I've had my fair share of crappy work uniforms. When I worked at the corndog stand at the mall, they made me wear a lame striped shirt with a matching dorky hat. My last job as a server, they made everyone wear a giant sparkly name tag that lit up in bright letters. And the worst of them all was when I had to dress up as the giant dancing rat as a pizza place's mascot to entertain the customers. But unlike all of those, I very much enjoy my new job's uniform. Honestly its the best part of the job.
When I got hired at Alphalete, I didn't think I'd really fit into the culture. The gym was full of heavily muscled bros who looked like they work out for a living. Not only were the customers all jacked, but the employees themselves were an army of Spartan soldiers, looking ready for combat with their chiseled bodies. Honestly, while I was being interviewed, I had to put all my focus on the job ahead to not get distracted by the interviewer's massive set pecs poking from his collared shirt. So much more different than my more slender, untoned body. Compared to them, I was a stick with no muscles that could break with the slightest push. Even though I was sure I bombed it, the next day I got the call and the job was mine.
Going in on my first day, I had no idea what was in store. They told me to wear 'casual clothing' cause a uniform would be provided. When I arrived, a man similar to my physiche was there waiting for me. His messy brown hair and the way it looked like the shirt he was wearing was two sizes too large gave me a breath of relief; not everyone who worked here was some muscled adonis. He greeted me like we had met, but I had never seen his face before. Still, he asked me to follow him to the back, where he would show me my uniform.
"Today, we have you on a probationary period as you get used to the training and services we offer. Your job is to give simple guidance to the folks here, offer spotting, and familiarize yourself with the facilities." As he led me through the area accessible only to employees, I pondered how I would be able to help anyone lifting weights that were probably heavier than me. We finally arrived at a door labeled uniforms, and as I followed him inside, I was shocked to find walls of racks, hang upon them were what looked like naked heavy-set muscled bodies.
I was about to run away in terror when the guy next to me smiled, "No need to fret, they are not real people or anything! These are just the company-issued uniforms." It took me a moment to calm down and hear him out. Apparently, the secret of this gym is that not all the trainers and instructors who work here are strong in the traditional sense. As a motivator for the customers to reach their goals, all the employees wore these high-tech silicone bodysuits built with strength enhancers. That way, the gym can hire anyone regardless of body limitations, and the customers are more motivated to return. As he was saying that, the person demonstrated slipping on the suit and accompanying handsome mask, turning into the buff interviewer I had met before! His shirt now fit his new body, hugging the chest with his pepperoni-nipples poking through the fabric.
He pointed towards someone sitting passively on a chair. From his blank stare at the wall and lack of movement, I concluded that this was another uniform. "Here, this suit has just come in, just like you! Standard issue trainer body. Should allow you to perform all the tasks you need for your first day."
As I stared at the handsome man waiting for me to arrive, the red 'Alphalete' shirt and Under Armour compression pants barely containing the shredded muscles underneath, I couldn't help but smile hungrily. This, for sure, would be the Best Work Uniform I've ever gotten to wear.
Will and James had been best friends since high school. They were both good-looking, but James had always been the more rugged, adventurous one. So when James suggested they swap bodies for the big lake house party that night “just for fun,” Will, curious and a little tipsy already, agreed. They used the strange antique ring James had found. One flash later, Will was staring out of James’s taller, broader body, while James grinned with Will’s leaner, prettier face.
“Fuck, dude. You feel good,” James said in Will’s voice, running his new hands over his chest. “Let’s go fuck shit up.”
The party was wild. They agreed to swap back at midnight.
But James got drunk. Really drunk.
Will spent the first few hours enjoying himself, getting attention from girls and guys alike. But as the night went on, James stopped replying to his texts. Will started to panic. He spent the rest of the night tracking down his own body. He finally found it at 3 a.m., sitting on the back porch, looking dazed.
Will’s slim, athletic, curly-haired body looked completely out of place. He was shirtless, sweat glistening on the lean muscle, but his posture was slouched, one hand resting on his flat stomach like he couldn’t believe what he was feeling. His eyes were glassy and confused as he stared down at the tight abs and smooth chest that definitely didn’t belong to him.
Will, still in James’s bod, froze. “James… what’s goin on? It’s been hours and I hadn’t heard from you! We were supposed to swap back at midnight! Where have you been?”
Will’s handsome face looked up at him and slurred, “Kid… what the fuck is this? I was just at the bar down the street drinkin with the boys… now I’m… Jesus, this body is so young… so…tight.” Will’s body ran its hands slowly over the lean chest, squeezing the pecs, then down the abs, clearly mesmerized. His new cock was half-hard in Will’s shorts, twitching visibly.
Will’s stomach dropped.
“I got no clue who James is,” he continued with a filthy chuckle. The old man in Will’s body just laughed drunkenly, still groping himself. “Some blonde kid ran up to me at the bar talkin about “swappin”… said it was a game. Then he actually swapped again and left me like this. Ran off with my 57 year old construction worker bod and left me… well… left me in this!” He chuckled again.
He flexed one of Will’s arms experimentally, then bounced the pecs, letting out a low, filthy groan at how responsive the athletic frame was.
Will stood there in horror as the old stranger continued exploring his stolen body, touching, squeezing, and shamelessly adjusting the growing bulge in his shorts right there on the porch. His perfect, lean, hard-earned body was now occupied by some random old fat man.
Will stepped closer, a desperation to his tone that sounds weird coming from James’s usually cocky voice. “Well you see uh… that’s actually my body… James here-” He motions to his current body, “He’s my best mate and we thought it’d be fun to swap bodies for the night and now well.. we’re here!”
The old man, now in Will’s drunken form, stared blankly at Will, almost as if he wasn’t listening.
“So uh… can we swap? I want my body back…”
The old man stood up, his sweaty torso glistening in the moonlight, “Hell no, kid. This body is fucking incredible.”
He stood up, still shirtless, and ran his hands down Will’s torso again, squeezing the pecs, tracing every ridge of the abs, then sliding lower to grope the front of the shorts where a clear bulge was forming.
“I was a fat old bastard drinking at the bar… and now I’m this? Tight, young, and hung? Nah. I’m keeping it.”
Will’s heart sank. “We can swap back. The ring-”
“The blond kid who put me in here took the ring with him when he swapped with me,” the old man interrupted, still shamelessly touching and exploring Will’s body. He flexed one arm, then bounced the pecs, letting out a low moan at how good it felt. “Even if we had it, I wouldn’t use it. This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
There was no way back. Will was permanently stuck in his best friend’s body.
And the random old stranger was keeping his.
The old man smirked with Will’s charming smile, adjusted the growing bulge in the shorts, and patted his new flat stomach.
“Better get used to it, kid. I plan on putting this tight little body to very good use.”
With that, he walked back into the party with a swagger that looked unfamiliar on Will’s usually more timid body.
———
A few days later, Will’s phone buzzed while he was still trying to adjust to life in James’s bigger body.
It was a text from his old phone number.
Attached were several new photos: his own lean, curly-haired body on the tennis court at dusk, shirtless, sweaty, and smiling. In one shot he was flexing with the racket in hand. The other, a cute little pose, clearly trying to look good for whoever was behind the camera.. Will didn’t want to know who it was.
The message read:
“Bro you would not believe how much fun I’m having in this body 😂 I figure you used to be gay but man, these tennis girls keep checking me out. Thanks for the upgrade man, I’m keeping this one.”
Will stared at the photos of his former self, now permanently occupied by that random old man who clearly had no intention of giving it back, and felt a deep, sinking humiliation settle in his chest.
His perfect body was gone forever.
And somewhere out there, the real James was still happily jumping from body to body, completely unaware of the mess he’d left behind.
Salvator was the hottest guy I'd ever laid eyes on. Platinum face card, banging body, can you blame me for sneaking a peek at him in the gym locker room? And that was how I found out he had one of the smallest dicks I'd seen on a man.
I thought he'd be angry at me for peeping, but he actually seemed relieved to let someone in on his secret and even admitted something to me: he was a virgin!
I was shocked– the guy was sex on legs. Even I'd managed to get my dick wet once or twice, and I wasn't much of a looker. But it turned out he was so ashamed of the size of his penis that he'd never let anyone near it, resigning himself to a lonely existence of being the big man in the streets while rubbing himself off with a pillow between the sheets.
He had the face of a movie star and the body of a supermodel and he still wasn't happy, just because he didn't have the cock of a porn star to match. In a way, I felt sorry for him, because that's one hell of an insecurity. But mostly I thought that he was the dumbest man on earth to be so gifted and complain about the one thing he didn't have.
(And also like... hadn't the guy ever heard of bottoming?)
So I offered him a deal: I'd do a little trade with him and take his tiny pecker and give him my own, leaving him with the thick nine incher of his dreams. However, I would get it back for three days a month... along with everything attached to it.
Long story short, Salvator is having a LOT more sex these days, so I suppose I can say "you're welcome" to the men and women of this great city for unleashing such a gift upon them. And as for me? I take a long weekend off of work at the end of every month for a lovely beachside vacation where I can reconnect with my old package, along with Salvator's chiseled abs and fat ass.
I'm having a lot more sex these days too.
A happy ending all around, although I can't help but feel like I got the better end of the deal; he only gets one part of me, whereas I'm getting to take advantage of all of him. Imagine giving up all of that up just because it didn't have a few inches more on between the legs!
I suppose I can't talk though... after all, I get to have it all.
I’d been living in the building for about four months when I first noticed the way my next-door neighbor Kevin looked at me.
Mid-to-late fifties, silver hair cropped short, always dressed in either crisp button-downs or very nice workout clothes. Even on the days he clearly wasn’t trying, he looked put together. Every time we passed each other in the narrow hallway, he’d stop, smile that slow, easy smile, and find some reason to chat. The weather. The new gym down the block. Whether I’d tried the Thai place on the corner. His eyes would linger just a second too long on my shoulders, my arms, the way my tank top clung after a boxing session. I wasn’t stupid. I knew exactly what those glances meant.
I wasn’t interested. Not really. Kevin was handsome for his age — tall, still broad in the chest, with a deep voice that carried easy confidence — but he was over thirty years older than me. I just wasn’t into that.
Still, the attention was flattering. A man like him could probably pull plenty of guys my age if he wanted. He didn’t push, didn’t make it weird, so I just smiled back, kept the conversations short, and went about my business.
Then one Thursday night, close to midnight, there was a knock on my door.
I was sprawled on the couch in gym shorts and a hoodie, half-watching Netflix and half-scrolling on my phone, when the sound startled me. I figured it was the delivery guy with the wrong apartment again. Instead, when I opened the door, Kevin was standing there in a dark sweater, looking unusually nervous.
“Hey, Gio,” he said, voice low. “Sorry to bother you this late. Mind if I come in for a minute?”
I hesitated, then stepped aside. “Yeah, sure. Everything okay?”
He walked in, hands in his pockets, and glanced around my living room.
He didn’t sit down.
“I’ve been thinking about how to say this,” he started, then gave a short laugh. “There’s no graceful way, so I’ll just be direct.”
I raised an eyebrow, folding my arms across my chest. Here it comes.
But instead of the expected confession, Kevin reached into his jacket and pulled out a small, sleek device — black, palm-sized, with a glowing blue ring around the edge. It looked like something out of a sci-fi movie.
“This is, uh… this is a Chronovac,” he said, holding it up. His fingers trembled slightly as he turned it in his hands. “It, um… it can change things about reality. Like… swap stuff.”
He swallowed hard, eyes flicking between the device and my face.
“I can swap people’s ages… temporarily. Or, or, or permanently if you want, I guess. It’s been a long time since I’ve used it, but since you moved in I just… I don’t know, you seemed like the right kind of guy who might… who might want to give it a try?”
I stared at him.
Kevin nodded quickly, eyes flicking between the device and my face.
“Yeah. It could make me be in my mid twenties again. And you’d… you’d become sixty-one,” he said.
Damn. He was even older than I’d realized—and he still kept himself in incredible shape.
“…Just for the weekend, if that’s all you’re comfortable with. I know it sounds completely insane. It’s just… it’s been so long, and I’ve really been craving it. With someone like you.”
The pieces clicked together in my head, and I almost laughed. This had to be some elaborate joke. Or maybe the guy was having a midlife crisis and this was his weird way of flirting. Either way, it was ridiculous.
“You’re serious,” I said, half question, half statement.
“Dead serious.” He turned the device slowly in his hands, thumb brushing over the glowing ring. There was something hungry in his eyes now, something raw and long-denied. Something in his face confirmed to me he wasn’t kidding.
I thought about it—really thought about it. About what sixty-one would feel like sitting on my frame. About the weight of those extra decades suddenly pressing into my bones, my skin, my cock. My mouth went dry.
Finally, I let out a slow breath.
“Alright,” I said. “Let’s do it.”
Kevin’s face lit up with pure relief, edged with something darker and hotter. “You’re sure? No pressure if it’s too weird—”
“I’m sure. Just the weekend, right? We swap back Sunday night?”
“Right.”
He stepped closer, close enough that I could smell the faint, expensive scent of his cologne mixed with warm skin. He held the Chronovac between us, pressed his thumb to the glowing ring. A soft chime filled the room.
“Ready?” he asked, voice husky.
I nodded.
The device hummed to life. A warm, heavy pressure bloomed deep in my chest, then surged outward like liquid heat flooding every vein. My vision blurred for a heartbeat. When it cleared, the world felt… different. Heavier.
My shoulders were still broad, but the muscle sat differently now—denser, more substantial. My arms looked thicker, the veins less razor-sharp, the skin just a little looser over the bulk. And I was covered in a thick layer of hair.
I looked back over at him. Across from me stood a version of Kevin I’d never imagined.
Twenty-seven years old, and fucking stunning.
“Fuck…” he whispered, voice now younger, smoother, and full of energy. He ran both hands over his new chest, then down his flat stomach, clearly savoring every inch. His fingers lingered at the waistband of his shorts, tracing the sharp V-lines. A wide, almost boyish grin spread across his bearded face. “This feels even better than I remembered.”
I cleared my throat. My voice came out deeper, rougher, with a slight gravelly edge that hadn’t been there before. “Jesus, Kevin… you’re really sixty-one, I swear I never would’ve thought you were that old?” I said, feeling up my new body.
“Sixty-one last month,” he said, still staring at his new arms like he couldn’t believe they were his. He rolled his shoulders and laughed softly. “God, I missed this. The energy. The way everything just… moves.”
He stepped closer to the mirror hanging by the door and turned sideways, checking out his profile.
Meanwhile, I was still trying to get used to the new balance in my own body. I shifted my weight and felt the subtle difference in my posture. My back didn’t hurt exactly, but it felt… like it had carried a lot of years.
Kevin turned back to me, eyes bright with excitement. “How do you feel?”
“Weird,” I admitted, running a hand over my new jaw. The stubble was coarser, the skin a little rougher. “Heavier. But not bad. Just… different.”
He smiled. “Well you look good, Gio. Really good. That silver looks sharp on you.”
It was already one in the morning, so eventually he slipped back to his own apartment. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me alone with a body that was and wasn’t mine.
I stood there for a long minute, then walked slowly to the full-length mirror in the bedroom. I turned sideways, ran a hand over the new softness of my stomach, tested the solid weight of my arms. I lifted my shirt and studied the thicker chest hair, the gentler swell of my midsection, the way my shoulders still carried a lifetime of muscle even if the sharp definition had mellowed into something heavier, more mature.
It was weird. Surreal, even.
But as I stood there flexing my hands and feeling the quiet, grounded strength still humming beneath the surface, a strange sense of relief settled deep in my chest. If this was a glimpse of my future… it didn’t feel bad at all.
—
Sunday evening, just after eight, there was a knock on my door. Kevin — well twenty-seven-year-old Kevin — stepped inside with a bright, almost boyish grin.
