#top indo

[aindomen]

Vengeful Takeover

The cause of the delay for the Reza series. Suddenly I'm distracted LOL

Bayu wiped the sweat from his brow as he skimmed the last bits of debris from the villa's infinity pool. The sun beat down on his scrawny frame, his faded gray t-shirt clinging to his narrow shoulders. At twenty-four, he is the villa's full-time pool cleaner, gardener, and all-around "babu" for the wealthy Santoso family from Jakarta. Most of the family only visited during holidays, but the eldest son, Chand, had moved here permanently to Bali.

Tall, kind-hearted Chand treated Bayu like a human being—offering cold drinks, decent pay, and even casual chats about football. But Chand's boyfriend, Ken, is a different story altogether

Ken visited often, and when Chand was away in Jakarta on business, Ken made sure Bayu knew his place.

"Faster with those leaves, babu," Ken would sneer, lounging by the pool in designer shades, his muscular chest glistening under an open white shirt. Ken is built like a god—broad shoulders, ripped abs, a thick gold medallion hanging between his perfect pecs. He loved flexing subtly while ordering Bayu around, reminding him how lucky a poor local like him was to even step foot on the property.

"Don't forget, you're here to serve. Chand's too soft on jongos like you."

Bayu bit his tongue every time. He needed this job. The small room behind the garage of the compound is his home, and the money kept his family fed back in the village. But the resentment simmered.

"Why is the world so cruel?" Bayu muttered to himself, clenching his fists in his bedroom. "People like Ken get everything—money, looks, a boyfriend like Chand who turns a blind eye—and they treat people like me like dirt. I work from sunrise to sunset, keeping this place perfect, and for what? So that arrogant asshole can call me 'babu' and laugh about how I belong scrubbing floors? Chand is nice, sure... but he's so naive. He never sees how his own boyfriend treats me like shit when he's not around. Chand is a fucking enabler, he might as well be a fucking vapid and stupid nepo baby as the rest of those rich kids friends of his for all I care. And Ken? He deserves karma. Real karma. To lose everything and know what it's like to be powerless."

Bayu sighed, the weight of his powerless life pressing down. He wished for a sign, for justice, for the kind of strength that would let him flip the script. Little did he know, it's coming.

One afternoon, Chand is on a business trip again for a few days. Ken claimed the sunbed by the pool, shirt half-open, black shorts riding low on his V-lines, the heavy gold medallion catching the light as he dozed off with his mouth slightly open.

Bayu approached quietly with his net, pretending to work. Up close, Ken looked even more imposing—sharp jaw, faint stubble, the kind of body that turned heads everywhere. But today, something feels off. The medallion hummed faintly, almost glowing with an inner light only Bayu seemed to notice.

Bayu's hand moved before his brain can stop it. He reached down, fingers brushing warm skin, and lifted the chain. The medallion comes free with a soft click. Ken's body twitched once, then... changed.

The transformation is instant and horrifyingly beautiful. Ken's sculpted muscles deflated like a balloon losing air. His broad chest sank inward, shoulders narrowing, arms thinning into weak twigs. The sharp jaw softened into a rounder, acne-speckled face. His expensive haircut receded into a plain buzz cut. Within seconds, the arrogant hunk is no longer there, replaced by a scrawny, awkward nerd in oversized clothes that now hung loosely on his diminished frame. Wait......what the fuck??? Isn't this the guy that previously worked in Bayu's place before he came to replace him because the guy is a creep and love to take little cash or trinkets belonged to the Santoso's? Bayu's memory and head is spinning from confusion as reality re-aligned itsel. Fuck......this is the truth. This man and this medallion is causing some fucked up shit that rearranged reality for everyone. The man stirred, blinking in confusion, looking around the luxurious villa like he'd never seen it for a while from that new vantage point.

Bayu stared, heart pounding. A warm, electric aura pulsed from the medallion in his palm. Ancient power, hungry and alive. Whispers filled his mind—promises of strength, wealth, dominance. He glanced at the pathetic figure on the sunbed. This is his chance.

Without hesitation, Bayu slipped the chain over his head. The medallion settled against his chest, burning hot. Fire exploded through his veins.

Bayu gasped, dropping to his knees beside the pool. His skinny arms thickened first—biceps ballooning outward, veins popping as muscle fibers multiplied and hardened. His narrow shoulders cracked and widened with audible pops, deltoids swelling into cannonballs. His chest heaved, pecs pushing forward into thick, striated slabs that stretched his t-shirt to its limits before the fabric tore down the front with a loud rip. Abs etched themselves in deep rows, eight-pack emerging where there had been nothing. His legs lengthened and thickened, quads exploding with power, calves diamond-hard.

