeased. Now that he didn't need to lean down to see himself fully on the mirror, he smiled stupidly and flexed his arms. His sleeves ripped slightly.
"I look so swole, bro. I'm like a total Gym Bro, now," Mike said, checking how his shirt was too tight on the sides, but too long for him. "Sweet, bro."
His pants also were too long. They hadn't fallen, however. His new muscles had kept his jeans mostly in place. Mike's butt was already a big bubbly thing, but now it threatened to rip the pants if Mike wasn't careful with his movements.
"Am I truly that short?" Benito asked, looking down for once at his step brother.
It was almost ridiculous. Now a part of him understood why people struggled to take him seriously. Mike looked like a kid from this high. Well, other than his stocky musculature, that is.
"Oh yeah… And I didn't realize how tall I am… I mean, was," Mike replied, although still more focused on flexing, ignoring the damage he was doing to his shirt.
"It's your turn to eat an egg," Benito reminded him.
He sat down. Benito's pants, although now too short for him, fortunately still covered his crotch well. His erection would surely betray him if he stayed standing.
Mike rolled up his jeans, and then went for another chocolate egg.
"I want to trade eye colors," he said, and then ate the egg.
Benito was disappointed at such minor a change. Then again, it was more than likely that Mike wasn't actually trading features with pleasure. It lay on Benito's hands to actively make any major changes. Still, he was slightly alarmed about the possibility of Mike wasting eggs with such minimal trades. Although it could be beneficial too, depending on how things went.
As for Mike, he had returned to stand next to the mirror. Benito didn't need to stand to see the change, thanks to the reflection. How Mike's eyes went from sky blue to a greenish hazel, growing warmer and darkening until they were the same brown Benito originally had.
After making sure to conceal his hard on, all while Mike was distracted, Benito joined Mike at the mirror again. He had brought another egg too.
Unused to his new height, Benito almost forgot to lean down so he could see his own face. It would be a while before he got used to be this tall.
His brown face looked bizarre. His eyes didn't look bad, with that familiar sky blue Mike used to have. But the blond hair still felt strange to his eyes. It would have been one thing if his eyebrows and eyelashes had remained dark, but since they hadn't, the color looked out of place.
Well, there was an easy way to fix that, wasn't there?
"We'll trade ethnicities," Benito said, and ate the egg before Mike could react.
The change, as all others, was instantaneous once Benito swallowed the chocolate delicacy.
Benito, despite being next to the mirror, had only eyes for Mike. His face was still handsome, but some features had changed slightly. The nose was broader, the lips fuller, the cheekbones softly more prominent. The major change was the skin. Although Hispanic people come in all colors, Benito was the kind of Latino who looked exactly as the average American expected him to look. And now, that was becoming true for Mike.
His fair skin, initially, looked as if it was getting a tan. But there were no tan lines, and it didn't look leathery at all. No, instead, the bronze color hadn't affected the youthful softness of Mike's skin.
No one would ever believe Mike Miguel was a white guy. Miguel, after all, looked so obviously Hispanic he… Miguel? Wasn't his name Mi… Miguel?
Benito Benedict shook his head. Wait, Benedict? No, his name was Benito Benedict. He was Benedict, not Benedict! Oh. He was Benedict now, because he was white...
Benedict knew something weird had happened. Something changing his brain, not just his physique. But soon he got distracted by his own reflection.
He was a white guy. Not as handsome, arguably, as Miguel was and had been. But decent looking for certain. His skin was so light compared to what he was used to…
"Woah, that's a trip! We still look like ourselves, but… So different too," Miguel said, touching his face as if not believing his current appearance. "I wouldn't expect anyone to recognize me now, at all."
Indeed, both of them were hardly recognizable as themselves anymore. It went beyond what Benedict had ever imagined.
"We don't even have the same names," Benedict added. "Which is insane,"
"Guess so, but I look way more like a Miguel than a Michael now, bro."
Miguel took another egg, looking at it instead of simply eating it. Benedict wondered if his step brother couldn't find a thing he wanted to trade with Benedict. And Benedict didn't blame him, so maybe he could propose something instead…
"You've done like, huge changes, bro. So, maybe I should make a big trade too," Miguel said, almost as if he was in a trance, his now brown eyes fixated on the chocolate egg. Benedict didn't have the time to suggest anything, but he was curious about what Miguel would say. "I wish I had your singing voice. So I could finally sing like I always wanted."
Benedict had been so focused on taking stuff from Miguel, he hadn't considered what he could lose. He froze as his step brother finished speaking, too late to stop Miguel from consuming the Easter egg.
Immediately, he felt a change on his throat. The larynx had completely transformed in an instant.
"What?" Benedict said, mostly to say anything. Just to confirm what exactly had been exchanged.
But instead of his voice, it was Miguel's. Completely. The same timber Benedict had jerked off to, many times in the past. That deep baritone voice that made his knees weak. It was his now. It came from his mouth. Whatever he said, whatever he hummed, or he whispered, or he sang, all would be with Miguel's voice.
As charming as his speaking voice was, however, the devastating truth was that Miguel had never been able to sing. He was completely tone deaf, unable to maintain a note stable at all. Miguel had troubles singing Happy Birthday, for fuck's sake! Any time he showered he sang loudly, and Benito always had to leave the house to maintain his sanity. He didn't want to be stuck with such a bad singing voice.
Worse, Benedict could feel all the years of singing practice leaving his brain. Memories as the main lead of the choir disappearing. The techniques, the exercises, the preparation, the care… All gone.
Instead, Benedict remembered himself singing only while showering, able to hit a single note of whatever song by mere chance. While Miguel was now a proper singer, with a beautiful tenor timber.
Miguel didn't waste the chance, and began to sing.
Benedict stood there, heartbroken, as the voice that used to be his almost brought him to tears from its beauty. Miguel had barely sang a couple of verses of an opera Benedict always loved. One whose name he couldn't remember anymore. It was the most mesmerizing hearing experience of Benedict's life... Per voi sola sospira così/dall'aurora al tramonto del dì...