“Hey,” he said, voice smooth and energetic. “I just need to thank you again before we switch back. That was… incredible. Best weekend I’ve had in years.”
He looked flushed, like he’d just come from the gym or maybe from somewhere more exciting.
“I hope it wasn’t too much of a paid for you” he said.
“Not at all, it was actually… enlightening,” I replied. My voice came out deeper and steadier than it had been just a few days earlier. “I guess we have to swap back. I’ve got work in the morning, and I don’t know what they’d do if I showed up as a sixty-one-year-old version of myself.”
Kevin nodded, already pulling the Chronovac from his pocket. “You’re right. Real life calls.”
As he toggled with the settings, I asked, “What else can that thing do, anyway?”
He took a shaky breath, still fiddling with the device, eyes fixed on the glowing ring instead of me. “A lot, actually. Age swaps are just the beginning. It can tweak personality traits — make someone more outgoing, more disciplined, more… submissive, whatever you want. It can shift sexualities, heighten or dull certain drives. Hell, it can even do full body swaps. I’ve only really played with the lighter stuff like the age swaps, but yeah… the potential is… it’s wild.”
Just as he finished speaking, he paused, thumb hovering over the glowing ring like he was wrestling with something. The air between us thickened again. Before he could press it, I stopped him.
“Wait,” I said, my deeper voice cutting through the tension. My heart was pounding hard enough that I could feel it in my thicker chest. “What if we didn’t swap back right away?”Just as hew as finished toggling, he paused, thumb hovering over the glowing ring, as if he was thinking. Before he could say anything, I stopped him and asked
“Wait,” I said, my deeper voice cutting through the tension. “Instead of just swapping our ages back… what if you took my real body for the whole week? You could go out into the world and actually be me. Go to my job at the warehouse, hang with my friends, live a real twenty-seven-year-old’s life.”
Kevin blinked, his borrowed young face flashing surprise. “Gio… that’s a big step. I don’t want to take advantage—”
“You’re not,” I cut in, stepping closer. “I’m offering. You seemed really happy just now, and I didn’t exactly hate being older. We can’t stay age swapped forever since we both have real lives to get back to this week, but there’s nothing saying we can’t fill in for each other. Why not let the fun last a little longer?”
He hesitated, fully wanting to take me up on it, but his eyes searching my older face for any sign of doubt. They didn’t find any. Finally, he let out a slow breath. “Alright. If you’re really sure.”
He adjusted the settings on the Chronovac, the blue light pulsing brighter. “Full body swap it is.”
The hum was deeper this time, almost electric, vibrating through my bones. A rushing sensation pulled at every part of me—bones, skin, muscle, even the rhythm of my heartbeat and the flicker of memories at the edge of my mind. When it finally stopped, I was staring at myself from across the room.
Perfect copy. My face, my build, my tattoos, even the small scar above my left eyebrow from that bad sparring session two years ago. Kevin was now me, completely.
And I was him.
Every inch of Kevin’s sixty-one-year-old body—which I had to admit was far more impressive than the sixty-one-year-old version of me had been—was now mine.
He flexed my fingers, rolled my shoulders, and grinned with my mouth. “Holy shit. This feels… fantastic. Your body feels so much more sensitive than mine. I feel so fucking horny right now.”
My original frame was a bit shorter than the twenty-seven-year-old version he’d just had, but he seemed to love the difference in build. As I watched him move around my apartment, testing the lighter, more agile limbs, something hot and unnameable stirred deep in my gut. I couldn’t quite place it, but I liked that he was me now. It was distinctly different from the age swap. This… this was him pretending to be me. Knowing he would go see my friends later, talk like me, move like me, live my life—it made my thicker cock twitch with a rush I wasn’t ready to admit out loud.
We parted ways again, except this time I went back to Kevin’s apartment and he stayed in mine.
Even though it was only Sunday night at 9 pm by the time we’d finished the full body swap, Kevin had clearly wasted no time. I had barely settled onto his couch — still getting used to the weight of his broader frame and the way his legs stretched out longer than mine used to — when I heard the front door of my apartment open and close next door. Then voices. A girl’s light laugh, followed by Kevin’s — my — voice, smooth and confident, saying something low that made her giggle again.
I sat there in the dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the city outside the window, and listened.
The sounds were unmistakable.
Low laughter turning into soft moans. The rustle of clothes hitting the floor. The rhythmic creak of my bed as they moved onto it. Her gasps growing sharper, breathier. And his deep voice — my voice — encouraging her, telling her how good she felt, how tight she was, how he wanted to hear her moan louder.
He fucked her hard and loud.
The headboard started banging steadily against the shared wall, each thrust punctuated by her cries and his low, satisfied grunts. I could picture it perfectly: my younger, athletic body moving with that cocky new energy he’d already picked up, hips snapping forward, sweat glistening on my old skin.
I sat on Kevin’s couch, heart pounding, something strange and warm stirring deep in my gut. He was fucking as me.
My hand moved almost on its own. I reached down, pushed aside the loose sweatpants I was wearing, and wrapped my fingers around Kevin’s cock — thicker, heavier than mine had been, already half-hard from listening. I started stroking slowly at first, matching the rhythm I could hear through the wall.
As Kevin picked up the pace next door, I picked up mine.
Every time the headboard slammed against the wall, I stroked in unison. His groans grew deeper, more urgent. The girl was practically whimpering now, begging him not to stop. My own breathing grew ragged, chest rising and falling heavily in this older body.
When Kevin finally came — letting out a loud, guttural groan that echoed through the thin walls, followed by the sound of him bracing himself against the wall with one hand to steady himself — I came too.
Hot spurts landed across my stomach and chest, thick and warm. I bit back a groan of my own, thighs tensing as the orgasm rolled through me, leaving me panting in the dark.
For a long minute afterward, I just sat there, cum cooling on my skin, listening to the muffled sounds of them catching their breath, soft laughter, the murmur of voices. Then the apartment next door went quiet.
I looked down at the mess on Kevin’s stomach — my stomach now — and let out a slow, shaky breath.
This was only the first night.
—
A week — and what sounded like numerous fuck sessions with different girls and guys — later, Kevin knocked on my door again — or rather, on his old door this time.
He looked a little sheepish but energized, shifting his weight from one foot to the other like he couldn’t quite decide whether to smile or look guilty. My face looked good on him — flushed from whatever workout or adventure he’d just come from, eyes bright.
“Time to swap back?” he asked, rubbing the back of my neck with a familiar gesture.
I shook my head, smiling with Kevin’s calm, older face. The expression felt natural now, steady and knowing. “Nah. You’re welcome to stay like that a bit longer if you want.”
He laughed softly, the sound warm and young coming from my throat. “I appreciate it, Gio, but I wouldn’t want to do that to you — steal your youth like that. It’s generous, but no. Let’s get you back in your body.”
We swapped back. I had to admit, being back in my twenty-seven-year-old frame felt good — though I’d miss something about being Kevin, thats for sure.
So before he left, I just had to ask, “Hey… can I hang on to the Chronovac for a little while? Just to understand it a bit more.”
Kevin hesitated only a second, then handed it over. “Sure. Just… be careful with it. And bring it back when you’re done.”
The next night, alone in my apartment, I powered the device on and scrolled through the advanced options until I found the personality settings. I selected Kevin’s profile and made careful adjustments: a strong, growing craving for youth. A quiet voice in his head that would make him regret turning down the offer.
I hit confirm.
Less than twenty-four hours later, there was an urgent knock on my door.
Kevin stood there, eyes wide, breathing a little fast. My body looked tense on him, shoulders tight, like he’d been pacing before he worked up the nerve to come over.
“Gio… I changed my mind,” he said, voice low and urgent. “I want to swap again. Please. Just for a little while longer. I can’t stop thinking about it.”
I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over my chest, and raised an eyebrow with a teasing smile. “Really? I thought you didn’t want to steal my youth.”
He flushed, shifting on his feet, my face turning a shade darker. “Oh please, I didn't really say that, did I? Come on, man. I was being polite before. I want this. I need it.”
I watched him for a moment, enjoying the hunger in his eyes — hunger I’d put there.
Then I picked up the Chronovac, adjusted the settings back to full body swap, and held it between us.
“Alright,” he said. “If you’re sure.”
The device hummed to life again.
—
A few days later, while he was out “being me” at the gym, I opened the Chronovac again. This time I went deeper into the personality settings. I dialed up the cockiness — just a notch at first. Made him a little more arrogant about how good he looked now, how much attention he got, how naturally the role of young, hot boxer fit him. I added a strong, swelling desire not just to be young, but to be me — to own my life completely.
I hit confirm and waited.
It didn’t take long to see the changes.
He started walking with more swagger when he passed my door. He’d knock, lean against the frame with my arms crossed, and smirk with my mouth like he owned the hallway. “Fuck, man, it is so easy to get laid as you,” he’d say, voice dripping with new confidence. “Girls at the gym are practically throwing themselves at me. Some of your boxing buddies keep checking me out on the DL too — I fucked that guy Connor actually. He's in the closet and apparently loves the taste of your cock.”
I’d just smile with Kevin’s calm, older face and nod. “Glad you’re enjoying it.”
One evening, we ran into each other in the building gym and I asked casually, “You ready to swap back soon?”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Nah, no way. Sorry, I’m having way too much fun. Can we stay like this just a bit longer?”
I played it up after that. Every few days I’d sigh and tell him I really wanted my body back, that I missed my own routine, my friends, my fights. He’d get this desperate look in my eyes and start begging.
“Come on, Gio, please,” he’d say, stepping closer, voice low and urgent. “Just a little more time. I need this. You don’t understand how good it feels. I’ll do anything — just don’t make me give it back yet.”
The more I pretended to hesitate, the more he begged. It was addictive watching him squirm inside my skin.
And every single night, without fail, he came home with another fuckable young guy or girl.
Each time I lay there in Kevin’s bed in the dark, listening through the thin walls, a warm thrill would roll through my borrowed body. I’d hear my own voice commanding some girl to take it deeper, rough and confident, or sometimes a guy’s low groan calling him a good boy while he got fucked harder.
I’d lie there stroking Kevin’s thicker cock slowly, letting the sounds wash over me.
I liked watching “Gio” own my life. No — I loved it.
One quiet evening, after another marathon session next door, I decided it was time to push further.
I picked up the Chronovac and went all in on Kevin’s profile. I cranked the craving until it was overwhelming: an all-consuming need to be me forever.
Then I waited.
Two nights later, I woke up to a faint noise in the living room. I got up, moving with Kevin’s heavier steps, and found him — my body, my face — crouched by the coffee table where I’d left the device. He had it in his hands. Before I could say anything, he raised it high and smashed it hard against the edge of the table. Plastic cracked. The blue ring flickered once and died.
He looked up at me, eyes wild with triumph and lust.
For a second I just stood there, staring at him —chest heaving, sweat already glistening on my old skin from the adrenaline. He had made it permanent.
And it turned me on so fucking much I couldn’t think straight.
I crossed the room in two strides, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and shoved him back against the wall. “You little shit,” I growled with Kevin’s deep, authoritative voice, pretending to be furious even as my cock thickened in my borrowed sweatpants. “You really think you can steal my life? What the fuck!?”
He grinned — my grin, sharp and defiant — and didn’t even try to push me away.
I spun him around, pressing his chest to the wall, yanking his shorts down with one rough hand. “You’re such a greedy, selfish piece of shit,” I snarled hotly against his ear, freeing my thicker, heavier cock. It was already leaking, the fat head slick as I rubbed it up and down his crack, teasing his hole. “Stealing my youth, my face, my tight fucking ass… acting like you own it now.”
He moaned loudly, pushing back against me with desperate hunger, his hole twitching against the head of my cock. “Do it,” he gasped, voice cracking with need.
I didn’t need more invitation.
I shoved inside him raw and deep, one hard thrust that made us both groan. He was tight, hot, and already rocking back to meet every stroke. I fucked him right there against the wall, one hand gripping his hip, the other braced beside his head.
“Fuck… you feel that?” I growled between savage thrusts, my voice thick and ragged with lust. “That’s what you get for thinking you could just take what’s mine. Stealing my cock, my life, my fucking future—now you’re getting fucked by the old man whose body you trapped me in.”
He was whimpering, pushing back harder, his own cock—my cock—leaking steadily against the wall as I railed him. “Yes—fuck yes—keep going,” he begged, voice hoarse. “Harder. Ruin me. I don’t care—I made it permanent because I needed this. Needed to be you. Needed your life.”
The confession, the sheer filthy greed in his words, sent a white-hot spike of arousal through me. I fucked him even harder, deeper, grinding against his prostate with every brutal snap of my hips. The knowledge that there was no way back—that he had destroyed any chance of returning—made the pleasure darker, more intense. I was trapped in Kevin’s mature, powerful body, balls-deep in my own stolen young form, and it was the hottest thing I’d ever felt.
I didn’t last long. The tight clench of his ass, the way my own body was milking me so perfectly, the raw, taboo thrill of it all pushed me over the edge fast.
With a deep, guttural roar I buried myself to the hilt and came hard inside him, pulsing again and again in thick, heavy ropes. I flooded my own stolen body with Kevin’s load, filling him until it started leaking out around my cock with every shallow thrust.
We stayed locked together, breathing heavy, bodies slick with sweat, my cock still twitching inside him as the last spurts drained out.
Then he turned his head just enough to smirk at me over his shoulder—my own face flushed, lips parted, eyes glazed with satisfaction and filthy victory.
“Worth it,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “So fucking worth it.”
Do you think this is the first time Kevin has used the Chronovac's full swap function?
My mind's a bit rusty after months of not writing this many storyline that racked up quite some length. So, I dumped my entire draft of this story I have on my phone and then asked AI to optimize it
Joshua had been planning this for months. Not in some vague, pathetic daydream way — no, this was calculated, surgical, inevitable. Every night after his dead-end coding gig, he’d sit in his cramped studio apartment, laptop glowing on his scrawny lap, and scroll through Rob Harlan’s socials like a man possessed.
Rob was everything Joshua wasn’t. Six-foot-one of sculpted, vascular perfection. Dark, wavy hair that fell just right over those sharp, arrogant eyes. A jawline carved from marble, broad shoulders tapering into a waist so tight it looked photoshopped, and a chest that jutted out like twin slabs of marble — heavy pecs, deep striations, nipples that always seemed perked from the pump. Then the abs — eight thick, cobblestone ridges that flexed even when Rob was just breathing. And below that…....fuck, the way those white Calvin Klein briefs hugged the heavy, swinging bulge in every mirror selfie. Rob posted them daily: shirtless in the gym bathroom, towel slung low, that cocky half-smirk saying I know you want this.
Rob had the life too. Modeling gigs that paid stupid money, a luxury apartment downtown, and Jess — his fiancée — a stunning brunette who looked at him like he hung the moon. Joshua had seen the stories: them at rooftop parties, her hands all over those abs. Meanwhile, Joshua was invisible. Five-eight, narrow shoulders, soft belly, a dick that barely made a tent in his boxers. Girls never looked twice. Guys like Rob barely registered his existence unless they needed an assistance or forced to interact with their kind. But Joshua knew the truth deep in his bones: that body was wasted on the jacked douchenag. Rob was born with it, took it for granted, used it to cruise through life on autopilot. If Josh owned that physique, he could do so much better....and more. He’d studied the forums, the darknet drops, the countless dark corner of the internet until he landed on the goldmine. A freaking innovative breakthrough by some rogue Montenegrin scientist working as a double-agent for MI6 and SVR developing a nanite skinsuit system — irreversible, perfect, living flesh turned into a custom-fitted garment. One dose injected and the target’s body became yours. The original mind? Trapped in the lining forever, screaming aimlessly, while the one wearing the skin gained everything and infiltrated so deep, no technological scan could catch the difference. The scientist worn a German diplomat facade for the past 2 years with no side effects whatsoever and the chat turned into a transaction with the scientist asking for an update upon the success of the nanite.
