Looking at her trying, gagging and choking miserably yet still desperately trying to prove herself just make him even harder. She was such a rude bitch of a customer while he served her in the cafe, it's only fitting that he punished her by jumping into some random male tourist and cruelly treated her like she's nothing but a mere cocksleeve. In his now-heavy Dutch accent, Yudhistira, or Sem in this Dutch-Balinese body he's in now, taunted her
"Come on, you haven't even reached the halfway mark, and you want to give in? Nuh uh, no can do,"
loud squelching sound as he shoved this Dutch lengthy cock even further when she tried to tap out, causing her to frantically gasped for breath yet Sem's calisthenics and bouldering grip proven to be handy to keep her still as she passed the 6 inches mark and her eyes rolled to the back as snot pouring out of her mouth and nose
"Heh, maho, nge-fly ya lo? Bau kaki gue udah bikin lo sange kan? Ngaku aja deh, nih makanya gue sengaja gak mandi abis main futsal sama anak-anak, biar lo bisa langsung dapet bau sikil gue langsung gak pake perantara HAHAHAHA!"
Sumpah demi Allah gue kayaknya tadi lagi latihan buat tes IELTS sama Chandra, tapi Chandra siapa jir? IELTS? Dih, kok gue bisa kepikiran sampe segitunya ya? Emangnya gue mau S2 atau apa? Ya iya ini Hendra emang abis gue beliin tiket ke Inggris biar dia bisa nonton match pertama Premier League entar pas musimnya mulai lagi, tapi kenapa sampe ada pikiran IELTS? Au ah, terserah, yang penting karena gue udah beliin tiket sama ngurusin visanya dia, sekarang dia pasti bakal ngizinin gue ngendus kaki dia. Duh jirr......dia abis main futsal gini fix banget pasti kontolnya musky keringetan gitu fuccckkkk gue ngiler banget jing bayanginnya
---
The Chronivac that Chandra, or now Hendra, used got Angga real good. He looked confused for a split second before the altered reality that Hendra set sunk in for him. They were friends with Angga being the more well-off one but also a little bit less bright, hence the tutoring session, but Chandra had enough of his back-breaking life and decided to be as egoistic and self-centric as possible for a change, altering the reality as he sees fit. Now, he is one fit stud named Hendra and this is his apartment. Well, still Angga's, but Angga is the live-in bitch now in this situation as Hendra took the control over Angga and all his finances. Angga overall got the short-end of the stick. He might keep his job and social life, but he's fully devoted to serve Hendra and all his wishes. Angga was not mean or anything to him ever, but he just wanted to see how far Chronivac could go so he made Angga one of his many kinky foot slave that would pay him very well and treat him lavishly in exchange of Hendra abusing them and treating them like trash. As a matter of fact, despite owning a legion of male worshipper now, Hendra still exclusively dated girls and Angga will watch him later this evening fucking the shit out of Lupi, Angga's girlfriend in the previous reality but nowadays, she's Hendra's. Chronivac and its limitless possibilities
---
Just a quickie after Reza, so the English part is once again not a translation of the Indonesian part, but here, I practically use the English part as an explanation pointers on what happened in the Indonesian part, like puzzle pieces that matched each other to completion
Udah gue duga, si tukang bersihin jendela yang cabul itu emang beneran punya body mantep! Anak-anak cewek di kantor udah berapa kali protes sampe bahkan nutup tirai kalau ini setan lagi ngebersihin kaca. Ya bayangin aja, masa dia pernah ngebecandain pura-pura ngocok sambil bersihin jendela, apa gak tolol kelakuan begitu?
Tapi jujur-jujuran aja nih, sekalinya gue akhirnya liat dia in action pas dia ngethrust itu selangkangan dia ke jendela sama ngespray jendelanya pake cairan pembersih tapi dia buat seakan-akan dia lagi ngocok terus muncratin colinya kemana-mana, gue horny coy......No, gue nggak horny ke dia per se. Gue lebih horny ke betapa carefree-nya ya dia bisa nikmatin idup. Uang dia paling berapaan sih, tapi punya otak simple dia tuh kayaknya seru gitu, ngeliat dunia kagak pake KPI atau sales target atau profit margin, yang diitung ya paling berapa duit buat beli skin ML, uang makan sehari-hari jatahnya berapa, kalau punya pacar dibawa motoran terus makan ya berapa, atau mikirin ngewe gaya apa lagi mungkin, ya the basic stuff lah ya mungkin. Kalau dari gelagatnya sih tipe dia begitu mana mikirin nabung buat kuliah......ini tuh kayak cowo mokondo yang gak mikirin duitnya bakal abis. Dan yup......akalnya jalan banget ini setan, dia tahu body dia mantep dan bermodalkan badan ini doang plus kontol dia yang entah gimana bisa sepanjang dan setebel ini padahal belum full ngaceng, cewek dia beneran dimana-mana dan gak jarang dia tilep aja tuh duit dari dompet pas dia udah ngentot cewe-cewe itu ampe pingsan saking brutalnya kalau ni orang kalau ngewe. Emang bajingan kelas kakap nih orang, kalau punya duit sama power fix banget bahaya. Tuh lah kenapa lo cuman dikasih hidup jadi tukang bersihin jendela, gak kebayang kalau mental begini jadi sekedar artis Tiktok aja misal, setinggi apa gayanya dan sesering apa dia maksiat
Tapi ngomong-ngomong maksiat, well, sebelum kita mulai hari kotor ini, ada baiknya kita sapa dulu ini kontol ngaceng pagi-pagi. Anjing woy, ini kira-kira 18 cm dan segede kaleng Coca-Cola......pantes aja dia horny mulu, monster segede ini sih jangan heran ya. Kamar kontrakan masih gelap, cuma cahaya matahari pagi masuk lewat celah jendela reyot. Kipas Sanex muter pelan di atas.
Gue langsung duduk di pinggir kasur, kaos hitam ketat yang gue liat dia pake kemaren masih melekat di badan. Bau keringat kerja seharian campur bau cowok kerja keras langsung nyerang hidung gue, fuck dia kagak mandi coy dari kemaren. Bau badan ini... gila, maskulin banget, agak asin, agak manis, bikin kontol gue makin tegang. Gue angkat tangan, cium ketek sendiri.
"Fuuuck...nih kuli bau badannya oke banget, bikin gue pengen ngocok seharian!"
Gue berdiri di depan cermin retak yang dia punya di kamarnya ini, rambut item panjang acak-acakan nempel di dahi karena keringat. Muka tajam, mata masih sayu mesum. Gue tarik kaos ke atas pelan-pelan, nunjukin dada bidang yang kenceng.
"Damnn.....kayak atlet coy, bidang, mantep banget. Dan ini.....*cubit tete* AHAHAHAH HECK, SENSITIF BANGET NIPPLENYA!" Tangan kasar gue yang penuh urat langsung ngeremes ini dada, jari gue gak bisa berhenti pelan-pelan cubit nipple dia kayak lagi mainin nipple cewek-cewek yang biasa dia tidurin. Sensasinya langsung nyetrum ke kontol gue yang udah beneran parah banget ini mentok kayak minta dibebasin dari penjara boxernya ini. Tapi tunggu dulu
Tangan gue turun ke perut. Sixpack pagi ini keliatan lebih dalem gara-gara cahaya matahari. Garis V-line nya dalem gila, nunjukin arah ke kontol yang lagi ngaceng ngotot di balik boxer yang gue yakin dia belum ganti juga dari kemaren. Gue usap perut ini pelan, ngerasain setiap alur otot yang keras.
"Ya gue tahu nih dia agak pekerja kasar, tapi ini bener-bener level binaragawan sih kebentuknya sama terawatnya. Pasti cewek-cewek itu ngasih dia makanan-makanan enak atau biayain dia buat jaga ini badan. Ini bukan cuma badan kerja keras di bawah terik matahari jir,"
Gue akhirnya gak tahan lagi dan narik ini boxernya turun sampe lutut. KONTOL PAGI INI GEDA BANGET. Tebel parah, urat-uratnya muncul semua, panjangnya hampir 20cm berdiri tegak, kepala merah besar mengkilap penuh precum yang ngecrot pelan.
"Fucckkkkk......gue tahu nih bakal gede, tapi anjirrr bener-bener gede banget kontol kuli ini. Punya gue kayak udang coy dibandingin sama ini, sekarang ini monster. Berat banget di tangan, panas, nadi-nadinya berdenyut."
Gue pegang batangnya penuh, tangan kanan gerak naik-turun pelan.
"Ahh shitt... enak banget. Kontol gede gini pantes aja bikin cewek-cewek pada tunduk. Pasti dia kena ke semua spot yang dibayangin sama cewek-cewek itu,"
Entah ini pikiran siapa, tapi pikiran cabul langsung menghentak masuk dan seakan ngisi otak gue sepenuhnya yang langsung nge-fly nginget kelakuan sehari-harinya kalau kerja atau malem-malem dia yang gak pernah sunyi dari berbagai giliran cewek yang semuanya gila sama kontol ini
Gue kocok lebih cepet, bunyi "slap slap" basah kedengeran nyaring banget di kamar sepi ini dan gue yakin beberapa tetangga juga udah denger. Tangan kiri gue sibuk megang-megang ini badan. Remas dada, usap sixpack yang basah keringat pagi, tarik biji-biji besarnya yang penuh sperma, hmmmppphhh bau badan dia makin kuat semakin lama gue begini
Gue deketin muka ke cermin, napas panas gue yang masih bau rokok dan permen mint ngeembus kaca.
"Heh tukang mesum. Liat ini, karena kelakuan mesum lo, sekarang lo gak bisa ngontrol badan ini lagi. Rambut panjang item, mata tajam, bibir tebel. Body ini emang dibikin buat nafsu."
Gue angkat kaos lebih tinggi sampe akhirnya gue lempar aja ke kasur terus gue pose bodybuilder pagi-pagi, otot lengan tegang, perut kenceng, tapi tangan gue ngocok kontol makin ganas karena klimaks makin deket. Gue percepat gerakan gue. Pinggul maju mundur kayak lagi ngentot memek basah imajiner.
"Ahh... ahh... gede banget kontolnya, enak banget diginiin." Tangan kiri gue sekarang mainin puting, cubit keras, terus turun ke perut, ngerasain otot perut naik-turun tiap kocokan.
Keringat mulai netes dari dada, bikin kulit gue jadi licin tapi mengkilap. Bau badan tambah semerbak. Gue cium lengan sendiri lagi,
"Enak banget baunya... bau cowok yang siap crot banyak."
Gak lama kemudian, sperma pertama muncrat SUPER KUAT. Jet panjang putih kental ngena cermin, langsung nempel tebel. Kedua muncrat ke dada, nutupin puting gue yang udah merah saking lamanya dicubit. Ketiga kena sixpack gue, ngebasahin alur-alur otot di badan. Gue terus kocok ganas, crot ke mana-mana. Ada yang ngena rambut panjang gue, ada yang netes ke lantai, ada yang nempel di paha gue, beneran kemana-mana pejunya ini
Banyak banget. Peju kental creamy, agak putih kek susu kental. Gue ga buang-buang waktu. Gue ambil sedikit dari dada pake jari, langsung masukin ke mulut.