"Oh fuck!," Miguel said, after he reached the home chord, and thusly felt he could stop singing. Or so Benedict guessed, he couldn't tell anymore. But it felt right. "I sound like you do! It's so insane, bro. Like, why even speak when I could sing now? Fuck… I always envied your voice. I just… Look, man, it's so weird hearing you from my mouth, but don't sweat it. This ain't permanent right? We'll fix everything with the last egg. This is just, like, a little try of what singing like this feels like, man. It's so incredible, bro. I never hoped to sound this beautiful..."
Miguel was smiling ear to ear. Humming with a control and harmony he had never been able to achieve before in his life. Benedict's stomach had sank so low, Benedict didn't know if it would ever work anymore. Was there even a point to his life if music abandoned him? He certainly didn't feel excited to continue this charade. Was it truly all worth it to become a privileged jock...?
But… Well, he could lose his voice, in the big scheme of things. The memories of his life as a singer had faded for the most part, and with them the pain he ought to be feeling. And being tone deaf wouldn't ruin his life. Many people weren't able to sing, and they could lead happy lives. Or so Benedict hoped.
Yes. Losing his voice wouldn't ruin his life. Not when he could improve it in some other ways.
Certainly, he would have preferred to be able to continue being a singer. But, he had envied Miguel's life too much as to give up now. He could become Miguel to the most minimal detail.
If he had to sacrifice his most cherished talent, so be it.
Another egg, and another trade. For something that Benedict had always coveted. Something he had always lusted after, even during those moments Miguel drove him crazy.
"I wish I had his muscles," Benedict said, still unused to his deeper voice.
He was so hard. This voice may not be a good for singing, but it didn't need to. It's husky baritone was enough to make men be consumed by lust, to genuflect with sexual adoration. If Benedict fully became the white jock his step brother had originally been, then everything was worth it. There wasn't a hotter existence possible, in his mind.
As chocolate went down Benedict's throat, the changes took place.
Benedict quickly got out of his shirt. It was already short, and it would certainly rip now if he kept it in. He was barely quick enough to get out of it.
His shoulders were broadening, as well as his back. Pecs growing steadily outwards, biceps ballooning deliciously. Thighs thick not just with fat, but with muscle.
Benedict took his pants off too, barely in time. His underwear wasn't so lucky, and has ripped slightly as his quads grew. Fortunately, not enough to warrant taking them off.
As for his stomach, the fat he still had was hiding his new abs. That's probably what should go next, he thought, patting his belly. He looked like he was bulking. Which wasn't bad at all. Just not his final goal.
His erection was very evident however, so he took his pillow to cover himself. Miguel was distracted looking at himself at the mirror.
Miguel didn't look like a bodybuilder anymore. Instead, he had about the same muscle tone Benedict had originally. Which wasn't much. Miguel looked like a regular slight twink. His clothes were so roomy Benedict couldn't tell how much he had truly changed.
It was mostly Miguel's thinner neck and arms that showed his now skinnier appearance.
"Look at that! You'd be prime twink if you lost that weight, fatty!" Miguel said, touching himself in front of the mirror. "I look so fucking cute this way. I could be a femboy if I wanted."
Benedict frowned in confusion.
"How do you even know what a twink is? And why do you call me fatty still ? I don't even look fat anymore," Benedict asked, his eyes fixated on his step brother.
"Why wouldn't I know that? I have... fucked? Yeah, fucked plenty of them. And I'm used to calling you fatty. Even so, you may not look that fat anymore, but your ass is still as fat and thick as always it's always been."
Benedict's mouth fell slack. He shook his head, keeping the pillow in place as he walked towards his shrunken step brother. He needed to confirm, as well as to ignore how his cock throbbed at Miguel's words.
"What do you mean you've fucked twinks? I thought you were straight… I was sure you were."
"Oh, that," Miguel said, with a chuckle. "I fake being straight for my dad. He's not homophobic, as far as I know. But you never can be sure about that stuff, bro. You didn't know I'm gay? I thought you would clock that as soon as you saw me, bro. Sure, I ain't as… Obvious as you are, or were, but really? You seriously didn't know?"
All Benedict could do, or say, was to shake his head in shock.
This changed everything. If Miguel had been gay all along… That could mean…
No. They may have only met late in life. Almost at seventeen. But they're still step brothers. It'd be weird if anything happened between them. No matter how much Benedict may want it...
Right?
Benedict didn't hear what Miguel was saying now, too focused on recovering from his step brother's earlier words. Once he saw Miguel was eating something Benedict realized he should have been paying better attention.
He had been lucky, however. His current state of undress made obvious what the trade had been, even though he'd never know the precise wording used. The now golden body hair was beginning to recede, leaving a way smoother body than what Benedict had been used to before. This smoothness was something he associated with Miguel.
Chest hair was gone. Forearm and leg hair grew thinner, and lighter. Not very easy to perceive. Benedict knew that, if he rubbed his hands on his legs with enough friction, he could most likely remove some of those hairs with ease. Miguel had done so once before.
Benedict now mostly had his pubes, which were trimmed neatly, and his armpit hair. The rest of his body, neck down, was as smooth as a baby's bottom. His face also didn't have the almost permanent stubble he was used to. Before it didn't matter if he shaved every day, it always looked like he had two days stubble on. Now, he didn't look like he could grow a beard if he wanted to. He knew he could, but it'd take way longer. Benedict even had some of the dew patches of very light stubble Miguel had forgotten to shave off.
On the flipside, Miguel was the opposite. Becoming quite hairy. Had he wished for hair before losing his muscles, he would have been a great Hispanic version of Wolverine. Alas, it couldn't be.
"It's itchy. But it's hot," Miguel said, looking down the neck of his baggy shirt. "How easy it was to go from twink to otter, am I right?"