He’d been laying the groundwork at Apex Fitness for weeks. Joshua worked the evening supplement desk — a part-time gig that let him watch Rob train six nights a week. At first, Rob barely noticed the skinny guy behind the counter. But Joshua played it smart: compliments on form, free samples of legal pre-workouts, little tips that actually helped.
“Bro, your lats are looking insane this week,” he’d say, eyes wide with fake awe.
Rob ate it up. Jocks like him loved worship, especially from harmless nerds who made them feel even bigger. They’d chat between sets. Rob started calling him “Josh” instead of “hey dude.” Built just enough trust. All that led to tonight
The gym is nearly empty at 10:45 PM — just the die-hards and Rob, who always trained late to avoid the crowds. Joshua had watched Rob crush a brutal chest-and-back session: benching 315 like it was warm-up, pull-ups with perfect form, veins popping across those boulder shoulders. Rob’s tank is soaked dark with sweat, clinging to every ridge of his torso. He finished with a final set of cable flies, grunting deep as his pecs ballooned, then racked the weights and headed for the locker room.
Joshua followed, heart hammering but face calm. He grabbed a shaker from behind the desk — one he’d prepped hours ago. The nanite pill is already dissolved into a clear, tasteless liquid mixed with Rob’s favorite unflavored protein. No color, no smell, no trace. Joshua had tested the formula on some lab rats. A very miniscule drop to adjust to its size and it worked. Perfectly. Horny and supercharged rat that seemingly has all the stamina in the world before it crashes down and turned into a lifeless sack
As Rob is stripping down at his locker, back to Joshua, those wide lats flared like wings, traps thick enough to shrug off a truck. The Calvin briefs rides low, exposing the top of his crack and the powerful glutes beneath. Joshua’s mouth gets dry.
“Hey Rob,” he called casually, stepping closer with the shaker. “Saw you crushing it tonight, man. New PR on incline?”
Rob turned, flashing that signature smirk. Sweat glistened on his chest, dripping down the deep centerline between his abs.
“Yeah, bro. Felt fucking unstoppable. What’s up?”
Joshua held out the shaker like it's nothing.
“Got a new sponsor sample in today — exclusive pre-workout/recovery hybrid. Supposed to be next-gen. Nanite tech or some shit, boosts protein synthesis like crazy. I’ve been using it and… well, you can see I’m still me,” he laughed self-deprecatingly, patting his soft belly. “But the big guys swear by it. Figured you’d want first dibs. On the house.”
Rob’s eyes lit up. Supplement junkie to the core.
“No shit? Hell yeah, man. Appreciate it.” He takes the shaker without hesitation, give it a quick shake, and chugged half in one go. Adam’s apple bobbing, throat working. A drop runs down his chin onto his pec. “Tastes clean. Thanks, Josh. You’re alright.”
Joshua smiled, insides twisting with dark glee. You have no idea, you arrogant prick. Drink up. That body’s about to have a new owner, Joshua thought.
Rob chugged the rest, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and headed for the showers. Then, it's time to wait. The locker room is practically dead so Joshua can just patiently lingered there to bid time. The sounds of water running echoed. Then… followed by grunt, and at last, a rather loud curse.
“What the fu—”
Joshua’s pulse raced. He quickly gathered some towel to pretend to restock fresh and dry-cleaned towel for public use. Then, instead, he cracked the door to the stall where Rob showered just enough.
Inside the stall, Rob is clutching the wall, water cascading over his massive frame. His skin is already loosening — glossy, pliable, separating from the muscle beneath like a high-end latex suit. His powerful arms hung limp as the nanites rewrites every cell. Pecs sagged slightly, then smoothed into perfect wearable contours. The thick cock Joshua had fantasized about flattened against the torso, becoming part of the empty sheath. Rob’s handsome face — that jaw, those lips — goes slack, eyes glazing over as his consciousness pulled inward. By the time the water runs cold, Rob Harlan is gone.
Hanging from the hook where his towel had been is the perfect bodysuit: warm, supple, 225 pounds of living muscle and skin. Hair intact. Earring in place. The face stared blankly, mouth slightly parted. Joshua stepped inside the stall, locked it, and stripped naked. His own pathetic body looked laughable next to it.
“Finally,” he breathed, voice shaking. He lifted the suit — heavy, dense, still faintly warm and pulsing. The inside is slick, inviting, smelling of Rob’s sweat and cologne. Joshua started with the legs. Feet sliding into size-12 feet, calves filling out, thighs thickening into tree trunks. When it sealed at his groin, his average cock pushed into the suit’s generous sheath. Instant heat. Girth. Weight. It hardened to a full, veiny eight inches that throbbed against the empty fabric.
“Oh fuck… yes…”
He worked the torso up next. Soft belly compressed, then Rob’s abs snapped into place over him — deep cuts, perfect symmetry. Pecs ballooned outward, heavy and striated. Shoulders widened. Arms filled with vascular power that make him gasp. Finally, the head. He pulled the face over his own like a hood. Darkness. Then the propped dark phone screen on the side counter showed Rob staring back — every detail flawless. He instantly opened the stall door to witness his own dripping glory
Joshua flexed. Biceps peaked massively. He turned, checking the rear view: wide lats, bubble ass, hamstrings carved like steel cables. He cupped the heavy pecs, thumbs circling the sensitive nipples, and moaned in Rob’s deep, resonant voice.
“This… this is mine now. You wasted it, Rob. Partying, fucking, posting selfies like a brainless god. I’m going to use it. I’m going to take this body to heights you never dreamed of.”
He excitedly leap out from the shower without covering his body whatsoever. He just dried his hair with the towel and strut his way back to the locker room area butt-naked, his cock dangling freely and his face twisted with a knowing cocky smirk as if wishing someone walked in on him. Unlucky him, no one walked through the door in the minutes he wait so he just chuckled and then dressed in Rob’s clothes — Lulu riding low, dark sweats paired with some sikkunt tight compression shirt — and left the gym as Rob Harlan. No one noticed a thing.
---
Jess is already waiting when he gets to the apartment. She wears one of Rob’s oversized tees, nothing underneath, hair tousled like she’d been napping.
“Babe, you were gone forever. Everything okay?”
Joshua-as-Rob grinned, the suit’s muscles moving seamlessly with every thought.
“Yes babe, everything's freaking okay. Missed you though,” He pulled her in, kissing her hard, tongue claiming her mouth. His new hands — big, strong, calloused — roamed under the shirt, gripping her ass, lifting her effortlessly onto the kitchen counter. Jess gasped, legs wrapping around his waist.
They don't make it to the bedroom. Clothes just comes off in a frenzy. Joshua shoved the briefs down, and Rob’s cock spring free — thick, veined, leaking. He rubbed it against her, teasing.
“You want this?” he growled in Rob’s voice, it sounded predatory with a hint of playfulness, total alpha
“Yes, Rob… please…” she whimpered, eyes already glazed
The first time she screamed his name — Rob! — it hit Joshua like lightning. Pure dominance. Lust surged through the suit, cock throbbing harder. He slammed in deep, stretching her, bottoming out with every powerful thrust. Her nails raked down his back as he pounded her, pecs flexing, abs contracting against her stomach.
“ROB! OH GODD NGHHHHHHHHH MMMPPPPHHHH!” Every cry made him wilder. He flipped her over, bent her across the counter, and railed her from behind, one hand fisting her hair, the other slapping her ass. Sweat poured off the suit’s torso, dripping onto her back. He reached around, his thick cock working her clit while he pounded deeper, faster and more merciless than ever like a beast possessed.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he snarled, voice raw. “Scream my name again, bitch!"
“UNGHHH NMMPPPNNPPHHH R---ROBB! MMMPPPP BABY....ROBB I'M UNGHHHH SO CL-----AAAHHHHH!!!" She comes hard, clenching around him. Joshua just simply lost it listening to her moan as he roared using Rob's powerful baritone, burying himself to the hilt and flooding her with thick ropes of cum. But he's far from over as clearly the nanites are doing something to his metabolism
Jess is still catching her breath, legs trembling, when Rob just stands over her like a conqueror. The nanite bodysuit thrummed with raw power, every muscle pumped and glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. Rob’s thick cock, heavy and veined, bobbed angrily in front of her face, still slick from her earlier orgasms. He smirked down at his fiancée’s flushed, beautiful face, her perky tits heaving with each ragged breath.
“Look at you,” he growled in that deep, commanding voice that wasn’t truly Rob’s anymore. “Already such a messy little fit slut for me. Spread those legs wider, baby. I’m not done using this body on you.”
Jess whimpered, eyes glassy with lust trying to suck on Rob's cock but his hand stopped her as she obeyed his order, parting her toned thighs while Rob goes back to his earlier position. Rob simply pulled her to be closer to him, less body part laying on the marble countertop as he then goes between them spread legs, big hands immediately latching onto her full, firm breasts. He kneaded them roughly, fingers sinking deep into the soft flesh, thumbs rolling over her stiff nipples until she arched off the couch with a needy cry. The nanites make every touch electric — heightening sensitivity in the suit’s skin so that even the feel of her warm tits in his palms sent jolts straight to his throbbing cock.
“Fuck, these tits… always so perfect,” he taunted, leaning down to latch his mouth onto one nipple. He sucked hard, teeth grazing, then switched to the other, pecking and biting possessive marks across her cleavage.
“You work so hard in the gym to keep this body tight for me. But we both know what you really are — my personal cock-hungry slut who gets wet just seeing me flex.”
Jess moaned louder, hands threading into his dark wavy hair.
“Rob… mmmmmhhhh.....please…”
He chuckled darkly against her skin, then rose up, straddling her chest. His massive cock slapped heavily between her breasts. Rob gripped them firmly, pushing the soft mounds together around his thick shaft, and started sliding. The nanite-enhanced dick was slick with her juices, gliding smoothly through the warm, pillowy valley. Every thrust made her tits jiggle obscenely, the fat head bumping against her chin and lips.
“Mmm, that’s it. Titfuck your man like the eager little whore you are,” he groaned, hips rocking faster. The sensation was incredible — the suit’s heightened nerves turning the friction into pure bliss. Pre-cum leaked steadily, smearing across her chest and neck. Jess opened her mouth instinctively, tongue flicking out to taste him on every upward stroke.
But Rob wanted more. He simply pulled her body and gently lowered her to the floor as he then grabs a fistful of her hair and guiding the swollen head past her lips.
“Open wide, slut.”
Jess whimpered — an obscene, high-pitched sound that went straight to his balls — as he pushed deeper. He doesn't ease in gently. He feeds her every thick inch until her throat bulged visibly, her eyes watering. Rob holds her there, her head unable to move anywhere except forward, choking her on his cock, feeling her throat convulse and squeeze around him.
“Fuuuck yes… take it all, Jess. Gag on the dick that owns you.” He pulled back just enough for her to gasp a desperate breath, strings of saliva connecting her lips to his shaft, before slamming back in. Obscene wet glucking sounds filled the apartment as he face-fucked her with powerful, dominant strokes.
“You love this, don’t you? Being used like a fleshlight by your big, strong fiancé. Bet you tell all your gym friends how good I fuck you… but they have no idea how deep I really go.”
Jess’s whimpers turned into desperate, muffled moans around his cock. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but her hips bucked uselessly beneath him, pussy dripping onto the floor. The nanites really make Rob’s stamina endless — he could throat-fuck her for hours if he wanted to. He watches her tits bounce with every thrust, her throat stretching obscenely, and feels this pure dark triumph.
After several minutes of relentless choking, he pulled out with a wet pop, leaving her coughing and gasping, chin and chest covered in spit and pre-cum.
“Good girl. Now stand up and turn the fuck over.”
He flipped her effortlessly, the suit’s strength making her feel like a lightweight doll. Jess’s perfect ass arched up a bit, pussy glistening and puffy. Rob slapped her ass hard, watching the cheek ripple, then lined up and drove in balls-deep in one brutal thrust.
“That’s right. Scream my name while I breed this tight cunt.” Rob gripped her hips and started pounding — hard, deep, animalistic strokes that made the sound of skin slapping skin echo loudly. The nanites amplified everything: the way her walls clenched around his thick shaft, the heat, the slick wetness. He reached around and rubbed her clit furiously while railing her, feeling her squirt around him on the third powerful orgasm.
“You’re such a fucking mess,” he laughed cruelly, never slowing. “Squirting all over my cock like a cheap porn star. This is what you were made for — getting destroyed by superior dick.”
Jess could barely form words, just broken whimpers and cries of “Rob! Rob— oh god, Rob!” Each time she screamed it, the stolen consciousness inside the suit thrilled with twisted lust. Joshua is in heaven, using this perfect body to ruin the girl who once belonged to someone else.
Rob feels his own climax building — a massive, nanite-fueled load churning in his heavy balls. He slammed in harder, hips blurring, then buried himself to the hilt once more with a guttural roar that sounded even more hungrier than the first pound. Thick, hot ropes of cum erupted deep inside her, flooding her pussy in powerful spurts. He keeps thrusting through it, pumping every drop as far as possible, until excess cum squirted out around his shaft with every movement.
But he's really one insatible monster as he's up into his next act.
Rob pulled out slowly, watching the creamy mixture of his thick load and her squirt leak from her ruined hole. Then he dives in face-first.
His tongue attacked her dripping pussy first, lapping greedily at the filthy cocktail — salty-sweet squirt mixed with his own potent cum. He moaned into her folds like a man starved, sucking and swallowing noisily. Jess shuddered and whimpered, oversensitive but pushing back against his mouth.
“Rob… ngghhhh fuck… that’s.....so dirty…”
“You love it,” he mumbled against her skin, before dragging his tongue higher. He spread her ass cheeks wide and zeroed in on her tight little hole, rimming her with long, wet strokes. His tongue pushed inside, tasting her while more of his cum continued to drip down. He eats her ass with filthy enthusiasm — loud, sloppy sounds filling the room as he devoured her, fingers plunging back into her cum-filled pussy at the same time.
Jess squirted again hard, screaming silently as her body shaking violently and eyes rolled backward like she's a ruined sex doll. Rob keeps on licking and fingering through her orgasm, cleaning every drop of their combined mess like a hungry dominant predator.
When he finally pulled back, lips shiny and chin dripping, he flipped her over once more and kissed her deeply — forcing her to taste the filthy mixture on his tongue. Jess moaned into the kiss, utterly broken and addicted.
Rob pulled back just enough to stare into her eyes, cock still rock-hard and pressed against her thigh.
“This body… it’s going to ruin you every single night from now on,” he promised darkly. “You’re mine to use however I want. My perfect little fit slut.”
Jess could only nod weakly, whispering, “Yes, Rob… anything…”
---
The gym lights buzzed low at 6:30 AM, Apex Fitness still mostly empty except for the real die-hards. Rob Harlan strutted into the weight room like he owned the place. And today, he fucking did. The suit feels alive, humming with stolen strength and amplified chemistry as if it didn't just spend the night until 2.30 AM breaking down the blonde bimbo until she practically passed out to this very hour. That's clearly not the case for Rob. Every capillary, every muscle fiber, every sweat gland worked overtime and feels well-recharged despite the short break. Rob’s dark wavy hair is already damp, sharp jaw set in that signature cocky smirk as he racked up plates for the first warm-up.
“Chest day, baby,” he muttered to himself, voice low and resonant. “Time to show this body what its deserving owner can do.”
Nate is also already there, stretching in his usual spot near the benches. Athletic, straight-as-an-arrow gym bro — broad shoulders, thick arms, decent six-pack under his tank, but nothing compared to the god standing next to him now.
“Yo, Harlan. You’re early. And looking… fuck, even bigger than yesterday. Something new in the cycle?”