He grew taller, from 5'7" to a commanding 6'2". His face reshaped—jaw sharpening into a chiseled masterpiece, cheekbones rising, lips fuller, eyes darkening with arrogant confidence. His black hair simply realigned itself into a trendy buzzcut. Sweat poured down his new, tanned, hairless torso, highlighting every ridge of his godlike physique. The gold medallion is now glowing triumphantly against his massive pecs as ribbed white tanktop appeared to wrap his physique

Reality bent around him like warm clay.

The villa's ownership papers in his mind shifted. He isn't Bayu anymore. He is Bryan Santoso—only child of the Santoso family, spoiled heir who spent his days partying in Bali, working out, and enjoying his inheritance. The pool cleaner that disrespectfully lounged on the sun bed in front of him now? Some local guy named Hendra.

The former Ken—now back to his original self of Hendra—blinked up at him, eyes wide with fear and confusion. The medallion's power surged through Bryan, and he focused it like a weapon.

"You never knew about the medallion," Bryan commanded, his voice now deep and commanding. "You are always the weak poolboy here. Hired help. Nothing more."

Hendra's expression glazed over. Eyes turned white. Mouth agape. Memories of his short life as Ken, of being Chand's boyfriend, of taunting Bayu—they dissolved. He then droned on to then stand up shakily before snapping back to full consciousness, the oversized clothes now comically large on his pathetic frame. "S-sir... I should get back to cleaning the pool," Hendra mumbled, grabbing a net with trembling hands.

Bryan smirked, flexing his new biceps casually. Power coursed through him. But he is far from finished.

Chand is due back that evening. Bryan lounged in the exact spot where Hendra had been, now wearing an open white linen shirt that barely contained his massive chest and black shorts that hugged his powerful thighs. The gold medallion gleamed. When Chand's car pulled up, Bryan is ready.

Chand walked in, handsome as always, carrying a small bag. "Ken? You here?" he called out.

"Over here, babe," Bryan said smoothly, his voice dripping with entitlement.

Chand froze, staring at the muscular stranger who looked vaguely familiar. "Who... who are you? Where's Ken? And why do you look like—"

The medallion flared. Bryan's eyes locked onto Chand's. "I'm Bryan. Your boyfriend. Your everything. You've always belonged to me. Ken never existed. You're my dumb, obedient cock-whore living in my compound because you are a close family friend. You live to serve this body. My muscles. My cock. Nothing else matters,"

Chand's resistance crumbled in seconds. His eyes dulled, a vacant, adoring smile spreading across his face. Intelligence faded from his gaze, replaced by pure, horny devotion. He dropped his bag and approached, hands already reaching for Bryan's chest. "Bryan... Master... you're so fucking hot," Chand whispered, voice thick and simple. He pressed his face against Bryan's pecs, inhaling deeply, tongue flicking out to taste the sweat.

Bryan laughed, deep and cocky, running a hand through Chand's hair. He grabbed a fistful and ruffled it possessively, just like in his new memories of countless afternoons by the pool. Chand moaned happily, sinking to his knees between Bryan's spread thighs. The former kind son of the house was gone—now just a brainless slut eager to worship.

Hendra shuffled by with the pool net, head down. "Pool's almost done, Sir Bryan."

"Well, that's your job, do I need to compliment you for you doing the bare minimum, babu?" Bryan said dismissively, not even looking at him. He pulled Chand's head lower, freeing his massive, throbbing cock from the black shorts. Chand dove in eagerly, sucking with sloppy, enthusiastic devotion, eyes rolled back in mindless bliss.

Bryan's body feels electric. Every flex sent pleasure through him. He watched his reflection in the pool's calm surface—the perfect jock, abs rippling, medallion bouncing with each thrust into Chand's willing throat. The power is intoxicating. He had drained everything from them and claimed it as his birthright.

Later that evening, as the sun dipped low, Bryan lounged on the sunbed with Chand curled against his side, drooling happily over his abs. Hendra finished his tasks and stood awkwardly nearby, awaiting orders.

"Bring us drinks, poolboy," Bryan commanded lazily. Hendra scurried off.

Bryan looked down at Chand, who is now mindlessly kissing and licking his gold medallion. "You're mine forever, whore."

"Yes, Bryan... I'm forever your dumb whore," Chand mumbled, eyes empty and adoring.

The magic settled fully into reality. Bryan Santoso is the king of this compound—rich, muscular, untouchable. He had transformed from the lowly babu into the ultimate alpha, and the former bullies now served him perfectly. As he ruffled Chand's hair again, pulling him up for a deep, dominating kiss, Bryan smiled at his reflection. The medallion pulsed warmly, promising even more fun in the days ahead.

[aindomen]

The soft glow of the bedside lamp bathed the modest rented room in warm amber. Rian sat propped against the worn wooden headboard, his damp black hair falling messily over his forehead. He wears nothing but a pair of loose gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips, the thin fabric doing little to hide the sculpted lines of his body. A light sheen of sweat still glistened across his chest and abs.