"Mmmhh... tasty banget anjir! Creamy, agak asin, agak manis, bau maskulin, nutrisi top!"
Gue jilat lagi dari perut. Rasa creamy-nya bikin gue ketagihan. Gue ambil yang di cermin pake tangan, lumurin ke kontol yang masih ngaceng, trus kocok lagi pelan sambil nikmatin rasa sendiri.
"Masih ada lagi bro..." gue bisik mesum. Gue duduk di kasur, kaki ngangkang, kontol tegak. Gue kocok ronde kedua. Kali ini lebih santai, badan gue usap pelan-pelan dengan campuran keringet, peju sama entah cairan apalagi. Tangan gue ngusap seluruh torso, ngerasain otot yang lengket karena cum. Bau campur sperma tambah bikin kepala gue pusing tapi lebih ke pusing betapa hotnya ini badan dan betapa gedenya load yang dia punya kalau bijinya segede itu
Gerakan tangan gue pun makin cepet lagi, kepo ngeliat berapa banyak sih yang bisa gue produksi. Gue bisa ngerasain bijinya ngenceng dan kontolnya berdenyut. Udah deket
"AHHH CROT LAGI!!"
Muncrat ronde kedua masih banyak, meski ga sekuat tadi. Kali ini gue arahin ke perut dan dada, bikin badan gue penuh lapisan creamy putih. Gue llangsung nyicipin lagi, jilat tangan sendiri, jilat dada, bahkan gue coba tekuk badan buat nyicipin yang netes deket pusar.
"Rasanya addictive banget. Creamy thick, salty-sweet, terus ini keringet dari kemarin bikin bau kontolnya mantep banget. Gue bisa nyicipin ini tiap pagi."
Gue rebahan di kasur, badan masih lengket, kontol akhirnya agak lemes tapi masih gede. Gue usap-usap perut pelan, ngerasain lekuk sixpack yang sekarang belepotan peju sendiri. Bau kamar sekarang full bau sex. Gue cuman bisa ketawa ngakak sebelum senyum puas ke cermin, rambut acak-acakan, muka mesum, badan atletis berlumuran cum. Pagi ini baru mulai, tapi gue udah puas banget ama ini badan.
---
He was a crude window cleaner that terrorized the ladies of my office with his stupid antics. But once I spotted him in action, I have this sense of arousal seeing him so carelessly behaving like that and probably looking very hot underneath all that grime and safety gear. Who would have thought that I would be awake the following day in a sub-par bedroom with slight molding on the wall and drenched in damp sweat? As soon as I leaped from the bed, there he was in his full glory, and the memory started to filter in as my thoughts filled with unbridled lust and horniness as I realized that Faiz here got a day off for the day and I need to channel this horniness out. He has cock that can compete with all the porn stars I frequented to watch, and what makes it even more delicious is that he's real and I'm feeling it all now. The scent. The intensity. The horniness. The vivid memories of all the girls he pounded. The thrill of being such a powerful asshole that can getaway with anything. Before I realized it, the pink head has been smeared with pre and I eventually shot my load all over the mirror, the floor, everywhere! What a glorious start to a day that can be assured to be one filled with debauchery as long as I'm inside this stud
---
The English part is to simply capture the essence of the Bahasa Indonesia version. I don't think the raunchiness can be transported and delivered the same impact if it's written in English
"Next time, don't forget to drink your water and do proper warmups, okay dek?" Arif said with a subtle hint of condescension before leaving the stunned real Arif now trapped in God-knows-who that surely enacted this body swap
"Andi, thanks for agreeing to this 'age-transferring ritual' thing. GOD, I'm glad I can be this young again. AND YOU!!! Holy shit, you have a much bigger body than mine. I know you're really deserved my 20 years. I mean come on... look at these pecs… and abs…"
"You're welcome, Mr. Cahya. Glad I can help. I think I love being an adult. This body is so strong… And seeing you younger like that… You look cute, Sir."
"Oh yeah? You really think so?"
"Y-yes, Sir. You're so petite and slim compared to me now… It's all—"
"No, no, stop, Andi. I think we can both agree that you're the one who's older now, right? I'm the one who should call you 'Sir' from now on. And FUCK YEAH, we look so much better this way, Sir. Don't you think?"
"Hmmmm… yes, we are, Cahya."
"Well, now, as a token of gratitude, please allow your student to help you to get settle and experience what it feels like to be a big man, Sir."
"Arghhhhhhh-yesss, please. I'd love that. You're such a good boy, Cahya. You can touch me wherever you want."
They already sealed Aryo's fate since the day he was born, and it's been like this for the past 5 centuries. Hariyono, or Harishawardhana, transferred his soul to his newlywed son, Aryo. Lusi, Hariyono's dutiful and gentle wife, already possessed Aryo's wife and their newly minted daughter-in-law, Diana, the night before, completing the generational transference needed to ensure that they remain alive and can keep the family practice and belief all the way into the next generation. Five centuries on, their relationship is only getting stronger than ever and with this new set of modern brain, there's still so much thing to learn and enjoy despite already doing this for 500+ years through different lens and bodies. As for their old and empty bodies, well, they are going to come out with the plan to orchestrate the whole "tragedy" as one sequence, but they want to consummate their relationship first as "Diana" just comes back from her morning pilates session and looking very breedable
"Aku gak boong, tapi aku lagi ngaceng di bawah meja karena ngeliatin kamu terus," bisik Abyan sambil menggigit bibirnya, celana pendeknya agaknya terlalu ketat, jika dia berdiri sekarang, kontol tebal setengah ngaceng 14 cm miliknya akan sangat timbul
"Yang, ihhh malu tahu, kamu tuh kedengeran sama meja lain," ujar istrinya malu-malu
"Oh biarin aja, kalau bisa satu restoran ini denger aku udah ngebet nyodok kamu sampe kamu teriak-teriak keenakan, sekalian aku bakal buka itu pintu ke balkon biar satu hotel sampe kolam juga denger gimana mantepnya aku nunggangin kamu," Abyan balas dengan suara yang bahkan lebih lantang walaupun keramaian restoran membuat suaranya setidaknya tersembunyi
"Lebih baik gak punya adab karena horny liat istri sendiri daripada gak punya otak udah tahu outing kantor boleh bawa keluarga eh malah gak bawa siapa-siapa karena ada selingkuhan. Si jalang goblok itu udah kulaporin ke Pak Bos, pokoknya kubuat dia keliatan bener-bener kayak lonte, dia yang deketin aku, dia yang jebak aku, pokoknya salahnya di dia semua," sekarang Abyan berbisik
"Ini udah ketanem semua kan di otak Abyan, Cha?" balas Lina dengan bisikan yang lebih pelan
"Ssstttt....jangan ngomong kayak gitu. Inget, aku ayang, atau by, gak ada itu Cha selama kita disini, oke?" bisik Abyan lagi
"Oke yang,"
Abyan genggem tangan Lina terus dia kecup tangan Lina dengan sangat romantis. Yah, namanya juga pernikahan di ujung tanduk, tindakan drastis harus diambil demi nyelamatin bahtera rumah tangga ini, syukurlah Lina punya temen baik kayak Ocha.
---
ENG
"I'm not lying, I'm rock hard underneath the table from looking at you," whispered Abyan even though it comes off audible, his rock hard cock literally going to make a visible imprint on his tight short
"Babe, psstttt.....be quieter, your voice is loud enough to be heard by the other table," said his wife shyly
"Let them. As a matter of fact, this whole restaurant should know that I will shove my cock so hard to your sloppy tight cunt until you're screaming in ecstasy. Even better, I'll do that with the sliding door to the balcony wide open so everyone even in the pool can hear your ecstatic moan as you screamed my name," Abyan replied even louder but thankfully the noise from other people in the restaurant blocked it a bit
"Babe, stop! That's not something a courteous and civilized person should speak publicly," hissed Lina
"Better to be uncivilized and horny sex addict to your own wife rather than dumb and heartless to not bring your own wife to a family outing event as you preferred to have a hookup session with the office sidepiece. I've reported everything to the Big Boss and I twisted the evidence so she looked like the desperate slut and all the blame is on her," Abyan said in a matter-of-fact tone
"This is all planted into Abyan's mind, right Cha?" Lina whispered with hope
"Psssttt.....don't mention that name. Remember, I'm ayang, or babe, there's no Cha while I'm here," hissed Abyan back
"Okay babe,"
Abyan then grabbed Lina's hand and give it a genuine tender kiss. Well, desperate times, desperate measures. Luck for her, she has a ride-or-die friend like Ocha.
---
Not sure I'm gonna make ftm again, this is just a trial but I'm satisfied with the result (no, this is not AI-made, AI just doesn't have the vernacular to create such raunchy and realistic Indonesian erotica exchanges
People sometimes asked Effendi how he managed to take on several cleaning jobs in one day despite having weak back and clearly no longer in his best years to sustain such laborious task. He answered that he's just taking it easy and being efficient. What he never revealed is the fact that he cleaned these residences quickly because he tend to assume the owner's physique or anyone he deemed strong enough to tackle the job. All he required is a piece of clothing or accessories belonged to the person he intended to copy and by just putting the article on, he would look like the person in instance and he could carry on to clean the spaces quickly before returning to his form as he took the items off. Of course he made it sensual and erotic just like the way when he put it on and it always provide him enough excitement to do all the cleaning beyond the money he received. Earlier today, he posed as Bobby, a senior sales executive for a sportswear brand with sleek apartment that fits him.
Now, he is in the middle of cleaning this family's penthouse in SCBD.
The twist is, the parents suddenly walked into the penthouse right as he just finished putting on another piece of clothing that belonged to the person that hired him after one section being cleaned and he gets too sweaty. The only child of the family, Dana, hired Effendi to do the cleaning as his parents asked the "supposedly-responsible" foreign university freshgrad to at least contribute something while their live-in maid returned to her kampung for some family emergency. Obviously being the brat that he is, Dana resisted but he played pretend that he would clean the entire space, only to hire Effendi's service through Pinhome while he strolled out to have the whole afternoon out with his friends and leaving the space, and Effendi, without supervision.
"Oh.....Dana, you really are cleaning up the space?" asked the mother while the father briskly walked to the bedroom
"Y---yeah, ma, pa.....of course. Why are you back so soon?" Effendi played the card right as he eavesdropped to Dana's phone call right before leaving him to be in charge of the place while he's out and about
"Yeah we are just going to be very quick. Your father clumsily left his new passport and instead brought the old one. Thank God the entrance to the highway was jammed so we were not in the highway yet. We detoured right away," the mother said as she walked to the bedroom too and Effendi-in-Dana's-form followed, listening to the father's voice-recognition system that opened the safe where he stashed his passport and other important assets
"Oh yeah, very lucky......or else you would tell me to drive to the airport to give you the passport even though you're not taking me for the trip," he said slowly trying to exttend the conversation while trying to get the safe code clearly as Dana's father already grabbed the right passport and locked it once more using his voice.....