Rob grinned, peeling off his hoodie to reveal the full glory of his body: heavy, striated pecs already pumped from the walk over, deep cleavage glistening, nipples hard from the cool air.
“You have no idea, bro. Watch and learn.”
He started with flat barbell bench. 225 for warm-ups — easy. But the nanites doesn't stop a “easy.” They crank everything. Rob loaded 315 like it's nothing, lay back, and unracked. The bar descended slowly, controlled, kissing his pecs before exploding upward. Rep after rep. Ten. Twelve. Fifteen. His chest ballooned obscenely with each press — upper pecs shelfing out thick and square, lower pecs sweeping wide and full. Sweat poured immediately, soaking the tank, turning it transparent. The musky scent of pure alpha male — Rob’s original pheromones mixed with Joshua’s twisted arousal — filled the air around the bench like a cloud.
“Fuuuuck yeah,” Rob growled on the last rep, racking the bar with a clang. His pecs throbbed visibly, veins snaking across the massive slabs like rivers on a map. He sits up, bouncing them casually, watching them dance in the mirror. Pathetic normies will be crying after two sets of this. But me? I can do this all fucking day, he thought to himself.
Nate stared a little too long, throat working. “Jesus, Rob…”
“Spot me on the next one,” Rob commanded, already adding more plates. 365 now. He dropped into position, arching his back, feet planted. Nate moved behind the bench, hands hovering near the bar.
The set is indeed brutal. Rob powered through rep after rep, chest burning with glorious fire that the nanites simply ignored. By rep eight his pecs are engorged, red, pumped to the absolute limit — each fiber screaming yet obeying. Sweat cascaded down the deep centerline between his abs, pooling in the valleys of his obliques. The musk grows thicker, heady, masculine — balls sweating heavily in his loose shorts, the scent rolling off him in waves every time he pressed. When he's done, he roared with triumphant delights, his body pumped to the max and his nipple looking extra hard through the sweaty destroyed tank that Rob simply discarded as he then grinned
"You next, bro. I'll spot ya, try to keep up LOL,"
Rob spotted Nate’s working sets, standing directly over his head. Every time Nate pressed, Rob’s sweaty balls hung right above his face — brushing his forehead on the harder reps, dripping fresh sweat onto his lips.
“Come on, princess. Push that weight like a man,” Rob taunted, grinding his hips forward just enough for the sack to drag across Nate’s skin. “Or are you too distracted by real alpha scent?”
Nate’s hands brushed the bar, but his eyes were locked on those musky, hairy balls swaying just inches from his nose. The smell is overwhelming — pure concentrated Rob: salty, pungent, powerful. Despite being totally straight, Nate feels his cock twitch traitorously in his shorts, chubbing up against his will. He tried to focus on the bar, but every exhale from Rob washed more of that alpha scent over him. His straight gym-bro brain short-circuited. What the fuck is wrong with me? It’s just Rob… but fuck, he smells like pure sex. Nate whimpered under his breath — a tiny, broken sound — but powered through, cock throbbing painfully.
The homophobic edge in Rob’s merged mind made it hotter: Straight boys shouldn’t get hard for this. But you are. Because this body is superior and you wish you have the strength the fraction of this
The rest of the session is pure domination. Rob powered through flyes, crossovers, and dips like a machine — chest exploding with size and vascularity that defied biology. Every set ended with him teasing Nate: balls in his face during spots, musky armpits shoved near his nose, cocky taunts laced with the merged homophobia and raw lust. Nate ended the session a physical and psychological mess. He's soaked in a mixture of his sweat and Rob’s ballsweat, cock aching, mind reeling from the headiness of it all. His friend seemingly supercharged himself and exploded with PR and strengths he never saw him before, and it fucks him mentally. Not to mention, how on Earth he views Rob as anything more than a gym buddy, the way Rob's scent somehow allured him today messed up Nate's own perception of self.
Rob slapped Nate’s ass hard as they enter the locker room
"You look like you've been drained by a soul-sucking ghost. That set destroyed you?"
"Bro, that is a brutal set. I don't know what the fuck you take, but it must be something so fucked up with insane side effects,"
"Well, you can always come over to my spot and see what's up,"
"Yeah, fuck.....let me think about it. But seriously, you are sure it's very safe?"
"That nerd Joshua gave it to me yesterday. Some new-gen shit he said, sponsored stuff for the gym. I have like.....a couple others pack at my apartment if you wanna take a peek,"
"Well, if that four-eyes said it's legit, then it's legit I guess. Okay then, will text you further,"
"Sweet," the nanites hummed happily inside the perfect suit. Joshua smiled with stolen lips. Soon you’ll be perfect too.
---
Rob leaves the gym with a towel slung over one massive shoulder, chest still swollen from the brutal session, tank top plastered to his torso like a second skin. The nanites keeps the pump alive — pecs jutting out proudly, veins crawling across every inch of exposed muscle. As he entered the Jeep, the real Rob’s memories supplied the playlist instantly. As soon as the engine roared to life, Rob cranked the volume and blasted some Don Toliver and Giveon on the Jeep's tune. He nodded his head hard to the beat, one hand on the wheel, the other casually palming his thick bulge through his shorts as he pulled into traffic.
“Fuck yeah,” he laughed, voice deep and arrogant. “This is how a god rolls.” Joshua inside the suit reveled in it — the way the engine vibrated through the powerful thighs, the way every stoplight turned heads. Girls in the next lane stared openly. He flexed his right arm out the window just to watch their jaws drop, then speed off laughing.
He drives with the windows down, wind whipping through his dark wavy hair, singing along obnoxiously loud to the explicit lyrics. Every red light became an opportunity to check himself in the mirror — bouncing his pecs, flashing that signature half-smirk. The nanites make the entire skin feel like a high-performance machine: endless energy, zero fatigue, constant low-level horniness thrumming under his skin.
First stop: the diner spot Rob always hit after chest day. Rob strutted in like he owned the place, ordering big — six eggs, double steak, rice, avocado, the works. He demolished it at a corner table, eating like a champ, fork scraping the plate clean while scrolling through the exploding likes on his latest gym selfie. 45k now. He smirked and take another quick pic right there in the booth — tank pulled up to show the glistening abs, caption: Chest day never ends when you’re built different.
A couple of gym rats recognized him on the way out. “Yo, Harlan! That pump is insane, man!”
Rob grinned, stopping to chat. He flexed a double bicep for them, veins popping. “Gotta feed the beast. You boys hitting PRs yet?” The two guys — clearly fans — stammered compliments. Rob ate it up, casually throwing in teasing banter. “Keep grinding and maybe one day you’ll look half as good as this.” He bounced his pecs once for emphasis, laughed at their flustered reactions, then clapped them on the shoulders hard enough to make them wince before strutting out.
Downtown is next. Rob parked the Jeep and began his cocky parade along the busy sidewalks. He moved with perfect swagger — broad shoulders rolling, lats flared, ass filling out the shorts like it's carved marble. Heads turned everywhere. Women bite their lips. A few guys did double-takes. Rob loved every second of it.
But the real fun starts when he wandered into a high-end department store — the kind Rob used to shoplift small shit from back in the day, but now he didn’t even need to hide it. He headed straight for the NPC-brand athletic section, grabbing a stack of tight compression shirts in his size (or what used to be his size).
In the fitting room he stripped off the tank, revealing the glistening, musky masterpiece underneath. He tried on the first shirt — black, skin-tight. It stretched obscenely across his pumped chest, the fabric screaming as his pecs and delts filled every inch. The sleeves dug into his massive arms. He flexed hard and riiiip — a seam split right over his left bicep.
“Oops,” he laughed, not sorry at all. He tried three more. Each one suffered the same fate — stretched to the limit, fabric distorted over his god-tier physique, some tearing at the shoulders or across the chest. He left them all crumpled on the floor like trash.
The cute store assistant — a fit twenty-something guy named Tyler with a name tag — knocked politely.
“Everything okay in there, sir?”
Rob opened the door wearing only the torn black shirt and his shorts, cock already half-hard from the power rush.
“Nah, these are all too small. But you look like you could help me with something else.”
Before Tyler can respond, Rob grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him inside, locking the door. He shoved the assistant to his knees right there among the discarded, stretched-out shirts.
“Worship me, boy.”
Tyler’s eyes goes wide at the sight of the thick bulge, but the aura of Rob Harlan make him obey. He mouthed Rob’s cock through the shorts, then pulled them down. The heavy 8-incher slapped him in the face. Rob gripped his hair and feed it to him — deep, rough, using his throat like a fleshlight while taunting him.
“That’s it. Suck the dick that stretches shirts like they’re made of tissue. You’ve probably jerked off to my posts, haven’t you?” Tyler moaned around the shaft, gagging happily. Rob face-fucked him mercilessly, balls slapping his chin, until he unloaded the first thick load straight down his throat.
They are still intensely going — Rob bending Tyler over the bench, shorts around his ankles, pounding his tight ass — when the store manager, a sharp-dressed woman in her thirties, unlocked the door with her master key after her repeated knock upon listening to the lewd gluck-gluck-gluck and suppressed moan went unanswered. When the door swings open, she almost screamed
“What the—?!”
Rob doesn't even stop thrusting. He looked over his shoulder with a cocky, sweat-drenched grin, still balls-deep in the moaning assistant.
“Hey. These shirts don’t fit. I’ll take all of them anyway. Put it on my tab… or better yet — come here.”
The manager froze for half a second, then the sheer dominance of the situation and Rob’s aura did the rest. She stepped inside, locking the door behind her. Rob pulled out of Tyler, still rock-hard and dripping, and gestured at the bench.
“Both of you. On your knees.”
What followed is simply pure filthy dominance. He has the manager sucking him while Tyler rimmed her from behind. Then he switched, fucking the manager’s tight pussy raw while making her eat Tyler’s ass. The fitting room filled with wet sounds, moans, and Rob’s cocky taunts.
“You’re both lucky I even let you touch this body. Consider the shirts your tip.” He came again — this time painting both their faces and the torn shirts with rope after rope of thick cum.
When he's done, Rob casually pulled his shorts back up, left the destroyed clothes and two thoroughly used employees on the floor, and strolled out of the store without paying a cent. No one stopped him. No alarms. No consequences.
Just another Tuesday for Rob Harlan.
He climbed back into the Jeep, still smelling of sex and sweat, cranked the music again — this time some classic Yeat and headed home, cock already stirring
---
Back at the apartment, the door barely clicked shut before Rob stripped everything off. The sweat-soaked tank, the gym shorts, the white Calvins that barely contained his heavy package — all discarded in a heap. He stands naked in front of the full-length bathroom mirror, the same one from a dozen of Rob’s old selfies, and let the cool air kiss his overheated, musky skin.
“Fuck… look at you,” he growled to his reflection, voice thick with lust. The bodysuit gleamed under the low lights — 225 pounds of pure, vascular perfection. Heavy pecs still pumped from chest day, deep striations glistening with dried sweat. Cobblestone abs flexing with every breath. Thick, veined 8-inch cock already rock-hard and leaking, curving upward aggressively. Low-hanging balls churning with nanite-fueled seed.
Rob just stand there in front of the mirror, quads looking jacked and cock already raging. One hand lazily stroked his shaft while the other roamed his torso, squeezing a thick pec, pinching a sensitive nipple. The nanites make every touch feel like fire and velvet at once.
He grabbed his phone — Rob’s phone — and opened Instagram. The latest shirtless mirror selfie from this morning is already blowing up. Posted right after the brutal gym session, abs flexed, sweat dripping down the centerline, that signature half-smirk on his stolen face. The likes counter ticked upward in real time: 33k… 45k… 75k in under four hours. Comments flooded in — thirsty girls calling him “daddy,” gym bros begging for routine advice, even a few subtle thirst traps from guys who probably jerked off to it in secret.
“Pathetic,” Rob chuckled darkly, thumb scrolling. “All these losers worshipping a body that doesn’t even belong to the original owner anymore. One selfie and the whole fucking world wants to suck my dick. And they have no idea it’s a skinny IT nerd piloting this meat puppet.”
The memory of Jess flashed through his mind. Last night — how effortlessly he’d dominated her. How he’d kneaded those perfect tits, slid his fat cock between them, choked her throat until she gagged and whimpered like a broken slut. How he’d railed her in doggy, pumped her full of load after load, then eaten his own cum out of her squirt-soaked pussy and ass while she screamed “Rob!” over and over. Every time she said his name it had driven the suit wild. Pure ownership. Pure power.
“Yeah… that’s right, baby,” he murmured, stroking faster. “I took your man’s body and fucked you better than he ever could. You’re my fit little cumdump now. Begging for this stolen cock every night.”
His hand twisted around the swollen head, spreading thick pre-cum down the shaft. The real Rob’s memories flooded in — that arrogant, straight, homophobic jock psyche clashing deliciously with Joshua’s twisted hunger. The merger created something filthy and perfect.
Nate appeared in his mind next. This morning’s chest session. How he’d hung his sweaty, musky ballsack right over the straight gym bro’s face during every heavy bench rep. How Nate’s cock had chubbed up helplessly, tenting his shorts despite all the “no homo” bullshit he usually spouted. Rob had twisted that original homophobia into pure perverse lust — taunting the pliable jock, grinding his scent into him, turning straight-boy resistance into leaking, whimpering submission.
“Fucking Nate,” Rob groaned, eyes half-lidded. “Smelling my alpha balls made your worthless dick leak like a bitch. You’re not ready to get fucked yet… but soon. I’m gonna perfect that body. Give it to Donnie so I can rail my old gym buddy’s hole while he wears your skin. Turn your homophobic ass into my personal cocksleeve.”
The thought sent a shudder through the entire suit. Rob’s stroking grew sloppy, desperate. His jaw slackened, mouth hanging open as drool began to drip from the corner of his lips. It ran down his chin in shiny strands, falling onto his pumping fist and slickening his 8-inch cock even more. The wet schlick-schlick sounds filled the room.
“Unngh… fuck…” His eyes rolled to the front, heavy lids fluttering as his face looking extra stupid. Moans grew louder, deeper, turning into guttural, animalistic sounds that vibrated through the thick pecs. “This body… nothing but a cum puppet… a big, musky tank for a nerd to goon in…”
He squeezed his heavy pec with his free hand, milked another thick rope of pre from his cock, and keep pumping. Drool poured freely now, coating his shaft, dripping onto his balls. The mirror reflected pure degeneracy: the perfect muscle god reduced to a slack-jawed, eye-rolled goon monster, hips bucking upward into his fist.
“Rob Harlan… you stupid fucking jock… wasted this body on pussy and ego,” he panted between moans. “Now it’s mine. Every vein. Every drop of sweat. Every load. I’m gonna use you to fuck everyone — Jess, Nate, whoever the fuck I want. You’re just the skinsuit. I’m the one in control.”
His balls tightened. The nanites surged, amplifying the orgasm to inhuman levels. Rob’s moans turned into broken, loud cries — jaw completely slack, tongue lolling, drool stringing down to his abs. Eyes rolled so far back only the whites showed.
The first burst erupted like a geyser.
Thick, ropey cum shot straight upward, splattering the ceiling with a loud wet smack before raining back down across the mirror. Another powerful spurt followed, painting the glass in heavy white streaks that dripped down over his reflected abs. Then another, and another — endless nanite-powered jets that covered his own chest, face, and the mirror in sticky, pungent seed. The orgasm stretched on for nearly a minute, his cock pulsing violently in his drool-slicked fist, body convulsing in the chair.
When it finally subsided, Rob simply retired to his leather couch leaking there dumbly, chest heaving, covered in his own massive load. A slow, stupid chuckle bubbled up from deep in his throat.
“Yes, Rob Harlan… you are one fucking perfect goon monster.”
