Untitled

[reedrichardspecs]

George Armstrong I

[my-body-likes-you-in-control-de]

Julian's Bargain (Pt. 3)

Week 11

I don't even know that I care about keeping the necklace on anymore.

At first, I told myself it was just for the shoots—just for the art, just for the work. But the more I took it off, the less I wanted to put it back on. It started feeling heavy. Restrictive. Like a leash.

So I stopped.

Julian messaged me again last week, freaking out over some new campaign he saw online—some black-and-white editorial where I was shirtless, the cross conspicuously absent. I lied straight to his face. “Those were old shots, dude. From before you lost your shit the first time.” He bought it. Or at least, he didn’t push.

Meanwhile, my career is taking off.

A contact at the agency hooked me up with some art students in Milan—private figure modeling, cash in hand, no questions asked. The first time, I kept the cross on, tucked under my wrist where it wouldn’t show in the sketches. The second time? I left it in my bag. The third? I didn’t even bring it.

It’s been… liberating.

The longer I go without it, the more this body feels like mine. Not Julian’s. Not borrowed. Mine. The way the students stare, the way their pencils trace every line of me—it’s intoxicating. I’ve started recognizing myself in their work, in the way they exaggerate my jaw, my shoulders, the curve of my spine. This is who I am now.

A couple of times, I’ve gone days without wearing it. Just to see. Just to feel. And nothing’s happened. No sudden shift back, no warning twinge. Just… me.

But then Julian will text me, ask how it’s going, if I’m “being careful.” I tell him what he wants to hear, feel guilty, and put it back on for a while. Then I'll post a sluty picture wearing the necklace to back it up.

Meanwhile, I’ve got a flight back to Nice tomorrow, then another shoot in Marseille—one where the stylist specifically requested “no jewelry.”

I’ll pack the cross.

But I don’t think I’ll wear it.

Week 13

Porto was a fever dream.

The shoot wrapped late—golden hour dissolving into violet, the Douro River rippling behind us like molten silver. The crew scattered, but Nuno lingered. Portuguese-Angolan, all muscle and effortless arrogance, the kind of man who moved like the world owed him pleasure. We’d been trading glances all day, charged and deliberate.

“You’re staying at the Palacio, right?” He lit a cigarette, the flame flickering in his dark eyes. “Me too. Come have a drink.”

I did.

One drink became two, became his hands gripping my waist in the elevator, his teeth grazing my neck as I fumbled with the keycard. The door barely clicked shut before he shoved me against it, grinding against me, his breath hot in my ear. “You’ve been driving me fucking crazy all day.”

I laughed, already tugging at his belt. “Yeah? Prove it.”

He did.

But when he was naked above me, impatient, his cock heavy against my thigh, I stopped him. “Wait—put this on.”

Nuno raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue, letting me fasten the chain behind his neck. “Superstition?” he teased, rolling his hips.

I grinned. “Something like that.”

The cross bounced between us as he fucked me, catching the light with every thrust. It was electric—the weight of it swinging, the absurd, secret thrill of pretending, just for a moment, that he was part of the game too. That he wasn’t really this beautiful. That we were both borrowed.

(He wasn’t. He had always been this perfect. But he didn’t know I hadn’t.)

He came inside me, the metal pressed between our sweat-slick chests, warm from skin and friction. We fell asleep tangled together, his arm slung possessively over my waist.

When I woke, he was gone.

No note. No text. Just the ghost of his cologne on the sheets and the dull ache of his absence between my legs.

Then I opened Instagram.

There he was, the sexiest mirror selife I'd ever seen. And there, resting against his collarbones like it had always belonged to him: my cross.

I should’ve panicked. He was definitely already halfway to Angola by now.

I didn’t.

The truth? It looked good on him. Better than good. Right.

I should text him. Demand he send it back. Beg, if I had to.

But my thumb hovered over the screen, hesitating.

Part of me doesn’t want to.

Part of me wants to see what happens when the chain stays gone.

I double-tapped the photo. Closed the app. Rolled over in the empty bed.

And for the first time since the swap, I let myself truly believe that I could stay like this forever.

[my-body-likes-you-in-control-de]

Julian's Bargain (Pt. 1)

The apartment smelled like stale coffee and dirty, sweaty laundry—Julian’s place, not The apartment reeked of stale coffee grounds and the sour tang of forgotten laundry—Julian’s signature musk, not mine. The air clung to my tongue, thick enough to taste. He’d lured me over with his usual vague bullshit about “needing advice,” which, in Julian-speak, translated to: I’m about to hit you up for cash. Again.

I sank into his thrift-store couch, springs groaning under me, and cracked open a beer. “Alright, kid. What’s the damage this time?”

Julian rubbed at the back of his neck, fingers digging into the tension there. His gaze darted everywhere but my face. That stupid gold cross necklace glinted under the flickering overhead light—the one he’d started wearing religiously (ha) a few months back. “Okay, so. Before you say no—”

“I haven’t said no yet.”

“Right. But this is…” He chewed his lip, thumb tracing the edges of the pendant like a worry stone. “Kinda out there. You’re gonna think I’m nuts.”

I took a slow swig, foam bitter on my tongue. “Try me.”

He exhaled, sharp and jagged, like he was tearing off duct tape. “This thing can swap bodies.”

The beer nearly went down wrong. “The necklace?”

“Yeah.”

“The one you got at that stupid flea market?

Julian rolled his eyes. “Yes, that one. Look, I know how it sounds, but it’s real. Liam and I tested it a few weeks ago. Swapped for, like, two days. Freaked his girlfriend the hell out.”

I stared. “You’re telling me you and Liam just… swapped?”

“Yes.” He groaned, dragging a hand down his face hard enough to smudge his stubble. “I know it sounds insane. But it works.”

I leaned back, studying him. The kid’s knuckles were white around the beer bottle. His knee bounced like a live wire. Dead fucking serious.

“Okay.” I let the word hang, just to watch him squirm. “Let’s say I believe you—which I don’t, by the way—why the hell are you telling me?”

Julian hesitated. Then, quieter: “I wanna make a deal. You take my body for the summer. In exchange, you give me some cash. Then in the fall, I move to LA. Try modeling.”

I barked a laugh. “Modeling?”

“What?” He scowled, shoulders tensing. “I could do it.”

I didn’t argue. The kid was built like a Renaissance painting—broad shoulders, sharp jaw, the kind of face that made bartenders card him twice just to stare. But his wardrobe was a crime against humanity, and his selfies looked like hostage photos.

“And what do I get out of this trade?” I asked, still dripping sarcasm.

Julian grinned, all teeth. “Besides the joy of funding my dreams? You’re, what, forty-five?”

“Forty-two, asshole.”

“Right. So. Three months as a twenty-six-year-old gym rat with a face like this?” He gestured to himself like a game-show prize. “Seems like a fair trade.”

It couldn’t be real. But if it was—

My pulse kicked. Not just the youth (though fuck, yeah, that was part of it), but the body. The one I’d never gotten to have. I was fit now, sure, but in my 20s? Skinny, soft, all wrong. I didn’t come out until 29. Didn’t get top surgery until my late 30s. To step into Julian’s skin—no scars, no dysphoria, a body that matched without a single fight? To be tall for once, instead of 5’6” on a good day?

It hit me like a live wire, heat pooling low in my gut. And judging by Julian’s smirk, he knew exactly how good his offer was.

Still, I let him sweat before nodding at the necklace. “Prove it.”

Julian blinked. “What?”

“You heard me. Show me it’s real.”

He hesitated, then slipped the chain over his head. The gold glinted, warm against his palm. “Okay. But just for, like, a minute.”

He said a quick incantation. Then—

Oh.

I was looking up at Julian. Or rather, at myself, from the outside. My own face stared back, wide-eyed.

“Holy shit,” Julian—my voice, my mouth—breathed.

I looked down. Julian’s hands—my hands now—flexed, tendons shifting under smooth skin. I rolled my shoulders, felt the ripple of muscle.

Fuck.

He said another incantation. The world tilted again, and suddenly I was back in my own body, heart hammering against my ribs.

Julian grinned, shaky but triumphant. “Convinced?”

I exhaled, slow. “Jesus Christ.”

“So? Deal?”

I pretended to think about it. Like I hadn’t already decided the second I felt what it was like to breathe in that body.

“One condition,” I said.

Julian groaned. “What?”

“I’m taking your ass to France.”

He blinked. “What?”

“I’ve always wanted to learn the language, and I can’t think of a better place to be you than on the Côte d'Azur.” I smirked. “Don’t worry, I’ll post plenty of pics. You’ll be so jealous.”

Julian scowled. “You’re such a dick.”

“And yet you’re still asking for my help.”

He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “regretting it already,” then sighed. “Fine. But if you fuck up my—”

“Yeah, yeah.” I held out my hand. “Deal?”

He hesitated, then gripped it, his palm was warm. “Deal.”

Week 3

God, taking this deal was such a great decision. The evening Julian swapped us, I bought a one-way ticket to France—literally, for the next day. No hesitation, no second thoughts. Just me, this stupidly hot body, and a whole new life waiting on the other side of the Atlantic.

It took less time than you’d think to get used to it all—maybe only a few days if we’re being honest. But I still catch myself staring in the mirror sometimes, running my hands up my smooth, hairless chest, down my flat abs. You’d think I’d hate the twunky vibe after years of T and building up my hairy bear body, but… nope. Not even a little. There’s something fun about this.

I've especially started to get a bit addicted to taking selfies now too. Here's a few of my favorites:

I sublet a room in this fancy apartment in Nice—living with two French girls, Camille and Léa, and a Swiss-French guy, Théo. When we were messaging, they were so reluctant to take in an American (especially one with my shitty, stumbling French), but the second I showed up in person? Oof. Camille actually blushed when she opened the door. Théo clapped me on the back like we were old friends, and Léa—cool, aloof Léa—suddenly found reasons to linger in the kitchen whenever I was around.

“Ton français n’est pas si terrible,” she told me the other night, leaning against the counter while I made coffee. Her eyes flicked over my bare shoulders. (I may or may not have been shirtless. For the heat. Obviously.)

“Merci,” I said, grinning. “But I think you’re just being nice.”

“Non,” she said, tilting her head. “You have a… charming accent.”

Yeah. Charming. That’s one word for it.

I’ve been throwing myself into the language, into the city, into not being another clueless tourist. My roommates drag me to these little local beachside parties—no overpriced cocktails, no tacky souvenirs, just good music, better wine, and people who actually live here. Last weekend, Théo introduced me to some of his friends, and this guy, Mathis, spent half the night very casually finding excuses to touch my arm.

“You’re not like most Americans,” he said, smirking, as he handed me another drink.

“Oh yeah?” I took the glass, letting my fingers brush his. “What are most Americans like?”

“Loud,” he said. “Obvious.”

I leaned in just a little. “And I’m not?”

He laughed, low and warm. “Non. You’re… interesting.”

I could get used to this. No grinding through shitty work shifts, no stressing over every calorie. Just long days in the sun, late nights with even better company, and this body—my body—drawing eyes wherever I go.

Best. Decision. Ever.

[my-body-likes-you-in-control-de]

Julian's Bargain (Pt. 2)

Week 5

"Non, non—turn your chin down. Just a little. Like you’re bored of how hot you are."

Léa’s fingers pressed lightly against my jaw, tilting my face with the precision of an artist. Behind her, Théo held up his phone, the screen’s glow catching the sharp line of my collarbone, the curve of my pec.