Benedict didn't want to laugh. The joke was terrible. And only made it more obvious Miguel had probably always been gay. Or a guy who had investigated too much about gay terms for no reason.
That didn't fit his Modus Operandi, however. Miguel never studied anything, especially so if he didn't have to.
Instead of laughing or showing any reaction to Miguel's joke, Benedict took another egg. As he had decided before, he chose to give his fat to Miguel. Now he'd be the fatty. Not Benedict.
Miguel didn't protest, nor emoted much. Probably had seen it coming, even with his reduced level of intelligence.
Given Benedict's new height, the difference before and after the trade didn't feel that dramatic. He had basically gone from bulking to cutting in less than a minute. He looked like the prototypical American jock he had always found infuriatingly hot. Of course, since it was now his appearance instead of Miguel's, it was not vexing at all.
For his step brother the change had been more visible. Although Miguel's clothes were still baggy on him, they were clearly tighter than they used to be. And the shape of a rounder belly was now clearly suggested by the folds of his shirt.
"I feel like I'm the same weight I used to be. But, like, flabby instead of muscular, bro," Miguel said, squeezing the doughy flesh of his belly. "I'm a cuddly fatty now, who would have thought that'd happen?"
"And I look like a God," Benedict replied, flexing his lean musculature. "I could be a model if I wanted looking like this."
"I tried once. I'm… Well, you are now too bulky for most fashion houses, dude. Commercial stuff is fine, though," Miguel said, simply, as if it was nothing.
Miguel had done modeling? And Benedict didn't know?
Perhaps it was for the best. Someone would have caught me jerking off to his photos. Not a problem anymore, though…
"My turn," Miguel said, after Benedict grew quiet. "What could we trade now? We basically have swapped into each other's bodies, bro. Almost, I'd say. Hmm… Oh, I know! We'll trade smarts. Always wanted to know how it feels to be smart."
Benedict didn't bother stopping Miguel. He had been too distracted by his reflection to actually react. Once his brain, however, hit the alarm, it was already too late to do anything.
The pillow fell to the floor. Benedict's eyes grew vacant, as if behind the blue there wasn't an ocean of information but merely a puddle. Thoughts slowed dramatically. As if he had someone went from fast modern day internet to something people had during the 1900s.
"What the fuck, bro? Why'd you make me a dumb-ass?" Benedict asked, his speech patterns changing as his vocabulary dwindled.
Memories shifted too. Gone were the afternoons reading hard sci-fi, or fantasy novels with heavy ruled magic systems. Gone were the medals from the spelling bees contests from childhood, the prizes for excellent essays, the deep conversations Benedict had had on philosophy, science and other multiple topics.
His inner world had been so thoroughly reduced, he didn't feel he was the same person anymore. In fact, he didn't go by his full name anymore. Benedict was too long. Too complex.
Even Benny felt too complicated. Instead, he was Ben. Short, simple, and easy to remember.
"What the… Bened… No, Benny? Hmm... Also no. Ben! You're Ben now. This is insane! My mind is so clear. It's like my brain was a cloudy day suddenly turned diaphanous. I didn't know people thought this swiftly. With such ease. Boy, was I a moron. It's incredible," Miguel said, smiling widely. "I'm almost sorry I took your intellect, man. But since we're going to reverse anything, I suppose there's no harm on me staying this intelligent for a little while. Or you being… Well, dumb."
Ben nodded. He didn't understand everything, but he knew he should act as if he did. People otherwise would think he was dumb. And he wasn't dumb. Right? He wasn't dumb. Couldn't be. It just felt and looked like it.
It was now his turn to eat another egg. Fuck, I hope he doesn't figure out I want to trick him. If I don't say anything maybe he won't notice… Uh…
He stared at the egg in his hand, having forgotten for a second why he needed to eat it. Boy, how could Miguel live like this? It was so frustrating.
"We should swap clothes," Miguel said, distracting Ben. "What I'm using doesn't really fit me anymore. And you shouldn't be half naked when there's no need for it."
Afterwards, Miguel undressed. He didn't remove his underwear, however. Despite that, Ben could feel his mouth salivating. The bulge on Miguel's underwear was insane.
It wasn't the first time Ben had seen Miguel's huge bulge. It looked almost fake. Multiple times he had imagined how the full thing would look like. Was it only long, or was it thick too? Cut or uncut? Veiny or smooth?
Whatever the truth was, Ben wanted to know. Especially because now he knew Miguel was gay. He felt closer than ever to actually seeing that beautiful massive schlong he had dreamed about so much...
But it would have to wait. It was too soon to get it. Miguel could easily reverse it. Ben couldn't allow that. If he waited just enough... If he was patient enough... He would win this thing.
His train of thought was easily interrupted by Miguel giving him his clothes. He had already dressed up on Ben's old clothes.
They suited him perfectly. Like a glove. It was bizarre to think of Miguel wearing such a nerdy Pokémon shirt, but here they were.
Ben kept thinking, as hard as it was, about what he could trade now while he was changing his clothes.
The answer was revealed as he took Miguel's shirt, and had it close to his face. Ben barely kept his composure, and didn't try to smell the shirt despite craving it so badly. How could he forget how much he loved his step brother's stink?
"I want to trade smells," He said, eating the chocolate egg almost too quickly. Miguel laughed, either unbelieving, or simply of shock. Ben didn't care what the answer was.
The change, as it was to be expected, was quick. And Ben felt his cock throb against his borrowed pants. He could feel a new dampness on his armpits, and on his back. He remembered Miguel used to sweat a lot. He had the looks of a model, but was always a sweaty stinky guy. It didn't matter. He looked like a god. A shiny musky god.
Now it was true for Ben. He was the smelly guy with the body suited for divinity.
"I can't believe you swapped that. But it feels nice not to be all covered in sweat for a change," Miguel said, chuckling. "So you really went for the full experience, huh? I wonder…"
Miguel took the second to last egg, and held it on his hand.