"How many times we should tell you, it's a business trip and we're not even going to Tokyo or Osaka, we're going to a backwood county surrounded by ricefields, Dana,"
"I can stay in Tokyo, you know?"
"Or you can stay at home......you know? It's not like we can really take you. Your passport being expired within 5 months because you didn't check thoroughly after getting home 2 months ago was entirely your fault,"
"Hhhh.....just go then,"
"Okay Mr. Hothead. Anyway, don't forget to also take your father's dirty clothes and yours to the laundromat with Pak Ujang after he goes back, okay? See you next week,"
And just like that, he's alone once more and he somehow survived playing pretend to be this brat. But then an idea passed his mind......what if he takes a look at the father's clothing???
Holy hell.......this is tempting as fuck.........as he then tried on the voice recognition system to open the safe, Effendi in this 50 years old man form instantly gets hard as the safe unlocked itself after he repeated the passcode using the patriarch's voice......
His mind instantly goes for the weirdest fuck-up idea as he put himself as if he's Dana himself and here he is trying to steal money from his own father's safe......placing himself as Dana somehow aroused him two-fold now as he internalized all these bratty whining he heard Dana did and then acted like he's a dejected brat now goofing around with his newfound power, taking a small petty revenge to his parents for leaving him behind in Indonesia while they go to Japan. As he grabbed a wad of cash from the safe, he internalized how Dana would sound like and just leaking pre right there into the expensive dress pants that belonged to Dana's father........
Now what? Should he.......
Mess around with Dana by pretending to be Dana's father
Just take the cash after cleaning and go for other clients
Abis puas coli di kamar mandi karena dikirimin video bokep sama temen-temen tongkrongannya, Ferdy balik masuk ke kamar kost-annya. Tapi, kelakuan random dia di tengah malem pake acara ke kamar mandi begini mancing "penghuni" kamar mandi untuk ngisengin dia. Tanpa dia sadar, dia diikutin sama peju dia sendiri yang udah dirasukin sama jiwa-jiwa yang berkelana di malam sunyi itu. Pas banget dia masuk kamar, schlooorrrppp itu peju dia gerak gesit kayak ular dan dengan mudahnya masuk di sela-sela lobang pantat dia.
Ferdy saking kagetnya sampe sempet jadi putih matanya sebelum mukanya berubah kayak gooner selama proses dirasukin.
Tapi gak lama setelah itu, mata Ferdy kembali normal tapi dia nyengir nakal kayak orang sagapung kesenengan
"Yoi, ganteng banget nih anak cabul. Shit, ini udah hari Sabtu, asik kali ya ngewe pake badan ni anak,"
---
ENG
After masturbating in the shared bathroom of his dormitory watching steamy porn videos sent by his friends, Ferdy walked back to his bedroom. But, such lewd act in the middle of the night attracted some of the haunted spirits of the night that then decided to teach him a lesson. Without he realized, the cum he ejected earlier followed him like a slithering snake as the spirits reanimated it and made it sentient. The moment the door of his bedroom closed, schlooooorp the cum managed to enter via his hairy butt-crack
Ferdy is so stunned by the sensation, his mouth gaped and his eyes rolled back to white before seemingly getting more comfortable in a completely foreign body as his face turned goony instead
But not too long after, Ferdy's eyes returned to normal but he grinned like a sex addict in his peak euphoria.
"Heck, this pervert really looked nice. Damn, this is Saturday already, what about if we fuck around using this body?"
---
Made it quite crass in the Indonesian language because turns out speaking and writing like that has its own core of audience and there's a lot of you guys here LOL
Stella stepped out of her late-night brand photoshoot in a sleek Jakarta studio, still glowing in her coquette aesthetic — soft pink satin dress hugging her dainty figure, delicate bows in her hair, and a touch of elegant makeup that screamed “feminine princess.” She called a Bluebird taxi, exhausted but satisfied with the content she’d captured. Her loyal, gentle boyfriend Gio had texted her earlier saying he couldn't pick her up because the meeting with this British client of his extended. She had no idea that it was a lie and he was already tracking her via Find My iPhone, his mind burning with the urge to surprise her with their darkest shared fantasy.
The Bluebird taxi arrived. The driver is a handsome, muscular young man in his blue uniform shirt. He looked slightly sweaty, but otherwise nice and polite as he greeted her.
“Selamat malam, Mbak. Tujuan Pluit ya?” (Evening ma'am. Goes to Pluit, right?)
Stella smiled sweetly and settled in the back seat. The car merged onto the highway, city lights blurring past. Unbeknownst to her, Gio had initiated the astral projection without warning. His consciousness slammed into the driver’s body in seconds, shoving the real polite young taxi driver's mind deep into the background. Gio now controlled the strong, sweaty frame completely.
For the first twenty minutes, he played the part perfectly — calm voice, safe driving, even making small talk about the weather and traffic. Stella relaxed, scrolling through her Instagram feed of elegant photos.
Then the taxi suddenly took an unfamiliar exit ramp.
Stella sat up. “Pak, ini bukan jalan biasa. Kenapa keluar di sini?” (This is not the usual way. Why are we out from here?)
The driver (Gio) glanced at her through the rearview mirror, his voice still gentle. “Jalan pintas Mbak, tenang aja, saya tau jalan, percaya aja" (It's a shortcut ma'am, calm down, I know how to get around, trust me)
Stella’s heart raced. “No, turn back! This isn’t the way home!” she said in a sudden enraged switch to English as she's panicking
The car continued deeper into a dimly lit industrial area. Streetlights grew sparse. Gio kept the nice act going a little longer, enjoying the slow build of fear in her voice. “Tenang, Mbak. Saya cuma mau bawa Mbak ke tujuan. Jangan panik.” (Relax ma'am. I just want to bring you to the destination. Don't be panic)
He pulled into an abandoned parking lot behind an old warehouse. The engine died. The doors locked with a click. Gio stepped out of the driver’s seat, his muscular body moving with predatory grace, blue Bluebird shirt clinging to his sweat-glistened abs. He opened the back door and slid in beside her.
Stella pressed against the seat, eyes wide. “What are you doing?! Let me out!”
Gio’s eyes glinted with dark mischief — the exact look Stella knew too well. But the crude words that came next shattered the illusion of the pious driver.
“Tujuan di maps mungkin memang Pluit. Tapi tujuan sebenarnya adalah kamu sampe klimaks dan saya bikin Mbak crot kemana-mana. Saya udah pengalaman sama banyak lonte di deket depo, saya tahu cara bikin memek cewek crot dengan cepet kalau Mbak khawatir ditungguin orang rumah," (Yes your destination on the maps might be Pluit, but the real destination is your climax as you squirt your tasty coquette pussy juices. I have plenty of experience with whores near the taxi depot, I know how to make you reach there quick if your concern is people at home is waiting for you)
Stella froze. The crude shift, the filthy confidence — that glint in his eyes. It's Gio. Her gentle boyfriend had possessed this Bluebird driver without telling her. Relief mixed with a rush of filthy arousal. She decided to play along fully, letting terror melt into desperate submission.
“P-please… don’t hurt me…” she whimpered, acting terrified even as her thighs squeezed together.
Gio (in the driver’s body) laughed low and grabbed her chin roughly with his strong hand.
He slapped her pretty face lightly, then harder. “Diem, memek! Emang pelacur ya lho, dideketin sama supir taksi ditengah jalan bukannya beneran marah dan ngelawan, lo malah nyerah gitu aja,"
Stella just whimpered as she can sense the relentless penetration of the slick fingers into her anal. One finger quickly turned two, then three, and she's started to lose it as her legs trembled. Stella moaned even louder as Gio up the ante with his whispers, her elegant dress riding up. Gio yanked the zipper of his black pants down and pulled out the driver’s thick, veiny cock — already rock hard and musky from the long night shift. He slapped the heavy cock across her lips and cheeks as he teased how smelly it must be as he's been driving since 6 AM all sweaty and baked with the sun
Stella whimpered in fake fear before eagerly licking and sucking, her dainty hands wrapping around the shaft. Gio groaned loudly, pushing deeper into her mouth.
“HHHNNNGHGG!! Isep kontol abang, lonte. Emang dasar perempuan bejat ya lo, punya fantasi kayak orang sakit, ini supir rajin shalat gak pernah nyentuh memek siapa-siapa, eh lo suruh pacar cabul lu itu ngendaliin badan dia. Emang sakit sih lo. LAH JING, BISA NELEN GAK SIH LO? RILEKS DONG TENGGOROKANNYA, INI KONTOL MASIH ADA SEJENGKAL LAGI WOE!" (Suck my dick, whore. You are indeed one indecent woman, such a sick fantasy, like seriously this driver is a fucking pious man that never skipped his prayer nor actually near any of those little sluts nearby the depot, but then you have to tell your boyfriend to control and corrupt his body)
He pulled her up by the hair, ripped her pink dress open at the front, exposing her perky breasts, and shoved her face-down across the back seat. Her lace panties were torn aside in one rough motion.
“Basah banget ini memek lu, anjing!” (Your pussy is so wet, bitch!) He slapped her pussy hard, Plak! Plak! “Sok princess, sok pure di Instagram, sok woman empowerment, girls girls, tapi paling sange kalau dientot mendadak sama orang-orang gak have. Suka dientot di parkiran sepi sama sopir Bluebird. Emang cewek tolol,"
Without warning, Gio slammed the thick cock balls-deep into her soaked pussy.
"UNGGHHHHHAAAHHHH!!” he groaned as he started pounding her mercilessly. The car rocked with every brutal thrust. His blue Bluebird shirt rubbed against her back, sweat dripping onto her soft skin.
Stella cried out, fully dropping the terrified act into raw pleasure. “I’m… I’m just a filthy hypocrite coquette! A fake dainty whore who gets wet being used by a taxi driver!”
The abandoned lot was silent except for the wet slapping sounds and Stella’s broken moans. Gio kept degrading her in crude Indonesian, his voice raw and low-class.
Stella comes violently, her body convulsing around his cock, screaming in ecstasy. Gio just doesn't stop. He pulled out, flipped her onto her back, and drove back in even deeper, legs over his shoulders.
“Lihat muka lu yang cantik ini, pelacur. Riasan coquette lu luntur semua gara-gara kontol abang. Lu cuma lonte murahan yang suka dihina!” (Look at this pretty face of yours. All a trainwreck because of my cock! You're nothing but a protesting cheap whore) He choked her lightly while pounding, his muscular Bluebird-clad body dominating her completely.
Another orgasm ripped through Stella. She was lost in the pleasure, all pretense gone. “Yes… use me… I’m your braindead whore…”
Gio growled, thrusting faster. With a final deep groan, he buried himself to the hilt and filled her completely, hot cum flooding her pussy. Stella trembled through another climax, ruined and satisfied.