"Tu es un naturel," Théo said, grinning. He’d done some modeling work himself back in Geneva, so I guess he’d know.

I snorted. "Bullshit."

But the photos didn’t lie.

With their help, I’d started curating Julian’s Instagram—for his future career, I told myself. Really, though? It was just fun to look like this. To experiment with angles, to see what happened when I tilted my head just so, let my shirt ride up a little, smirked like I knew something the camera didn’t.

The first few posts blew up overnight.

26K likes.

I scrolled through the DMs, thumb hovering over the flood of notifications—brand offers, thirsty nonsense, a couple of actual modeling scouts sliding into my inbox with "We should talk" and "Ever considered working in Milan?"

Huh. Maybe Julian did have a future in this.

Week 8

Well. I’m a model now.

I responded to that scout from Milan on a whim—figured, why not?—and suddenly I’m signed, styled, and standing in front of a camera like I was born to do it. The agency loves my look, loves my vibe, and most importantly, loves how quickly I’m gaining traction. The money’s real, the work’s stupidly easy, and the perks? Yeah, I could get used to this.

Today’s shoot was for some high-end underwear brand. The photographer—a sharp-eyed Italian woman who barely smiled—tilted her head at me halfway through and said, “Take off the necklace. We want clean lines.”

I hesitated. Just for a second.

But then I shrugged, unclasped the chain, and let it drop into my palm. The cross felt warm, like it always did, but I tucked it into my bag without thinking too much about it.

The shots came out perfect. My bare chest, the way the fabric clung—everyone was thrilled. The agency posted the photos within hours.

Then Julian called.

I hadn’t heard his voice in weeks. Not really. I’d been busy, and besides, he could see I was fine—alive, thriving, racking up followers by the thousands. But the second I answered, his tone was all tight panic.

“You took it off.”

I rolled my eyes, leaning back on the balcony of my new (much nicer) apartment. “Relax, it was just for the shoot. It’s back on now.”

“No, you don’t—fuck, you don’t get it.” His breath was ragged, like he’d been running. “The longer it’s off, the weaker the magic gets. The harder it’ll be to swap back.”

That gave me pause.

“…What?”

“The necklace isn’t just a rule, it’s part of the spell. Every minute it’s not on you, the connection frays. If it’s off too long, the swap could—” He cut himself off. “Just keep it on. No exceptions.”

I glanced down at the cross, now resting against my chest again. It felt heavier suddenly.

“Fine,” I said, but my voice didn’t sound as casual as I wanted it to. “But, like… how long is ‘too long’?”

A beat of silence. Then, quieter: “I don’t know.”

I swallowed.

The agency already has three more shoots lined up. All of them want me bare-chested.

I should tell them no.

…Shouldn't I?

[jockdumboy]

ughhhhhh fuuuuuck bros... my head is so fuckin empty again 😵‍💫💦 i think i cummed my brains out for real this time... like i was jerkin it so hard last night watchin my own pump videos n i just kept goin n goin n every time i blew a huge load it felt like more of my smart stuff shot right outta my dick... now im even dumber than yesterday haha

i used to be kinda smart i think?? like maybe went to school n shit but now every time i nut my brain gets smaller n smaller. my big swollen muscles are takin over everything. i cant even remember what i ate for breakfast but i remember exactly how many times i edged my thick cock before i exploded everywhere.

look at me flexin these huge guns tho!! 💪😩 i was tryin to think of sumthin to say for this pic but nahhh... brain all drained out. just cum n protein shakes up there now. i swear my skull is hollow except for the echo of me moanin like a stupid whore while i pumped load after load. every orgasm melts another braincell n im down to like... three left tops. one for liftin, one for eatin, n one for flexin in the mirror like the brainless muscle slut i am.

i keep strokin it thinkin it'll help me get smarter but it just makes me dumber n hornier. my balls are always full n my head is always empty... perfect trade if u ask me. i try to read a text n my eyes cross n all i can think about is bustin another fat nut till my brains leak out my dick again.

so yeah this is me... big dumb cum-drained jock who just blew his iq into a sock for the 50th time this week. cant even spell "intelligence" anymore but who needs that when u got these boulder shoulders n a fat pump??

if ur readin this n ur smart... come drain the rest of my brains out for me bro. ill just sit here flexin n moanin while u empty whats left of my head.

dumb n drained is the only way to be 💦🧠🚫

[hairy-bothered]

He bought the bottle of Hair Tonic on purpose and planned to use it with intention.

Most people digging through the back shelves of a nearly abandoned barber supply store would have looked for something sealed, unexpired, and safe. Owen did the opposite. He crouched in the dusty corner until he found the old brown bottle with the plain cream label: HAIR TONIC. No flashy promises, no modern branding. Just a faded list of directions, a date long expired, and one warning printed near the bottom: Store in a cool, dry place.

He smiled when he read that. That was exactly why he wanted it. Owen had read stories about men using expired tonic. He knew it could cause male-pattern baldness and grey your hair - but he was hoping to push it to the limit.

Owen had spent too long pretending he only admired older men from a distance or, preferably, from underneath them during one-night stands; taking in the smell of their sweaty hairy bodies as they plowed his tight twink college frat boy hole. The rugged ones - the men in their forties with thicker necks, weathered smiles, graying beards, and heavy hair curling out of open collars drove him insane. Men who looked settled into themselves. Men who didn’t seem boyish or polished, but solid. Masculine. Hairy. He wanted that look with a private, aching intensity he’d never said out loud but burned to his core. He was willing to give up everything to pursue that ideal image.

So when Owen found an expired bottle of Hair Tonic, he didn’t just buy it - he took it home, set it on the windowsill of his apartment, and left it there for three full days, baking in the hot afternoon sun until the liquid inside turned darker, thicker and slightly cloudy.

On the fourth night, he uncapped it in his bathroom. The tonic smelled sharp and old-fashioned, herbal and medicinal with something almost metallic underneath. Owen rubbed the first splash into his scalp, especially at the temples and crown, then worked more over his cheeks, jaw, and upper lip. He hesitated only a second before pouring some into his palm again and dragging it down the center of his chest, across his stomach, over his shoulders, and along his arms, legs and back. He thought for a brief second before deciding to apply the tonic to his pubes, cock and balls as well. “In for a penny in for a pound” he thought to himself as his dick chubbed at the thought of the daddy he might become - if all went to plan.

His skin tingled instantly. By the time he rinsed his hands, the tingling had deepened into heat - a steady, invasive warmth that seemed to seep down into the roots of every soft, nearly invisible hair on his body.

It was a couple of hours before he saw the first changes, while preparing for bed. The faint scruff on his face thickened visibly as he watched, turning from a dusty shadow into real growth: coarse, dense, dark at first, then already streaked with silver around the chin and along the sides. He touched his cheeks with a longing fascination as he felt the beard pushing out fast, filling in until it framed his jaw in a broad salt-and-pepper shape. His mustache thickened too, heavier and darker through the middle, silvering at the edges. He reached a hand to his face to admire the beginning of his journey to real manhood.

Before long his attention shifted to the top of his head. His scalp tightened. He watched, wide-eyed, as his hairline began to creep back from his forehead. Not dramatically all at once, but decisively - his temples drawing back, the hair above them shortening and refining itself into something more mature, touched with gray. He looked older within minutes. Not sick older - not ruined. Just undeniably more grown, more masculine, the youth draining out of his face and leaving behind stronger lines, faint crow’s feet, a rougher, handsomer structure.

Then his body hair began to grow in. It spread in rippling waves. Soft brown fuzz across his chest thickened and darkened, then turned coarse and dense, covering him in a heavy pelt that matched the collection of photos he had in his liked images folder on his TUMBLR page. Hair crowded across his pecs first, curling thickly and high, then met in the center and poured downward in a dark trail over his sternum and stomach. More kept coming—across his ribs, around his navel, down his abdomen, along his shoulders and upper arms. He gasped in delight as he watched the color shift: mostly dark brown, but feathered through with gray, less silver than his beard yet unmistakably mature. His forearms grew shaggy. Fine hair climbed the backs of his hands. He stared, breathing hard, as his body took on that older, masculine density he’d always wanted— thick, textured, unapologetically leaping towards middle age.

Owen reached a newly hairy hand down to his dick. It too had started to change. Hi pubic hair was increasing in density and coarseness at the base, with a couple flecks of grey in the mix. His nut sack was now coated in thick dark hair. He gave his cock a little tug, noticing it felt less sensitive, more mature, than his 23 years of actual age should suggest.

Owen was so overwhelmed by the start of his transformation into a daddy that he couldn’t hold back. He grabbed his dick and began to masturbate while watching his beard hair continue to lengthen, new lines form on his face and hair continue to spread across his chest, arms, and up on his shoulders.

His pace quickened as his breathing grew deeper. Images of what he would look like by morning flooding his mind. Thoughts about the man he would become and how he’d use his new body to dominate younger, smaller, less masculine men - men like he used to be. As he approached climax, imagining his conquests to come, he began to talk to himself in his new gruffer voice: "You like daddy's cock, don't you boy?! Daddy worked real hard for this body for you, so be a good son and take it deep inside your twink hole." Just as he finished the thought he felt his entire body tingle and tense up at the moment of orgasm - shooting cum all over the bathroom vanity. After glowing in the afterlight of his virtual conquest for a few minutes, he cleaned up the mess, gave himself one last once over, and turned in for the night - drifting to sleep with his entire body lightly tingling as the Hair Tonic continued to reconfigure him.

By morning, the transformation had settled completely. Owen woke heavier through the chest and shoulders, his features subtly matured into the kind of handsome that didn’t belong to a man in his twenties anymore. In the bathroom mirror, the young fresh-faced guy he’d been was gone. Looking back at him was a man in his forties - a true daddy: shorter, receded hair brushed neatly back; gray at the temples; a full salt-and-pepper beard shaping his face; stronger smile lines; a calmer, steadier gaze.

His torso was lavish with hair — dense over the chest, tapering down the stomach, thick at the shoulders and arms, exactly as he’d imagined but somehow better because it was his. The beard had gone grayer than the rest, giving his face the distinguished look he’d secretly craved, while the body hair stayed darker, richer, and more virile.

He stood there for a long time, palm spread over the new weight of hair on his chest, thumb brushing through the beard at his jaw.

The bottle sat on the sink in front of him, half-empty, its faded label curling at the edges. HAIR TONIC. Innocent words for something that had known exactly what to do with him. Owen smiled at his reflection - not embarrassed, not startled now, but quietly thrilled. He hadn’t ruined himself. He hadn’t made a mistake. He had made himself into the man he’d been longing to become - the perfect daddy.

As he updated his dating profile apps the messages started pouring in. Owen had worked hard and gambled big - and now it was daddy’s time to play with all of the young eager twinks in the greater Atlanta area.

[dewesker1998]

Being the introvert

My name is will and I’m a pretty free spirit guy who likes to have fun and make new friends, but there’s one particular guy who catches my attention the most at gym.

There was this guy named Tacitus who was tall, good looking and had a brilliant athlete physique, he tended to the gym daily lifting weights and high intensity cardio. He was a brilliant sight to behold and he stood out among people like gods among men, almost unreal. I found him pretty attractive so I attempted to find an opportunity to connect with him.

Every attempt to connect to him was like trying to find a needle in the hay stack, if you pick it up, you were risk also getting punctured by it. I tried connecting with him the way that most people do, such as waving at him when we locked eyes, when we went to shower I gave him a dab and said good workout and when he lifted weights I would ask him if he needed a spot thinking he might be more open if he believed I showed a bit of friendly concern for him.