To the world, Rian is the perfect good boy—polite, soft-spoken, always ready with a shy smile and a helping hand. The kind of young man neighbors praised as “anak baik” who would never dream of anything improper.

But deep inside that flawless, tempting body, something far darker lurked.

Old Pak Jaya, a retired 68-year-old widower from the same kampung, had been dead for three months. Or at least, his body had. His mind, however, had found a new home—sliding into the young, virile form of Rian during a freak accident at the neighborhood prayer hall. No one suspected a thing. The boy’s family simply thought their son had “matured overnight,” becoming more confident, more disciplined… and strangely eager to spend time alone in his room.

Right now, Pak Jaya is the one in full control, lounging in Rian’s perfect skin like it's the finest luxury he’d ever stolen.

He runs a wrinkled soul’s gaze over the reflection in the small mirror: those broad shoulders, the tight six-pack glistening with sweat, the deep V-line disappearing into the sweatpants. A low, raspy chuckle—inaudible to anyone else—echoed only in his stolen mind.

“Still can’t believe this body is mine,” the old pervert whispered internally, voice thick with decades of suppressed lust. His (Rian’s) hand slowly trailed down the smooth, muscular chest, fingers deliberately circling one nipple, then sliding lower to trace the ridges of the abs he now owned. The sensation of young, firm flesh under his command sent a filthy thrill through what remained of his old soul.

Outside, Rian’s face still wears that innocent, boyish smile—bright eyes crinkling gently, lips curved in harmless charm. No one will ever guess that behind those eyes sit a dirty old man who spent hours every night exploring every inch of this stolen temple of youth. Touching, squeezing, admiring the way the muscles flexed and the skin flushed under his control. The devil’s temptation isn’t the body itself… it's the lecherous mind puppeteering it from within.

Pak Jaya flexed Rian’s biceps experimentally, watching the vein pop under the smooth skin, then let the hand drift even lower, tugging at the waistband of the sweatpants with shameless greed.

“Good boy on the outside,” he thought with a wicked internal grin, already feeling the familiar heat building. “But this old pervert is the one holding the reins. And tonight… I think I’ll play with my new toy a little longer.”

The innocent smile never left Rian’s face as the old man inside reveled in his secret, sinful control.

[aindomen]

Posing as your older brother when he's working in the office is one thing, but creating a Tiktok account and entirely creating a persona of your brother online that is completely far different from his real personality and monetize it for your own benefit......that's an entirely different league of impersonation. The comments simply don't help your obsession to constantly maintain his look, you're starting to think what if you just get rid of him entirely and assume his identity for good.....

[aindomen]

AI-generated story with revision

Gue kebangun dengan jantung berdegup kencang. Kepala pusing seperti habis ditabrak truk. Tubuh terasa... ringan. Terlalu ringan. Biasanya bangun tidur, perut gue yang gembul langsung terasa berat, napas sesak, dan paha-paha berlemak saling gesek. Tapi kali ini? Gue ngerasa... kuat. Otot-otot yang tegang di bawah kulit, pinggang ramping, dan... sialan, dada ini kerasa padat.

Gue buka mata perlahan dan gue ternyata bahkan udah berdiri. Gue ada di dalam kamar mandi marmer abu-abu. Cermin besar di depan dan di cermin itu...

Bukan gue

Bukan wajah bulat penuh jerawat yang biasa gue liat setiap pagi. Ini wajah tajam, rahang tegas, bibir penuh yang sekarang tersenyum lebar tanpa sadar. Rambut hitam acak-acakan tapi tetap keren. Tubuh tinggi, bahu lebar, lengan berotot dari latihan bela diri yang jelas-jelas gak bakal bisa dilakuin pecundang kayak gue

Gue.... ada di tubuh Revan.

Revan. Si pembully utama gue di kampus. Yang dulu suka ngejek badanku di depan cewek-cewek dengan bilang

"Gendut loe kayak babi, mana ada cewek mau liat loe telanjang?" Yang otaknya penuh dengan kelakuan dan obrolan misoginis serta merendahkan, mulutnya kotor, tapi tubuhnya... Tuhan, tubuh penuh dosanya ini sekarang jadi milik gue???

Tangan kanan gue masih memegang iPhone dengan kamera depan menyala. Gue sedang selfie di depan cermin. Dia lagi pakai hoodie Supreme hitam yang longgar tapi tetap nunjukin bentuk dada dan perut six-pack samar. Baunya......astaga.....ini pure seks. Kayaknya dia ngocok atau numpahin cum di hoodie ini, nyampur semua antara keringet, parfum Dior Sauvage dan entah berapa lama gak dicuci ini hoodie. Celana jeans sagging juga sama ini fix dipake ngewe atau semacamnya dan pinggang celana dalam PSD putih keliatan. Bokong yang kencang. Paha yang berotot. Dan di antara selangkangan.....