He stared at the pristine mirror and then spprrttt — the full-length mirror in the living room also ruined — cum dripping everywhere, the reflection of a debauched muscle god smiling back with Joshua’s dark satisfaction burning behind the eyes. He scooped a thick glob of his own seed off his pec and licked it slowly, savoring the taste.
“More,” he whispered hoarsely, cock already twitching back to life. “This suit’s got plenty more loads to give. And I’m just getting started breaking in the rest of the world with it.”
The nanites hummed contentedly inside the perfect, stolen skin. The nerd inside never feel more powerful.
---
The nanites never slept.
Even after the marathon gooning session — ceiling and mirror still streaked with thick ropes of cum — they hummed quietly beneath Rob’s skin, rewriting, optimizing, pushing. Joshua can feel them like a second nervous system: warm, insistent, always whispering in the language of pure dominance and pleasure. They are not just holding the suit together. They are steering it.
Rob stands in front of the cum-splattered mirror, chest heaving, cock still half-hard and twitching despite the massive load he’d just painted the room with. A slow, lazy grin spread across his stolen face. “Again,” he muttered. The nanites answered instantly — a warm surge through his balls, flooding them with fresh seed. His 8-inch cock thickened and rose again in under thirty seconds, veins pulsing angrily. No refractory period. No exhaustion. Just endless, greedy hunger.
He laughed, low and dark. “You little fuckers really turned me into a goon machine.”
---
It started subtle, back in the first hours after the takeover. The nanites had flooded Rob’s bloodstream with synthetic testosterone and dopamine analogs. Every flex felt better than the last orgasm he’d ever had. Every stride down the street made his quads and glutes feel powerful enough to crush pavement. And every glance from strangers triggered a reward spike straight to the pleasure center of his brain.
That’s why he’d driven around downtown blasting music and strutting like a king. The nanites craved exposure. They wanted the suit seen, worshipped, used. They amplified the real Rob’s natural cockiness by a factor of ten and mixed it with Joshua’s long-repressed hunger for control. The result was pure arrogance without brakes.
When he’d torn those shirts in the fitting room, the nanites had surged with approval. Fabric ripping across his exploding pecs sent electric pleasure down his spine. Dominating the store assistant and then the manager wasn’t just fun — it was programmed. The nanites rewarded risk. They rewarded conquest. By the time he came on both their faces, a fresh wave of nanites had already repaired any micro-tears in his muscle fibers and topped off his energy reserves. He walked out of the store harder and hornier than when he went in.
Back at the apartment that evening and after a stealthy last minute clean-up, Jess arrived back at the apartment after her marketing work followed by her evening yoga class. The nanites sensed her before Rob even sees her — a spike in pheromones, heart rate climbing, cock leaking steadily into his shorts.
“Hey babe—” she started, but Rob is already on her.
He doesn't ask. The nanites simply doesn't let him. They cranked his dominance to maximum. He pinned her against the wall, big hand around her throat just tight enough to make her whimper, and kissed her like he is trying to claim her soul. His other hand yanked her leggings down roughly. Two thick fingers plunged into her already-wet pussy while his thumb circled her clit with machine-like precision.
“Missed this tight little cunt,” he growled, voice deeper than Rob’s had ever been. The nanites make his fingers vibrate slightly — a new trick they’d learned — drawing obscene, wet sounds from her as she comes on his hand in under a minute.
Then, Rob throws her over the back of the couch he christened with his cum earlier today, ass up, and drive into her in one brutal thrust. The nanites amplified every sensation: the velvet heat of her walls, the way she clenched and fluttered, the slap of his heavy balls against her clit. He fucked her like a machine — long, punishing strokes that bottomed out every time, hips snapping with perfect, tireless rhythm.
“Fuck— Rob— too deep—!” Jess sobbed in pleasure.
The nanites loved that. They rewarded him with a fresh surge of pleasure every time she screamed his name. His thrusts grow harder, faster. He reached around and rubbed her clit until she squirted violently down her own thighs. Still he keeps on going, pounding through her orgasm, chasing the next one.
When he finally comes, it's volcanic — thick, endless ropes flooding her so full that it gushed out around his cock with every thrust. The nanites keeps him hard even after. He pulled out, spun her around, and make her clean him with her mouth while he stroked her hair almost tenderly.
“Good little fit slut,” he praised, voice husky. The nanites purred in satisfaction.
---
Later that night, alone again as Jess very close best friends suddenly called for an emergency girls meeting, Rob sprawled on the bed scrolling through his phone. The nanites guided his thumb. They wanted *more*. More followers. More attention. More bodies to claim. But then, he remembered. He practically never updated that scientist yet. So, he opened the private forum where he’d first learned about the skinsuit protocol. His fingers typed on autopilot — the nanites feeding him knowledge, confidence, and filthy ideas. He posted a new thread:
“Merger & Acquisition, successful. Everything is fully integrated. Strength, stamina, and horniness off the charts. Exceptional first 24 hours and already got the original owner’s girlfriend wrecked twice and best friend half-broken on chest day. Who wants progress pics?”
The replies flooded in instantly, including from the Montenegrin. The nanites drink in the validation like fuel.
Joshua’s original nerd personality is still in there — quiet, calculating, a little anxious — but the nanites had buried it under layers of alpha programming. Every time he hesitated, a warm pulse will pread through the suit
Do it. Take it. You deserve it.
Every moral boundary dissolved in a haze of lust and power. That’s how the idea for Nate solidified.
The nanites had recorded every moment from the morning chest session: Nate’s nervous breathing when Rob’s sweaty balls hung over his face, the way his straight-boy cock betrayed him, the faint whimper he tried to hide. The nanites analyzed it. They calculated the perfect dose, the perfect timing, the perfect way to break him. Then they fed the plan directly into Rob’s mind like a command.
Perfect him. Give the suit to another people who deserved it more that will submit to you
Rob’s cock jumped at the thought. He stroked himself slowly, letting the nanites edge him for nearly an hour while he planned how to really add Nate to his collection
---
A few nights later, Nate comes over for beers and “bro time.”
They wrestled on the living room floor after a few drinks — playful at first, then intense. Joshua let the suit’s power show: pinning Nate effortlessly, sweaty chests sliding together, the musky scent of the gym still lingering on both of them. Nate is breathing hard underneath him, half-hard in his shorts.
Joshua grinned down at him, cocky as hell. “Let's cut through the BS. You wanna see the good stuff?"
Nate laughed, but there's hunger in his eyes. “Fuck yeah, bro. Show it to me,"
Joshua reached into his pocket and pulled out an identical pill — the second dose the Montenegrin sent him,"
“This little thing. The pill that makes me as strong as this.” He flexed one arm overhead, bicep peaking massively. “New-gen shit. Way beyond roids. You in?”
Nate’s eyes gleamed with that same supplement lust Rob used to have.
“Hell yes. Gimme.” He took the pill and chugged it with the rest of his beer, no questions asked. Dumb jock.
Joshua watched, already hard again. He pinned Nate down fully now, grinding their bodies together.
“Good boy,” he murmured, voice dark and possessive. “You’re gonna make a perfect side fuck buddy once it kicks in. Two suits. Two bodies. And I’m running both.”
Nate’s eyes widened as the first wave hit — skin starting to loosen, muscles twitching. Joshua leaned in close, lips brushing his ear.
“Welcome to the new regime, bro. You’re about to feel how good it is serving my needs,"
Belated Valentine's Day story I threw together- fair warning, this one features heterosexual couples and explicit straight sex!
"Hey babe, sorry I ruined Valentine's Day," Trent said to his girlfriend.
Vanessa pressed her lips together and said nothing, just barely managing to disguise her displeasure with her boyfriend. Ordinarily whenever she got into this mood he would just take her into his muscular arms and carry her to the bedroom for some incredible makeup sex, but at the moment he was physically incapable of doing that so she was just left to stew in her anger.
Trent had never been the brightest bulb in the drawer, but it wasn't like Vanessa was dating him for his brains- the only things she was interested in were his good looks, his rock hard abs, and his huge dick. Unfortunately those were all of the things that his latest blunder had taken away, and now he was stuck inside of the considerably less impressive body of his nerdy little roommate Chester.
And worse, now she was stuck spending Valentine's Day with him while he was like that.
"I don't know why you agreed to test that machine with your freaky roommate," she said derisively, referring to the botched science experiment that had switched the pair's bodies. She'd never liked Chester so she glared daggers at his mousy face- Trent was behind it at the moment, but she was mad at both of them so it didn't really matter. "Those things never cause anything but trouble."
"Hey!" Trent crossed his skinny arms in protest, marveling at the novelty of how it felt to do so without bulging biceps or ample pectorals getting in the way. "I told you babe, I was trying to earn a little bit of extra cash so I could take you out on a nice date!"
Actually Trent would have agreed to do it for free because they were buddies, but Chester insisted on always paying his test subjects and Trent wasn't one to say no to a little bit of extra cash. He made a decent living as a part-time model, but with the money he'd gotten from Chester he'd been able to book them a reservation at a swanky restaurant- not that it mattered in the end though, because Vanessa refused to go out and be seen with Trent while he looked like Chester.
"Well, thanks to your brilliant idea we can't go out at all," she grumbled, rubbing at her forehead as she fought an oncoming headache. "You're such an idiot sometimes!"
Trent tilted his head to the side, upset by the sight of his girlfriend getting so stressed out, and tried to resolve it the only way he knew how.
"Damn, I'm sorry babe! I know I fucked up, please don't be mad," Trent sauntered closer to Vanessa and reaching up to put his arms around her shoulders, leaning in to nuzzle his lips against her neck- though he had to stand up on his toes to do so. "I'm fine chilling just the two of us tonight... maybe instead of dinner we can just... skip to dessert?"
Vanessa looked down her nose at her boyfriend (because she was taller than him now) and turned an appraising eye to Chester's body- the guy was skinny, pale, and had way too much acne for someone his age -and she pursed her lips. It was an understatement to say that she wasn't attracted to him- the sight of the freak made her pussy actively want to close up shop.
"How sweet," she said through gritted teeth, batting Trent's arms away from her and ignoring the lost puppy dog eyes he was shooting her. "But you're probably feeling weird in your new body and want to be alone, right? After all, wouldn't it be weird for you if your girlfriend slept with another guy's body? We shouldn't do anything until you get your real body back."
"Oh, of course! You're totally right babe!" Realization broke through the dim expression on the man's face, and he took a polite step back. "Sex would be weird."
She sighed in relief.
"We can just have a quiet night in instead!" He exclaimed cheerfully, and she froze. He continued chattering as he sauntered his way over to the couch, pulling out his phone to sort through takeout options as he settled in for a long night. "Like, we don't have to fool around all the time, you know? It'll be nice for us to just talk and connect and stuff! It feels like we never get to do that."
"Oh joy..." Vanessa hissed out, fighting the urge to break something.
Meanwhile...
"My darling, I'm so sorry I ruined Valentine's Day," Chester said to his girlfriend.
"Huh?" Shelby, who was currently straddling his lap and grinding on top of his cock, pulled her mouth away from his neck and stared at him in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
He smiled down at her- his girlfriend was so sweet to pretend like nothing was wrong, but what he'd done was unforgiveable! He'd wanted to have his emotional transference device ready in time for Valentine's Day so he could use it to show her just how much he loved her, but in the process he'd cut corners on his usually vigorous process and tested it on his roommate before it was ready and in a shocking twist of events it had switched their bodies.
He supposed it was better that it had happened with Trent than with Shelby, but still, he found the situation less than ideal. His roommate's body was so different from his own- how was he going to explain things to his girlfriend when instead of the man she'd fallen in love with, he turned up looking like a heavily muscled model? He wouldn't blame her if she took one look at how tall he was, or how big his arms were, or the scratchy stubble adorning his square jaw, and ran for the hills.
Fortunately she'd taken the proceedings in stride and had insisted that they needn't cancel their plans just because of the accident- though he suspected she was more upset than she let on. She hadn't been able to stop staring at his body all evening and had rushed through dinner, and now she was trying to comfort him by letting him kiss her.
"I'm referring to the current state of my body of course," He sighed and stared down at the musclebound body he now possessed- such a stark contrast to his usual twig-like frame -and grimaced. "You've lectured me time and time again about being more careful with my experiments but I didn't heed your advice and look at me now! The victim of a freak accident on the most romantic day of the year, and you have to shoulder the burden."
"Chester, really, it's fine!" Shelby said- again. She was a little annoyed by how he kept interrupting their make out session after it had taken her hours to convince him that yes, really, she was okay if they did stuff together while he was in another man's body, and now she just wanted him to shut up so she could enjoy feeling up his gorgeous roommate's body.
"I appreciate you being so calm and collected about this," he smiled at her, strong jaw tightening as dimples appearing on either side of his pretty mouth, and she felt her heart flutter and her vagina tingle. "I know it must be strange for you to look at me and see an unfamiliar face."
Truth be told, the only reason Shelby had agreed to go out with Chester to begin with was because she'd grown tired of being the only single girl in her friend group and saying yes to the little nerd who worshipped the ground she walked on was better than being alone. Sure, she knew she was settling, but it wasn't like she was particularly a catch either so she'd just had to make her peace with that.
But for once, one of his idiotic blunders had worked out in her favor. A 10/10 guy like Trent was way out of her league, so she was going to milk this opportunity to be up close and personal with him for all it was worth! The longer Chester took to switch them back, the better.
"Oh yes, absolutely, it's so weird," Shelby lied, her eyes flicking down hungrily to his toned body again, and she ran her hand down his delicious torso. "But I don't want you to feel bad so let's just stop talking about it and try to enjoy the evening, okay?"
As if to illustrate her point, she slid her whole body down the brawny expanse of his body and reached for his underwear, stripping the tight garment off of his body and squealing with delight as she saw Trent's massive penis spring out. The lust inside of her reached a fever pitch as she stared at the long, thick tube of flesh that was hard as steel and already leaking pre-cum from its swollen head, and the thought of having it inside of her was almost dizzying.
"Oh my goodness, that's large!" Chester remarked, rather pointlessly as the size of his member was plainly obvious at a glance. He shuffled uncomfortably in place, making the turgid pillar sway around heavily. "Sweetheart, I appreciate how brave you're being about this but if this is uncomfortable for you we can stop here. I can't expect you to-"
"Shhhh," she whispered, placing a finger over his plump lips to silence him. He was not going to ruin this moment for her. "Let me have this."
Lifting her body up, she positioned herself over that glorious cock and slowly lowered herself down on top of it, moaning with delight as the incredible mass pushed against her walls. Chester's puny little thing never felt like this inside!
With his real body they only had sex in the dark so she could pretend he was someone else, but she had no need to pretend now. Her eyes drank in the gorgeous man before her, his beautiful face and powerful body a sight beyond even her wildest fantasies, and she began to bounce up and down as she tried to fit as much of him inside of her as she could.
"That feels so good!" She moaned, rolling her hips around as she rode him cowgirl style. She tightened herself and felt him buck beneath her, his hips moving of their own accord as he began to thrust up into her like an animal in heat, and it was so unlike him that it made it easier to pretend that it was the real Trent she was banging instead of her annoying boyfriend.
"This position is very interesting!" he agreed- their usual sex was fairly quiet missionary so he was glad for the opportunity to experience sex from a new perspective. He was glad his girlfriend seemed to be making the best of their unfortunate situation! "But don't worry, I promise you I'm working as fast as I can to find a solution to this predicament. I'll be able to make love to you in our normal fashion in no time!"
"Well don't-" She cut herself off with a grunt, barely managing to speak between panted breaths as her body was rocked by their lovemaking. The last thing she wanted to think about in that moment was boring sex with the real Chester. "Don't rush. No need to put so much pressure on yourself you can- fuck -you can take your time."
Another spike of pleasure hit her and she let out a curse as she lurched forwards, grabbing onto to the pronounced shelf of Chester's pecs for support (because her boyfriend had pecs right now!) and digging her fingers into the muscles for dear life. He reached out to steady her and the press of his strong hands into her sides did a lot for her.