Despite little results he seemed to be the strong silent type who was distant.

Eventually I came to the conclusion that he didn’t really think I was worth his time and this brought me a sense of animosity and envy.

So one day, I decided if I can’t connect with him, I’ll be him instead and possibly get to see the world in his perspective while I have fun with his body.

Now I have a special ability that allows me to shift my body into a spirit like form which allows me to enter the person to possess them, usually I use this ability for fun shenanigans, but for once I’ll use it as a social experiment, particularly being a hot introvert.

I waited till he finished his routine workouts which usually were in the morning and waiting till he was worn out which is when he would go in the sauna. When Tacitus was so distracted by his EarPods while laying down with eyes close, I saw my opportunity to take his hard working body by becoming a astral form and flew directly into his mouth at the moment he breath in.

For a moment he tried to resist despite being exhausted but I held the upper hand. After completely entering the body, I was in his stomach where I caused the already weakened body to contort causing muscle spasms as I situated causing feeling ecstasy as my possession cause my victims.

Once I locked in, I put my astral form into each limb as my cock went into his like a reverse fuck, which caused a erection in this body which may have been my excitement from being inside of him and position my head into his which caused him to black out and for me to take the wheel.

As soon as I came to, I immediately started feeling these muscles and removed his towel he had on to see his cock in full girth and his balls like the size of grapefruits. I then smelled his hairy pits which were sweaty and like the rest of his body was enough to set me on edge.

I then left the sauna to go and shower which allowed me to feel the sensation of warm water hit this sexy body as it with through the hair and ran down its skin.

Afterwards, I got his towel and dried off from head to toe and found his gym bag which I used to get his clean clothes to put on and his sweaty clothes to put in there place. When done, I went to the mirror to see this body from its own perspective which is when I felt a sudden shift in his thinking.

When I looked in the mirror, i started hearing his thoughts and could literally feel his mood shift in his body. I began to think to myself,

“How could someone with such a perfect body and appearance have such negative feelings.”

“The Day as Tacitus”

Afterwards, I left the gym and went about his daily routine which wasn’t hard to remember since I have access to his memories. When work was completed, I went to his home and showered before i went to bed. When I layed down, I found it hard to sleep, originally it was make mind playing today’s events over like a tap recorder and than a need for sexual release which is when I received a hard on. I attempted to go to sleep again, but the need for release kept me wide awake.

“Oh, well this is what the body wanted, I said as I proceeded to get his lotion set by him for this purpose and stroked Tac massive cock until load after load of cum came out like a faucet that wouldn’t stop dripping until it burst.

Afterwards I thought to myself,

“Damn, Tacitus body had a higher sex drive than most people and here I thought he was good at suppressing his sex drive. “Guess you only know a guy unless your deep inside of him.”

It was knee numbing when I orgasm in his body, I felt like I reach the next step of human evolution.

Damn he even organizes not only his sexy body but his sexual needs, that’s hot.

The morning came, Following his routine, I went to the gym, of course it wasn’t hard since his workout was muscle memory.

As I trained, I noticed how his mind also was very good at cognitive tunneling, so when he workout, that’s literally all he was lock into.

“I guess this is why he is not too socialable while training, his mind is lock in”, I’m lucky not to be a target in his shooting site”, I said.

After intense training, I went to the sauna to relax this body while laying down and when done I washed up and got dressed.

The night out as Tacitus

Today there wasn’t anything planned, so I decided to do what I wanted in his body which was to go out.

Tacitus is usually such an organized guy, but tonight he is gonna get down and chaotic with me to go to a gay bar, to see what I could pull off as him, seeing that a face as attractive as Tac should be shared with the world instead of behind door to a lonely mirror.

So I freshened up and changed to go to the bar to have a little fun.

When I arrived to the bar, I was amazed with all the attention I received and even heard other guys present talk about Tac about my looks. I proceeded to go to the bar table and asked for a drink and to my surprise, it was on the house. When I looked, I saw this hot guy who was sitting across from me who later came to sit next to me.

He said,

“So having a good time tonight”

Before I could speak, I begin to hear Tacitus thoughts speak, which almost hindered my actions saying things about how the guy next to me is attractive but filled with quiet anxiety, it almost couldn’t move. On the outside, I appeared composed and controlled but on the inside, it was like my world was on the verge of calamity with every thought that raced in my mind.

“My night is good”, I responded.

“Just one of those nights”

“What about you”

The man responded,

“Oh you, just completed a hard day at work.”

“Ohhh, and what type of work you do”, I said as to remove some of the spotlight off myself.

“Well I do work as one of the lead bosses of a construction company. I aid in planning and executing the construction of roads in most of Texas region, you know how the streets and roads are in need of repairs.”

“What about you, what your type of expertise, handsome” says the man.

“Oh, I’m just a police officer”, I said, “My job is basically to make sure people are safe and following the rules, that stuff.”

Oh, so I see why you have all those muscles, you must rarely have any trouble, says the man. Oh, how rude of me, my name is Simon by the way.

“My name is Tacitus, I said.

We had a conversation for well over a hour, as I talked, the mind thoughts of Tacitus relaxed if not became more vulnerable to Simon. Before I knew it, I was asking him to come over to Tacitus’s house to go further.

Once we got there, we couldn’t help but unleash the urge and passion that has build up all night. From drinking and talking came vulnerability and before I knew it, we were half dressed and making out.

Throughout the sex intimacy, I begin to take the lead in the sex encounter which I usually don’t do first when I possess other guys, I play the bottom role, the this introvert isn’t what he appears to be, nonetheless it never hurts to let your inner introvert out sometimes, ahaha.

Suddenly I began to lift Simon up and we continued to make out on our way to Tacitus’s room to start round 2.

Carrying him to the bed, I begin helping him take off his clothes both of us driving by the urge to fulfill our lust desperately. When all the clothes were removed, both of us were naked, able to fill each more than words can describe. I then turn him on his abdomen, pressing his ass cheeks with my hands to separate them as I feeling more daring and also guided Tacitus lust and passion begin eating this stud ass. Simon not being able to contain himself began to moan with pleasure.

After a while I stop and begin to put my hard cock into Simon’s glory hole and pressed my hands against his to the bed, bringing my head closer to his as if to desperately become one being.

I begin butt fucking the hell out of Simon as I thrusted in and out, increasing the pace until I reached the right rhythm. As I did this he proceeded to moan and cry as the pleasure was so much for him. Minutes passed and we both were reaching climax and couldn’t contain it which was when both of our muscle started tensing and our cocks ready the release as we proceeding bursting our loads at the same time as Simon became a cream filling for mine and his went all over the mattress, shooting out like a wild faucet going on and off as the edge diminished.

As the climax calm and clarity slowly returned, I thought to myself.

“I have to say I may have underestimated this shy boy, he’s more capable then he appears on the outside.

It’s funny that the only way to truly understand the introvert perspective and personality is to literally get inside of his body and its good that I have this ability, but I haven’t scratched the surface yet, I may be in him for a while, ahaha.

[my-body-likes-you-in-control-de]

Julian's Bargain (Pt. 3)

Week 11

I don't even know that I care about keeping the necklace on anymore.

At first, I told myself it was just for the shoots—just for the art, just for the work. But the more I took it off, the less I wanted to put it back on. It started feeling heavy. Restrictive. Like a leash.

So I stopped.

Julian messaged me again last week, freaking out over some new campaign he saw online—some black-and-white editorial where I was shirtless, the cross conspicuously absent. I lied straight to his face. “Those were old shots, dude. From before you lost your shit the first time.” He bought it. Or at least, he didn’t push.

Meanwhile, my career is taking off.

A contact at the agency hooked me up with some art students in Milan—private figure modeling, cash in hand, no questions asked. The first time, I kept the cross on, tucked under my wrist where it wouldn’t show in the sketches. The second time? I left it in my bag. The third? I didn’t even bring it.

It’s been… liberating.

The longer I go without it, the more this body feels like mine. Not Julian’s. Not borrowed. Mine. The way the students stare, the way their pencils trace every line of me—it’s intoxicating. I’ve started recognizing myself in their work, in the way they exaggerate my jaw, my shoulders, the curve of my spine. This is who I am now.

A couple of times, I’ve gone days without wearing it. Just to see. Just to feel. And nothing’s happened. No sudden shift back, no warning twinge. Just… me.

But then Julian will text me, ask how it’s going, if I’m “being careful.” I tell him what he wants to hear, feel guilty, and put it back on for a while. Then I'll post a sluty picture wearing the necklace to back it up.

Meanwhile, I’ve got a flight back to Nice tomorrow, then another shoot in Marseille—one where the stylist specifically requested “no jewelry.”

I’ll pack the cross.

But I don’t think I’ll wear it.

Week 13

Porto was a fever dream.

The shoot wrapped late—golden hour dissolving into violet, the Douro River rippling behind us like molten silver. The crew scattered, but Nuno lingered. Portuguese-Angolan, all muscle and effortless arrogance, the kind of man who moved like the world owed him pleasure. We’d been trading glances all day, charged and deliberate.

“You’re staying at the Palacio, right?” He lit a cigarette, the flame flickering in his dark eyes. “Me too. Come have a drink.”

I did.

One drink became two, became his hands gripping my waist in the elevator, his teeth grazing my neck as I fumbled with the keycard. The door barely clicked shut before he shoved me against it, grinding against me, his breath hot in my ear. “You’ve been driving me fucking crazy all day.”

I laughed, already tugging at his belt. “Yeah? Prove it.”

He did.

But when he was naked above me, impatient, his cock heavy against my thigh, I stopped him. “Wait—put this on.”

Nuno raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue, letting me fasten the chain behind his neck. “Superstition?” he teased, rolling his hips.

I grinned. “Something like that.”

The cross bounced between us as he fucked me, catching the light with every thrust. It was electric—the weight of it swinging, the absurd, secret thrill of pretending, just for a moment, that he was part of the game too. That he wasn’t really this beautiful. That we were both borrowed.

(He wasn’t. He had always been this perfect. But he didn’t know I hadn’t.)

He came inside me, the metal pressed between our sweat-slick chests, warm from skin and friction. We fell asleep tangled together, his arm slung possessively over my waist.

When I woke, he was gone.

No note. No text. Just the ghost of his cologne on the sheets and the dull ache of his absence between my legs.

Then I opened Instagram.

There he was, the sexiest mirror selife I'd ever seen. And there, resting against his collarbones like it had always belonged to him: my cross.

I should’ve panicked. He was definitely already halfway to Angola by now.

I didn’t.

The truth? It looked good on him. Better than good. Right.

I should text him. Demand he send it back. Beg, if I had to.

But my thumb hovered over the screen, hesitating.

Part of me doesn’t want to.

Part of me wants to see what happens when the chain stays gone.

I double-tapped the photo. Closed the app. Rolled over in the empty bed.

And for the first time since the swap, I let myself truly believe that I could stay like this forever.

[immortalmrwavell]

Windows To The Soul

(Original Story posted August 19th 2024) This story has been mildly Updated!

The eyes are the windows to the soul. I’d never realised just how true that saying really was until recently. Now I understand. Because whenever I looked into Leo’s eyes, I could always see Rory staring right back at me. Even now as we sat together in this cozy little coffee shop. He looked over at me while innocently sipping on an iced latte. Leo’s eyes still gleamed with the same love that Rory’s always had for me.