"I shouldn't wish for this. I really shouldn't. But… Aren't we going to reverse it all with the last egg? Why does it matter what I wish for? Why does it matter how extreme or how tame it is?"
Fool, Ben thought. I'm still outsmarting you even without my smarts!
"I wish we traded lives. Not just our bodies, but our lives." Miguel said, and ate the egg.
What the? Ben's eyes were as wide as they could be, while his mouth was open slack and drooling.
He didn't expect this. He truly hadn't. It didn't make any sense! It wouldn't have even if he had all his smarts. Why would Miguel want Ben's life?
It all began after that. Ben's memories of living with his single Colombian mom on a small apartment disappeared. Memories of flying each December back to celebrate Christmas left him too. The tastes of traditional food, the rules of fluent Spanish instead of the broken mess taught by the American Education system. The fun of watching soccer with his Colombian relatives. Spanish speaking singers he had loved being removed from his brain, becoming completely unknown.
Instead, those were utterly replaced by a different life. His stepfather had become his real dad, instead of the asshole who disappeared after learning that his mother was pregnant. Ben had been raised almost since birth to care about football. To play it. He had talent for it. And unlike Miguel, Ben used it to shine like a sport's star.
His mother was now a white woman, who had died during his childhood years. While his original mother had become his stepmother he met but two years ago. Ben could recall the wedding, his and Miguel's positions flipped.
The changes weren't merely on their minds. The different parents had changed the last few things of their original bodies. Miguel now had Ben's face completely. Including the nerdy hairstyle. While Ben had Miguel's impossibly handsome face.
Holding his head on his hands, he walked towards the last egg. Ben didn't care about reminiscing about this new life he had apparently lived. Where he was, essentially, who his step brother had formerly been.
"What are you doing?" Miguel asked, panicked, also holding his head, kneeling. "You should wait. It's too soon to turns things back. We should leave as each other at least for a day! Why would you return things back to what they were now?"
Ben didn't listen.
He smirked, confidence and douchey bravado motivating his steps. Finally, he reached the coveted last egg. One that could return everything to what it was. It'd be so simple. To wish to trade everything back to what it were.
"This are our lives now, fatty," Ben said, an evil gleam on his eye. "I ain't going back to being a Latino shortstack, bro. I simply ain't."
Ben removed the wrapping. Miguel tried to move, to stop whatever Ben had planned, but since his mind was still adjusting to the changes, he was slow and clumsy. Ben could almost believe Miguel wasn't actually trying. But perhaps he just was that weak in his new body.
And so, ignoring Miguel, Ben held the egg to his lips. Almost kissing it. His now blue eyes fixated on his shrunken and fattened step brother.
"I wish to trade cocks. So I can finally have that huge dick for myself," He said, loudly. Cackling afterwards, until he are the egg. "Enjoy mediocrity, fatty. I'll be the stud from now on!"
However, the very moment he swallowed, Miguel laughed too.
"I don't have a huge cock, you moron! I always used padding! You don't know what you've done!" Miguel said, barely eloquent as laughter interrupted his words. "Oh boy, what a blunder!"
Miguel fished the padding out of his pants, holding it up with triumph painted on his face. Horror struck Ben, who immediately dropped his pants and underwear down.
He still had his cock. Average, but thick. Heavy balls. It looked bigger given his newly trimmed pubes. But also smaller since his body was so large now. Overall, nothing impressive, but nothing to lament either.
But the image in front of his eyes soon shifted. His cock rapidly dwindled. From average, to small. From small, to tiny. From tiny, to ridiculous.
It was the most absurd thing Ben had ever seen. His cock may as well be a clit. Soft, it didn't even reach an inch. And even so, it was mostly foreskin. Ben stroked it, or tried to. But his big hands were hardly the best to do much with such a small cocklet.
As Ben saw his cock dwindle, and wondered how to even make himself go hard by touch, he barely was aware of how his heavy balls were also shrinking. The whole ball sack growing tight and small. Not that it mattered now. Having big balls wouldn't fix such a tiny cock.
"Don't worry, Ben. I can help you out," Miguel said, all smiles, his chubby hand reaching towards Ben's crotch. "I've out witted you, so you deserve some consolation. And I know just what you need."
Ben thought about protesting. He really did. But his new brain was too slow to actually come with any response. Indeed, he has opened his mouth to say something, when Miguel's warm hand began touching him. And what a touch! Clearly, Miguel knew exactly what to do.
What is he doing?! Oh Fuck! He's fingering my cock!
Miguel was using his thumb, pushing inside Ben's wrinkled foreskin. Caressing the head in such a sensual way, such a careful yet erotic way. Ben didn't know such a sensation was possible.
Soon, he was hard. And although he had grown plenty, his cock was still small. A micro dick by every measure. Hard, it didn't even reach three inches. Perhaps it barely surpassed two.
"Good boy," Miguel said, now stroking the cock he had awakened. "Let me make you cum. It's your consolation prize."
"How? Why?" Ben asked, between grunts and moans. "How is that I lost? I was the ome tricking you!"
Miguel laughed, his fingers never stopping to play with Ben's just acquired two incher.
"Oh, Ben. Isn't it obvious? You thought you were playing me. Getting my height, my muscles, my whiteness. I was dumb, certainly. But not such a moron I wouldn't have understood your little plan. It took me a while to figure out what you planned, I admit. Yet it was clear. You wanted to be me, and you were willing to trick me to achieve it. The issue was that you lacked important information, very important information."
Miguel smiled as he introduced his finger inside Ben's foreskin, caressing the sensitive head in such a way Ben almost fell to his knees.