"You're so big," she groaned, relishing the feeling of Trent's huge cock penetrating her deeper than Chester's ever could, and at that he paused in his motions. "Oh my god you're so fucking big."
"Oh dear, is that an issue?" He asked, a worried expression on his face. Glancing down, he saw that he'd bottomed out and the considerable length of his roommate's cock was now buried in his girlfriend. "I've noticed that's Trent's genitalia is rather unwieldly compared to my own, is that a problem for you? Do you need me to stop?"
"No no no no no," she hissed out, clenching herself around him so he wouldn't be tempted to try to pull out and rob her of the incredible sense of fullness she was experiencing. "It's fine just- just don't stop doing that thing! Keep going!"
He nodded and his hips jumped back into action, a steady rocking motion, toned ass flexing beneath him as he used his newfound muscles to thrust his cock with trained efficiency. But while Chester's body was currently a fucking machine, his mind hadn't quite caught up yet, and he continued cheerfully blathering on even as his hips slammed into his girlfriend.
"I must say, it's fascinating," he said blithely, his voice doing nothing to betray the pounding that he was delivering. "It appears that I've inherited his muscle memory! This must be the fashion in which Trent is accustomed to performing intercourse- his muscularity and the dimension of his penis allow for a degree of power and positioning unavailable to my own body." He casually observed the way that his muscles flexed as he pumped, a visual reminder of the new strength that allowed him to rock his girlfriend back and forth so vigorously. Trent's body certainly was impressive! "The scientific implications of this technology are incredible, don't you think so Shelby?" He paused and glanced at his girlfriend, who had a strange look on her face that he'd never seen before. "Shelby?"
Shelby didn't hear a word he said- she was beyond words at that point, completely lost in ecstasy as she felt that glorious cock drilling into her again and again. This was the type of sex she had always wanted, the type of man she had always wanted to be with, and she stared at clung to his boulder-like shoulders as she rode the crest of that excitement to a screaming orgasm.
Because his scientific mind was so detached from the proceedings Chester wound up lasting impossibly long, which allowed Shelby to milk out a record breaking five orgasms for herself before he finally spilled his seed into the condom he'd insisted on wearing- he still made that same ridiculous face he always did when he came, but his borrowed face was so handsome that for once it didn't completely kill Shelby's buzz.
His mighty erection now subsiding, Shelby pulled herself off of him and laid herself across his broad chest, rubbing her face into his pillowy pecs and trying to commit the feeling of his abs to memory. Having a boyfriend with muscles was something she could get used to, and she was going to miss it when Chester was returned to his real body. She'd never quite been satisfied by him before, and after getting a chance to fuck this powerful stallion of a man, she didn't think she could go back.
"Hey, Chester," she asked innocently, tracing a finger over his mountainous bicep. "Would you ever consider... I don't know... working out?"
"Working out?" His forehead scrunched up, unintentionally making his pecs pop a bit as he quirked his head to the side like a confused puppy. "Working out what? More math theorems? I'm already on that. Let me tell you about some of the research I've been doing into the square cube law that could..."
Shelby sighed and tuned out his prattle, instead brainstorming ways she could break the machine without getting caught.
Joan was just walking down the street alone in a secluded street when suddenly, he was grabbed from behind and chloroformed. When he woke up, he saw that a prisoner had taken him hostage and that he has been tied up to the bed, naked.
Struggling against the ropes, Joan pleaded, "Please... let me go... what do you want, money?"
The prisoner, Giacomo, who had been sitting on a chair, stood up and answered, "I wanted a new life and now... you're the perfect body for me to take over!"
Screaming to no avail, Joan shouted, "No, please! Please let me go!" He tried hard to take off the ropes but it wouldn't budge.
Giacomo then tore off his clothes and approached the bed. He then took out a small vial with a blue liquid that seems to shine under the light.
He then drank the vial and after finishing it, Joan watched in horror as he watched Giacomo turned into a mass of black smoke and when he screamed, the smoke flew straight into his mouth, catching Joan off guard.
As the smoke continued to take every part of his body, Joan continued to convulse violently, trying in futile to resist, where cracking can be heard as he arched his back and then, he went still.
Slowly, Joan woke up and grinned wickedly, signalling that it's now Giacomo in control. "Yess, finally.... now I can have a new life with this body!"
He then called out to the guards he had mind controlled who are standing outside the room to help take off the ropes. After getting the ropes taken off, he then took out a gun and shot both guards before throwing them off the balcony.
Approaching a nearby mirror, he took a picture of his new body and smirked. "Well, thank you, boy, for 'giving' yourself to me hehehehe... and now, I will live a new life as YOU."
He then touched his new nipples and growing bulge, looking to get some hookups and maybe make them puppets to his prison friends. But before that, he's gonna explore every part of Joan's, or rather his, body, beginning with buying himself a dildo.
Bully ghost possesses nerd and he becomes main bully.
Stanley used to be a skinny nerd, but ever since his friend Oliver gave him regular doses of magic potion, his life had changed.
While still nerdy, Stanly now had a toned body and enough confidence to talk to the ladies. All it took was for Oliver to inject him “Jock essence.” Oliver really was a good friend for doing this, especially because it was free.
Just like any other day, Stanley came back home with a new date for the night. Suddenly, his phone rang, it was Oliver.
“Hey, Oliver, wassup?” asked Stanley.
“Hey, Stan, just wanted to tell you that I found a way to make your transformation permanent,” Oliver said with a weak voice.
“Really? I’m heading to your house right now then,” Stanley replied.
A quick jog was an easy task for him now. In a matter of minutes, he arrived at Oliver’s. His house was old and dated from the 70s.
“Stan, you made it fast,” Oliver greeted him.
“Not hard with your science magic.” Stanley laughed a bit.
Oliver’s parents were scientists who often worked all day, so the house was free for him, including for experiences. Once they reached the bedroom, Oliver handed Stanley a grey shirt.
“Put this onn it should work,” Oliver mumbled.
Stanley rose an eyebrow. “You’re sure? Seems a bit simple.”
Oliver crossed his arms. “Just trust me.”
“Kay boss!” joked Stanley.
The nerd took off his shift, which revealed his muscular chest. Oliver stared at his friend and licked his lips. Stanley always knew of Oliver’s homosexuality, but prefered to avoid the topic.
“I don’t feel any change,” Stanley said after he put the shirt on. “Perhaps you- Aaargghh!” Stanley felt a buzzing sound in his head which put on him on his knees. “UUung! My head!”
The grey shirt tightened on him and sent electricity through his body. Progressively, the energy from the shirt got stronger until it seemed to pull Stanley away into the darkness.
—————-
“Stan, you’re alright?” asked Oliver as he shook his friend who had passed out.
Stanley groaned as he opened his eyes. “Get off me, fag,” he said with a deeper tone.
The young man stood up and whistled. “Yeah, not bad. I can this to good use,” Stan said as he flexed his biceps. “Hey, gimme your phone.” Stan barked at Oliver.
The latter nodded and obeyed. Then, Stan snapped pictures of himself in the bathroom.
“Fuck, look at those guns. It’s gonna be fun punching nerds with these.” Stan chuckled.
Oliver glared at him. “Max, the rules said no violence.”
“I make the rules, stop annoying me, you faggot.” Stan grabbed Oliver by the collar. “Understood?!”
Oliver gulped and nodded. Stan smirked and looked down, noticing a bulge under Oliver’s pants.
“Damn, you really are a twisted fucker.” Stan grabbed at Oliver’s groin. “Getting off at getting bullied and your best friend getting possessed.”
“I’m not into things like that.” Oliver shook his head.
“Don’t bullshit me, I haunt your house, remember?” Stan held Oliver by the chin. “I know each of your little dark desire, you’re a fucking kinky whore, and I like that.”
Without warning, Stan pinned his mouth on Oliver’s lips and shoved his tongue inside. Oliver’s screams were muffled. After a moment, Stan broke off the kiss, which allowed him to gasp for air. Stan huffed before tore his shirt and proudly showed his athletic torso.
“Your possession voodoo made me all sweaty, so go ahead and lick it off, bitch,” Stan ordered.
Those words were so vulgar and perverted, it was shocking to hear a nice guy like Stanley tell those things. Even if he was ashamed, it turned Oliver on.
“I said… LICK!” barked Stan again.
Oliver made shaky steps toward Stan then he chewed at his swelling biceps. It was salty and filled with testosterone. After this, Oliver moved at Stan’s shaved armpit, which had the taste of Axe and virility.
“Don’t worry slut, I’ll get them bushy,” Max said as he pushed Oliver down.
The bully grunted when Oliver started to nimble at his meaty pecs and perky nipples.
“Fuck! You’re lapping like a dog, aren’t you?” taunted Max.
Oliver went down on Stan’s solid abs and the happy trail. Max unzipped his pants and greeted Oliver’s chin with his erect cock.
“Only seven inches? Damn, your friend really was a Queer,” Max cursed.
Oliver extended his tongue and tickled Stan’s balls before he chewed at the side of his penis.
“Ooh! You’re a fucking tease, what a slut.” Max moaned.
Oliver opened his mouth wide and swallowed Stan’s dick whole.
“UUnng! Yeah! Go on and eat it, you faggot!” Max gripped at Oliver’s hair and thrusted inside him. “Fuck! Faster!”
Oliver felt like a hand puppet as Max kept on moving his head on his shaft with his powerful hand. Precum lubed Oliver’s throat and the movement even quicker.
“NNNgg! I’m gonna- GAAAAHHHH!”
A hot manly fluid shot all Oliver’s mouth as he fall on his back. His face and mouth was full of cum.
Max knelt and licked at Oliver’s cheeks.
“Goddamn, I taste great.” Max bit at Oliver’s left ear. “Let’s make a deal, you give me your friend’s body forever and in exchange I’ll make you my bitch. Deal?”
Oliver moaned. “Deal.”
Max forced Stan’s innocent face into a devilish smile. “Great, then let’s go fuck your boypussy.”
“But Stan has a date tonight,” Oliver said.
“I don’t give a fuck, take off your speedos already.”
En las historias, películas y en la vida real, por lo general existe el cliché de que, de cierto modo, las personas pueden sentirse atraídas hacia un amigo cercano.
En el caso de Matías, no era el primero ni el único. En particular, toda su vida sintió cierta admiración por Hugo, el mejor amigo de su hermano del medio, César.
Mientras que César y Hugo representaban el estereotipo de chicos con “straight vibes” —iban al gimnasio todos los días, salían de fiesta y vivían entre locas parrandas—, Matías era todo lo contrario: alguien que no hacía ejercicio constantemente y que salía más con chicas, aunque en realidad se trataba de su grupo de amigas. Sus preferencias solían ser motivo de burla para la mayoría de su familia, incluido su propio hermano.
César y Hugo se conocían desde la primaria; prácticamente crecieron juntos. La diferencia de edad entre César, Hugo y Matías era de ocho años. Hugo conoció a Matías desde pequeño, y con el paso del tiempo, tanto su hermano como su mejor amigo experimentaron un cambio físico notable.
Matías comenzó a sentirse atraído por Hugo a raíz de ese cambio. Lo veía cada vez que él y César se reunían a jugar Xbox. Hubo, por decirlo así, un despertar… especialmente porque Hugo pasaba mucho tiempo en su casa.
Con el tiempo, Matías intentó dejar atrás esos sentimientos, pero era imposible. Hugo solía subir fotos a Facebook, algo provocativas, mostrando los resultados de su rutina en el gimnasio, lo cual hacía que olvidarlo fuera aún más difícil. Sin embargo, ocurrió algo inesperado: tanto César como Hugo se fueron a la universidad en distintas ciudades, y Matías terminó perdiendo contacto con él.
Pasaron los años, y ya era 2026. Matías tenía 21 años y asistía a la universidad. Había conocido a varios chicos y, en apariencia, había dejado atrás su obsesión por Hugo. Desde que se marcharon, lo único que se sabía de él era que vivía en otro país, y su amistad con César se había debilitado por la distancia.
Pero lo que nadie veía venir era que César estaba comprometido con su novia, Brenda. Llevaban tiempo juntos, y ahora estaban a días de casarse.
La boda se celebraría en la ciudad natal de César, donde vivía su familia, incluyendo a Matías. Además, tenían una hermana mayor, Jessica, quien ya estaba casada con Jerry.
Como se mencionó antes, la mayoría de la familia solía burlarse de la orientación sexual de Matías, a excepción de Jessica y Jerry, quienes lo aceptaban. Lo que nadie sabía —excepto Jessica— era que Matías había estado enamorado de Hugo.
Incluso Jessica, en tono de broma, admitía que Hugo era atractivo y que entendía a Matías, aunque ese gusto ya había quedado en el pasado.
Cuando Jessica se casó, César llevó a Brenda como acompañante para presentarla formalmente a la familia.
Ahora, la presión recaía sobre Matías: sus padres querían que llevara a alguien a la boda. Honestamente, si apenas aceptaban su orientación, Matías no quería imaginar cómo reaccionarían si llegaba con otro chico.
Unos cuatro días antes de la boda, Matías regresó de la universidad y notó que la casa estaba más arreglada y limpia de lo habitual.
Poco después, llegaron Jessica y Jerry. Hubo el típico encuentro entre hermanos: abrazos, sonrisas, comentarios. Jessica le dijo a Matías que debía buscar sus mejores atuendos. Confundido, preguntó por qué, ya que sus padres no estaban en casa.
Ella le explicó que habían ido al aeropuerto. Matías supuso que se trataba de algún familiar… hasta que Jessica le soltó la noticia: habían ido a recoger a Hugo.
Matías se quedó boquiabierto. Comenzó a hacer preguntas: ¿por qué venía?, ¿para qué? Jessica respondió que era evidente: la boda. Hugo había logrado tomarse unos días para asistir.
Impactado, Matías subió a su habitación, se dejó caer en la cama y gritó ahogando el sonido con un cojín.
De pronto, escuchó el auto de su padre estacionarse en la cochera.
—Mierda… ya llegaron.
Rápidamente se levantó y comenzó a arreglarse. Debía enfrentar la realidad.
Desde su cuarto, escuchaba las voces de su familia… y la de Hugo. Los nervios lo invadieron. No entendía por qué se sentía así si creía haber superado esa etapa.
Se escondió cerca del pasillo que daba a las escaleras, asomándose por momentos. Por suerte, todos estaban en la sala, fuera de su vista directa. Jessica, al pasar, lo vio sentado en los escalones.
—Ven acá —le dijo.
Intentando ser discreto, Matías bajó, pero el rechinido de los escalones lo delató.
—Debe ser Matías —se escuchó la voz de su madre.
Jessica lo tomó del brazo y lo llevó hasta la sala. Ahí estaba toda la familia reunida: sus padres, sus cuñados, su hermano… y Hugo.
Hubo un silencio incómodo cuando Matías apareció, pero fue Hugo quien lo rompió:
—Hermanito, ¿cómo has estado? La última vez que te vi tenías como trece años
—Eso fue hace casi siete años… —respondió Matías, trabado y en voz baja.
—¿Qué dijiste? —preguntó César.
—Que es un gusto verte —corrigió rápidamente, nervioso.
—Ven acá.
Hugo se levantó y lo abrazó en tono bromista. Matías sintió de cerca ese cuerpo fuerte y trabajado. Al intentar separarse, Jessica intervino riendo:
Hugo se levantó y lo abrazó en tono bromista. Matías sintió de cerca ese cuerpo fuerte y trabajado. Al intentar separarse, Jessica intervino riendo:
—¿No se ven lindos juntos?
Tras el abrazo, a Matías le comenzó a sangrar la nariz, algo que le pasaba seguido cuando veía a Hugo.
Después de comer, le pidieron a Matías que fuera a un cuarto donde guardaban cosas viejas. César y Hugo querían ver fotografías antiguas.