It was enough to give immediate butterflies. Though, if I was being totally honest, Leo’s body was enough to do that on its own. All that size and hairy muscle… it was something else. And now that it was under Rory’s control, I had the honour of worshipping that hunky body every day.

———

3 months ago Rory had been involved in a terrible accident. You might be thinking he was in a car crash or a work related incident. Nope. It was a fucking lightning strike. A freak thunderstorm that’d come out of nowhere decided that, of all the places to strike lightning, it was gonna slam down only inches away from my boyfriend. A lot of victims survive lightning strikes in some manner but Rory wasn’t so lucky. That strike took him out for good. Or at least that’s what everyone thought.

His body had been taken away and I left to mourn along with his family as we planned Rory’s funeral. It didn’t feel real at the time. Like it was all some sick joke. But that’s when it happened.

One night, as I was looking back on some of our pictures together, I felt something cold press against my back. I hardly had time to react before I felt it pressing inside me. I couldn’t grab or see whatever it was, only feel as it seeped deeper into my skin. As it forced its way into my body, it attempted to take control. I tried to fight, resulting in my body and limbs flailing around chaotically, but it was no use. Soon enough this thing had pushed its way inside entirely and quickly assumed full control on my body.

At first it seemed like a nightmare. Seeing my body move against my will. That is until I heard a familiar voice in my head telling me not to worry. I couldn’t believe it. It was Rory’s voice! He then spoke aloud using my own body’s voice as he apologised for taking over without asking me but he assumed this was the only way I would believe him. Naturally my mind was spinning with questions. Luckily he could hear every last one of them so he took his time to explain everything.

He told me that ever since he was killed in that crazy thunderstorm, he’d been stuck wandering as a ghost. He wasn’t sure why but he theorised that perhaps something about that lightning strike had prevented him from moving on? It seemed far fetched but it was all he could think of since he hadn’t come across any other ghosts. Apparently he’d been watching me and his family ever since until he figured out he could possess people. Something he realised when he accidentally slipped inside the body of my father not long ago. Apparently it’d taken him days to figure out how to leave his body.

“Well now I know why my dad was acting so weird before…” I said internally. About a week prior I remembered having a conversation with my dad. We’d been talking about Rory and he was trying to comfort me through it all. Then out of nowhere my dad started convulsing on the sofa next to me! I thought he was having a seizure until suddenly stopped moments later. After that I remember how strange he started acting. Looking down at himself like it was the first time he’d seen his own hands. Touching his stubbly face. Running his tongue over his teeth as though they were brand new. And then he’d given me the weirdest look before getting up and apologising. After that he ran and locked himself in the bathroom for an hour. In hindsight I don’t think I wanna think about what he was doing with my father's body during that time. At least now it made sense why he seemed so awkward around my mother.

“I would’ve possessed someone else or told you who I really was while I was inside your dad’s but I didn’t you’d believe me.” Rory explained with my own voice. “If it were the other way around and my dad started telling me that he was actually being possessed by my dead boyfriend then… I’d probably start thinking about getting him checked into a mental hospital.” And he was right. There was no way I would’ve believed him had he not literally been inside my body right now. That said I was feeling an almost incomprehensible mix of emotions right now.

Love. Joy. Shock. Fear. Relief. Those and so so many more all bundled up to create this whirlwind I was feeling as Rory took the opportunity to check my face out in the bathroom mirror. Going on to comment on how weird it was to see the face of his handsome boyfriend being reflected back at him as he prodded at my body while I was helpless in the passenger seat. Add Horny to the list of emotions.

“Wait. If you were inside my dad then why hasn’t he said anything at all about being possessed now that you’ve left?” I questioned.

Rory shrugged my shoulders. “Well… after I figured out how to leave his body, I might’ve jumped back in an hour or so later. Not for long though. Just so I could let him know that if he tries to tell anybody about me, that I’d come back and possess him forever.” He said casually as if he hadn't put the fear of god into my father.

Once Rory had finished explaining himself to me, we started discussing what the hell we were gonna do now. For starters we quickly agreed that him possessing me wasn’t the best way to proceed. For a start I wanted to actually be in control of my own body and as fun as it was to both live in the same head, I’m sure we’d miss not being able to kiss and cuddle up together as individuals. Not to mention having our private time when needed. Oh and being able to fuck of course. That said, if we wanted our relationship to continue then we needed to go about this a different way.

Getting Rory a new permanent body of his own.

So that’s what we planned to do. I allowed him to hop in and out of my body for the meantime as a means of easy communication as we hunted for someone else for Rory to take over. We specifically wanted to find a man who would be perfect on the outside but a complete asshole on the inside. Why? Well whenever Rory possessed someone, that person was completely conscious of everything. For that reason we didn’t want Rory to just steal the body of the first hot guy we saw and damn some innocent dude to be a prisoner in his own head for the rest of his life. Instead we needed to find a dude who was a total scumbag that deserved such a fate.

And it took awhile. Sure there’s plenty of bad people out in the world. But not all of them were obvious and the ones that were usually didn’t meet the physical criteria shall we say. There were a few close picks that Rory and I kept our eyes on but everything changed when we found Leo.

Rory had been in control of my body at the time. We’d decided to head downtown and shop around for the afternoon. Going into a few stores and buying some stuff here and there. Eventually we decided to have a little browse around one of those sporty shops that sell all sorts of athletic clothes since I was in need of some new gym attire. That’s when we saw him.

Browsing some of the shoes on displays was this gorgeous adonis of a man. He seemed about the same height as me but man was he beefy! It looked as though his clothes were struggling to contain his body. The blue compression shirt hugged his upper body nice and tight in a way that showed off his hefty pecs that undoubtedly bounced with every step he took. Even the hard tips of his nipples were easily spotted through the tight fabric. As for the sleeves. They seemed as though they struggled to contain even a small portion of those colossal biceps he built for himself. So thick with power. Bulging with strength. Not to mention those pale blue jeans that were so firmly strapped to his legs that not much almost nothing was left to the imagination. So skintight that it was impossible not to admire those hulking thighs and calves, never mind that huge muscle ass and noticeably large package.

I could immediately tell Rory liked him. After all he had full control over all my bodily functions and I just got one of the hardest boners of my life. Though I can’t lie, even if I was in control my body probably would’ve reacted the same to a hunk like that. Especially after we saw his face. Because if that body alone wasn’t enough, his face looked as though it’d been carved by the gods themselves. So perfectly masculine in every way that was both rugged and gorgeous at the same time. And that beard. God the beard. It was so perfectly thick and full. I just wanted to run my hands through it and worship it for all it was worth. This guy was our dream man.

Hence Rory used my body to subtly follow the stud around the store for a while. The two of us soon found out he even had a full head of thick hair hiding underneath that cap he was wearing as he flipped it around at one point. Not even a hint of baldness. I was starting to wonder if this man had any flaws whatsoever.

Eventually though, the hulking man exited the store and we soon followed. Watching as he walked through town before dipping into another shop. Seeing this I reminded Rory that if we followed him into too many stores, he’d eventually notice and get suspicious. I told him that it would be safer if he left my body and continued to follow that handsome brute in his ghostly form without me and report back tonight. Rory liked the sound of that plan, soon jumping out of my body and leaving me disoriented for a moment. I couldn’t see Rory of course but I could only assume that he’d followed our new friend into that shop and to anywhere else that stallion went.

Then I just had to wait.

———

Later that same evening I was sitting up in bed watching some TV. I absentmindedly rubbed my cock to the thought of that hunk from earlier that day, wondering whether Rory had taken his body for a spin or not. And then, right one cue, that familiar icy hot feeling rushed over my entire being as Rory slipped back inside my skin. By this point we’d done it enough times that the possessions were pretty seamless.

He didn’t waste any time in catching me up. Rory told me how he’d followed the burly stud all the way back to his place. It didn't take him long to find out that the hunk’s name was Leo and that he lived alone in a fairly decent flat. Not to mention how, underneath that compression shirt, the dude was a fucking gorilla! Not only was absolutely built with muscle but he was covered in manly fur from head to toe. Especially his chest and stomach.

Rory told me how he’d watched Leo for a good few hours and hadn’t picked up on anything just yet that would qualify him for the position of certified asshole just yet. However there was a certain vibe he got from Leo. A hunch that said he wasn’t as pretty underneath all that masculine charm as you might want to believe. That said we agreed Rory would continue to surveil Leo for at least a couple more days to see if his hunch checked out. If not we could always go back to searching

And with that he wished me love before hopping out of my body and leaving me to wait yet again.

———

And wait I did. For over a week in fact. I did my best to live my life as normally as possible. I still had to put on the act of a mourning boyfriend to my friends and family but that wasn’t too hard. In the meantime the suspense of knowing what Rory had found out was killing me. He’d never taken this long to surveil a body before. I was even starting to worry that maybe something had happened to him. Maybe he really had moved on somehow. Thankfully all of my doubts and worries were put to rest one afternoon when I heard a knock at my front door.

When I opened the door, my jaw practically fell to the floor. Standing before me, in all his huge hairy and hunky glory, was none other than the same man I’d seen at that sports store. The same man who’d been living rent free in my head for the past week. The very same man Rory had been surveilling this whole time. Standing before me was none other than Leo! He was grinning ear to ear at me. His eyes were so full of love and mischief at the same time. But I could tell from that one look alone that it wasn’t the real Leo in control. Behind those eyes was boyfriend Rory.

I barely had time to get a word out before he wrapped me up in a massive bear hug. Intentionally pulling me forwards and squishing my face between those enormous hairy pillows he called a chest. The enormity of which was hardly covered by a tight red tank top. I couldn’t help but take a deep breath as my face remained submerged between his thick muscle tits, inhaling his warm scent nice and deep. The powerful pheromones he exuded filled my nostrils in a way that caused my brain to light up. That combined with the feeling of those large muscled arms holding me nice and tight had my cock twitching and flailing in my pants. I almost thought I was gonna cum on the spot.

I was in a total daze by the time he let go, pulling away from his gorgeous chest so I could stand up straight and look into those sparkling eyes of his. I tried to speak but he cut me off once again, this time by pressing those hot bearded lips against my own. It started soft but it only took a few seconds for it to devolve into something more primal and passionate. Him deepening the kiss as his tongue explored the inside of my mouth like he owned me.

“Rory? Please tell me it’s you.” I was finally able to say once the two of us pulled away. It had to be. The look in those eyes was unmistakable. I was certain it was my boyfriend in there.

“You’d be in deep shit if it wasn’t.” He replied with a smirk, giving me the confirmation I needed to breathe a sigh of relief. “And I’d say we have ourselves a winner.” He added while gesturing down at his newly stolen form and giving his hairy pecs a firm tantalising squeeze.

I almost couldn’t believe it at first. “No fucking way. Please don’t say you’re messing with me… You’re actually gonna keep this one? Like forever?” I asked while my eyes whipped up and down his form, subtly licking my lips as I spoke. The last time I’d seen Leo it’d been through stolen glances. Now however I could appreciate his body without shame. And Rory was showing it off nicely. Along with that red tank top, he was also wearing a pair of skin tight sweatpants that clung to his legs shamelessly. Were all of Leo’s clothes skintight? Sitting on his head was a black cap that was once again hiding his perfect hair. And to bring the whole look together was a bulky sliver chain that hung around his neck and draped across his upper chest. Yet as I scanned his clothes, my eyes couldn’t keep their gaze away from those giant biceps or that handsome face for more than a few seconds. Put simply, if I were a woman I’d probably get pregnant just from looking at him. Instead it just felt like my cock was about to make a mess of my underwear instead.