"One, you didn't know I was gay. Two, you believed me to be a stud. I'm not. I'm a virgin, actually. I didn't fuck any twinks as I said earlier. Not outside of dreams and fantasies, that is. My cock was too small for that, even though I always had the confidence to flirt. Women and men wanted me, and I couldn't have them without revealing my embarrassing secret," Miguel then paused, although he was still pleasuring Ben. "Three, and most importantly, I've always been jealous of you. I always wanted to be a singer, to live for music. I never had the talent. My dad never let me learn, since I didn't show any promise. I was good at football. And so, that's what I did. Play football."
Miguel slowed his hand, looking up at Ben. The big guy was biting his lip. Trembling. So close to release.
"Don't get me wrong," Miguel's continued. "I liked football. But I didn't love it. I didn't put any effort on it. I wanted to be a singer, despite how foolish of a dream that was. So I refused to go along my father's plans. That's why I was almost always benched. Then, my father married your mother. And there you were. Free, with the talent I always coveted. Openly gay, and cute in such a sift nerdy way. In my former stupidity, I bullied you. Because I had the hots for you. And I knew you wanted me too. But I couldn't actually reach for you. Couldn't actually embrace my desire and fuck you senseless as I wanted."
"You wanted me?" Ben said, his deep voice breaking. He was so close. "Fuck, I didn't notice, bro. I wouldn't…"
"Of course you didn't. I was a jerk, seemingly a pussy hound, and relentless at teasing you. No, not even with your former intellect you would have figured it out. The clever thing about stupidity is that it doesn't follow logic, and thus, it can confused even the most brilliant. But we're going off topic, big guy."
Miguel's hand stopped altogether. Which was enough.
Ben came, falling to his knees with a loud moan. It felt as if he was shooting loads and loads of cum. He felt as if he was going to fill the room with his seed. Yet, as he opened his eyes, he realized his cum had been such a meager and watery amount, it barely looked white. It was almost transparent, and… It didn't make a mess at all.
Every drop had fallen on Miguel's palm. A pitiful embarrassing small amount. Miguel didn't waste a second to lick the cum while smirking and looking up at Ben.
"As I was saying, I desired you. But also envied you. I had never expected to actually get your life. And I was terrified of my wish actually coming true, regardless of how much I actually wanted it. As much as I envied you, I did love being me. Being me is awesome. I had distrust for the eggs, yet you dismissed my legitimate concerns. And then you made it so obvious you wanted to steal my life. Seriously, you didn't even complain out loud when I took your singing voice! And, well, since we both wanted the same thing, I played along. I wasn't expecting you to take our last chance to turn things back, although I hoped you would. I guessed you'd leave my cock for last. As a grand finale. A final fuck you to me. But I wasn't sure. I was open to bottom for you, if that was the case. Fortunately, things turned around in my favor. By your own hands…"
Miguel held Ben's face, looking at him tenderly.
"Now I have a real cock. Not the biggest perhaps, but more than I've ever had before. And I will use it. From this day you'll be my bitch. I'll help you be the best jock, the best football player, and the best bottom you could be. And I'll be the wondrous singer who'll fuck you until you forget your own name. Which won't be difficult, given your reduced intellect."
Thusly, as if to prove his own words, Miguel kissed Ben on the lips. Despite his height and muscle loss, he immediately took control of the kiss. While Ben, after the shock wore off, acquiesced and gave himself fully to his step brother.
Thanks to Mr. Hexum Chocolate Eggs, they had essentially become each other. Only their former names remained somewhat. Adapted to their new identities. Of course, they also finally had the truth. That they desired each other. That they were both gay.
In a way, they had fixed their little world. The truth was out, and both had gotten what they envied from the other. Talent, beauty, freedom, and more.
The box of chocolate eggs disappeared without any of the two noticing. Too worried about fucking for the first time to care about the now empty box. Perhaps it'll be found again next year by them. Or it'll wait for somebody else.
How neither Ben nor Miguel knew. And neither cared enough to figure it out. Despite how diametral their change had been, neither was disappointed.
The only real issue was how to explain their new romance to their parents. But Ben didn't worry much about it. Miguel certainly had the smarts to figure it out on his own.
"Listen, it won't be that bad, just relax." Elias said in a condescending tone.
"What do you mean not that bad?! You have no idea how much being your socks sucked. You never even washed me and kept me on for days! I can’t even imagine how bad it would be to be your underwear. I am sorry but I don’t want to do it!" you replied with a stern voice.
"Well, in that case I have bad news for you, because I don't really care what you want. You owe me and it is definitely too late to chicken out now." Elias said, while fidgeting with his phone, opening the TransformR app on his phone.
"No, Elias please! I beg you. I can't keep doing this. Every time you transform me it gets more difficult to keep sane."
"Well, tough luck I guess. You better get used to this, because if you keep bitching like that I might just keep you transformed! Anyway, you wasted enough of my time, see ya in a few weeks." With that Elias clicked the final button on his phone, sealing your fate for the upcoming weeks.
In front of him you collapsed into yourself, becoming hollow and turning white. You fell onto the floor, right in front of his stinking feet.
"Well then, let’s talk specifics. Duration, 5 weeks, senses enhanced, very absorbent, both liquid and gas. Perfect, I guess everything is set now. Let’s try you on for size." Elias said, bending down while undressing. You saw, as he flicked his still wet workout clothes straight into his clothes, instead of the washing machine, a fate, you were surely going to share in the next few weeks. He pulled his legs through your openings and you finally came into contact with his immense ass and junk. He did not shower after his workout, you were sure of that. With the enhanced senses you were forced to smell and taste every single one of his many inches of manhood, stinking of sweat and his ass reeking of musk.