They stayed locked together for a moment, breathing heavily. Gio leaned down, still in the driver’s body, and whispered one last crude line with a smirk.
“Besok kalau lu naik Bluebird lagi, ingat abang yang bikin memek lu ngocor ini. Ngerti, lonte coquette?” (If you ever ride Bluebird again, remember how I fucked you on the backseat ya)
Slowly, Gio withdrew his consciousness, leaving the real pious driver confused and disoriented. He made sure Stella is safe before returning to his own body at home.
Stella lay there in the back seat, dress torn, makeup ruined, cum leaking down her thighs, smiling dreamily. The contrast between her elegant influencer image and this raw, degrading taxi encounter is everything she craved. She already cannot wait for Gio’s next surprise possession. In the meantime, this taxi driver passed out upon being used as the conduit for Gio's fucked up kink.
As his soul slammed back to his body, Gio texted Stella
"Kok belum nyampe-nyampe yang?"
He knows Stella will leak one more time upon reading such text as he heads out to pick her up
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.......
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.
Another request! I think I worked best with putting my fantasy as the prompt, let AI flesh it out and edited the results so it flows better and has all the element that I wanted to be captured well. Hope you'll enjoy, this is quite the same basic with the previous one
Dimas used to be the definition of invisible. A 23-year-old Indonesian first-jobber living in a rundown kos-kosan in Tangerang, he's scrawny, acne-scarred, and broke as hell—glasses perpetually fogged from the humid Banten heat, cheap knockoff shirts clinging to his narrow chest, and a part-time coding gig that barely covered Indomie and internet bills. Girls? Forget it. He was a virgin up until that point, jerking off furiously every night to Instagram thirst traps of hot dudes his age or some celebs while dreaming of a life he’d never touch. Dimas's biggest obsession was Reza Pramudhya Ananta, probably one of the ultimate nepo baby of Jakarta.
He's the son of a high-ranking Polri 3-star general. The 24-year-old Reza is an Akpol graduate that conveniently landed a cushy job as his father's executive assistant. In reality, he partied harder than he ever worked, that's if he ever worked at all for the past 2 years noting how he's the only son and youngest child of the 3 his parents had. His feed, at least for Dimas, is pure goon fuel: shirtless gym selfies, luxury cars, and that cocky smirk under a thick black mustache that made every girl in Jakarta probably slide into his DMs.
Wealthy, ripped, entitled, and untouchable, none of them fits to describe Dimas but certainly it matched these dudes he admired.
One rainy blackout night, Dimas was doomscrolling Reza’s latest post—a low-angle shot of that glistening, muscular torso—when a shady “WishSwap” app he’d downloaded on a bored whim pinged.
One click for your fantasy life
Lightning cracked outside. Dimas laughed bitterly and tapped it.
“Yeah right. Make me him then,"
The world instantly flipped.
He woke up in a completely different sheets, in a massive air-conditioned apartment overlooking what he instantly recognize as South Jakarta’s glittering skyline. His body felt… wrong. Heavy. Powerful. He sat up, heart hammering, and the motion made thick pectorals bounce on his chest. Veins stood out on his forearms. He swung his legs off the bed—tree-trunk thighs, calves carved like marble—and stumbled to his reflection
“Holy fuck,” he breathed in a deep, velvety voice that wasn’t his.
Staring back was literally Reza freaking Ananta. Short buzz-cut hair, thick expressive eyebrows arched in shock, that signature mustache framing full lips. Shirtless, just like in the photos. Sweat already beaded on smooth tan skin from the sudden movement, trickling down the deep cleft between his pecs, over ridged abs, and into the dark happy trail disappearing under his trainer. He raised one arm—the same pose from a lot of Reza's post—and thick black hair sprouted in his pit, the bicep peaking like a mountain.
And between his legs… a heavy, thick cock stirred, already half-hard just from looking at himself. Dimas—now Reza—grinned wide, teeth flashing exactly like the smiling selfie. “This is mine now.”
The phone on the nightstand buzzed. Bank app notification: Rp 350,000,000 in the main account. Another allowance from his dad.
"Setoran Lebaran kemarin, jangan langsung habis," some sort of money from his father's lackeys handed out for Raya. Dimas laughed out loud—deep, cocky, entitled. That was outrageous. Even a year into work, he never seen such amount of money as his annual salary won't even reach 1/3 of it. But, this piece of shit got it in one transfer, how fucking unfair, he thought to himself. But then, he smirked. Well, I'm the piece of shit now, and he hopped off from the bed and start looking
First stop: the walk-in closet. Designer everything—Gucci slides, a Rolex that cost more than his old kos rent for an eternity. He snapped a mirror selfie exactly like Reza’s old ones: low angle, shirtless, one arm up, mustache gleaming under the fancy ceiling lights.
Then, he slid to IG and posted a story from it with the caption: "Who’s joining me tonight? 🔥" Likes flooded in instantly. Girls he’d only jerked to before were now begging in the DMs. Some dudes chatted him asking for address and time. Fucking typical.
He rolled up to a rooftop club in Senayan that normally picked and choose who could come in. The bouncer took one look at his ID, eyes twitched seeing the last name, the ripped arms, and the entitled swagger and unhooked the velvet rope in instance. Inside, bass thumped. Eyes turned. Women in tight dresses stared openly at the tall, mustached stud who looked like he could bench-press them all.
Within ten minutes, a gorgeous girl that cannot be older than a senior in uni—long black hair, tiny dress, the kind who’d never glanced at old Dimas—pressed against him at the bar.
“You’re Reza Ananta right? Saw that post you made about tonight, guess I guessed right,” her hand brushed his chest, feeling the firm muscle through the shirt.
“Yeah, I'm him tonight” he said, voice low, one hand sliding possessively to her waist. "Well, do you want to be rewarded for being right?" He bought her and her two friends a bottle of imported vodka with a black card that never got declined. They danced. Bodies grinding. His new cock was rock-hard in his pants, thick and heavy against her thigh. She whispered in his ear, “Take me somewhere private.”
The VIP bathroom was good enough. Dimas locked the door, shoved her against the marble sink, and yanked his shirt off. She gasped at the sight—exactly the body from the photos: sweaty, hairy pits raised as he flexed, pecs heaving, abs flexing with every breath. “God, you’re so fucking hot,” she moaned, dropping to her knees.
He let her worship him. Her mouth stretched around his thick cock—bigger and harder than anything old Dimas had ever imagined—and he groaned, gripping her hair, thrusting deep while staring at his own reflection in the mirror. He came hard down her throat, then flipped her around, bent her over, and fucked her raw against the counter—deep, powerful strokes that made her scream his name. No condoms needed; he was untouchable now. When she came shaking, he just smirked, pulled out, and shot the rest across her back like he owned the world.
That was only the beginning.
Over the next few weeks Dimas lived the dream. He flew to Bali for an entire week using private jet lended by some entrepreneur that owed his dad for business protection. It was his first time flying or travelling in general outside of Java. There, he fucked a roster of model and Instagram babes in the resort down south in Uluwatu every single day. He wasted money on shoppings, eating out whatever he pleases and lounging around on the beach after getting a solid pump beforehand trained with some international fitness stars he only jacked off too before but now conversed smoothly in English as if he always knew how to speak it this well.
Back in Jakarta, for once he thought he needs to really lock in and start getting a bit more professional as everyone already returned back to office post-Lebaran. But, old practices keep resurfacing out of habit as he used his family names for “favors”—cops at traffic stops saluted and let him speed, the drug bust that happened at one of the club he frequented were informed in advance so he can dip earlier, and other practices that created Reza into this entitled beast to begin with. Work as his father executive staffer is merely in name only so he simply focused on making sure he looks good and feels good all the time without ever needing to think too much. Girls keep on sliding into his DMs in droves; he picked the hottest ones, brought them back to the luxury apartment, and ruined them one by one. Threesomes in the king bed, one riding his face while the other bounced on his cock, their moans echoing off the high ceilings. He discovered he could last for hours in this body, stamina endless, and every orgasm felt like conquering the universe.
Money flowed like water—new watches, a bigger watch, even a custom motorcycle. He posted thirst traps daily, racking up hundreds of thousands of followers who now wanted him. The old Dimas is gone, irrelevant, he doesn't even bother to think about that lowly critter. All he can think about is exercising his power. His privilege. His fit studly body, everything he’d never had
---
Now, after railing two influencers senseless on the balcony overlooking the city lights, cum still dripping down their thighs as they panted his name, Reza—Dimas—lit a cigarette and stared at his reflection in the glass. Mustache perfect, chest heaving, body still glistening exactly like those original photos.
He grinned that wide, cocky smile.
“Best fucking swap ever,” he whispered to the night. “And I’m never giving this body back.”
The nepo baby life is his now—and he is going to fuck, flex, and spend every last rupiah of it.
Dimas—still gloriously trapped inside Reza’s ripped, mustached Polri-recruit body—lounged half-naked on the South Jakarta penthouse balcony, morning sun glinting off the sweat that still clung to his carved abs. His thick cock lay heavy against his thigh, half-hard just from the memory of last night’s quick fuck with the barista he’d picked up. Life was obscene. But one loose end kept nagging at the back of his mind: the real Reza.
That asshole consciousness now rotting away in Dimas’s old scrawny, acne-scarred body back in the Tangerang kos-kosan. He got no clue how Reza would react finding himself in a different bedroom inside a different body. He probably had woken up there after the swap confused, powerless but then settled into his new reality, because he did not receive any phone call whatsoever from the frantic "Dimas" that he is actually Reza. He heard that the swap got that kind of effect for the party whose body taken over to reduce "noise and complaint" and it sounded possible if that really is the case here. But regardless, he can't risk having Reza out and about in his body and potentially ruining everything, so he needs to make some move
He waited until midnight, slipped into Reza’s Mini, and drive himself to the rundown kos in Tangerang. No driver. No witnesses. His bapak kos as expected already falling asleep and if that body followed his routine to the tee, that weak, glass-wearing coding nerd is probably out trying to buy some Indomie from the warteg down the street and leaving his kosan unlocked as Fikri, his roommate, will be home anytime soon if he's not dragged to do yet another extended shift because his co-worked has last-minute emergency. As smooth as planned, he managed to let himself into his old room, his old laptop sat on the cheap desk, still logged into the same Gmail.
He worked fast. First, a small baggie of crystal meth and two ecstasy pills—sourced discreetly from one of Reza’s shady Polri contacts—tucked into the laptop case. Then he opened the browser, cleared history, and downloaded folders full of the most explicit homoerotic shit he could find: raw gay gangbang videos, screenshots of Grindr chats begging for “anonymous loads,” even a few Photoshopped nudes of Reza’s own body mixed in for extra humiliation. He planted fake chat logs between “Dimas” and anonymous guys, timestamps showing “drug-fueled hookups.” The laptop now screamed secret degenerate
Dimas smirked, Reza's mustache twitching in the dim light. Enjoy prison, asshole. You’ll rot there while I keep fucking your life
Back in the Mini, he made one quiet call to a senior Polri sergeant who owed “Reza” favors.