“Ooooh yeah. You wouldn’t believe the shit I found out about this guy. Seemed okay at first but I started to see those layers pull back first hand. I was on the fence at first but the more I learned about him, the more I realised he was a total fucking scumbag who didn’t deserve gorgeous body like this.” The way he flexed those biceps after saying that almost had me fainting into his arms. “So to answer your question, yes. I’m gonna keep this one. Forever.”

I don’t think I’d ever been more happy in my life to find out that another dude was a complete asshole. So much so that I dragged him inside the house and shut the door behind so I could give him a real hug this time. Squeezing him with all the love I had while telling Rory how happy I was that he could truly be here with me again. That I could actually see and talk to him again even if he looked different now.

“You sure you’re not just happy that I’m this massive hairy stud now?” He joked.

“It’s the person on the inside that matters most to me.” I said, trying my best to sound humble. “But I would be lying if I said the new body wasn’t an added bonus…” I continued honestly while smiling back at him.

After that I practically dragged him into the living room where the two of us sat down on the couch together. Without wasting any time, I asked Rory to tell me everything that he witnessed over the past week he’d been observing Leo. I was dying to know what a man like this could’ve done to warrant himself worthy of a permanent body theft.

Like Rory said, everything seemed normal at first. Just a regular gym obsessed stud living his everyday life. That is until Rory saw Leo texting on his phone. He didn’t think too much of it until he realised that Leo was texting multiple women at once. He didn’t want to assume things at first but judging by the way he messaged each one of these women, it seemed as though he was dating all of them! There had to be at least 3 different women he was leading on. Jumping between all their messages and letting them believe they were the only one. That was terrible of course but it only got worse.

During that week Leo had invited two of the three women to stay at his place for a night or two but the way he treated them was disgusting! He acted like such a stereotypical male chauvinist, getting these women who were guests in his home to cook meals and do all the washing up. He treated them like crap and Rory couldn’t understand why these women put up with it? Initially he’d assumed it was because of how purely handsome Leo was. He knew plenty of people out there would allow themselves to be treated like dirt if it meant getting attention from someone who looked like him. But after witnessing Leo fuck those women like an absolute beast, he started to wonder if that was the real reason. He was a hairy hunk who knew exactly how to use his fat cock to make his female partners orgasm multiple times before cumming himself. And because of all that, these women let him walk all over them.

By this point Rory was getting close to deeming Leo worthy but a small part of him was still on the fence. That part of him soon swayed however the more he observed. On the nights where none of his girlfriends were staying over at his place, he would instead find some other random chick on a hook up app to have over instead. Which meant he was fucking a girl almost every single night only to toss those hook up’s out the door the very next morning. The way he treated women was just… vile. Mysogisny at its peak. That probably explained why he was so good at sex though.

Rory then went on to say how he’d followed Leo to places like his job as a construction worker and the gym where he’d meet up with his friends. Once again it didn’t seem too bad at first until they started making certain comments that made Rory’s eye twitch. It started with more horrible comments about women. That seemed to be a common theme unfortunately. Whenever an attractive lady would walk past the construction site Leo and his buddies were working at, they’d all made some kind of crude comment or gesture towards one another about the poor woman. Often talking about women like they were sexdolls for their pleasure and not real people who deserved respect.

What really made Rory snap however was on the one instance where Leo and his buds spotted a gay couple walking past. They just couldn’t stop themselves from muttering homophobic comments under their breath. Chuckling to one another as they made fun of the two unsuspecting men holding hands and Leo even went as far as to call them faggots. Not to their faces of course but that didn’t matter. He still said it.

So by this point Rory had been able to establish that Leo was sexist, homophobic, a misogynist and most likely a narcissist as well from what he could tell. With all that under his belt, Rory was willing to bet there was even more shit buried underneath that pretty exterior but he’d already seen enough. This guy didn’t deserve his body.

So Rory took it.

One evening Leo was texting away on his phone, messaging one of his multiple girlfriends yet again. Probably deciding if he wanted to invite them around or if he was just gonna find himself another hook up. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t going to get the chance to decide as Rory finally dove towards the hulking man with all of his ghostly might.

Apparently what followed was a long groaning roar of turmoil and discomfort as Rory tried to force his way inside Leo. But it wasn’t easy. Out of the few people he’d possessed since becoming a ghost, Leo was definitely that most difficult. The hulking brute of a man fought back against the foreign invasion of his body with everything he had. Rory described it like two powerful forces pushing against one another with all their might. For a moment Rory wasn’t totally sure he’d be able to take over. Thankfully being a spirit gave Rory a strong advantage and soon enough Leo’s resolve began to crack.

Before long the hairy meathead fell to his knees and thud. Knuckles on the floor like the gorilla he was. His back arching while he let out another involuntary groan of distress as Rory was finally able to force himself deeper inside that powerful body. Leo’s soul and mind were slowly pushed out of control as Rory forced him into submission. The hirsute hunk’s eyes darted around in a panic as he felt himself losing all free will he had over his own body until eventually not even his eyes obeyed him.

Once the struggle came to an end, Leo’s body collapsed to the floor face down. Still conscious but panting heavily. Once his body had acclimated to the possession however, Leo’s eyes darted open. Only it wasn’t Leo behind those eyes anymore. Looking through those piercing blue irises was none other than Rory. Of course Leo was still in there. Still able to see, hear and feel everything. But now he was in the backseat. A passenger in his own body and nothing more.

He used his rough hands to push himself up off the ground. As he rose, the first thing Rory saw while looking down were those thick meaty pecs. Only now they belonged to him. He wasn’t just admiring them from the outside anymore like a pervert. No. They were his now. An enormous grin spread across Rory’s face and immediately he could feel the way his new beard and mustache curved under the expression. Running his hands through that thick manly facial hair had been intoxicating for him. He probably could’ve admired it for hours had the desire to squeeze and grope all of his new muscle not overwhelmed him soon after.

What Rory described to me next was a scene I would’ve committed murder to have watched with my own two eyes.

He went on to tell me how he’d slowly stripped himself of what little clothing Leo had been wearing at the time of possession. Gradually revealing more and more of the body he’d stolen in all its huge hairy glory. After that he found the first mirror he could and watched in awe as each and every muscle in Leo’s perfect body moved and bulged to his whim. Every moan that escaped his mouth was filtered through Leo’s deep masculine baritone that only served to make Rory hornier by the second. He even went on to describe how he’d had an erection from the second he’d taken control over Rory’s cock. And it was fat. The two of us had been right about him being well endowed as between all the flexing and exploring of his new body, Rory had found it increasingly hard to ignore his new cock. Of course he already knew how big it was after all his spying but actually getting to own it was something else entirely! He’d wanted to save the best for last but he couldn’t help passively stroking it through his underwear.

When he finally whipped that thing out, he described it like a monster cock. The kind you’d only ever see in porn. Yet there it was between his legs, standing tall and proud. After that he didn’t go into too much more detail. All he told me was after he was done exploring every inch of his new body and cock, he needed to take a long shower to get cleaned up. My imagination could already fill in the blanks. Bodily self worship with one hand and blissful masturbation with the other hand. The room filling with the sound of deep manly grunts for over an hour straight until finally he exploded like a volcano all over himself. I had no doubt that new cock of his was a cum fountain.

And that brings us back to the two of us sitting together in my living room. Rory told me he’d spent a good bit of time familiarising himself with Leo’s body and finding out a few extra details that he couldn’t see while observing. And the day after it all went down, he came here to show me good news. So here we were. Me sitting next to this Goliath of a man. Him looking at me with such a kind and gentle expression that made me blush. Now that my loving boyfriend was behind the wheel, it was hard for me to imagine this guy having been such an asshole before. Part of me was glad to have not seen it but at the same time just the thought was weirdly hot. My soft and tender hearted gay boyfriend stealing the body of an arrogant straight guy and forcing him to watch as Rory not only made his body gay as fuck but genuinely made him an infinitely better person.

“Wait so… just to be clear, is he actually still conscious in there? Like can he see and hear everything right now like I could??” I asked. “He’s not like… fading into your subconscious is he?”

“Not as far as I can tell. He’s definitely still wide awake.” Rory confirmed. “He regained consciousness a couple hours after I took control. His mind and soul must’ve been exhausted from fighting against me. I’d just gotten out of the shower and was trying on some of his clothes when I started to hear his voice in my head.

He sounded confused and scared at first but that quickly turned to anger when I explained to him what’d happened. Told him that I’d been watching him as a ghost for the past week. Seeing how much of a scumbag he was to those around him. And so I’d decided that he didn’t deserve his body anymore and that I would turn his life right around.” He continued with a smug look on his face. “I carefully explained to him that I’d been a ghost searching for a new body and that he was the perfect match for me.”

“No fuckin way. You actually said all that to him?” I chuckled. “How did he respond?”

“Not very well.” Rory admitted while scratching the back of his neck. “He started shouting and wailing at me, demanding I get the fuck out of his body and whatever. He very quickly jumped to insults which I won’t repeat. All I’ll say is that they were distasteful to say the least.” He leaned back onto the couch, allowing his muscular back to sink into the seat. “Honestly though his threats were kinda funny after the fact. I mean it’s not like he can do anything. He’s trapped. Locked up. Powerless. He thought he could intimidate me into leaving his body but honestly it just solidified my decision to keep it…” Rory began to trail off as he looked down at himself and pulled open the front of his tank top slightly just so he could gently brush a hand through his new chest hair. “Yeahhhhhh… You hear that asshole?! All mine...” Rory said to himself out loud while giving one of his pecs a squeeze. Anyone else would think he was a little crazy.

I couldn’t help but sit and watch as my boyfriend groped himself. A huge part of me wanted to join in and start touching his body but I was too nervous to reach out. Instead I just undressed him with my eyes. My gaze narrowed specifically on his crotch. I couldn’t help it when his bulge looked so enticing. Every neuron in my brain was telling me to press my lips against it but I was quickly snapped out of my haze when Rory spoke up again.

“Oh fuck and when I told him about you and me? God you should’ve heard him. It was just homophobic slur after slur. Shouting about how he’d never let me put his cock near another dude. Practically calling himself the straightest man on the planet and that his dick would never prick up for another man. So after that I had no choice but to torture him by watching some gay porn that his ‘straight’ dick got hard as a steel rod for.” Rory explained while enacting a crude jerk off motion over his bulging crotch. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard a more furious man in my life. Fuck I can still hear him now. Shouting at me like a lunatic.”

“Really? Has it been non stop since he woke up?”

“Preeeetyyyy much…” Rory sighed, rubbing his temples.

“Doesn’t that get… really fucking annoying?” I asked genuinely.

Rory rolled his head slightly before locking eyes with me again. “A bit yeah but I’m gradually learning to tune him out. I just have to envision turning down the volume on him. Like twisting a radio dial. Other than that I'm also learning how to probe through his mind and access his memories. I’ve already picked up a lot of his physical habits but I’ll need more than that if I wanna convince people that I’m the real Leo Barlett.”

I was surprised. I didn’t think that was something he’d be able to do. “Wow. You mean you can just look into his mind. Just like that? How did you even figure that out?”

“Well I can’t help but notice some of his memories and experiences slowly seeping through the cracks anyway. So I think if I just force those cracks wide enough I’ll probably be able to gain full access to everything he knows. But honestly… I’m not too worried about that right now.” He said with a sly grin. “Because right now all I wanna do is torture that son of a bitch to the max while enjoying the fuck out this sexy fucking body! And I wanna show you just how much I love you in the process.” Even though I knew he was trying to be sweet at the end there, it was quickly overshadowed by the blinding amount of lust shining through his eyes right now. Not that I minded. “But first… how’s about you show daddy how much you appreciate his new body first.”