Sial. Ini ngaceng banget. Ini kontol monster......

Gue natep bayangan di cermin dengan napas tersengal. Mulut gue—mulut Revan—terbuka lebar, senyum genit yang biasa dia pakai buat ngerayu cewek. Tapi sekarang senyum itu keluar dari dalam diri gue dan gue gemeteran....bukan, bukan karena gugup, libido yang mendadak membanjiri otak ini gila-gilaan. Seumur hidup gue cuma bisa ngocok di kamar sambil liat bokep, sekarang tubuh ini kayak mesin seks kelas kakap.

"Sagapung banget," gue gumamkan dengan suara Revan yang dalam dan seksi. Tangan kiri gue tanpa sadar turun ke perut, mengusap otot perut yang keras. Kulitnya panas. Setiap sentuhan bikin listrik nyetrum ke selangkangan. Kontol di dalam celana dalam ini...... gede. Panjang. Berat. Udah ngaceng maksimal sampe kepala kontolnya ngepress kain hoodie.

Gue ingat semua. Kemarin gue masih di kamar kosanku yang bau apek, badan 110 kg, nonton bokep sambil coli sambil nangis karena nggak ada cewek yang mau sama gue. Malamnya tidur dengan doa aneh, "Kalo bisa gue jadi cowok hot..." Dan sekarang? Gue bangun di tubuh Revan.

Tangan kananku masih pegang HP, rekam video selfie tanpa sadar. Aku angkat hoodie pelan-pelan, nunjukin perut six-pack yang berkeringat tipis.

"Fuck... ini beneran badan gue sekarang?"

Gue tarik hoodie ke atas sampe dada. Putingnya kecil dan keras. Gue cubit pelan, dan langsung mendesah keras. "Aaaahh... enak banget." Suara gue—suara Revan—kedengeran kayak erangan porno. Libido ini nggak ketampung. Stamina bela diri yang dia punya sekarang jadi milikku. Aku bisa ngerasain otot paha menegang, bokong kencang, dan kontol yang berdenyut-denyut minta dilepasin.

Aku turun ke bawah. Buka kancing jeans pelan-pelan. Celana dalam PSD ketat banget karena boner. Aku tarik ke bawah. Plop. Kontol Revan—kontol gue sekarang—loncat keluar. Panjangnya minimal 18 cm, tebal, urat-urat menonjol, kepala merah mengkilap udah basah precum. Gue genggem dengan tangan kanan. Panas. Berat. Berdenyut kuat.

"Oh my god..." gue mulai gerakin tangan naik turun pelan. Rasanya beda banget dari kontol gemuk gue dulu. Ini sensitif banget. Setiap usapan bikin lutut lemes. Gue tatep cermin, liat wajah hot ini lagi mendesah, mata setengah merem, bibir terbuka, gue jadi ngeuh kenapa Revan dulu selalu pede. Tubuh ini memang dibuat buat ngentot dan dia jadinya pede mampus ngebawa diri dia kemana-mana

Bayangan mulai dateng. Gue bayangin Revan yang asli—pembully misoginis itu—pasti sering ngentot cewek di kamar mandi kampus. Sekarang gue yang di dalam tubuhnya. Gue ngebayangin cewek-cewek yang dulu dia ajak ngebully gue, yang dia bilang "pelacur" atau "cuma buat coli". Sekarang gue bisa bayangin mereka ngeliat tubuh ini, minta dientot.

Tangan kiri gue meremas bola-bola yang penuh. Berat. Penuh mani. Gue percepat gerakan.

"Ahh... fuck... enak... kontol gue gede banget..." Gue ngomong kotor pake mulut Revan. Otaknya yang misoginis kayak ikut nimbrung. "Gue mau entot semua cewek di kampus ini yang bagi gue hot... mereka pada ngiler liat tubuh gue ini..."

Gue angkat satu kaki ke wastafel, biar lebih leluasa. Posisi itu bikin otot paha dan bokong keliatan jelas di cermin. Gue jadinya malah coli lebih agresif. Tangan naik turun cepet. Precum udah netes-netes ke lantai marmer. Gue ngeliat bayangan diri sendiri—cowok hot, hoodie naik, kontol gede nongol, lagi coli gila-gilaan, kayak binatang coy.....

Sensasinya naik cepet. Stamina bela diri ini bikin aku tahan lama, tapi libido "sagapung" ini terlalu kuat. Aku mendesah keras, suara Revan bergema di kamar mandi. "Aaaahh... mau keluar... mau muncrat..."

Gue bayangin lagi: Gue (di tubuh Revan) lagi ngentot cewek di depan cermin ini. Dia ngerangkak, bokongnya ke belakang, gue pegang pinggul dia yang ramping untuk gue kontrol, kontol masuk keluar cepet. "Lo suka kontol gue yang gede ini, kan? Dulu lo ngejek gue gemuk, sekarang lo minta dientot sama tubuh gue!"