“Routine tip. Kos in Tangerang. Suspected narcotics and deviant materials. He used my face and edited it to some random porn dude body, trying to tarnish my family name or something. Goblok emang. Handle it quietly, no media, no nothing, my father will be very upset if any of his stupid shit leaked,"
The bust happened at 3 a.m, practically merely several hours after the planting. It's a textbook raid, bodycam footage showing the real Reza (in Dimas’s pathetic nerd body) getting dragged out in handcuffs, eyes wide with terror, laptop seized as evidence. The planted drugs were “found” in plain sight. The porn cache made the charge stick harder: possession with intent, plus “moral corruption” whispers that would keep him locked up for years. No one ever connected it to him the golden boy. Dimas made sure the tip stayed anonymous and the sergeant got a nice bonus transferred from Reza’s black card.
Loose end tied. Time to celebrate.
After an eventful sleep on the glorious bedding till mid-day followed by yet another day of shopping session to blow money like crazy, he decided to have a more intimate night.
Reza got some sick memory of enacting orgies with his fellow bros breeding some pretty influencers and sluts that they picked up through DM. It seemed raunchy and animalistic, yet Dimas wants more privacy and then he remembered the way one of Reza's friend, Azka, stared at Reza's body a couple seconds longer than it should be when they worked out together. Reza dismissed it but then Azka literally grabbed his crotch at one party and whispered some raunchy stuff to his ear which made Reza repulsed. Azka said later that he was drunk but deep down Reza knew that Azka has some sort of lustful desire to him. Plus, Azka's girlfriend was real touchy to Reza when they clubbed together a couple weeks ago, so he decided to entertain them both.
They arrived in under thirty minutes. Azka, the 26-year-old trust-fund socialite with the gym-sculpted body and designer fade, looked almost nervous when he stepped through the door. Valerie, his stunning 24-year-old girlfriend—long wavy black hair, perky C-cups, and an ass that could launch a thousand yachts—wore a tiny spaghetti string and casual work pants, trying to portray an image of professionalism. She's supposed to be the poised granddaughter of Manadonese clergymen and TNI generals, the kind of girl who quoted Bible verses at family dinners. Tonight she will be nothing but a cheap, cock-hungry slut.
Dimas—wearing Reza’s ripped, mustached Polri-recruit frame like a weapon—stood in the living room in nothing but low-slung gray gym shorts and a tight white tank that clung to his sweaty pecs. His thin black mustache curled as he smirked.
"Strip. Both of you. On your knees in front of me.”
They obeyed instantly. Azka’s hands shook a little as he peeled off his designer shirt, revealing a lean but soft chest. Valerie’s dress hit the floor, revealing a lacy thong already soaked.
Dimas pointed at the laundry hamper in the corner—the one still full of his post-gym gear from that afternoon’s brutal workout.
"Azka. Crawl over there. Open it. Sniff
Azka’s eyes glazed over like a true beta musk addict. He dropped to all fours and buried his face in the hamper, pulling out a pair of Reza’s dirty crew socks—still damp with sweat from hours in combat boots. He pressed them to his nose and inhaled like a man drowning in lust, moaning pathetically.
“Jing.....Za… your socks....hngghhh....smell so fucking strong...." Dimas laughed, low and cruel, grabbing a fistful of Azka’s hair and shoving the dirty sock to his mouth
"That’s right, you pathetic little musk whore. Goon for my dirty gym socks like the beta cuck you are. I bet you’ve jerked off to these for weeks, haven’t you? Taste it, let my musk imprinted to all your senses,"
Valerie watched from the sofa, biting her lip, already sliding two fingers into her dripping cunt without being told.
"Za....Please… I....I need your at---”
"Shut the fuck up, slut,” Dimas snapped, though his voice dripped with amusement as he directed his focus to her supple, luscious form, "Look at you, pretty Minahasan princess looking like some cheap whore from Jalan Jaksa. Spread those legs and finger that greedy cunt while your boyfriend sniffs my rank socks like a desperate faggot.”
Azka whimpered, cock leaking in his boxers as he moved to the next item: Reza’s sweaty post-gym boxer briefs, the crotch stained dark with ball sweat and pre-cum. He buried his face in them, tongue lapping at the fabric like it was candy.
“Mmmph—— Za… your balls.....smell so fucking good…...ghhhhnnghh.......I'm so fucking hard…”
Dimas yanked his own tank off, exposing the glistening, hairy pits that drove Azka insane. He flopped himself to the sofa next to Valerie, one arm circling her neck, the other raised high enough to give Azka full view of his task to come as the dense black hair matted with fresh sweat.
“Come here, cuck. Clean my pits. Lick every drop while I tell your girlfriend what a worthless beta you are.” Reza said as he ravenously kissed Valerie's neck and purposefully use his fang to leave his claim like a predator marking his prey.
Azka scrambled over on his knees, face pressed into the warm, musky hollow of Reza’s left pit. His tongue dragged long, sloppy strokes through the hair, tasting salt and man and pure dominance. Dimas gripped the back of Azka's head, smothering him.
"Yeah, that’s it. Eat my sweaty pit like it’s your religion. You’re not a rich socialite anymore—you’re my personal musk goon. Bitch, get your head down there,"
With no hesitation, he used his hands and choked Valerie from behind and shoved her head down to sniff his gray sweatpants while he headlocked Azka next to his pits and trying to squeeze the oxygen out of that rich socialite. Knowing her role and getting pressed even harder the longer she hesitated, Valerie yanked the grey sweatpants and damp Calvin hungrily, no trace of her respectable lineage left. As the half-hard, leaking, thick, veiny cock released from its cotton prison, Valerie opened her mouth as wide as possible and started sucking sloppily. As if turning on a machine, Reza's cruelty dialed on due to the touch to his cock as he maintained the pressure on Valerie's neck while spearing inch after inch into her tight throat. Valerie tried to scream to no avail and she even scratched Reza's firm pecs and abs with her nail begging for release, which angered Reza as he yanked her hair and slapped her hard as she takes a breath of fresh air.
"Fucking disrespectful bitch! I gave you a fucking feast, and you scratch me?"
"Za....the fuc--" Another slap, another tightening on the headlock as Azka turned blue
"Swear at me again, and you both will be out from here now," he said coldly
Surprisingly, Azka, gasping for breath and some semblance of consciousness, groaned under his breath and managed to say "No," which make Reza smiled even more like a maniac.
"You hear your boyfriend, he doesn't want this to end now. So, stop being a pussy and be the slut that you are. Cepet buka mulut lo, ngentot!"
As if something clicked on her mind mixed with the fear of disappointing Reza, her face turned slack-jawed and lustful as she then kissed the abs that she scarred,
"Apologies for this, sayang. I didn't mean this. I'm just not trained enough by Azka's little pecker, you know,"
Dimas in Reza went wild. This is crazy. Valerie Selena Nayoan, the influencer with 13 million followers, suddenly turned into a bimbo for him and degraded her hot boyfriend, Azka Valero? This is the kind of stuff his wildest dream even never think about! It makes him swell with happiness and it reflects in the way Reza seems enchanted and less aggressive to Valerie as Valerie continued on getting lower with a more seductive movement,
"Oh god, Za....…this is really so much bigger than Azka’s pathetic little thing…..fuck....like a fucking tennis ball can,” she swallowed him to the root in one greedy motion, gagging happily, spit drooling down her chin onto her tits as she bobbed like she's in some sort of stupid chudai post on X. Dimas groaned, thrusting lazily into her throat as he released his headlock and returned Azka to keep licking his other pit, then moved down to suck on his toes.
"Look at you two. A rich boy turned pit-sniffing cuck and a general’s granddaughter turned throat goat. Pathetic. Valerie, tell me how much you love being a cheap slut for me while your boyfriend worships my feet,"
She pulled off with a wet pop, strings of spit connecting her lips to his cockhead.
"I love it, Za… I’m just a dirty little whore now… fuck my face, use me, I don’t care about my family anymore….. just want your cock…” Azka moaned in agreement, now licking the sweaty underside of Dimas’s feet while Valerie sucked his balls. They worked in filthy tandem—Azka’s tongue fully lapping his soles while Valerie deepthroating until her nose pressed into Reza’s pubes. Dimas degraded them the whole time.
"Azka, you’re such a beta bitch. I bet you goon to my Instagram stories every night, jerking that tiny dick to my face card or the slight peek of my dirty rank socks,
“Jing lah Za....you know me too well....I’m a musk whore… I saved your sweaty underwear from the gym last week which I bet you didn't notice and I jerked off with it over my face for hours…” Valerie giggled around the cock, popping off to add,
“He did, Za… I caught him… and I made him eat my pussy while he sniffed your undies… I’m such a slut for you, I only got wet all over his face that night because of your close friend update dicking down that randos in Cantinero …”
Dimas laughed darkly and stood up, dragging them both to the king bed. He threw Valerie onto her back and shoved Azka’s face between her legs.
“Eat her sloppy cunt while I fuck her tits. And keep sniffing my socks—I want them stuffed in your mouth.” Azka obeyed, burying his face in Valerie’s shaved, dripping pussy while holding Reza’s rank gym socks to his nose. Dimas straddled Valerie’s chest, sliding Reza's thick cock between her perky tits and fucking them hard, the head bumping her chin.
“That’s it, cheap whore. Push those tits together for my cock. Your clergyman grandpa would be so ashamed or having a full on heart attack if he ever see his precious granddaughter getting tit-fucked by an Akpol stud while her boyfriend goons on dirty socks,"
Valerie moaned like a bitch in heat.
“Nghhhhh, fuck daddy… use my tits… I’m just a cheap Jakarta slut now… fuck me raw….."
Dimas switched, using Reza's strength, he's flipping Valerie with ease onto all fours and slamming into her cunt in one brutal thrust. She screamed in pleasure, pushing back like a whore. Azka is forced to lie underneath, licking Reza’s balls and the base of the cock as it pounded in and out of his girlfriend. Every few strokes, he pulled out and shoved the mean, dripping cock into Azka’s mouth.
“Clean it, cuck. Taste how wet your girl gets for a real man.”
The night blurred into hours of pure control and degradation. Dimas made Azka rim Reza's sweaty ass while he fucked Valerie doggy-style, the beta’s tongue buried deep between Reza’s muscular cheeks. He made Valerie ride Azka’s face while Dimas fucked her ass, calling her “general’s whore” the whole time. Azka came untouched twice just from sniffing fresh pairs of Reza’s socks and licking his hairy pits. Valerie squirted three times, begging to be called a cheap slut, denying any connection to her proud Minahasan bloodline.
By 4 a.m. they're a sweaty, cum-drenched mess on the sheets. Dimas had cum down Valerie’s throat, across Azka’s face, and twice inside each of them—breeding the “respectable” couple raw. He stood over them, cock still half-hard, mustache gleaming with sweat, and made them thank him.