"Let's see about that absorbing power of yours," Elias said, before going down to his knees and poking his ass out. A few seconds passed, then Elias farted right into you. Your torture intensified. In combination with the dried sweat and ass smell, you were now also bombarded with Elias’ foul gas. Not only that, but you absorbed every bit of it into your fibers, never truly going away, the smell always lingering…
"Nice, I can't smell anything. At least I don't have to be as careful with my protein farst, those are deadly. Anyway, you clearly absorb gas, what about liquid?" Elias said, lying down in his bed and opening his favourite websites. You felt, as Elias began to massage his dick through you. You could feel, smell, and especially taste his enormous member. You suffered with each stroke, feeling his veins pulsating through you. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a load of his cum exploded in your face. You could feel it, as it slowly seeped into your fibers as well, compounding the foul stench and taste. "Nice, I see we will have a lot of fun. Let's go for a run," Elias said, before getting up and getting dressed.
"Ads are getting so damn invasive." Lucas thought to himself, clicking skip on yet another pointless car commercial interrupting the video essay he was watching. "You think the algorithm would know its audience by now, I'm too gay to drive!"
He laughed a little bit at the joke, running a hand through his soft, bleached blonde hair. He was the epitome of a high-maintenance twink, with his smooth, hairless body and perfect sense of style. He was smart too and liked to boast about it, with a scholarship for his English Lit degree and being made President of his university's LGBT Chapter, which he was hoping to use as a stepping stone to become Student Body President next year.
Leaning back again in his chair he reached for his cellphone, seeing a text from his boyfriend Alex.
Alex: "Hey cutie, still busy with finals this weekend, but have time for a dinner date Sunday night?"
He smiled to himself, giving an eager text back to set it up, and to wish him well on his upcoming exams. "Ugh, I need to start studying too, Monday's going to be one hell of a final... I'll focus on it and head to the library after this video and-"
Just like that, his train of thought was interrupted again by a stupid ad, this time some obnoxious psychedelic visuals and a bad electric guitar riff blared out of his monitor. It startled him so badly that he seized up for a second, accidentally clicking the ad and being brought to their store page. "Broski's Bud's, one stop ship and shop for weed strains to fix your brain..." He rolled his eyes at the cringe marketing, getting ready to close the tab when a pop-up opened trying to tell him all about a deal he 'wouldn't want to miss out on'. "No thanks, stupid site, you can keep your Bro Buds or whatever to yourself." but every time he hit X on the popup another would open, being more and more insistent each time about new deals, until finally a desperate '90% OFF AND SPECIAL STARTER KIT AS A BONUS WITH YOUR FIRST PURCHASE' filled his screen. "FINE," he scoffed at his computer, "I'll take a look at the stupid site. My therapist suggested I try out weed to help lessen my anxiety anyways, so might as well get a good deal on it..."
Clicking the pop-up added the 'starter kit' to his cart, it was a pack of pre-rolled blunts and some sort of mystery box, but the description didn't help him understand it much either. "Get ready to step into the zone and open ur mind with this one bros, Broski's Buds bestselling strain, Toke 'n Stroke, is sure to change your life by stimulating a high never felt before! This isn't your sissy uncle's strain, this shit puts hair on your chest like a real man!"
"God this is so cringe, I bet they get all kinds of business marketing to the dumb jocks in town, no wonder their brains are mush. Still, it's just weed and for $20 I might as well give it a try, I probably won't find it cheaper anywhere else..." sitting in thought about it for a few seconds, Lucas finally filled in his payment info and placed his order, getting a free upgrade to same-day delivery since they seem to have a storefront a few miles from his apartment.
"Well, there goes my library plans I guess, I'll have to wait around for delivery since my package will probably get swiped otherwise..." Lucas sighed, turning off his computer and plopping down onto the couch, picking up his Switch to play Animal Crossing and kill time.
A few hours passed and the sky got dark before finally a long buzz came from his intercom. "Took them long enough, it's nearly 9pm!" he complained, putting his jacket on to head downstairs. When he got down there the delivery guy had already gotten into his car again, driving away and leaving Lucas to carry the package back upstairs all on his own. It was bigger than he expected, taking both hands to lift it and keep it stable. "Jesus, this thing must weight like 40 pounds! What did they put in here?"
After a bit of struggling and the occasional break to catch his breath, Lucas pushed his package into the living room, collapsing on the floor next to it for a while. "After that workout I'm surprised I don't look like the douchebags around campus." he laughed to himself, bouncing up to get a box cutter and pry his package open. After taking the carton of pre-rolled blunts out, he started into the box with a bit of confusion and disgust, pulling things out one after the other.
"A sleeveless tank top that says 'Toke 'n Stroke Bro'... A pair of douchey sunglasses... Some red gym shorts, socks and slides... Ew, a snapback saying 'Who ate all the pussy?', why the fuck would anyone wear this!... And 2 dumbbells, no wonder this thing was so heavy! All of this is useless shit that's gonna end up in a donation bin now, I'll have to drop this trashy stuff off tomorrow on my way to the library... But hey, at least the weed seems fine, smells... potent." He said, tossing everything back into the box and taking a whiff of one of the blunts.
Kicking back on the couch again, he played with the blunt in his hand for a while before finally having the courage to light it up, taking a hit. Immediately he started coughing, not used to the sensation, but it did make his brain start to feel... fuzzy. "Damn, okay I need to push past it and get used to it." he said, lighting up for another hit of the blunt, this time barely a cough escaping his throat, feeling suspiciously more used to it. Then another, and another, until finally the whole blunt was gone. Sitting in his daze for a while, he enjoyed the sensation of his mind drifting around experiencing the high, his anxiety melting away as if he didn't have a care in the world. Eventually he decided to try and get up, but his body slumped over off the couch and hitting the floor, the room fading to black...
...
When Lucas finally came to again, the first thing that hit him was the strong smell of weed floating around in the air. "Damn bro, did I smoke the whole set or what..." he laughed groggily, getting ready to stretch out and get back to laying on the couch before he was startled by the sound of moaning blasting from his TV, eyes shooting open in confusion. On the screen, two busty lesbians were making out, them taking turns groping each others boobs and fingering each other. "What the fuck bro, how long has this been on?" he cursed, nervous that the neighbors nextdoor might have heard it playing as he started desperately looking for the remote.