Gue nggak tahan lagi. Tubuh ini kejang. Otot perut six-pack menegang keras. Kontol berdenyut kuat-kuat.

Byurrr!

Muncrat pertama panjang banget, nyembur ke cermin. Putih kental. Muncrat kedua, ketiga, keempat... Gue erus coli sambil ngeliat mani Revan—mani yang sekarang jadi punya gue—nempel di cermin dan lantai. Banyak. Bau maskulin. Gue orgasme hampir 30 detik lamanya. Lutut gemeteran.

Gue ambruk sedikit ke dinding, masih pegang kontol yang masih setengah ngaceng. Napas ngos-ngosan. Senyum puas di wajah cermin.

Gue ambil HP, matiin rekaman. Foto selfie tadi masih ada. Tubuh hot ini lagi senyum lebar, hoodie agak berantakan, celana turun, kontol masih basah. Gue kirim ke diri sendiri (nomor lama gue) dengan caption:

"Lo dulu gemuk. Sekarang gue hot. Dan gue bakal pake tubuh ini buat balas dendam... sambil ngentot semua yang lo suka."

Gue cuci tangan, tapi nggak langsung mandi. Masih ada sisa libido. Gue liat tubuh ini lagi di cermin. Masih keras. Stamina bela diri emang kelas kakap.

Gue mulai lagi. Kali ini duduk di closet, kaki lebar, tangan kerja lebih pelan. Gue mau nikmatin setiap detik jadi Revan.

Selama berjam-jam di kamar mandi itu, gue coli berkali-kali. Bayangin skenario demi skenario. Dari missionary sambil liat wajah hot ini di cermin, doggy sambil tarik rambut cewek, sampe cowgirl di mana ceweknya naik di atas six-pack ini. Otak misoginis Revan bikin fantasi semakin kotor: "Semua cewek cuma lubang buat kontol gue."

Saat matahari mulai terbit, gue akhirnya keluar kamar mandi. Tubuh masih basah keringat dan mani. Tapi senyum gue lebar karena gue bukan pecundang gemuk lagi. Gue Revan Argantara Atmaja sekarang.

---

I woke up with my heart pounding hard. My head was spinning like I’d been hit by a truck. My body felt… light. Too light. Usually when I woke up, my big fat belly felt heavy, my breathing was labored, and my thick thighs rubbed against each other. But this time? I felt… strong. Muscles tense under the skin, a narrow waist, and… fuck, this chest felt solid.

I opened my eyes slowly. A gray marble bathroom. A large mirror in front. And in that mirror…

It wasn’t me.

It wasn’t the round, acne-covered face I usually saw every morning. This was a sharp face, strong jawline, full lips now smiling widely without control. Messy black hair that still looked cool. A tall body, broad shoulders, muscular arms from martial arts training that clearly didn’t belong to a loser like me.

I… was in Revan’s body.

Revan. My main bully at campus. The guy who used to mock my body in front of girls, saying shit like “You’re a fat pig, who the hell would want to see you naked?” The one with a brain full of misogyny, a filthy mouth, but a body that… God, this body was now mine.

My right hand was still holding an iPhone with the front camera on. I was taking a mirror selfie. A loose black Supreme hoodie that still showed the shape of my chest and faint six-pack. Low-slung jeans, and the waistband of my BOSS underwear visible. A firm ass. Muscular thighs. And between my legs…

Fuck. I was rock hard.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, breathing heavily. My mouth—Revan’s mouth—was open wide, wearing that flirty smirk he used to seduce girls. But now that smirk was coming from inside me. I was trembling. The sudden flood of libido into this brain was insane. All my life I could only jerk off in my room while watching porn, but now this body felt like a high-class sex machine.

“So fucking horny I can’t hold it,” I muttered in Revan’s deep, sexy voice. My left hand unconsciously moved down to my abs, stroking the hard muscles. The skin was hot. Every touch sent electricity straight to my crotch. The cock inside these underwear… was huge. Long. Heavy. Already fully erect and pressing hard against the hoodie fabric.

I remembered everything. Yesterday I was still in my smelly boarding house room, 110 kg body, watching porn and crying while jerking off because no girl wanted me. That night I slept with a weird prayer, “If only I could become a hot guy…” And now? I woke up in Revan’s body.

My right hand was still holding the phone, unconsciously recording a video selfie. I slowly lifted the hoodie, revealing my six-pack abs glistening with a thin layer of sweat. “Fuck… is this really my body now?”

I pulled the hoodie higher until it reached my chest. My nipples were small and hard. I pinched them lightly and immediately moaned loudly. “Aaaahh… that feels so good.” My voice—Revan’s voice—sounded like straight-up porn. This libido was uncontainable. The martial arts stamina he had was now mine. I could feel my thigh muscles tightening, my firm ass, and my throbbing cock begging to be released.