Matías rara vez entraba ahí, pero recordaba que las fotos estaban en una caja. La encontró entre las pertenencias de César.
Sin embargo, detrás de esa caja, descubrió otra: las cosas del tío abuelo Benjamín, un hombre considerado extraño, que había viajado por el mundo y desaparecido misteriosamente. La familia siempre hablaba de sus objetos raros, lo que despertó la curiosidad de Matías.
Subió rápidamente a su habitación con la caja de Benjamín y dejó las fotos de César abajo.
Con la excusa de una videollamada, evitó reunirse con ellos. En realidad, quería explorar el contenido de la caja.
Al abrirla, encontró objetos diversos: cajas metálicas americanas, souvenirs asiáticos… pero lo más llamativo era una lámpara dorada, similar a la de los cuentos de Aladino.
—Sí, claro… seguro sale un genio —bromeó.
Comenzó a frotarla… y, de repente, empezó a salir humo de colores, formando un arcoíris. Matías observaba, impactado, cómo esa energía tomaba forma humana.
—Esto… ¿es real?
—Claro que sí —respondió la figura con tono juguetón—. Me llamo Rainbow.
Matías quedó atónito. Quiso avisar a su familia, pero el genio lo detuvo, explicándole que solo podía ser visto por personas dignas… y que él había sido elegido.
Tenía tres deseos.
Justo cuando iba a pedir el primero, escuchó que Hugo se despedía.
—Espera, tengo que bajar —dijo Matías.
—Como gustes —respondió el genio.
Al bajar, escuchó a Jessica preguntarle a Hugo si tenía pareja. Él respondió que no.
Matías sintió una chispa de ilusión, aunque sabía que probablemente sería rechazado.
Se despidió de Hugo de forma normal: un apretón de manos, un gesto casual.
Luego subió rápidamente a su habitación. El genio seguía ahí.
—¿Cuál es tu primer deseo?
Matías respiró hondo.
—Siempre he estado enamorado de un chico… Hugo.
—Quieres que se enamore de ti —respondió el genio.
—Sí… pero espera. Lo que quiero decir es… que me gustaría transformarme en la chica de sus sueños.
El genio hizo una mueca.
—Me gusta el intercambio de cuerpos… pero prefiero verlos juntos tal como son.
—Entonces haz que se enamore de mí… o que se sienta atraído.
El genio suspiró.
—Debes ser más inteligente con tu deseo… pero te ayudaré.
Chasqueó los dedos.
—Cierra los ojos.
Un sonido envolvió a Matías.
—Ya puedes abrirlos.
Al hacerlo, todo había cambiado. No estaba en su habitación… parecía un hotel.
Confundido, miró su reflejo en el vidrio… y vio a Hugo.
—¿Qué haces aquí…?
Pero la voz… era la de Hugo.
Miró su cuerpo. La ropa. Todo coincidía.
Corrió hacia un espejo.
Era él.
O más bien… era Hugo.
—No puede ser…
Entonces, el reflejo de Rainbow apareció detrás.
—Claro que puede.
—¿Por qué hiciste esto?
—Querías que Hugo se enamorara de ti… y también un intercambio de cuerpos. Así que combiné ambas cosas.
—Entonces… si yo estoy en su cuerpo…
—Él está en el tuyo. Tranquilo, está dormido. No despertará hasta mañana. Tienes tiempo para conocerlo… disfrutarlo.
—¿Cuánto dura esto?
—Demasiadas preguntas, guapo. Disfrútalo.
Y desapareció.
Matías bajó la mirada, sin poder creerlo.
Se había convertido en la persona que siempre había deseado…
y ahora tenía el control de su cuerpo… y de su vida.
Matías, en su interior, sentía una mezcla de curiosidad… y deseo. No solo por verse a sí mismo en ese cuerpo, sino por observar de cerca, por primera vez, el cuerpo de Hugo en toda su magnitud… como tantas veces lo había imaginado.
Tan solo pensarlo provocó una reacción inmediata.
—Ay, no… —murmuró, al notar cómo se formaba una evidente tensión en su entrepierna.
No llevaba ni quince minutos en ese cuerpo y ya comenzaba a excitarse. Intentó resistirse, convencerse de que no debía cruzar ese límite… pero recordó las palabras de Rainbow: disfrútalo.
Y, siendo honesto, ¿cuándo volvería a tener una oportunidad así?
—Con tu permiso, Hugo… —susurró.
Regresó a la habitación, tomó una crema del baño y, con cierta duda aún presente, comenzó a desnudarse. Cerró las cortinas, activó el modo “No molestar” en la puerta y en el celular —que, para su sorpresa, no tenía contraseña—, dejando únicamente la cámara disponible.
Se quitó la ropa deportiva, quedándose solo en bóxer.
—Dios…
Su mirada bajó. La reacción de su cuerpo era imposible de ignorar. Pero más allá de eso, lo que realmente lo impactaba era el físico: Hugo había cambiado mucho con los años. El gimnasio, el deporte, el box… todo había moldeado ese cuerpo. Incluso su corte de cabello le sumaba presencia.
—¿Entonces esta es la recompensa por ser “bueno”…? —bromeó, con una sonrisa ladeada.
Se mordió el labio, pasando las manos con curiosidad por su abdomen, sintiendo cada línea, cada tensión.
La intensidad fue en aumento.
No entendía del todo por qué se sentía así, pero terminó dejándose llevar por el momento, alcanzando un punto en el que incluso tomó algunas fotos sugestivas… y, casi sin pensarlo, se las envió a su antiguo número.
Lo más desconcertante no era solo lo que hacía… sino lo que pensaba.
Sus fantasías seguían siendo las mismas, dirigidas hacia otros hombres. Pero ahora, en ese cuerpo, algo más se mezclaba: una curiosidad distinta, incluso hacia mujeres. Algo que jamás había experimentado antes.
No sabía si era parte del cambio… si algo de Hugo seguía presente en él.
Confundido, pero agotado, limpió rápidamente el desastre y terminó recostándose en la cama, sudado, con una sensación extraña… que no le desagradaba del todo.
Antes de dormir, se dio una ducha y se acostó en ropa interior, algo que tampoco era habitual en él.
No sabía cuánto duraría el cambio. Quizá horas… quizá días… o incluso para siempre.
Cerró los ojos.
Pensó en Hugo. En el verdadero Hugo, que ahora estaba en su cuerpo.
Pero decidió dejar ese problema para después.
Y se durmió.
A la mañana siguiente, Matías despertó y confirmó lo evidente: no había sido un sueño.
Seguía ahí. En la habitación de hotel… en el cuerpo de Hugo.
Revisó el celular. Eran las nueve de la mañana.
Desactivó el modo “No molestar”… y encontró múltiples mensajes.
Eran del verdadero Hugo.
Insultos, reclamos… y varios mensajes exigiendo que le devolviera su cuerpo, junto con varias llamadas perdidas.
Justo en ese momento, el teléfono comenzó a sonar.
Era su antiguo número.
Contestó.
—Hola, Matías… ¿cómo conseguiste mi número? —dijo, intentando sonar seguro.
—No te hagas el gracioso. Deja de actuar. Tenemos que regresar todo a la normalidad —respondió Hugo, claramente molesto.
—Regresar… no, gracias. Ahora puedo estar más cerca de ti… literalmente. Siempre estuve enamorado de ti, ¿sabes? Y ahora… lo tengo.
Hubo un silencio.
—¿Tú… qué? Entonces tú eres… —dijo Hugo, confundido.
—Sí. Soy gay. Y más te vale que, si quieres recuperar tu cuerpo, cooperes. Debemos fingir ser pareja en la boda de César.
—Detente. Quédate donde estás. Voy a ir en una hora. Y no hagas nada irresponsable con mi cuerpo, ¿entendido?
—Sí… —respondió Matías, más serio.
Colgó.
Por primera vez, dejó de bromear. Tenía que tomarse esto en serio. Aunque, en el fondo, sabía que tenía el control. Podía llamar a Rainbow en cualquier momento.
Veinte minutos después, alguien tocó la puerta.
Matías abrió… y se quedó helado.
Era Hugo.
Pero en su cuerpo.
Verlo era como mirarse en un espejo… pero distorsionado. Surrealista. Incómodo.
—Ok… ¿qué es todo esto? —dijo Hugo, rompiendo el silencio—. ¿Es una broma tuya y de tu hermano?
—No… —respondió Matías, mintiendo parcialmente—. Yo desperté así.
Hugo no le creyó.
Matías, sin más opción, terminó confesando todo: desde sus sentimientos… hasta el genio.
Hugo reaccionó como era de esperarse.
—Estás loco. Siempre lo fuiste.
Esas palabras le dolieron más de lo que esperaba.
Pero algo en él cambió.
Su postura se volvió más firme. Más dominante.
—Si no me crees… no vas a volver a tu cuerpo —dijo, acercándose—. Y vas a tener que hacer lo que yo diga.
Lo acorraló ligeramente.
Aunque Hugo no era alguien fácil de intimidar… la diferencia física ahora era clara.
Sin embargo, no llegaron a una solución.
—Haz lo que quieras —dijo Hugo finalmente—. Pero si vamos a fingir esto… más te vale tratarme bien.
Y se fue.
Matías suspiró, recostándose en la cama.
Recordó las palabras de Rainbow… y decidió hacer lo mismo:
Disfrutarlo.
Si iba a estar en ese cuerpo, tenía que vivirlo.
Ir al gimnasio era parte de eso.
Preparó sus cosas, eligió ropa ajustada de Hugo… y salió.
Al llegar al gym, las miradas no tardaron en aparecer.
Hombres. Mujeres.
Todos observaban.
No a Matías.
A Hugo.
La sensación era nueva… y poderosa.
Aunque no sabía nada de su rutina, su cuerpo respondía con facilidad. Levantaba peso que jamás habría podido en su antiguo cuerpo.
Era… impresionante.
Mientras entrenaba, escuchaba música. Curiosamente, no era la típica de Hugo… sino Lady Gaga y Ariana Grande.
Eso lo hizo sonreír.
En medio del ejercicio, una chica se acercó.
—¿Hugo? ¿eres tú?
Matías dudó un segundo.
—Sí… soy yo.
La chica sonrió.
—¿No me recuerdas? Soy Conny Rodríguez. Íbamos juntos en la escuela… también conocías a César.
Matías recordó vagamente ese nombre.
—Claro… sí. Es que… perdimos contacto.
Rió, algo incómodo.
—Creo que nos veremos en la boda de César —dijo ella—. Pero si quieres, podemos vernos antes. Te paso mi Instagram.
Intercambiaron contactos.
—Nos vemos en la boda, Conny.
Ella se alejó.
La música volvió.
Matías terminó su rutina y salió del gimnasio, completamente sudado.
Esa sensación… volvía a provocarle una reacción física.
Regresó al hotel.
Se duchó, dejando que el agua caliente recorriera su cuerpo, intentando despejar la mente.
Pero no podía.
Pensaba en todo.
En la chica.
En Hugo.
En lo que había sentido.
Todo estaba mezclándose.
Cuando salió de la ducha, se miró en el espejo.
Y Rainbow apareció detrás.
—¿Cómo va tu primer día como Hugo? —dijo con una sonrisa—. Debo admitirlo… es hermoso. Aunque tú… eres bastante intenso.
—No puedo evitarlo… —respondió Matías.
Confesó lo que sentía. La confusión. Los nuevos pensamientos.
—Es normal —respondió Rainbow—. Estás conociendo a Hugo… desde dentro.
Hizo una pausa.
—Pero sigo prefiriendo verlos juntos. No arruines eso.
Y desapareció.
Justo cuando el celular volvió a sonar.
Era Hugo.
Otra vez.
Rainbow desapareció del espejo justo cuando el celular de Hugo comenzó a sonar. Era el mismo Hugo… desde el cuerpo de Matías.
Matías contestó, pero esta vez tomó la iniciativa:
—Te buscaré en la noche. Vístete, te llevaré a cenar, ¿entiendes? —dijo con un tono firme, casi mandón.
—De acuerdo… haré lo que sea para recuperar lo que me pertenece y dejar este cuerpo totalmente insípido. Te espero —respondió Hugo, antes de colgar.
Matías se quedó en silencio unos segundos. Incluso a él mismo le sorprendía la forma en la que se había expresado… sobre su propio cuerpo.
La noche llegó.
Ambos salieron con discreción, aunque no lo suficiente… porque César alcanzó a verlos.
El encuentro entre ellos fue extraño. Incómodo. Apenas lograban intercambiar palabras.
—Entonces… ¿a dónde me vas a llevar, Hugo? —dijo Hugo (en el cuerpo de Matías), con una mezcla de sarcasmo y fastidio.
—Intenta ser menos negativo —respondió Matías—. Sé que esto no te gusta, pero hay cosas que yo también estoy soportando. Te llevaré por unas hamburguesas, ¿va?
Hugo simplemente asintió, sin mucho entusiasmo.
Al llegar al puesto, se sentaron. No pasó mucho tiempo antes de que varias miradas se dirigieran hacia ellos… o más bien, hacia “Hugo”.
Mujeres murmurando, volteando a verlo.
—¿Entonces así es todo el tiempo? —preguntó Matías.
—Bienvenido a mi mundo… y no sabes cómo se pone en Canadá —respondió Hugo, esta vez con un tono más relajado.
Matías notó el cambio. Poco a poco, la tensión disminuía.
—¿Y desde cuándo sabes que eres gay? —preguntó Hugo de pronto.
Matías echó la cabeza hacia atrás, pensativo.
—Desde que te conocí… pero más cuando tú y César comenzaron a entrenar. Por ahí de 2017… hace años.
La conversación comenzó a fluir. Se conocían, pero en realidad… no tanto.
Hablaron sobre orientación, experiencias, aceptación.
—¿Eres virgen? —preguntó Hugo sin filtro.
Matías, avergonzado, negó.
Hugo soltó una risa, comenzando a compararlo con César. Eso no le gustó nada a Matías.
La tensión volvió a crecer.
Por suerte, el mesero llegó con las hamburguesas, rompiendo el momento.
Cambiaron de tema y comenzaron a comer.
Para ambos era extraño: Hugo, en el cuerpo de Matías, apenas podía terminar la hamburguesa… mientras que Matías, en el cuerpo de Hugo, devoraba la suya con facilidad.
Al terminar, se levantaron.
Pero justo en el camino, se encontraron con César.
—¿Qué hacen juntos? —preguntó, desconcertado.
Ambos improvisaron.
Hugo, fingiendo ser Matías, habló primero:
—Quería pedirle consejos a Hugo… ya sabes, para llevar a alguien a la boda.
Matías respaldó la historia con naturalidad.
César no sospechó demasiado.
Hugo aprovechó para irse con él de regreso a casa.
Antes de irse, le agradeció a Matías por la cena… manteniendo la fachada.
Faltaba un día para la boda.
Y el cambio seguía sin revertirse.
Para Matías, lejos de ser una carga, se estaba convirtiendo en una experiencia… incluso emocionante.
Era como vivir un sueño. Estar cerca de Hugo… aunque no de la forma que imaginaba.
Ese día tenía que recoger el smoking.
Después de entrenar y hacer algunos pendientes, llegó a la tienda de trajes.
Y ahí… volvió a encontrarse con Conny.
Resultó que trabajaba ahí medio tiempo.
Charlaron un poco: lo típico. Cómo estás, cómo va tu día…
Hasta que Matías se probó el traje y le pidió su opinión.
—Te ves muy bien —respondió ella con una sonrisa.
Pero luego llegó la pregunta inevitable:
—¿Tienes pareja?
Matías dudó un segundo… pero ya sabía qué decir.
—Sí. De hecho, ayer fue nuestra primera cita aquí en la ciudad… apenas lo estoy conociendo.