When he couldn't find it in the cushions, he got up from the couch only to be met with his feet kicking a bunch of empty beer cans. "Dude, there's gotta be 2 dozen thrown all over the floor, did I have a party or something? I don't even know anyone who drinks beer..." he mumbled, going to scratch his head in confusion, but was even more confused when instead of his hair he felt a hat on top of his head. "Huh?" he thought, as he looked down at the floor again, noticing that instead of his skinny jeans and converse he was now wearing the socks and slides from the box, along with the sleeveless tank top and the shorts too. He stumbled his way to the bathroom door still baked out of his mind, mouth dropping open at his reflection in the full-length mirror in front of him.
"Broooo, am I dreaming or what the fuckkkk is going on" he said in disbelief. No more was the cute, pale twink he used to be staring back at him. Instead, a douchey bro he didn't recognize was standing face to face with him. Tanned skin, pillowy muscles, his once blonde hair turned into a brown buzz cut and with that stupid "Who ate all the pussy?" hat slapped over it. He touched his face, feeling along his chin where his once smooth skin now had a rougher texture, and a trashy chinstrap sprouted from his jawline. He slapped his face a few times in his daze, trying to wake up from the dream and growing more confused each time nothing changed.
Turning around and staggering back to his living room to try and make sense of what's going on, it hit him that he barely recognizes the room anymore. His apartment used to be perfectly maintained and well-decorated, now there was beer cans all over the floor, along with dirty socks and cummed-in underwear, greasy pizza boxes and chip bags all over the table and counter, the decorations on his walls had been torn down and replaced with posters of chicks in bikinis and sports teams, his Switch replaced with an X-Box and a stack of COD games next to it, DVD cases of trashy bro-comedies were thrown around near the TV too... Then the smell hit him, it STUNK in here, like a sickening mixture of weed, cheap body spray, and sour BO wafting in a heat around the room. "Bro, it fucking reeks in here... Or wait..." he mumbled as he gave himself a whiff, "I fucking reek!"
After a bit of stunned silence he finally started to process things in his brain again. How the fuck did he get like this, was any of this even real, and how does he get back to normal? He plopped back onto the couch, picking up his phone to see he had a handful of missed texts and calls from his boyfriend before noticing the time... 2:00pm. On Sunday. He had somehow been blacked out for 2 whole nights, with no memory of anything that had happened. While getting ready to call his boyfriend back, Lucas felt his insides rumbling and at first he thought it was from the munchies because of all the weed, but then he realized "Oh bro, all that double-cheese pizza is really gonna fucking..."
*PHRRRBBBTTT!*
His body instinctively lifted its leg as it pushed out the loudest and most obnoxious fart he'd ever ripped in his life, as his body seemed to react on its own, letting out an immature laugh and wafting the air before muttering "Fuck yeah bro, smells like victory!" He leaned back into the couch, remembering he needed to call Alex, but the loud moaning on the TV caught him off guard again. This time he locked eyes with the screen, the cock in his shorts immediately bulging and straining at the sight of the lesbian porn before him. "I really need to turn this shit off and get whatever's going on sorted out..." he thought, but he realized he couldn't move his hand to reach for his phone, instead it reacted on its own, reaching down his waistband to pull out his cock and start stroking for the busty babes on TV.
"All I do is Toke 'n Stroke, bro..." a voice in his head seemed to say, except it didn't come from within, he spoke it directly out of his own mouth.
"Wait, I didn't say that bro, it's-" he tried to talk, realizing that his thoughts echoed around stuck in his own head, not even leaving the lips of his own body. He was just stuck there, watching in a dazed horror as he went on autopilot.
"Toke 'n Stroke bro, I'm such a loyal customer Broski's Buds will HAVE to take me as a hype boy this time haha!" his voice spoke again, continuing to stroke for the porn on TV, Lucas's eyes stuck fixed on the screen. Suddenly though, he was interrupted by his phone vibrating, a text from his boyfriend coming through.
Alex: "Hey cutie, I hope everything is alright? You haven't answered my calls or texts in a couple days, I know it's busy with all your studying but we do still have dinner planned for tonight. Still on for me to pick you up at 5?"
"Oh thank God," Lucas thought, reading the message, "I can tell him what's going on and have him come over to help me fix this shit!" Unlocking his phone, Lucas let out a sigh of relief as he got ready to reply, only for his body to still be taken over by whatever douchey daze it was stuck in.
Lucas: "dont u ever come around me u faggy creep, if me or my bros ever catch u within 100 feet of us we'll give u the beating of a lifetime! fuck around n find out if u dare to show ur face here."
Lucas screamed internally as the message was typed out and sent in front of his very eyes, before his hand moved to block his boyfriend's number and turn his phone off. "Something is seriously fucking wrong with me bro, I need to-"
*PHHRRRRBBBTTTTTT*
Another obnoxious and sickening fart blasted out of his ass, filling the room and breaking Lucas's thoughts down into a daze again, as he felt around under the couch for something before pulling a sweaty, well-used fuck toy of a girls ass and pussy up from the mess.
As Lucas once again locked eyes with the TV, he took another hit from his dwindling blunt stash, finishing up the last one. After throwing what was left onto the floor, he prepared the fuck toy and slid it right down onto his cock, starting to bounce the toy up and down as he edged himself closer to finishing.
"If I can't figure out a way to snap out of this, I'm so fucked..." he thought, as his voice spoke again. "Toke 'n Stroke bro, this chick is soooo getting fucked!" He moaned, as he shot his thick load into the toy, feeling some of his braincells permanently shoot out with it, sloppily wiping the mess on the cushion next to him as he laid back, feeling his insides start to bubble again.
Lucas had a lot of Bro Time to catch up on, but luckily his new favorite weed strain was making sure that he was a captive audience until he was fully converted and assimilated into just another Bro.
"FUCKING TWAT! You really thought I wanted to be your fella?"
Lance laughed looking at his newly acquired VANS.