I moved lower. Slowly unbuttoned my jeans. The BOSS underwear was stretched tight from my massive boner. I pulled it down. Plop. Revan’s cock—my cock now—sprang out. At least 18 cm long, thick, veiny, with a glistening red head already leaking precum. I grabbed it with my right hand. Hot. Heavy. Pulsing strongly.

“Oh my god…” I started stroking up and down slowly. It felt completely different from my old fat cock. This one was extremely sensitive. Every stroke made my knees weak. I stared at the mirror, watching this hot face moaning, eyes half-closed, lips parted. I realized why Revan used to be so confident. This body was literally made for fucking.

I lifted one leg onto the sink for better access. That position made my thighs and ass look even more defined in the mirror. I stroked faster. “Ahh… fuck… it feels so good… my cock is so big…” I talked dirty using Revan’s mouth. His misogynistic brain seemed to join in. “I’m gonna fuck every girl on campus… they’ll be drooling over this body…”

I imagined Revan—the original misogynistic bully—fucking girls in campus bathrooms. Now it was me inside his body. I pictured the girls he used to bully alongside me. The ones he called “sluts” or “only good for jerking off to.” Now I could imagine them seeing this body and begging to be fucked.

My left hand squeezed my heavy balls. Full of cum. I sped up. “Aaaahh… I’m gonna cum… I’m gonna shoot…”

I pictured it again: Me (in Revan’s body) fucking a girl in front of this mirror. Her on all fours, ass pushed back, me gripping my now-toned hips, cock slamming in and out fast. “You like my big cock, huh? You used to mock me for being fat, now you’re begging to get fucked by this body!”

I couldn’t hold back anymore. This body convulsed. My six-pack abs tightened hard. My cock throbbed violently.

Spluuurrt!

The first shot was long and powerful, splattering onto the mirror. Thick white cum. Second, third, fourth… I kept stroking while watching Revan’s cum—my cum now—stick to the mirror and floor. So much. Musky masculine scent. I orgasmed for nearly 30 seconds. My knees were shaking.

I slumped slightly against the wall, still holding my half-hard cock. Breathing heavily. A satisfied grin on the face in the mirror.

“This… is just the beginning,” I whispered.

I stopped the recording on my phone. The selfie photo was still there. This hot body smiling wide, hoodie messy, pants down, cock still wet. I sent it to my old number with the caption: “You used to be fat. Now I’m the hot one. And I’m going to use this body for revenge… while fucking everyone you wanted.”

I washed my hands but didn’t shower right away. There was still leftover libido. I looked at this body in the mirror again. Still hard. The martial arts stamina was truly world-class.

I started again. This time sitting on the toilet, legs spread wide, stroking slower. I wanted to savor every second of being Revan.

For hours in that bathroom, I jerked off multiple times. Fantasizing scenario after scenario. From missionary while watching this hot face in the mirror, to doggy while pulling a girl’s hair, to cowgirl where she rode on top of these abs. Revan’s misogynistic brain made the fantasies even filthier: “All girls are just holes for my cock.”

When the sun started rising, I finally left the bathroom. My body was still wet with sweat and cum. But my smile was wide.

I was no longer the fat loser.

[aindomen]

They were two straight Indonesian college dudes who worked out in the same gym.

Fast forward to today, they've been a dynamic duo for the past few months livestreaming their daily gym routine and any other activity they could do together as they lived in the same kost-an building anyway. What they have not yet revealed is the fact that they have ditched each other's girlfriend to sleep with each other instead as two nerds who also lived in the same building as both Fadhil and Wicak decided to possess the two Engineering studs and started to soft-launch their bantering as the premise for their much more passionate lust over each other.

Today, Fadhil decided to playfully teased and prodded and even took a sniff of Wicak's pits live on cam, it's only a matter of time before they clandestinely posted their video on X railing each other's.......

[aindomen]

Twisted

Aiman stepped off the rickety intercity bus into the dusty lane of his hometown on the outskirts of Jakarta, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows over the familiar wooden houses and narrow alleys. At just 18, fresh from six years at the pesantren in East Java, he looked every bit the ideal santri: body built and toned from years of communal living, service and prayer, dressed in a crisp white koko shirt with black buttons, matching white trousers, and a simple white peci cap perched neatly on his short black hair. His voice is soft, almost melodic, when he greeted his parents at the gate.

“Assalamualaikum, Umi… Abi. I’m home.”

They beamed with pride. Their only son had graduated with glowing reports—hafidz of the Quran, top marks in fiqh, never once caught breaking the strict rules of the boarding school. Such glowing result carved out an opportunity for him to go study with full-ride scholarship to attend UIN Jakarta in the next few months, closer to home, no payment needed and his living cost fully covered. He's the embodiment of the devoted, blessed offspring for the family, anak berbakti.