“Thank you, Za… for turning me into your musk cuck…” Azka whimpered, face covered in cum and pit sweat.
“Thank you for making me your cheap whore…” Valerie panted, cum leaking from her ruined holes. Dimas lit a cigarette, exhaling smoke over their spent bodies.
“Good pets. Now sleep. I own you both.”
--
Morning light creeps through the curtains around 9 a.m. Dimas wakes up between them—Azka curled up like a pathetic puppy still clutching one of his dirty socks, Valerie snoring with dried cum on her cheek. His cock stirred again, but something on the nightstand caught his eye: Azka’s forgotten tablet, screen still on from last night’s half-assed attempt to record the threesome for his own gooning later. A shared Google Drive folder was open. A PDF contract preview glowed at the top.
Dimas’s eyes narrowed, a slow, filthy grin spreading across Reza’s handsome face. He remembered the family WhatsApp pics—Edo’s broader, more mature muscular frame, that thick curly hair, the commanding mustache, the billion-rupiah contracts, the Keraton at the Plaza apartment that made this one look like a starter home. Married to Reza’s own eldest sister, but that had never mattered.
Look at that power… that built… that real money which certainly beat Reza's monthly handout as that's gonna be Edo's own.
The idea bloomed hot and irresistible in his mind, just like the WishSwap app had the first time.
Why stay the pretty douchebag when I can upgrade to the full-blown, pretty douchebag defense executive? Dimas thought. Hmmm....maybe a few days more of this life, and time to move on??? he chuckled in his own thought, already half-hard again at the thought of the next swap. Then I’m jumping into Edo. And maybe I can take Fikri with me.
Dimas closed the tablet, lit another cigarette, and exhaled toward the ceiling, the morning sun painting every ridge of his stolen abs gold. The best is yet to come.
--
The morning after the long night of filth, awkward post-fuck clarity hit Azka and Valerie like a cold shower in the middle of the penthouse living room. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the mess they’d made—crumpled clothes, empty condom wrappers (though most of the fucking had been raw), and the unmistakable scent of dried cum, sweat, and musk still hanging heavy in the air.
Valerie sits on the edge of the couch in one of Reza’s oversized Akpol T-shirts, her long wavy hair a tangled mess, thighs still sticky, and a faint bruise on her neck from where Reza had sucked her hard while calling her a cheap whore. She keeps glancing at Azka, her respectable Manadonese clergyman-and-TNI-general lineage suddenly crashing back into her brain like a guilty freight train.
Azka, meanwhile, looked wrecked. His designer fade is flattened on one side, his lean gym body marked with bite marks and dried spit. He clutched one of Reza’s rank, post-gym socks in his lap like a security blanket, face burning with shame as fragments of the night replayed: burying his nose in Reza’s hairy pits, gooning on dirty underwear, licking balls while Reza railed his girlfriend.
“Za.....Bro…...” Azka tried, voice cracking as he attempted to “bro up” and salvage some dignity. He forced a weak laugh, standing awkwardly near the bedroom door. “Coy, last night was… wild, brok. Crazy how we all just… went there. And damn.....look at you.....all fresh from a fucking morning workout. After all that and still hitting them hard? Insane. We should hit the gym together sometime, yeah? Bros before… uh… whatever that was.”
Inside Reza’s body, Dimas smirked. Reza is still shirtless and glistening from the morning session he’d just finished. He’d spent the last hour doing steady-state cardio on the treadmill (Reza’s memories supplied the exact arrangement), then dropped into perfect form of push-ups, crunches that made his abs pop, and light shoulder presses with the dumbbells in the corner. The body feels even better after the pump—thick veins standing out, hairy pits still damp, mustache perfectly trimmed. He barely glanced at Azka, continuing to towel off his neck and chest.
“Musk whore,” Dimas said flatly, using Reza’s deep, entitled voice like a whip.
“Stop trying to act like we’re equals. You spent half the night with your face in my dirty socks and sweaty pits, tongue deep in my ass while I bred your girlfriend. Save the ‘bro’ shit for your other soft friends. Now go make coffee or something useful.”
Azka’s face turned beet red. He opened his mouth, closed it, and shuffled toward the kitchen like a kicked puppy.
Breakfast eventually served on the marble island—avocado toast, eggs, fresh fruit, and strong kopi from the machine Reza got for his 18th birthday. Reza sits at the head like a king, still in just gym shorts, his muscular chest and ridged abs on full display, one thick arm draped casually over the back of his chair. Dimas exploited every scrap of Reza’s memories: the way Reza used to talk to girls (arrogant, filthy, zero filter), the inside jokes with friends, the casual nepo-baby dominance.
Valerie tried to eat politely, crossing her legs under the table, but Dimas isn't having it. He reached over, slapped her ass hard enough to make it jiggle even through the T-shirt, and grinned with Reza’s cocky mustache twitch.
“Sit properly, slut. Legs open. I want to see if my cum is still leaking out of that cheap pussy. Your clergyman grandpa and those TNI general ancestors would be so proud seeing their precious bloodline turned into my personal cumdump after one night," Valerie whimpered, face flushing, but obediently spread her thighs. A faint trickle of dried cum was visible on her inner leg.
“Reza… please… are we really still…”
“Shut up and eat,” Dimas ordered, voice dripping entitlement. He forked a piece of avocado and fed it to her like she's a pet.
“You weren’t complaining last night when you were begging me to fuck your face harder than Azka ever could. Now you’re acting shy and dignifief? Pathetic. Swallow it all—breakfast and the shame, no one's around anyway,"
Azka stared at his plate, toast turning to ash in his mouth. He couldn’t swallow properly; every bite feels like guilt. Valerie fared no better, her respectable upbringing screaming in her head while her body still throbbed from being used like a whore. Dimas doesn't care. He picked up his phone and dialed Andry—Reza’s closest friend, another rich, entitled Jakartan guy who trained in the same batch with Reza and partied just as hard. Andry answered on the second ring, voice loud and bro-like.
“Reza! Bro, what’s good? What are you up to last night? We went to Caspar and we tried to reach you but to no avail,"
Dimas leaned back, putting the call on speaker so Azka and Valerie could hear every word. He grinned wide.
“Alive and thriving, brochacho. You won’t believe the pathetic shit I dealt with. Azka and Valerie came over. That beta cuck Azka spent the whole night as my personal musk whore—face buried in my dirty gym socks, licking my sweaty post-workout underwear, tongue deep in my hairy pits while he gooned like a desperate faggot. Couldn’t even get hard properly until I let him sniff my balls. And Valerie? Man, she turned into the cheapest slut I’ve ever seen. Forgot all about her fancy Manadonese clergyman family and TNI general bloodline. Begged me to breed her raw, rode my cock like a Jakarta street whore while her boyfriend watched and jerked with my rank socks over his face. I fucked her tits, her throat, her ass—filled both holes while calling her a disgrace to her ancestors. They’re sitting right here in my dining table having breakfast, by the way. Can’t even swallow their food without choking on the shame.”
Andry burst out laughing on the other end, completely buying it because this is exactly how the real Reza used to talk—entitled, crude, zero fucks given.
“Hahaha, I knew that Azka is a fag! Yes, I'll fucking ask Salim to pay me then because I'm fucking right. Send pics next time or fucking let me know if you're up to some stupid shit, you know I'm down for that kind of stuff,"
Azka’s fork clattered against his plate. He stared down, cheeks burning, unable to look up. Valerie’s hands trembled as she tried to sip her coffee, a tear of humiliated arousal slipping down her cheek. Neither of them can swallow properly; the food sits like lead while Dimas keeps chatting casually with Andry about gym plans and upcoming parties, as if recounting the night’s degradation is the most normal morning conversation.
Andry hung up after ten minutes, still chuckling.
“Tell the cuck musk whore and the slut I said hi.”
Dimas ended the call, tossed the phone aside, and slapped Valerie’s ass again for good measure.
“Hear that? Even Andry thinks you two are jokes. Now finish your breakfast. I’ve got shit to do.”
Azka and Valerie leave thirty minutes later—awkward goodbyes, eyes downcast, bodies still marked. As they reached the door, Dimas pulls Valerie back by the wrist, leaning in close so only she could hear. His breath's warm against her ear, mustache brushing her skin.
“Come back in a couple days, slut. Bring two of your hot friends—Alia and Diana. I want prime pussy estate. Tight, young, and ready to get ruined just like you. Don’t disappoint me.”
Valerie’s eyes darkened with obsession, the post-fuck shame melting instantly at the promise of Reza’s thick cock again. She nodded quickly, biting her lip.
“Yes, Reza… I’ll bring them. They’ll come… I promise,"
Dimas smirked, giving her ass one final hard slap as she left.
“Good girl. Now get the fuck out."
--
The door clicked shut, the sound echoing through the empty South Jakarta luxury apartment like a starting gun for his private ritual. Azka and Valerie are finally out—broken, humiliated, obsessed—but he doesn’t care about them anymore. Not today. Today is for him. Alone with Reza’s perfect, stolen body. After ensuring that all the door is locked, he killed the AC so the humid Jakarta heat will build up in this very highest room in this tower as he walked straight to the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the master bedroom. The same mirror Reza used to flex in for his Instagram thirst traps. Now it's Dimas’s personal goon altar.
He stripped slowly, savoring every second. The tight workout tanktop came off first, revealing the carved chest, dark nipples, and the thick happy trail that disappeared into low-slung navy gym shorts. He peeled those down next, letting Reza’s thick, heavy cock spring free—already half-hard just from the anticipation. The shorts hit the floor, followed by the rank, post-workout socks he’d worn during his morning pump. Dimas kicked them toward the mirror, then stood there naked, hands on hips, staring at the reflection of the ultimate Indonesian stud: buzz-cut hair, thick expressive eyebrows, that signature black mustache framing full lips, veined forearms, boulder shoulders, and abs that looked photoshopped even in real life. Sweat is already starting to bead on the tan skin from the rising heat.
“Fuck yes,” Dimas growled in Reza’s deep, velvety voice. He raised one thick arm, exposing the dense, black pit hair—still damp from the earlier workout. He buried his nose straight into it and inhaled hard, eyes rolling back.
“Mmmph… smell that? That’s your musk, Reza. Rich, entitled nepo-baby musk. But it’s my nose enjoying it now, heck....it's my musk now too,”
He licked a long stripe through the hair, tasting salt and man, then did the same to the other pit, moaning like a whore.
“From ugly Tangerang nerd jerking off to your pics in a dirty kos-kostan… to puppeteering this body like my personal fuck puppet. Rags to riches, baby. I own every inch.”
He started posing. Stupid, goony faces—just to degrade the image of the straight-laced, serious Reza even more. First, he stuck his tongue out, crossed his eyes, and let his mouth hang slack, mustache twitching as he flexed his biceps.
“Look at you, Reza. Big tough special staff to General Daddy making dumb fuck-me faces in the mirror. Bet none of your Akpol bros ever saw this side.”