And that was all the green light I needed. In seconds I was on him, jumping into his lap and worshipping every inch of his body. Kissing and licking his bulky biceps. Pressing my lips against his and savouring the feeling of his beard. Grinding my ass against his bulge and feeling it grow beneath me. Digging my nose into his armpits and huffing on his powerful scent. I could tell he was loving every second of it just as much as I was. Before long we tugged off each other’s tops and threw them across the room, finally allowing me to gaze upon those massive furry pecs in all their glory.

My hands flew towards those hairy mounds of muscle, massaging them and tweaking Rory’s nipples in a way that had him biting his lip. I felt like I was on auto pilot. Groping at his chest like some horny animal. But I couldn’t stop there. Before either of us knew it, I had my lips wrapped firmly around one of his nipples, sucking and teasing it as best I could. Nibbling on it in a way that enticed a moan to slip out of his mouth. I swapped between nipples constantly until my face finally settled between his pecs once again. Using my hands on either side to push the pliable muscle further around my head until my face was as buried as could. I was in heaven. Plain and simple.

“Goooood boy.” He grunted in my ear. “But I think it’s about time you showed daddy what that mouth of yours can really do.”

He didn’t need to tell me twice. I was down between his legs in a flash and tugging down those sweatpants. My jaw dropped at the sight of his dick straining heavily against his underwear. With a few good tugs they came down as well and that monster finally sprung forwards, free of its fabric prison and clearly aching for attention. The way it pulsed had me entranced for a moment until the feeling of Rory’s huge hand in the back of my head brought me back to reality.

The room filled with an orchestra of manly moans coming straight from Rory the second I wrapped my mouth around the tip of his cock. Even after how Rory had described it to me, I don’t think anything could’ve truly prepared me for how large it would be. Fatter than any cock I’d seen in real life that was for sure. It’s length was impressive to say the least but where it really shined was its girth. It was so damn thick that I struggled to get my lips around it at first! I was a guy who prided myself on my excellent cock sucking skills but I felt like I was out of my depth with this one. My throat was gonna need a lot more training before I was able to take all of that at once. For now though Rory seemed more than satisfied with me getting my lips just over halfway down his new shaft and taking care of the rest with my hand.

“He’s shouting about wanting to bash your skull in right now.” Rory told me as I came up for air. “So I’ll give him a compromise and fuck your skull instead.” He smirked before grabbing my hair and forcing me back down on his dick. Making me take as much of it as I possibly could before letting me back up only for air for a few seconds before pushing me back down again and again. I gagged and I gurgled. I spluttered and almost choked a little at one point when Rory got too excited. But I was too horny to give up.

When he finally let me pull away from his cock, I knew what was next. He picked me up and flipped me over before grabbing the back of my pants. I yelped a little as he ripped them open like a beast. A shiver flowed up my spine and before I knew it I could feel his beard pressing in between my exposed cheeks. Eating out my hole and preparing it for what was to come. I was a little nervous honestly. With a dick like that I was afraid he might split me in half. Yet despite that I couldn’t help craving it all the same.

“Well, would you look at that big guy?” Rory said, seemingly speaking to Leo again as he teased my hole with the tip of his cock. “You said your dick would never in a million years get anywhere close to another man’s ass. And yet…” With hardly any warning at all he thrust the tip of his cock inside me. I couldn’t stop myself from letting out what sounded more like a shriek than a moan. It felt as though I’d just been speared up the asshole. Well I guess I kinda had been.

What followed was a symphony of lewd wet slapping sounds mixed with constant groans from both me and Rory as he slowly pushed his dick deeper with every thrust. Between his moans, Rory would grunt about how good my tight hole felt as it squeezed around his enormous member. I on the other hand was gritting my teeth through the pain of being stretched out by a dick as colossal as his. I would’ve tapped out but the undercurrent of pleasure made the pain worth it. Feeling myself getting stuffed to the brim by that giant rod was… beyond anything. Once I’d adjusted to this, I wasn’t sure any other dick would be able to satisfy me in the same way again. Especially as the swing of his hips began to speed up causing him to plunge into me faster and harder. If he got any rougher with me I feared I was gonna meet god.

Thankfully I remained very much attached to this world as Rory flipped us into position after position. Drilling my hole into oblivion while the real Leo was forced to watch no doubt. Until finally he was getting close. I could tell by how he’d been slowing down again to delay his orgasm but he wasn’t gonna hold on for much longer. Those huge balls that’d been smacking against me for the last however long were ready to blow, I could feel it.

And blow they did. Rory let out a long passionate roar as his cock started to spasm inside me. Half a second later I felt the flood gates open. Cum began pouring out of his dick at a rate that had my eyes widening with shock. Every spurt of cum his cock launched was bigger than one of my entire loads. They were like small tidal waves which soon began overfilling my hole to the point where cum began to seep out of my ass before Rory even had a chance to pull out. And when he finally did with a wet *shloop* his cum streamed down one of my legs in a white river of man seed.

Moments after I felt those strong arms wrapping around me again. One gently slipping down towards my cock that was hard as fuck and dripping with precum.

“You did really well for dad.” He whispered softly in my ear. “So well in fact that I think you deserve a reward.” My ears pricked up at that. My initial assumption being that he was gonna finish my off with a sloppy blowjob and let me cum all over that perfect face. But what he suggest was even better. “You must be sore after all that. How would you like to get some revenge by popping daddy’s cherry and fucking this straight hairy virgin ass?”

I looked over my shoulder at him, my gaze filled with nothing but pure lust and desire. “I’d love that more than anything.” I said wholeheartedly. Rory gave me that devilish smirk I recognised oh so well. He shifted his weight off my body, allowing me to stand up so I could jerk my cock a little to the sight of him. “Now get on all fours like the dumb muscle ape you are and show me that ass!” I demanded, doing my best to turn on my dominant side despite how submissive I’d felt moments ago.

Rory didn’t say a word. Only smiling as he did exactly what I asked. Getting on all fours and arching his back before waving that fat hairy bubble butt at me. And it was gorgeous. A sight so beautiful that I couldn’t stop my greedy mouth from diving between those huge globes he called an ass. Eating him out and swirling my tongue around his tight entrance. Eventually being able to coax it open just enough to slip a finger inside. Hearing him groan like a beast in heat at just one finger was definitely competing for the hottest thing I’d witnessed in my entire life. Especially knowing that homophobic prick Leo was probably freaking the fuck out inside Rory’s head.

It took some time but once I was sure his hole was prepped enough, I stood back up. Aligning my own average dick with his entrance. I thought about going slow and pushing in gently. But this was supposed to be revenge right? He certainly wasn’t gentle when he stuffed that monster dick inside me. So…

“AAUUOHHHHHHRRHHHHHUUU-FUUUUUUUCKKKK!!” Rory roared in pain as I stuffed his hole all the way down to the hilt of my dick. Sure his might’ve been bigger when he fucked me but I was willing to bet this was still more intense for him considering his new ass had never been fucked before. I’d been stretched further than ever before but he was being stretched for the very first time and the pained look on his face made it blindingly obvious. “Ohhhhhhh godddddddd… that’s right Leo… you’re such a fucking faggot now. Taking cock up the fucking ass like a slut.” Rory muttered to himself. “Don’t fight it… you’re gonna love it just as much as me.” With that he looked back at me with a laboured expression. “Fuck me.”

And I fucking did.

The moment he gave me the all clear, I was on him like a bull. Slamming my cock frantically back and forth into his hole. Fucking his tight hairy ass in a feverish frenzy of lust and ecstasy. The hairy flesh of his ass jiggled with every thrust and in turn caused a smacking sound that filled the room. It was even louder than when he was fucking me thanks to the sheer volume of his bubbly ass. All the while he moaned like a complete bitch as he balled his fists up tight and squeezed his eyes shut. But not for one second did he tell me to stop. Using every ounce of his strength to allow himself to be plowed by me. So I made sure not to disappoint and fucked him like it was our last day on Earth.

Unfortunately I couldn’t keep going for as long due to how horny I already was after my own fucking but perhaps that was for the best with how new his body was to this. Already I could feel my cum building. Swelling up inside until finally I couldn’t hold it. Before long I was splattering Rory’s insides with my seed. It was probably the biggest load I’ve ever blown yet it was still nowhere near the amount of cum Rory had unloaded inside me.

By the time I finally pulled out, Rory looked as though he was about to collapse from relief, exhaustion and satisfaction all at the same time. His giant manhood was leaking even more cum all over the carpet beneath him while he panted. That sight would be burned into my brain forever. Rory inside his brand new body, down on his hands and knees with an ass full of my cum.

“So. What did Leo think of that?” I asked cheekily.

Rory looked at me and laughed. “He won’t admit it… but I think he liked getting fucked in the ass if you ask me.” He claimed as he slowly pushed himself up off the floor and onto his feet again. “He’s shouting all sorts of slurs again but while you were fucking me I could hear him moaning too. He feels everything I feel. And I loved that. So as much as he wants to deny it, I know he did too. He’ll learn that eventually.” He then leaned in and planted a sweet kiss on my lips. “So. How’s about the two of us get cleaned up and we can figure out where to go from here?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

———

So here we sat. A month later in a little coffee shop near my house. Rory sipped so innocently on his iced latte as we enjoyed the moment together. We’d had plenty of time to get used to our new situation. He’d almost fully adjusted to his new hulking body and I’d just about been able to wrap my head around the idea of him being a totally different man on the outside. I like to think the near constant and never ending sex we’ve been having has helped with that. His formerly straight asshole has done well to adjust. On the other hand I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to that massive dick of his. I’m the one getting fucked more often than not and I’m still shocked whenever he shoves it inside. But I still love every second of it nonetheless.

That said however, there’s been a few complications with our new and unique situation that we’re still trying to sort out. First of all being our living situation. Naturally Rory now had Leo’s old apartment to think about and deal with. Secondly we had no idea when we were gonna tell our families. After all, to everyone else, Rory died months ago. I’m the only one who knows that he never moved on. He didn’t even reveal his identity to my dad while he was possessing him a while back. So if anyone saw us together now, they’d think I jumped onto another man’s dick before the dust had even settled.

We talked about it a lot. Mainly about whether we were gonna tell everyone the truth or not. The alternative would be to keep it a secret and have Rory take over Leo’s identity completely. It was a difficult one but we’d figure it out eventually. On top of that we also had to deal with Leo’s old life potentially coming back to haunt us. All those girls he lied to and hooked up with. All those sexist homophobic pigs Leo called friends. Along with whatever else Leo had done that could bite us in the ass. We had a lot on our plate. We’ve already started by telling all the girlfriends the truth and that went… as well as one could expect. But we agreed it was the only right thing to do.

Meanwhile Rory has been trying to keep a low profile at Leo’s construction job and not get involved with Leo’s old friends too much. He’d originally thought of looking for a new job altogether. Perhaps one similar to the job he used to have. After some consideration though, he decided he might try and find another constructive company to work with instead. After all, he has all of Leo’s memories now. That included all the ins and outs of being a construction worker. He admitted that he actually kinda liked it. All that physical labour was quite rewarding apparently. Might as well keep at it since he’s got the body for it.