Aside from his parents though, the entire komplek is made aware of Aiman's return, including the divorced, jobless perv, Pak Adi. 35 years old, freshly fired from the small electronics workshop for "inappropriate behavior" towards customer and "indecent exposure" towards his younger coworker. His phone is flooded with pinjol apps, he owed almost forty million rupiah across seven different lenders. Some unsavory gossips spread around the komplek about his daily activities ever since he got terminated, chain-smoking, day-drinking, the gambling he did as last ditch effort to solve his money problem, that man has no clear exit. So, it doesn't come with a surprise that the following day after Aiman's arrival, a loud scream breaks through the quietness of the komplek in the quiet and mostly peaceful Sunday morning as someone found Pak Adi's corpse foaming in the mouth, body stiff and eyes blood-shot in his bedroom. The elder of the komplek mentioned about "mati yang kurang baik" to describe Pak Adi's situation. Debt not settled, family's that left him confirmed no attendant, his own blood family refused to come, what a sad way to move on from this life. Aiman leads the prayer for Pak Adi's corpse and even helped around with the burial. People found him to not be just attractive, but he's also personable, sounding very nice and mature plus his choice of words has always been so polite, anak idaman

Aiman smiled gently, eyes lowered in that humble way the kyai had taught him. But inside his head, something ancient and filthy stirred.

---

The previous night right when Aiman came home, Adi already reached acute desperation. He’d found an old, yellowed book in his late grandfather’s storage—black magic scraps from some long-forgotten dukun in the village. Blood, a stolen lock of hair from Aiman’s childhood haircut when Adi still has a barber shop funded by his wife and he collected everyone's lock in the village without her knowing, and a whispered incantation under the full moon. Adi no longer cared if the magic killed him. Anything is better than the debt collectors and the empty wallet and the endless, aching want. Aiman will be my exit, he thought. I will hide inside that soft-spoken pious boy and start everything over, making sure I'm not gonna ended up broke and crazy like this rotten life I have now

The spell hit like lightning. Across the alley, Aiman had just finished his final Isya prayer in his childhood room, kneeling on the old prayer mat in his white koko, eyes closed in peaceful dhikr. A sudden chill swept through him—then fire. His body convulsed once, silently, as something oily and hungry slammed into his soul.

The real Aiman’s consciousness flickered out like a candle in the wind, gentle and unaware, while Adi’s filthy essence flooded every vein, every nerve. The battle was swift yet brutal, and the force of dark magic really took out a lot from Adi's too as he ended up slumped on the prayer mat right after seizing control of Aiman's physique

---

The next morning Aiman wakes up in his childhood bed, sunlight filtering through the bamboo blinds. He stretched, feeling the foreign muscles of his now own arms, the smooth skin, the young heart beating steady and strong. The thoughts flooding his mind clearly belonged to Adi and he's got hit by this insane urge to do something about his growing hardened bulge

*Anjing… perjaka dia cok,* the voice—Adi’s voice—rasped inside his skull. *Gila......badan semantep ini. Sekel. Kenceng. Mulus. Kontol gede......dan ini semua punya gue sekarang, gue adalah bocah pesantren ingusan berbadan seksi ini, gila banget sih*

Aiman sat up. His reflection in the small mirror showed the same soft, boyish face: gentle eyes, full lips, the faint hint of a pious flush on his cheeks. He opened his mouth and the voice that came out was still soft, still respectful and would definitely fool anyone that listening at the door

“Subhanallah,” he murmured, exactly as the old Aiman would have. But his hand—Adi’s hand now—slowly slid down to feel beyond the torso, groping himself through the thin white fabric of his sleep pants.

He bit back a groan that would have sounded far too filthy for a pesantren graduate, talking about how Aiman is still a virgin that never even masturbated himself despite looking and built like a stud in a ripe age where most teen already dabbled in or started to explore a more sexually deviant act with themselves or their partner

*nnnNNGHHHH....fuck ngentot, badan semantep ini, masih perjaka pula, sinting, ini kelewat goblok enaknya,*

Then, the scream from next door. He smirked. That sounds like Yati's voice, he thought. Yati, the one neighbor that snooped around a bit too much but actually doing it out of her care towards others, he expected her to be the one who found his body, but not on the first day of it though, so guess he needs to start acting right away

---

Walking home after the burial, the sun warm on his back, Aiman’s steps are measured and humble. He greeted every neighbor with that soft smile, accepting condolences as if he truly mourned the dead man two doors down.

“Pak Adi pernah baik juga kok, meski jarang keliatan,” he said to one elder, voice dripping sincerity. Inside, the monologue only grew darker, hotter.