He twisted Reza’s memories right there, rewriting them live in his head for maximum goon fuel. No more straight-laced drills and patriotic slogans. Now the academy experience is a secret gay pervert paradise. Dimas imagined Reza on his knees in the barracks showers, seniors’ thick cocks slapping his mustache while they called him “the unit’s secret cumdump.” He pictured himself—back when he was still Dimas—watching from the shadows, but now he's inside the memory, making Reza beg for it.
“Bang Arif used to bend you over the locker bench after lights-out, didn’t he?” Dimas whispered to the mirror, voice dripping filth as he twisted the fake history deeper, “Big, strong seniors, grabbing your hips, calling you their straight-boy toy while they cunted that tight recruit hole. You’d clench so hard, moaning like a bitch, mustache soaked in his sweat.”
He dropped into a squat, spreading his legs wide, and reached back to spread his own muscular cheeks. The tight, virgin-straight pink hole winked in the reflection. He spat on his thick, calloused fingers and pushed two in dry, groaning at the stretch.
“Fuuuck… never been fucked before you met me, huh? Now look at you—plugging your own ass while I rewrite your whole life.”
He keeps the fingers pumping, slow and deep, while he grabbed one of the rank socks from the floor. He pressed it to his face again, inhaling the toe-stink, then wrapped it around his thickening cock and started stroking. The goony faces get stupider—he rolled his eyes back, lolled his tongue out like a brainless dog, puffed his cheeks, and made exaggerated duck lips while flexing his abs.
“Hnnngh—look at this sange face, Reza. This is what a proud son of a patriotic general looks like when a Tangerang bum-fuck loser is driving his body. I went from scraping by on Indomie and free WiFi… to this. This body. This bank account. This cock. And I’m turning you into my personal gay goon fantasy,"
The memory twisting goes harder. Dimas leaned closer to the mirror, ass still clenching around his fingers, and whispered the new fake history like a prayer.
“Remember that night after the big fitness test? You, Andry, and your girlfriends in that cheap motel near the academy. But it wasn’t the straight foursome everyone thought. Nah… you were the center. Andry—your closest bro—had you on all fours while his girlfriend sat on your face. You ate her pussy like a starving man, but your real focus was Andry’s cock sliding into your ass from behind. ‘Take it, recruit,’ he growled, just like the seniors. Your own girlfriend watched, fingering herself, calling you a secret fag while you moaned into her cunt. Then they switched—both girls holding your legs open while Andry and you took turns breeding each other raw. Cum everywhere. Mustaches rubbing together when you kissed. You came hands-free just from getting your hole wrecked by your best friend.”
Dimas moaned loud, adding a third finger, scissoring them open. The stretch burned so good. He reached into the nightstand—Reza kept a thick, veined silicone plug hidden for “private training” (another memory Dimas had just invented whereas the real Reza used this to prep girl's hole). He slicked it with spit and his own pre-cum, then squatted lower in front of the mirror.
“Watch this, golden boy. Your tight straight asshole is about to get plugged like the academy cumslut you really are.”
He pressed the fat head against his hole and sank down slowly, inch by inch, until the flared base popped inside. The fullness made his cock jump, a thick bead of pre-cum dripping onto the marble floor.
“Fuuuuck yes!” He started riding it, slow bounces that made his heavy balls slap against his thighs. Pit hair glistened with fresh sweat. He raised both arms again, shoving his face into one pit while he kept riding, tongue lapping greedily.
“Smell that? That’s power musk. Stafsus-level now, but still got that raw recruit stink I love. I’m the one who came from nothing—broke, ugly, invisible—and now I’m making this nepo-stud body degrade itself for my pleasure. Every flex, every moan, every plug in this ass… it’s all me. Dimas the nerd, owning Reza Ananta's life.”
He twisted the memory even filthier.
In the new version, the academy foursome happened every month. Andry would text the code word—“drill time”—and Reza would show up already lubed, dropping to his knees the second the door closed. The girlfriends would laugh and film on their phones while Reza and Andry 69’d, sucking each other’s cocks, then double-penetrating the girls with their mustaches buried in each other’s asses.
“You’d beg Andry to cum inside you while your girlfriend watched,” Dimas panted to the mirror, riding the plug faster.
“Call him ‘senior’ even though he was your equal. ‘Breed your recruit bitch, Bang Andry.’ And he’d flood you, then make you push the load out into your own girlfriend’s mouth while you ate his ass.”
The goony faces never stopped. He crossed his eyes again, tongue hanging out, drool slipping down his chin onto his chest as he bounced. One hand jerked his cock in long, sloppy strokes; the other reached back to tug on the plug, fucking himself deeper. Sweat poured down his abs, dripping into the dark pubes.
“Look at you. Big tough stud with a plug up his ass and a nerd’s voice coming out of his mouth. I used to watch your stories and cum in my hand like a loser. Now I’m wearing your skin and turning your straight memories into pure gay goon porn. Rags to riches, motherfucker. From kos-kosan virgin to this—self-fucking in front of a mirror while I rewrite your entire academy life as a secret cock-hungry whore.”
He edged for what felt like hours. Every time he got close, he stopped stroking and just rode the plug, clenching around it, making stupid faces and sniffing his own pits until the urge faded. Then he’d start again, twisting more memories: secret blowjobs in the armory, seniors making him wear their used jockstraps under his uniform all day, Andry fucking him in the back of the patrol car while they were supposed to be on duty.
“You loved it,” Dimas groaned, voice hoarse. “Loved being the unit’s hidden fag while everyone thought you were the perfect straight patriot. And now I get to live it every day.”
By late afternoon the room stank of musk, sweat, and pure lust. Dimas finally let himself go. He stood up, turned around, bent over so his plugged ass faced the mirror, and jerked furiously while staring back at his own reflection. Goony face maxed out—eyes crossed, tongue out, mustache shiny with spit.
“Cum for me, you stolen stud. Cum knowing a Tangerang nobody owns you completely.” Thick ropes shot across the mirror, painting the reflection of Reza’s abs and cock. Pulse after pulse, more than the old Dimas could ever produce.He collapsed onto the bed, plug still buried deep, chest heaving, cum still dripping from his spent cock.
In the mirror, the mustached stud looked utterly wrecked—sweaty, plugged, marked by his own load, stupid goony grin still plastered on his face. Dimas laughed breathlessly, voice thick with satisfaction.
“Best fucking upgrade ever. And I’m never giving this body back. Not until I jump into something even better… like your brother-in-law Edo.”
He reached back, tugged the plug out with a wet pop, and brought it to his lips, licking it clean while staring at his reflection.Rags to riches. Nerd to god. And the gooning had only just begun.
--
Dimas is lounging naked on the massive leather couch in Reza’s apartment & the afternoon sun turning his stolen muscles into glistening gold. The plug from his earlier goon session still sits heavy in his ass, a constant reminder of how thoroughly he owned this body. His thick cock lay soft but heavy against his thigh, still sticky from the final load he’d painted across the mirror. He picked up Reza’s gold iPhone, smirking behind the thin black mustache.
Time to fuck with Fikri.
Fikri Santoso is probably still rotting in his cheap third-floor kost-kostan where the real Reza (now trapped in Dimas’s old scrawny nerd body) had just been hauled off in cuffs less than 48 hours ago. Fikri’s phone buzzed by an unknown number. He answered on the third ring, voice shaky.
“H-hello?"
Dimas spoke in Reza’s smooth, entitled baritone, low and mocking.
"Hey, loser. Miss me already?”
Fikri freezes.
“W--wh…...who is this? How did you get this number?”
“Doesn’t matter, Fikri. What matters is that you’re next. Just like your pathetic roommate Dimas. Remember him? The ugly virgin who used to jerk off to my pics with you every night? As you know, he’s in lockup right now—drugs, gay porn, all the stupid works, you heard all that, right? Cops found all your stupid goon stash, and do you know he's a druggie? You’re lucky you weren’t home during the raid, or you’d be sharing a cell with him, bent over for the guards while they call you both faggot,”
Fikri’s breathing hitched.
“W--wait....how do---who are you actually???? Stop this BS and tell me who the fuck are you if you dare,"
The line goes silent.
A minute later, another unknown call. Fikri answered again, hands trembling
“Stop fucking with me, man! I didn’t do anything! I didn't know shit about Dimas and his drug use! Fuck off, I'm not going to jail!"
Dimas chuckled darkly.
“Oh, but you will. I’ve got files, Fikri. Lots of them. Enough to make the cops come knocking on your door tomorrow if I hit send. Want a preview?”
His phone pinged. First file: a high-angle selfie of Reza’s body right after Dimas had nutted that morning—thick ropes of cum still dripping down the carved abs, mustache shiny with spit, one arm raised to show the hairy pit, eyes crossed in a stupid goony face. Caption in the metadata: Post-nut clarity for my new recruit bitch.
Second file: a video clip. Silhouetted in the penthouse window, Azka on his knees, face buried in Reza’s rank gym socks, tongue out like a dog while Valerie rode Reza’s cock reverse-cowgirl, moaning like a cheap whore. The audio is crystal clear—Dimas’s voice growling,
“That’s it, musk cuck. Sniff my dirty socks while I breed your girlfriend.”
Third file: another selfie, this one post-plug session—Reza’s ass spread in the mirror, the thick silicone base visible between muscular cheeks, cock leaking, tongue hanging out in pure brain-melted goon mode.
More files flooded in. Selfies of Reza flexing with cum on his mustache. A screenshot of Azka’s face covered in spit and pit sweat, eyes rolled back. Valerie on all fours, ass up, cum leaking while she begged,
“I’m just a cheap slut now, Reza—forget my general and clergymen bloodline.”
Fikri’s phone keeps vibrating. He stared in horror, dick twitching traitorously in his cheap shorts despite the fear.
“Please… stop… I’ll delete everything, I'll scrub all this stupid shit---"
“Too late, virgin,” Dimas taunted on the next call. "Those files are back-up. If you check the files in detail, it conveniently leads to your X account. One more warrant and the cops will find them every single one of them. They’ll think you and Dimas are running some stupid slanderous AI edit of the rich and famous with payment in drug and illegal crypto. You’ll end up just like your roomie—broke, ugly, and getting passed around in prison. Unless…”
Fikri's breathing hard.
“Unless what?”
“Unless you do exactly what I say. There’s a package waiting for you at the still developing Gading Serpong food hub unit 7. Black envelope taped under the broken bench. Go now. Alone. If you’re not there in an hour and do what it says, I send everything to your family group chat and the Polri's tip line. Clock’s ticking, goony boy”
The line goes dead again.
Fikri does not hesitate. He put on a hoodie, heart hammering, and ride the Gojek for 13 km in the humid afternoon heat. When he arrived, indeed, the ruko is not finished yet as mentioned. He walked through the installed front door into what's practically an empty, spacious space. He dropped to his knees, groped under the bench in the middle of the unit, and find the black envelope. Inside: a cheap burner phone, already powered on, with only one app installed—WishSwap. A single note in block letters: Open it. You’ll understand
He tapped the app. The interface lit up with a single active session labeled
“Reza Pramudhya Ananta – Target Body Ready for Transfer.” A message popped up: Companion slot unlocked. Accept to claim your upgrade.