Speaking of his body, he’s been hitting the gym like crazy. Yet another thing he’s picked up from Leo. He was making damn sure his body stayed in perfect shape. He’s even been getting me to come with him in the hopes of putting on a little muscle extra myself. Not that I minded. Getting to see him all worked up and sweaty after a tough session at the gym had quickly become a highlight of my day.

All that said, I love how things have turned out for us. This new chapter might’ve begun with tragedy but it’s continued with us developing a connection even deeper than before. Or maybe I’m just thinking about his new cock penetrating me deeper than ever. Either way I know that in the long run, we are gonna live the long and happy life together that we always planned. Just the two of us.

Well… the two of us plus Leo who was still trapped inside his own mind. Though Rory seems to think he’s been getting quieter as of late. Not complaining and ranting all the time like he used to. Maybe Leo was just finally starting to accept that Rory’s new body didn’t belong to him anymore. Or perhaps his consciousness was slowly starting to fade after all. Melting into the depths of Rory’s soul, never to return. It was impossible to say at this point but I’m sure we’ll find out in time.

For now I’m just going to enjoy this moment with him in the coffee shop and every moment to come for the rest of our lives.

[solelovrr]

[timelesstoclafane]

Alex is always hot

[awesomecutmuscle2]

[arielfrank]

[max-the-many]

I was pretty envious of the guy Jamie got. I mean look at that greeklike statue!...

[misctf]

The Game Show

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

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

"Jason is like totally the hottest."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No shame in that, brah!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Chlorophyll."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Correct!"

"Woah bro, nice one!"

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

"What the…?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Dead lifts..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The answer is hips, bro."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[brandedx2]

Happy Pride Month part 4

[bodyswapcomics]

Swap Class 101 - A body Swap Comic Issue 1

This comic is based on the swap class idea. Storyline and dialogue written by me and images generated by AI

[hairy-bothered]

They only went into the costume shop because Connor had forgotten Father’s Day…again.

“Gift card?” Mason suggested, pushing through the door beneath a hanging rubber bat and a faded plastic skeleton.

Connor, blond, lean, and smug beneath the little mustache he’d grown mostly to annoy his dad, rolled his eyes. “For my father? He’d use it to buy socks and then tell me I ruined the surprise.”

Mason laughed. He was dark-haired, sharp-jawed, with a few days of stubble and the relaxed confidence of someone whose dad had never met a grill he didn’t try to dominate. “Then get him something stupid. Something he’ll actually wear once and pretend to hate.”

They found the aprons in a back corner beneath a sign that read DAD CLASSICS — HALF OFF. One was bright red and said KING OF THE GRILL in peeling yellow letters. The other was denim-blue with fake grease stains printed across the front and ASK ME ABOUT MY MARINADE stitched over the chest.

Connor held the red one against himself and made his voice deeper. “Boys, the secret is propane and emotional distance.”

Mason snorted and grabbed the blue apron. “No, no, you need to stand wider. Dads always stand like they’re guarding a cooler.”

There were changing rooms beside the novelty costumes. Neither of them knew why grill aprons needed changing rooms, but that made it funnier.

“Hey!” Connor said. “Take off your shirt and go try it on for the full effect. We can snap a couple selfies and use them as a prank later.”

“Gotcha, man! Good idea.”

They ducked behind the curtains, still joking through the thin partition as they tied the aprons around themselves.

The two young men stepped out to admire their aprons and take a sarcastic selfie.

After returning to their dressing rooms Connor fumbled for the knot on the back of the apron but before he could undo it he felt the knot tighten at his waist. Then his stomach lurched.

At first he thought the room had tilted. His knees cracked, his shoulders thickened, and a heavy warmth spread across his chest. Pale hair burst beneath the apron straps, crawling over his sternum and shoulders in dense, uneven patches. His blond hair thinned, then retreated, pulling back from his forehead until only a sparse ring remained around a mostly bald crown. His neat little mustache swelled outward, darkening, bristling, curling at the ends into a proud, ridiculous handlebar that dominated his face.

“Uh,” Connor said, but his voice came out deeper. Rougher. Familiar. “Are you feeling ok over there, Mason?!”

On the other side of the partition, Mason made a startled choking sound. “Not really, dude!”

His own body had softened almost instantly. His flat stomach pushed forward into a round, heavy belly that pressed against the apron. His arms grew thicker but less defined, covered in dark hair. His stubble lengthened down his cheeks and jaw, spreading into a thick beard that tumbled over his mouth until his lips nearly vanished behind it. His dark hair receded at the temples but stayed thick enough to look neglected rather than stylish. When he stumbled out of the changing room, he looked like a man who had spent twenty years saying he was “getting back to the gym soon.”

Connor stepped out at the same time, one hand on his bald head, the other gripping the edge of his huge mustache.

For a moment, they stared at each other.

“Mason?” Connor whispered.

“Connor?” Mason’s voice rumbled through the beard, muffled and older. “Why do you look like your dad?! You’re bald dude! You even have his mustache!”

“What about you, bro! Did you gain 100 lbs in there? And that beard!! You look just like your dad!”

They remembered everything. The shop. Father’s Day. The joke. Their real faces. Their real ages. The horrifying fact that Connor now looked exactly like his father, right down to the slightly squinting expression he wore whenever he tried not to admit he was confused. Mason looked like his own dad after Thanksgiving dinner: soft, bearded, hairy, comfortable in a way that felt impossible to fight.

“We have to take the apron’s off!” Mason said.

But neither of them moved.

Connor looked down at the red apron stretched across his broader, hairier torso. His hand settled on his belly, then rose to smooth the curled end of his handlebar mustache. The panic in his eyes weakened, replaced by irritation. Not fear. Just the vague annoyance of a man who had forgotten what errand he was running.

“Why were we here again?” he asked.

Mason frowned beneath the beard. “Grill stuff, I think.”

“Right.” Connor nodded slowly. “Need charcoal.”

“Already got charcoal.”

“Then steaks?”

Mason considered this, his memories sliding away like receipts tossed into a junk drawer. College apartments, group chats, late-night burgers, the urgent knowledge that he had once been someone else—all of it blurred and thinned until it seemed less like memory than a strange dream he had no reason to mention.

He patted his apron. “Could use a new spatula.”

Connor grunted approvingly. “Good spatula’s important. Better put our clothes back on and buy these new aprons. They are hilarious!”

A bored clerk watched the two middle-aged men leave the dressing rooms and approach his counter - still wearing the novelty aprons.

One was mostly bald with a grand handlebar mustache and a satisfied dad squint. The other was pudgy, dark-haired, and buried behind a long beard that swallowed his mouth. They paid in cash, argued amiably about whether lighter fluid was cheating, and walked out into the afternoon sun without once remembering they had come in as sons.

Across town, two older men woke up from accidental naps they had not meant to take.

Connor’s father jolted upright on a couch, suddenly blond, smooth-skinned, and twenty-two, his hand flying to a mustache that was far too small.

Mason’s father staggered back from a bathroom mirror, dark-haired and lean again, rubbing at the stubble on a jaw that had not been that sharp in decades.

For several seconds, both men stared at themselves in separate mirrors, stunned by the impossible youth looking back.

Then Connor’s father blinked and whispered, “oh shit, Father’s Day is coming up soon and I didn’t buy my old man anything yet!”

And Mason’s father, across town, touched his flat stomach with dawning horror - quickly fading into submission as he forgot his old life and responsibilities. His phone buzzed on the sink nearby. A text from Connor’s dad’s phone.

Dude! I need to buy my Dad a Father’s Day gift. Wanna join me?!

[misctf]

A Haunting on His Birthday

Another entry into "A Haunting" series I'm working on to celebrate Halloween! Hope you enjoy!

Cole frowned as he listened to his girlfriend Laura explain the situation on what was supposed to be his special day. "So let me get this straight - instead of celebrating my birthday with just us like we planned, we're spending it with your gay friend TJ who wants to mess around with some occult bullshit to talk to his dead boyfriend?"

Laura gave him a pleading look, placing her hand on his arm. "Please Cole, it would mean so much to TJ. He's still not over losing Lucas and I think this could really help him find some closure. We won't stay super late, I promise. Just humor him for a bit?"

"But why today of all days?" Cole was growing inpatient.

"It's Lucas's birthday too." Laura explained.

With an exaggerated sigh, Cole rolled his eyes, "Fine, fine. I guess I can put my own birthday on hold and play along. It's not like I had anything else important planned," he said sarcastically, his voice dripping with resentment.

"I know, I know." Laura frowned, "You have no idea how much this'll mean to him. And I promise it'll be worth it later." She planted a kiss on his lips and smiled.

He did his best to return the smile. But internally, Cole seethed. Of course Laura would choose to prioritize her friend's grief over his birthday. He had been looking forward to an intimate dinner, maybe a few drinks, and definitely some private time with his girlfriend. Instead, he was going to be a reluctant participant in some kind of occult bullshit for her gay best friend.

_______

A short while later, they arrived at TJ's place. The small apartment was dimly lit, scented candles flickering on every surface. In the center of the living room sat a large Ouija board, its plastic pieces gleaming under the candlelight.

TJ greeted them, his usually cheerful face etched with nervousness and anticipation. "Hey guys, thanks for coming. I really appreciate this." His gaze lingered on Cole a moment longer than necessary before he quickly looked away.

As Laura and TJ began setting up the Ouija board, Cole stood back, arms crossed, his jaw clenched tight. He couldn't believe he was actually doing this. If his buddies from work could see him now, they'd never let him live it down. They'd laugh their asses off, probably call him a pussy whipped bitch.

"Okay, let's begin." TJ said, the group gathering around the board, "Is there anyone there? Can you give us a sign?"

Cole wanted to roll his eyes so hard. This was beyond ridiculous. The planchette suddenly began moving on its own, gliding across the board. TJ's eyes widened.

"Oh my god… Lucas? Is that you?" His voice shook with emotion.

Cole scoffed quietly. Was this dude for fuckin' real? He glanced over at Laura, hoping she'd share his skepticism, only to her looking equally enthralled. There's no fucking way…

"Yes! Yes it is!" TJ cried out joyfully as the board spelled out L-U-C-A-S. He turned to Cole and Laura, tears streaming down his face. "It's really him! Lucas is here!"

Cole felt a twinge of sympathy despite himself. Losing someone you loved must suck. But still, couldn't they have done this some other time? Like maybe not on his actual fucking birthday?

As if reading his mind, Laura elbowed him gently. "Just bear with it, okay? This means a lot to him."

Easy for her to say. She wasn't the one having their special day hijacked. Cole sighed heavily, his patience wearing thin. "Yeah, yeah. Let's just…get this over with."

"Happy birthday, baby…" TJ cooed, addressing the empty air. "I miss you so much. Do you have any messages for me? Anything at all?" The planchette remained still.

And then, the lights in the room began to flicker erratically, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Cole felt a sudden wave of nausea wash over him, his vision blurring. "Whoa…I don't feel so good…" He gripped the edge of the table, trying to steady himself. The room seemed to spin around him, colors blending together in a dizzying kaleidoscope.

"What's happening?" Laura gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. "Cole? Are you alright?"

Before he could respond, darkness enveloped him. The last thing he registered was the sound of his own body hitting the floor with a thud. Then everything went black.

When Cole came to, he found himself staring up at the concerned faces of Laura and TJ looming over him. "Cole? Oh god. What happened?"