*Tai! Baik apanya—gue yang lama cuma mesum doang. Sekarang gue punya badan ini buat mesum seumur hidup tanpa ketahuan. Kampus bakal penuh godaan: cowok-cowok ganteng di masjid kampus yang lagi tahajud, cewek-cewek hijab yang gaunnya ketat pas sholat… gue bakal dekatin mereka semua sambil pura-pura suci. Kontol gue bakal ngenjot rahasia di kamar mandi masjid, di belakang perpustakaan, di kosan sambil mereka pikir gue lagi ngaji sendirian*

Right after the burial procession, Aiman's parents head to bed early due to exhaustion. Adi locked the bedroom door, stripped the white koko slowly, savoring every inch of exposed skin in the dim lamp light. Aiman’s body is a goddamn temple—smooth chest with faint abs from prayer postures, developed waist and just the right size of athletic hips, and between his legs, a thick, cut cock already leaking at the tip.

*Ngentot… lihat ini. Badan suci tapi kontolnya udah ngaceng gini cuma karena gue mikir tetangga sebelah yang suka main bola tanpa baju. Tai, otot perutnya itu lho, mantep banget emang si Juned*

He put the clothes back on as his mind intrigued to try on something. He knelt on the prayer mat exactly as last night when he first slammed into Aiman. A very broken form of sujud, legs folded, body spent, ass up in the air, eyes half-lidded and mouth agape. Making the move even more further from the right one, his right hand slipped through the waistline of both his pants and underwear as it wrapped around his cock, stroking slow and deliberate. Pre-cum slicked his palm as he pumped, hips rolling forward in tiny, controlled thrusts.

“Astaghfirullah…” he breathed aloud, soft and trembling, the words dripping with fake piety. Inside, total mania

"Pak Adi......stop Pak Adi.....saya santri baik.....jangan rusak saya dan buat saya mesum," he pleaded as he made his own dramatized reenactment of last night's takeover, now adding a bit of flavor by impersonating Aiman himself

"Pak Adi.....jangan buat saya coli dan berpikir mesum. Istighfar Pak Adi. Ada cara keluar lain. Saya bisa bantu. Saya bisa bantu.....saya bisa bantu dengan cara memberikan tubuh saya untuk kepuasanmu, yess Pak, bener.....masuk terus Pak, jangan berhenti. Rusak saya terus sampai ke otak saya. Masuk terus Pak, jangan berhenti. Memang Bapak paling pantes punya badan seperti ini, saya cuman bocah ingusan yang gak ngerti apa-apa, tapi bapak bisa bawa badan saya untuk melakukan hal-hal yang lebih luar biasa. Saya sekarang sudah ikhlas Pak,"

*Anjing, enak banget! Kontol Aiman ini sensitif gila—setiap goyang bikin gue mau muncrat. Gue bakal sangean tiap hari di balik topeng ini. Tai, bayangin gue pura-pura sujud padahal gue lagi coli kayak bocah sange ke dalem kondom padahal mereka lihatnya gue lagi sholat sunnah. HAHAHAH, goblok banget sih anjing, dosa bener mikir begitu. Hehe, dosanya yang nanggung Aiman kan ya Allah? Kan yang cabul Aiman. Yang sange Aiman. Adi mah udah mati kan, ini semua Aiman si santri yang mikir gini, aku emang sebetulnya diem-diem cabul, wong sempak sesama santri aja aku endus kayak ANJINGGGGHHHHHHH FFFUUCKKK MMMMPPHHHAAAGGHHHAHAHHA fuck......gila.....tolol banget lo Aiman, siapa sangka santri bisa sesange ini?*

The orgasm hit hard and quiet, all the monologues happened inside his own mind but it all feels so erotic and personal in Aiman's voice, making Adi unable to hold back and hit ropes after ropes of cum that eventually splattered the inside of his underwear and trousers. Aiman's form flopped to the mat because the sensation hit him a bit too hard, and that caused the soaked wet pants and underwear left an imprint of damp cum on the prayer mat’s edge. He wiped it clean with a tissue, whispering thanks to Allah like nothing happened, then crawled into bed with a wicked grin on Aiman’s innocent face, still wearing the soaked underwear and trousers like its a prized possession or something

Outside, the neighborhood settled into quiet mourning for the dead neighbor. Inside, the boy they all trusted smiled up at the ceiling, soft voice whispering a final, perfect “Alhamdulillah” for anyone who might be listening.

The old Adi is buried. The new Aiman only just begun. And the discreet, endlessly horny life hidden beneath the white koko is about to explode into something far bigger than anyone in the komplek can ever imagine.

---

[aindomen]

How to get sub 5 with just 1 week of training? You can steal the body of someone that can do that, for starter

[aindomen]

While my roommate is leaving the kost-an for the week to enjoy Bali with his girlfriend during this long holiday period, I decided to put on his clothes and pretended to be him as my form instantly shifted to resemble him as long as I put on articles with his DNA still on the article.

Now, if you can excuse me, I have a dating/hooking up profile to set up using this handsome face