"How's that face feel? Made sure the insoles are your face, so my sweaty damp feet an socks mold round your face constantly! Get used to this, the change was permanent, you tosspot!"
Lance heads off for a casual 15 mile run in his VANS. He already forgot the name of the guy he changed.
Mark new he needed to do whatever he could to win his next Match so he texted his 2 gym buddies Jason and Todd to come over to his place.
Mark had a special gift that’s been in his family for generations he could turn other people into clothes and use there energy for himself.
Once they arrive he make quick work off it turning them into his new socks.
Jason is the first one to start shrinking his limbs fuse together as his skin turns to black cotton he can’t close his mouth anymore forming the opening for the sock. Falling down he can’t move looking just like any other sock, mark fetches him from the ground sliding him over his big sweaty feet.
Immediately feeling the energy he gets from wearing only one sock Mark waisted no time picking up Todd slipping him on his other foot.
Mark feels so strong having his 2 gym buddies on his feet! After the competition that he won offcours it felt so good being so strong he couldn’t give up that feeling, looking down at his socks they still look like new but started to smell, sorry mates but this is going to be the last time I ever speek to you, you 2 feel so good on my feet I just can’t give you up so your staying as my socks permanent! Hope you like the smell it is only going to get worse from here on.
Hey, love your stories! Could you write one about a guy who hates his body and buys a skin suit to become bigger and hairier? Maybe he doesn’t read the fine print, takes a hot bath, and gets stuck like that forever?
(Oh I like that idea and thank you for taking part of MorphoSkin Industries deluxe service)
Tobias Model #3224.
Package Arrived!
Okay, so I finally did it. After weeks of obsessing over the MorphoSkin Industries site, I pulled the trigger. My Deluxe Identity Series body suit arrived this morning, and let me tell you, the box was way heavier than I expected. They ship it in this sleek, all-black container with "MorphoSkin—A New You Awaits" printed in silver. Fancy.
Ripped it open, and there he was: Tobias Model #3224.
6'3", built like a truck, covered in thick body hair, and rocking a solid dad bod. Exactly what I wanted. Something bigger. Something different. My real self? 5'9", kinda scrawny, patchy facial hair that never grows in right. But Tobias? He’s got that rugged, burly look—hairy chest, thick forearms, the kind of guy who owns a flannel and actually looks good in it.
I found the instruction booklet (didn't read it, let’s be real) and just went straight for the good stuff
The inside of the suit was... weird. Cool to the touch, kind of like putting on damp silk, but it moved when I stretched it. I pulled it over my legs first, feeling them thicken as I stepped in. My thighs ballooned, my calves stretched, and when I flexed my toes, I felt calluses that weren’t mine.
I tugged it up over my stomach, and whoa. Instant gut. It even jiggled when I moved. I gave it a little slap—solid, thick. Damn.
Pulling the arms in was surreal. My fingers got beefier, veins popping under the skin, knuckles bigger, hair covering my forearms. The weight of it felt right, like I’d been in the wrong body my whole life.
And the face?
Lining it up took a second, but once it was on, I felt a sharp tingle from my scalp down my spine. My vision blurred, ears popped, and suddenly… I was Tobias. Deep brown eyes stared back at me in the mirror. A strong, squared-off jaw covered in thick stubble. My neck even felt thicker. I ran my hands through my now wild, unkempt hair and let out a deep, rumbling laugh that wasn’t mine.
"Holy shit."
After pacing around, flexing my new muscles, admiring the way my hairy stomach peeked out under my stretched-out shirt, I decided to celebrate the best way possible:
A long, hot bath.
I turned the water on full blast, watching steam fill the bathroom as I stripped off the last of my clothes. God, everything felt so heavy in the best way. My arms rested on my belly, fingers idly scratching at the coarse hair now covering my chest. This body was made for lounging.
Sinking into the water was heaven. The heat wrapped around me, seeping into my new muscles, making them ache in the most satisfying way. I stretched out, letting my thick fingers drag lazily over the surface of the water, feeling completely at peace.
I lost track of time. The steam, the warmth, the weight of this body settling in—it was perfect.
Eventually, I forced myself to stand, water sloshing off my broad frame. I grabbed a towel, rubbing it over my arms, my chest—except something felt… different.
The suit usually had a slight give to it, almost like a second layer of skin. But now? It wasn’t moving.
I frowned, pressing a hand against my stomach. No shift. No subtle detachment. Just me.
I moved to the mirror, wiping away the condensation. Tobias’ face stared back at me, as expected—but there was no seam, no subtle ridge where my real face should be beneath. I reached up, pressing at my jaw, my cheekbones, even behind my ears.
Nothing.
I tried pinching at my wrist, where I knew the access point was supposed to be. The skin didn’t budge. I dug my nails in harder, trying to find an edge, a weak spot—anything.
My breathing picked up.
"No. No, no, no—this was temporary. Just a temporary malfunction. I just needed to let it cool down, right?"
I paced the bathroom, my heavy footsteps thudding against the tile. My arms swung at my sides, the thick forearms, the hairy knuckles—it all felt too real now.
I snatched up the instruction booklet, my hands trembling slightly as I flipped through the pages. Then, I saw it:
"DO NOT EXPOSE SUIT TO EXTREME HEAT FOR EXTENDED PERIODS. High temperatures may cause permanent fusion with the host."
The booklet slipped from my fingers.
Permanent...
I looked back at the mirror, at the deep brown eyes that were no longer borrowed but mine. My broad shoulders, my thick-fingered hands. Tobias's body.
This was me.
I took a deep breath, watching my massive chest rise and fall. I ran a hand through my thick, unruly hair, scratching at the beard I hadn’t earned but now owned. My voice rumbled out in a nervous chuckle—except it wasn’t nervous.
It was satisfied.
I swallowed hard. Maybe this wasn’t the worst thing. I wanted to be Tobias, didn’t I?