Cole tried to speak, to reassure them that he was okay, but found his vocal cords frozen. He attempted to sit up, to reach out to Laura, but his limbs refused to cooperate. Panic rose in his throat as he realized with dawning horror that he couldn't control his own body anymore. This didn't make sense. Why couldn't he move? Why couldn't he say anything? Why…

"Heh sorry about that." Cole heard his voice. Yet it wasn't him speaking, "We should get going though. I'm done sitting around playing with this bullshit." He felt his arm gesture towards to ouija board.

"But… Lucas. I…" TJ whispered.

"I said we're done. We've already wasted enough time." Cole didn't necessarily disagree with what he was saying- but fuck it wasn't really him saying it, "C'mon Laura."

Laura followed Cole to the car, her brow furrowed in confusion and concern. "What's gotten into you? That was rude, even for you."

Cole felt his lips twist into a smirk, his body turning to face her. "Aw c'mon babe, it's my birthday." He smiled, "Wait right here, I forgot something inside."

With that, he spun on his heel and headed back towards TJ's apartment, leaving a bewildered Laura behind. Internally, Cole screamed from within his own mind. What the hell was happening? Who or what was controlling him now? And why were they taking him back to TJ's place?

As soon as Cole entered the apartment, TJ whirled around, his eyes wide with shock and betrayal. "Cole? What are you doing back here? Did you forget something?" He sniffled, hastily wiping away tears.

"Shhh… it's okay. I'm here now." His voice was soft, almost tender. Inside, Cole recoiled in disgust and horror. This wasn't him. None of this was him!

TJ gazed up at him, searching his face. "But… but you left. You said you were done with this."

Cole reached out, brushing away the tears that streaked down TJ's cheeks with his thumb. "Shhh…it's okay baby. It's me, Lucas." He cupped TJ's face tenderly, his voice low and soothing. "I'm here now. I'm not going anywhere."

TJ's breath hitched, fresh tears spilling forth. "L-Lucas? Is it really you?" He searched Cole's face intently, hardly daring to hope.

In response, Cole leaned in and captured TJ's lips in a passionate kiss. TJ melted into it instantly, his arms winding around Cole's neck as he returned the kiss fervently.

Inside Cole's mind, he screamed and struggled against the foreign presence inhabiting his body. This was wrong, so wrong! He wasn't gay, he didn't want this! But no matter how hard he fought, he remained trapped, forced to watch helplessly as Lucas apparently made up for lost time.

TJ moaned into the kiss, his hands fisting in Cole's hair. "God Lucas, I've missed you so much," he gasped between heated kisses. "I thought I'd never see you again."

Cole's stomach churned with revulsion. He wanted to gag, to push TJ away, but his traitorous body continued to press closer, deepening the kiss.

"I know, I know." Lucas whispered with Cole's voice, "But I need to go. Before Laura gets suspicious." He smiled, "Meet me at our old spot tomorrow afternoon. I love you babe."

------

The next few days passed in a blur for Cole, each one more humiliating and terrifying than the last. He watched helplessly as Lucas, using his body, snuck around with TJ, engaging in increasingly intimate encounters.

They met up at their "old spot", a secluded park bench where they made out passionately, hands roaming and clothes becoming disheveled. Cole cringed at the lewd noises his body produced, the breathy moans and whimpers that sounded nothing like him. This wasn't him! He was straight, he didn't want this!

Back at home, alone in his bedroom, Lucas took full advantage of his borrowed form. He stripped off Cole's clothes, admiring the toned physique in the mirror. Running his hands over the firm chest and abs. Giving his perky ass a tight squeeze. Cole shuddered with revulsion, feeling violated and powerless. This wasn't his body to explore! But he was a mere passenger, unable to stop Lucas's wandering touch.

Worst of all, Lucas sent explicit photos of Cole's body to TJ - tight shots of his ass and crotch, accompanied by flirty captions. "Wish you were inside me", "He's so tight, babe." Cole wanted to die of shame.He begged silently for it to end, but Lucas merely laughed, reveling in his new body.

Worse yet, despite Lucas's efforts to maintain a 'straight bro' facade in public, there were moments where his true nature slipped through. Like when he caught a glimpse of himself in a store window, admiring Cole's physique with a hungry look in his eyes. Or when he accidentally used pet names for TJ in front of Laura, calling him 'baby' and 'sweetheart'.

Internally, Cole screamed, trying to tell them it wasn't him, that something was wrong, but his mouth wouldn't cooperate. Lucas clearly knew jack shit about football, basketball, baseball. Hell, he didn't even understand half the things his bros talked about. All Lucas cared about was getting back to TJ, sinking to his knees and pleasing him- in Cole's body! He wanted to gag at the thought. To add insult to injury, Lucas started dressing Cole in tighter, more revealing clothing - shorts that hugged his ass, shirts that strained across his chest.

The change in Cole's demeanor became more and more apparent. Much to Cole's horror, Lucas was not exactly a pro at rocking the whole "cocky straight bro" vibe. Where once he walked with confident swagger, now he swayed his hips seductively, putting an extra sway in his step. His voice took on a higher pitch, words peppered with giggles and valley girl slang. He couldn't carry on a conversation about sports or cars to save his life.

Cole cringed inwardly, mortified. This wasn't him! He was manly, confident, secure in his heterosexuality. But now, his coworkers and friends eyed him warily, muttering amongst themselves. His circle of friends grew more distant by the day. His buddies at work stopped inviting him to hang out. And all Cole could do was watch. Watch as Lucas ruined his life.

And then it happened. One evening, as Lucas and TJ lay entwined on the couch, a somber mood settled over them. Lucas traced idle patterns on TJ's bare skin, his expression thoughtful.

"TJ… I can't stay much longer. My time here is limited." He spoke softly, almost regretfully. Cole's heart leapt at those words. Finally, an end to this nightmare! Soon he'd be back in control of his own body, his own life. No more of this sissy gay bullshit.

TJ propped himself up on an elbow, gazing down at Lucas with worry etched on his handsome features. "What do you mean? Don't say that." He stroked Lucas's cheek tenderly. "Can't we find a way for you to stay? Please…"

Lucas sighed, pulling TJ close and nuzzling into his neck. "I wish we could baby. Believe me, I wish we could." He pressed a soft kiss to TJ's pulse point. "But my energy is fading. Being tied to a physical form takes a lot of effort. I can feel myself slipping away…"

Lucas held TJ tighter, his voice low and earnest. "I may not be able to stay with you physically, but I can give you the man you deserve. Someone who loves you, who worships the ground you walk on. Someone who craves your touch, your love…"

He trailed off, pressing a lingering kiss to TJ's lips. Cole's mind reeled. What the fuck was Lucas talking about? He just wanted Lucas to get the fuck out. To leave.

Lucas closed his eyes, focusing inward. Cole felt a sharp, stabbing sensation in his skull, like a thousand needles piercing his brain. He cried out in agony, writhing against the onslaught. His memories, his very identity, began to shift and morph. Straight lines blurred, colors ran together. Images of women he'd been with, replaced by images of TJ. Himself on his knees, servicing TJ. Himself spread open, begging for more. Himself craving cock, desperate for it. Begging for it. Craving it. Needing it. Wanting it. Loving it. Desperate for it. Begging for it. Craving it. Wanting it. Needing it. Loving it. Desperate for it. Begging for it. Craving it. Wanting it.

Cole screamed, thrashing against the invasion in his mind. He saw his high school football team, running drills under the hot sun. The ball, the cheers of the crowd, the camaraderie of his teammates. Suddenly, it shifted. He was in the locker room. On his knees. His teammates surrounding him. Cheers turned to jeers and catcalls. "Suck it, slut!" "Take it like a good little bitch!"

He blinked, and he was in college. At a frat party, beer pong cups scattered across the table. His girlfriend straddling his lap, kissing him deeply. Her blonde hair, her floral perfume. Her breasts, soft against his chest. Now dark hair, cologne, stubble scratching his chin. Firm pecs against his. Hands gripping his hips, pulling him closer. A dick grinding against his ass.

Fishing trips with his buddies morphed into spa days with his besties, pedicures and gossip. Sports outings and tailgating with his buddies shifted into vibrant pride parades. Wild college frat parties warped into pulsing nightclubs, grinding bodies and dancing under flashing lights. Even his dedicated gym routine twisted - no longer pumping iron to build muscle mass, but sculpting his ass for the locker room quickies.

With each memory rewritten, Cole felt a part of himself slipping away, the gay submissive persona solidifying. He could feel his sexual orientation shifting, his desires changing.

"TJ…" He thought.

Memories of TJ flooded Cole's mind, a kaleidoscope of stolen kisses and groping hands. Lazy Sunday mornings in bed together, cooking breakfast in matching aprons. Couples yoga classes, their sweaty bodies pressed close as they held challenging poses. Intimate conversations about their hopes, dreams, fears. Waking up next to him, tangled in sweat-soaked sheets. Moaning his name in ecstasy. Begging for more, harder, deeper.

The pleasure and intimacy of these memories was tinged with confusion. Why did they feel so wrong, yet so right at the same time? He knew there was something he should remember, something important, but it kept slipping just out of grasp. Lucas's presence faded, his influence diminishing. The final thread of the supernatural connection snapped.

"Goodbye, babe." He could hear Lucas say as he departed, "I know you'll be happy from now on."

Blackness. Then slowly, awareness trickled back. Cole's eyes fluttered open, blinking in the unfamiliar dim lighting of TJ's apartment. His head pounded, his body aching like he'd been run over by a truck.

TJ's eyes widened in fear as Cole stirred awake, his heart pounding. Oh God, what if Cole woke up furious? What if he realized what had happened and blamed him? He prepared himself for anger, for accusations.

But as Cole's bleary eyes focused on him, TJ froze. Cole's gaze was fixed on him, wide and adoring. A small, dreamy smile formed on his lips.

"H-hey there, handsome~" Cole's voice was pitched higher, softer. Almost a lisp. He sat up slowly, drinking in the sight of TJ like he was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He giggled, a sound completely foreign to his usual gruff tone.

TJ stared in disbelief, hardly daring to breathe. This wasn't Cole. Not the Cole he knew, anyway. This version was… different. And the way he was looking at him, with such open adoration and desire… it made TJ's heart race.

"God TJ, I want you so badly. I need you inside me."

TJ's eyes bugged out, shock clear on his face. "Cole, what the fuck? What are you saying?" He was cut off as Cole captured his lips in a searing kiss, all tongue and heat.

Pulling back with a breathless giggle, Cole grinned. "Why wouldn't I want my sexy boyfriend to fuck me?"

TJ hesitated only a moment before surrendering to the kiss, to Cole's touch. His hands roaming the curves of Cole's body. Cole moaned into his mouth, grinding down against the growing bulge in TJ's pants.

They broke apart, panting. Cole's pupils were blown wide with lust, his cheeks flushed. "Take me to bed, baby. I need you so fucking bad."

Some time later, Cole and TJ emerged from the bedroom, both disheveled and satisfied. They posed for a quick selfie, capturing the perfect image of a loving couple - TJ's strong hand resting possessively on Cole's pert rear as Cole peppered his neck with soft kisses.

From that day forward, Cole embraced his new identity fully. His relationship with Laura ended. His friends and colleagues barely recognized the changed man - gone was the macho jock, replaced by an out and proud gay man always eager to please his boyfriend.

Sometimes, in quiet moments, Cole would catch a fleeting glimpse of his old self. A stray thought, a phantom memory. But it was always quickly swallowed up by the warm glow of his love for TJ. His desire to be TJ's slutty bottom boyfriend. This was his reality now. His truth. And he wouldn't have it any other way.