Fikri’s eyes widened. The pieces slammed together—Dimas obsession with codes. The way Dimas was very much stiff and hesitated to speak up as if he lost his his train of thought for the past few days before the raid on their kos, the way the voice on the phone sounded exactly like what he heard from Reza Ananta's IG story but there's this hint of playfulness behind its cruelty, the files of Reza’s own body in the most depraved positions. He was not being blackmailed. He was being offered the same deal. The same deal that swapped his roommate, Dimas, into Reza freaking Ananta. Dimas did speak up about this weird "Swap" something app he got downloaded without he ever recalled it, but he never opened it and yet couldn't delete it. That's it. That's the same thing as this shit. And now, Dimas wanted him to be in Reza? What is Dimas up to next then?
Not trying to waste anymore time and wary about the deadline, he dialed the last number that had called him. It connected instantly
The voice on the other end answered with a lazy drawl.
“Took you long enough, jamet,"
A slow, filthy grin spread across Fikri’s face.
"Fuck you, Dontol," Fikri laughed, low and dark, the fear melting into pure excitement. “Sorry....I mean....Reza… you magnificent bastard. I get it now. You really did it. You swapped. And you want me in there with you, but where are you going then? Not to my body, obviously, I know I have the bigger cock but is it really even bigger than Reza's?"
Dimas—still lounging in Reza’s body—grinned wide, mustache curling.
“HAHAH fuck your worm cock, tolol. Now that's a familiar nickname. Ahh....that stupid Dontol nickname that I despise. Well yeah, I’m about to upgrade to something even bigger. Reza's older brother, Edo. Defense consultancy money, bigger muscles, real power. I need someone I trust to keep this one warm. You in, Fikri? Or do you want to stay a broke kos virgin while I send those files anyway?”
Fikri stared at the WishSwap screen, thumb hovering over “Accept Transfer.” His voice is steady now, hungry.
“I’m in, bro. Tell me when and where. I’ll be the best brother-in-law you ever had,"
Dimas laughed, deep and satisfied, one hand idly stroking his thickening cock at the thought.
“Good. Download the full app and everything it asked you to. I’ll trigger the swap tonight after I finish one last goon session in this body. When you wake up tomorrow, you’ll be the ripped, mustached nepo-baby stud. And I’ll be Edo. We’ll run this city together—two nerds in the hottest skinsuits Jakarta has ever seen.”
Fikri’s grin turned feral.
“Can’t wait to wear that mustache, Reza. See you on the other side."
He ended the call, pocketed the burner, and walked back toward the kos with a swagger he never had before. The package will surely change everything.
In the penthouse, Dimas tossed Reza’s phone aside and stood up, plug still buried deep, muscles flexing in the mirror. He raised one arm, buried his nose in the hairy pit, and moaned.
“New owner riding you soon, bro,” he whispered to his reflection. “And I'll get to feel this from the outside using your brother-in-law, how delicious,"
The plan is in motion. Two pathetic nerds are about to own the city’s finest bodies—one filthy swap at a time.
Another request! I think I worked best with putting my fantasy as the prompt, let AI flesh it out and edited the results so it flows better and has all the element that I wanted to be captured well. Hope you'll enjoy, this is quite the same basic with the previous one
Dimas used to be the definition of invisible. A 23-year-old Indonesian first-jobber living in a rundown kos-kosan in Tangerang, he's scrawny, acne-scarred, and broke as hell—glasses perpetually fogged from the humid Banten heat, cheap knockoff shirts clinging to his narrow chest, and a part-time coding gig that barely covered Indomie and internet bills. Girls? Forget it. He was a virgin up until that point, jerking off furiously every night to Instagram thirst traps of hot dudes his age or some celebs while dreaming of a life he’d never touch. Dimas's biggest obsession was Reza Pramudhya Ananta, probably one of the ultimate nepo baby of Jakarta.
He's the son of a high-ranking Polri 3-star general. The 24-year-old Reza is an Akpol graduate that conveniently landed a cushy job as his father's executive assistant. In reality, he partied harder than he ever worked, that's if he ever worked at all for the past 2 years noting how he's the only son and youngest child of the 3 his parents had. His feed, at least for Dimas, is pure goon fuel: shirtless gym selfies, luxury cars, and that cocky smirk under a thick black mustache that made every girl in Jakarta probably slide into his DMs.
Wealthy, ripped, entitled, and untouchable, none of them fits to describe Dimas but certainly it matched these dudes he admired.
One rainy blackout night, Dimas was doomscrolling Reza’s latest post—a low-angle shot of that glistening, muscular torso—when a shady “WishSwap” app he’d downloaded on a bored whim pinged.
One click for your fantasy life
Lightning cracked outside. Dimas laughed bitterly and tapped it.
“Yeah right. Make me him then,"
The world instantly flipped.
He woke up in a completely different sheets, in a massive air-conditioned apartment overlooking what he instantly recognize as South Jakarta’s glittering skyline. His body felt… wrong. Heavy. Powerful. He sat up, heart hammering, and the motion made thick pectorals bounce on his chest. Veins stood out on his forearms. He swung his legs off the bed—tree-trunk thighs, calves carved like marble—and stumbled to his reflection
“Holy fuck,” he breathed in a deep, velvety voice that wasn’t his.
Staring back was literally Reza freaking Ananta. Short buzz-cut hair, thick expressive eyebrows arched in shock, that signature mustache framing full lips. Shirtless, just like in the photos. Sweat already beaded on smooth tan skin from the sudden movement, trickling down the deep cleft between his pecs, over ridged abs, and into the dark happy trail disappearing under his trainer. He raised one arm—the same pose from a lot of Reza's post—and thick black hair sprouted in his pit, the bicep peaking like a mountain.
And between his legs… a heavy, thick cock stirred, already half-hard just from looking at himself. Dimas—now Reza—grinned wide, teeth flashing exactly like the smiling selfie. “This is mine now.”
The phone on the nightstand buzzed. Bank app notification: Rp 350,000,000 in the main account. Another allowance from his dad.
"Setoran Lebaran kemarin, jangan langsung habis," some sort of money from his father's lackeys handed out for Raya. Dimas laughed out loud—deep, cocky, entitled. That was outrageous. Even a year into work, he never seen such amount of money as his annual salary won't even reach 1/3 of it. But, this piece of shit got it in one transfer, how fucking unfair, he thought to himself. But then, he smirked. Well, I'm the piece of shit now, and he hopped off from the bed and start looking
First stop: the walk-in closet. Designer everything—Gucci slides, a Rolex that cost more than his old kos rent for an eternity. He snapped a mirror selfie exactly like Reza’s old ones: low angle, shirtless, one arm up, mustache gleaming under the fancy ceiling lights.
Then, he slid to IG and posted a story from it with the caption: "Who’s joining me tonight? 🔥" Likes flooded in instantly. Girls he’d only jerked to before were now begging in the DMs. Some dudes chatted him asking for address and time. Fucking typical.
He rolled up to a rooftop club in Senayan that normally picked and choose who could come in. The bouncer took one look at his ID, eyes twitched seeing the last name, the ripped arms, and the entitled swagger and unhooked the velvet rope in instance. Inside, bass thumped. Eyes turned. Women in tight dresses stared openly at the tall, mustached stud who looked like he could bench-press them all.
Within ten minutes, a gorgeous girl that cannot be older than a senior in uni—long black hair, tiny dress, the kind who’d never glanced at old Dimas—pressed against him at the bar.
“You’re Reza Ananta right? Saw that post you made about tonight, guess I guessed right,” her hand brushed his chest, feeling the firm muscle through the shirt.
“Yeah, I'm him tonight” he said, voice low, one hand sliding possessively to her waist. "Well, do you want to be rewarded for being right?" He bought her and her two friends a bottle of imported vodka with a black card that never got declined. They danced. Bodies grinding. His new cock was rock-hard in his pants, thick and heavy against her thigh. She whispered in his ear, “Take me somewhere private.”
The VIP bathroom was good enough. Dimas locked the door, shoved her against the marble sink, and yanked his shirt off. She gasped at the sight—exactly the body from the photos: sweaty, hairy pits raised as he flexed, pecs heaving, abs flexing with every breath. “God, you’re so fucking hot,” she moaned, dropping to her knees.
He let her worship him. Her mouth stretched around his thick cock—bigger and harder than anything old Dimas had ever imagined—and he groaned, gripping her hair, thrusting deep while staring at his own reflection in the mirror. He came hard down her throat, then flipped her around, bent her over, and fucked her raw against the counter—deep, powerful strokes that made her scream his name. No condoms needed; he was untouchable now. When she came shaking, he just smirked, pulled out, and shot the rest across her back like he owned the world.
That was only the beginning.
Over the next few weeks Dimas lived the dream. He flew to Bali for an entire week using private jet lended by some entrepreneur that owed his dad for business protection. It was his first time flying or travelling in general outside of Java. There, he fucked a roster of model and Instagram babes in the resort down south in Uluwatu every single day. He wasted money on shoppings, eating out whatever he pleases and lounging around on the beach after getting a solid pump beforehand trained with some international fitness stars he only jacked off too before but now conversed smoothly in English as if he always knew how to speak it this well.
Back in Jakarta, for once he thought he needs to really lock in and start getting a bit more professional as everyone already returned back to office post-Lebaran. But, old practices keep resurfacing out of habit as he used his family names for “favors”—cops at traffic stops saluted and let him speed, the drug bust that happened at one of the club he frequented were informed in advance so he can dip earlier, and other practices that created Reza into this entitled beast to begin with. Work as his father executive staffer is merely in name only so he simply focused on making sure he looks good and feels good all the time without ever needing to think too much. Girls keep on sliding into his DMs in droves; he picked the hottest ones, brought them back to the luxury apartment, and ruined them one by one. Threesomes in the king bed, one riding his face while the other bounced on his cock, their moans echoing off the high ceilings. He discovered he could last for hours in this body, stamina endless, and every orgasm felt like conquering the universe.
Money flowed like water—new watches, a bigger watch, even a custom motorcycle. He posted thirst traps daily, racking up hundreds of thousands of followers who now wanted him. The old Dimas is gone, irrelevant, he doesn't even bother to think about that lowly critter. All he can think about is exercising his power. His privilege. His fit studly body, everything he’d never had
---
Now, after railing two influencers senseless on the balcony overlooking the city lights, cum still dripping down their thighs as they panted his name, Reza—Dimas—lit a cigarette and stared at his reflection in the glass. Mustache perfect, chest heaving, body still glistening exactly like those original photos.
He grinned that wide, cocky smile.
“Best fucking swap ever,” he whispered to the night. “And I’m never giving this body back.”
The nepo baby life is his now—and he is going to fuck, flex, and spend every last rupiah of it.
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