Conny abrió los ojos, sorprendida.
—No me lo esperaba… pensé que eras hetero. Entonces… ¿eres parte de la comunidad?
—Sí —respondió con seguridad.
Conny confesó que César le había dicho que Hugo había estado interesado en ella en el pasado… incluso había pensado invitarlo a salir.
—¿Y cómo es tu chico? —preguntó.
Matías respiró hondo.
—No sé si lo conozcas… es Matías. El hermano menor de César.
La sorpresa en el rostro de Conny fue evidente.
—¿Y César ya lo sabe?
—No… pero mañana en la boda se lo diremos.
Tras eso, Matías se despidió y salió de la tienda.
Más tarde, en la casa de Matías…
Hugo, en su cuerpo, estaba revisando algunas cosas: ropa, fotos… recuerdos.
No le gustaba la situación, pero empezaba a sentir algo distinto… una mezcla de incomodidad y empatía.
Quizá Matías no estaba tan loco.
Entonces vio algo debajo de la cama.
Una lámpara.
Dorada.
Similar a la de los cuentos.
La tomó.
—¿Y si…?
Estaba a punto de frotarla cuando alguien tocó la puerta.
—¿Quién? —preguntó, con la voz ajena que aún no terminaba de dominar.
Tocaron de nuevo.
Abrió.
Era Matías.
En su cuerpo.
—Hola, Hugo.
—¿Cómo entraste?
—Conozco la casa —respondió, entrando sin problema.
Hugo le mostró la lámpara.
—Entonces… decías la verdad.
Matías abrió los ojos, alarmado.
—Espera…
—Tenemos que acabar con esto —dijo Hugo, comenzando a frotarla.
Matías se acercó rápidamente, intentando detenerlo.
Forcejearon.
Y en el momento en que ambos sostenían la lámpara…
Rainbow apareció.
Hugo quedó boquiabierto al ver a Rainbow.
—Regrésanos a la normalidad… —repetía una y otra vez, desesperado.
Rainbow no respondía.
Detrás de él, Matías habló con firmeza:
—Mi segundo deseo es que transformes a Hugo, que ahora está en mi cuerpo… en una versión musculosa.
—¿¡Qué!? Eres un idiota, alto… —alcanzó a decir Hugo.
—A tus órdenes —respondió Rainbow.
Chasqueó los dedos.
Un humo de colores rodeó a Hugo, cubriéndolo por completo. Matías apenas podía distinguir su silueta entre la neblina.
Cuando el humo se disipó…
—¿Matías…? —dijo una voz más grave.
Matías levantó la mirada… y abrió los ojos con asombro.
—Demonios…
La nueva versión de Hugo, en su cuerpo, era imponente: más fuerte, más definido… una versión mejorada, casi perfecta. Exactamente lo que Matías siempre había querido ser.
Y, de alguna manera, también una forma de evitar que Hugo extrañara su antiguo cuerpo.
—¿Estás bien? —preguntó Matías, entre intrigado y nervioso.
Hugo se observaba en el espejo, recorriendo su nuevo reflejo con la mirada.
—Más que bien…
De pronto, se giró, empujó a Matías sobre la cama y, sin dudarlo, lo besó.
La intensidad del momento los envolvió. Lo que siguió fue una mezcla de tensión acumulada, deseo y todo lo que ambos habían callado.
Para Matías, era la primera vez. Todo era nuevo, confuso… pero también profundamente deseado.
Al final, la fantasía que había guardado por años se volvió real.
—Me gusta tu nuevo cuerpo, Matías… —dijo Hugo, aún cerca de él.
Matías soltó una pequeña risa.
—Es raro… pero creo que a mí también.
Volvieron a besarse.
—¿Crees que alguien note el cambio? —preguntó Hugo.
—No lo sé… quizá Rainbow hizo algunos “ajustes de fábrica” —respondió Matías, en tono de broma.
Ambos rieron.
Y esa noche… la pasaron juntos.
A la mañana siguiente, Matías abrió los ojos.
Hugo estaba frente al espejo.
Pero algo era diferente.
—Regresamos, Matías… regresamos —dijo.
Matías miró su propio cuerpo.
—Sí… estamos de vuelta.
Pero no del todo.
Su reflejo mostraba una versión mejorada de sí mismo.
Se levantó y se colocó junto a Hugo frente al espejo, observándose con sorpresa.
—Lo vas a extrañar —dijo Hugo.
—¿A quién?
—Mi cuerpo.
Matías sonrió levemente.
—Sí… siendo honesto, sí.
De pronto, escucharon ruido abajo.
Era momento de enfrentar a la familia.
Se vistieron y bajaron.
Pero lo que encontraron los dejó aún más confundidos.
—Los novios no deben verse antes de la boda —dijeron sus padres.
—¿Boda? —preguntó Matías.
Jessica soltó una risa.
—Sí, tontos… hoy es su boda.
El mundo pareció acomodarse de golpe.
Recuerdos nuevos aparecieron.
Otra historia.
Otra vida.
Matías y Hugo se conocían desde la escuela… habían sido novios en la universidad… y ahora, a sus 28 años, estaban a punto de casarse.
César… ahora era el hermano menor.
Rainbow había cambiado todo.
Horas después, la ceremonia comenzó.
Para Matías, aquellos habían sido los días más intensos y surrealistas de su vida.
Pero ahora estaba ahí.
No solo cumpliendo una fantasía…
Sino viviendo una realidad.
Iba a casarse con Hugo.
El juez estaba listo.
Jessica los presentó.
Matías lo reconoció al instante.
Era Rainbow.
Aunque ahora, en forma humana.
—Nicolás —se presentó.
Cuando Jessica se alejó, Matías se acercó un poco.
—Gracias… por todo.
Rainbow sonrió.
—No hay de qué. Pero recuerda… aún te queda un deseo.
Matías asintió.
—Lo usaré cuando sea necesario.
Rainbow simplemente volvió a su lugar.
La ceremonia continuó.
Matías y Hugo se prometieron amor eterno…
Y se convirtieron en esposos.
Matías se sentía feliz.
Aunque, en el fondo, una pequeña parte de él pensaba en César… en cómo esa historia alguna vez fue suya.
CONTENT WARNING: This story includes themes of transformation and body control with a suggestive approach. If this type of narrative is not to your liking or you do not meet the recommended age, we suggest you do not continue. All images used (if any) belong to their respective owners. I claim no authorship over them and they are only used for illustrative purposes. If you decide to go ahead, welcome to Possessed Desires, where mind and body are never completely under your control.
XVII. The Star
Circe had taken an extremely long break after December, just a few routine consultations (without using her magic deck), some updates on her alter ego as a magical influencer, and nothing more. By this point in the year, things were starting to get boring, and she needed some energy. The fairs and events celebrating spring were the perfect time to get going. She was excited, she had to admit it; starting a new year of transformations was always a welcome time, bringing balance to the world! She even got goosebumps just thinking about it!
Peter had always been an outcast, too chubby for other people's standards of "attractive". He hadn't had a partner in all his years, he was the target of taunts and cruel jokes, and frankly, he was fed up. He just wanted to be like everyone else, without almost 20 kilos of fat on his skin. He wanted to be handsome, perfect; that was all he wanted. He knew all about self-love, self-respect, self-worth, and all that other self-motivational crap, but it didn't stop him from feeling less than, alone, abandoned in the middle of nowhere. He'd gone to a nearby fair to try and clear his head, go on a few rides, relax from the stress of university, and maybe run into a friend or two.
He was waiting in line for the Ferris Wheel. The neon lights, sweet aromas, and the blossoming spring theme filled the place; it was hard to focus on one thing. But at the back of the fair, something caught his eye. It was a tent. It didn't have extravagant colors or neon signs; it actually looked… rustic. There were flowers on the grass, the canvas was beige, a few candles lit the path, and that was it. But even so, it had a magnetic effect on him, and before he knew it, he was walking toward it, drawn like a bee to pollen.
He entered the shop cautiously, looking somewhat comical in his chosen outfit: shorts that revealed his chubby legs, a t-shirt that was a bit tight around his stomach, and his curly hair, slightly disheveled, which never looked quite right against his cheeks. He always felt his hair didn't do much to hide the "volume" of his face. Peter made his way inside the shop, finding a room with an elegant wooden table carved with intricate magical details, symbols, and runes. There was a crystal ball and other divination instruments. He observed all the items with attention and fascination.
— Hey, hi. Can I help you with something? – A sweet, feminine voice pulled him from his trance. From behind the curtains emerged a girl his age, with curly blonde hair, a slender figure, and a soft smile behind full lips painted with carmine red lipstick.
— Oh, nothing, sorry, I was just looking around. It's a really nice place here – he admitted, his gaze still wandering from one point to another. He felt as if the ceiling were almost etched with the stars and constellations of the celestial vault. Circe, in her disguise, smiled, observing the man's sweetness and innate curiosity.
— Wouldn't you be interested in knowing your fortune? – Peter lowered his gaze, noticing that she was carrying a tarot deck, which she was moving little by little, toying with it. He had always been fascinated by such things, although he had never dared to try it. Perhaps it was destiny.
— Is there a cost?
— Oh, no, not at all, it's just-
But before she could finish the sentence, he had already taken out a twenty-dollar bill and placed it on the table, sitting down opposite her and putting his hands on his knees, somewhat excited and nervous.
— Let that be the tip then.
Circe looked at the guy, intrigued, and extended her hand with a smile.
— Circe.
— Peter, nice to meet you.
She smiled, her warmth natural, sweet like the fragrance of a flower. She was excited to see which card she would draw in the tarot. She shuffled the cards, the deck passing from front to back and back again, breaking the order to rearrange them. She continued like this for a while, Peter watching her speed, fascinated. It felt a bit like being in a casino or something, until a card slipped, falling gently onto the table. The girl raised an eyebrow to turn it over.
— The star – she smiled excitedly, a sparkle in her eyes – Renewal. It means healing, that everything will get better. Its radiance will guide you through the darkness to give you what you finally deserve – Their eyes met. Peter just smiled, oblivious to what was about to happen. Suddenly, it was as if pure energy shot out from within him. Light burst and escaped from every orifice. His arms fell to his sides as he rose, levitating. Circe also stood up, fascinated by the transformation. The guy's body continued to move uncontrollably, his fingers stiff, his mouth open as the light continued to radiate. And then, suddenly, his entire being shot upward, like a shooting star, disappearing into thin air.
— Damn, I wanted to see the show – Circe muttered with a grimace, returning to the back of the tent.
In mid-air, Peter screamed in panic, transformed into a being of light hurtling at miles per hour, defying all laws of physics and nature. He was terrified, unable to stop, his body moving beyond his control. He closed his eyes, trying to avoid sinking deeper into despair.
A few blocks away, on solid ground, a more muscular guy was striding along in the comfort of a gym. His name, conveniently, was also Peter.
He had short, straight, black hair, a slightly tanned complexion, wore glasses, and had an athletic build. His pecs were a marvel of the gym. He had just returned from his workout and was about to take a shower. His muscles felt tense and somewhat smelly, and his armpit felt warm with accumulated sweat. He was grabbing his things to finally head to the locker room when he noticed a trail of light approaching from the night sky.
— Damn, is that a shooting star? – He came close to the window frame, surprised and with a gentle smile that quickly vanished when he noticed that "star" drawing closer and closer, illuminating the reflection in the window. He stumbled backward, wanting to run, expecting a crash or shattered glass, but instead, that brilliance pierced the windowpane and hurtled straight toward him, seeping into his mouth. His fingers tensed, his mouth spilled a kind of shimmering substance as he began to writhe, falling to his knees and feeling the starry essence fill him from within.
— Mfh, I don't... I don't feel well – he stammered, digging his fingers into the ground as he gagged a couple of times. His veins, like his well-defined muscles, tensed as his skin seemed to glow. The man continued to move with fierce spasms, shaking uncontrollably, trying to resist with all his might as he felt something climbing from his tailbone to the nape of his neck, along his entire spine. He stuttered a few incomprehensible things until "it" pierced his cerebral cortex. The athlete gasped in confusion, his eyes rolling back as he drooled, a foolish expression on his face, before collapsing to the ground. Luckily, no one else was there at that hour.
The glow on his skin lasted a while longer until it subsided. His breathing was slow and delicate, like a lily. What could have been just a moment or almost two hours passed before he finally opened his eyes. He looked around, confused, and put a hand to his head, trying to press against the intense throbbing he felt inside his brain.
— Ugh, what the hell – he muttered under his breath. He tried to stand but only managed to fall back down, the sharp sound of his knees hitting the ground. Peter lay there for a while longer until he finally opened his eyes, his surroundings becoming clearer – Where... Where am I?
Something was strange, and it wasn't exactly that he was in a different place than he had been a few seconds before. There was something strange about him too, to be more specific: his voice. It had a different tone; he felt like his vocal cords were resonating differently.
— Hello? – He noticed it again. It was deeper, firmer. His voice was usually higher-pitched and a bit husky because of his build, but now it felt more... masculine. He inhaled, preparing to speak again, but a foul, pungent smell stopped him in his tracks. He wrinkled his nose, coughing slightly in the process; the stench even made his nose itch – Ugh, what smells so bad?
He sniffed the air, trying to pinpoint the source. It was a salty, earthy, and musky smell, like a sports locker room, ugh… Also somewhat acidic and damp. He sniffed again, still unable to find the source, until he looked down. It was confusing to focus on just one thing among the many things that presented themselves: the smell was coming from him, and the body he was in was definitely not his.
There were thick pectoral muscles where his flabby, drooping chest had once been, firm and muscular, standing out beautifully in a sleeveless shirt that barely contained them. This also revealed his new arms, enormous and strong, with biceps the size of oranges. His eyes were wide open.
— Wow… This is… No way. Am I dreaming? – he asked with a chuckle, raising his arm to flex it. It inflated and puffed out like a balloon. Peter watched the scene, fascinated. He had never been this strong, this muscular, hell, he hadn't even been thin at any point in his life! And now these tremendous, perfect muscles belonged to him, encased in that tanned skin and… Sniff, sniff. Ugh, why did he smell so bad?
He let out another amused laugh, finally raising his arm to place his hand on the back of his neck, giving free rein for his nose to explore his new armpit. There was a good amount of damp hair swirling around, creating that pungent odor. Peter tried to restrain himself, but it was in vain. In less than five seconds, his face was buried in the hinge, tongue lolling out, licking and panting, his face flushed. He was in heaven. He still didn't understand a damn thing that was happening, but it was so perfect. He was in a strong, sexy body! Those muscles belonged to him, only to him! His other hand wandered to his stomach, patting the absence of fat. There was no flab, no belly, just chiseled abs. HE WAS PERFECT!
— Damn, I'm so hot – he chuckled again, the velvety sound escaping the corners of his mouth, a curious glint fixed in his pupils. He flexed again and again without stopping, loving the feeling of power in his knuckles, his big, thick biceps, woah! It was like a permanent adrenaline rush; he wasn't a fucking loser anymore. There wasn't a trace of his chubby cheeks or double chin; his skin was smooth, everything in place, so attractive!
He stretched his feet out on the ground, noticing his thick thighs and one detail in particular: it turned out his new body had gotten rid of his shoes before falling under his power. His bare feet, wrapped in damp white socks next to worn-out sneakers, welcomed him. He wiggled his toes, curious, trying not to burst out laughing. He could feel them, warm and wet.
— Hehehe… What are these? Size 10? – He finally lifted his feet to get a better look, shaking them in the air and letting his toes wiggle like worms as he watched them with fascination. He wasn't particularly drawn to smells, maybe not even to muscles (he just wanted to be thin, after all); but being in someone else's body, different, with a new scent and a new build, all those undiscovered stimuli were wonderful. He continued looking at himself for a while until he decided he wanted more. He lifted his sweaty shirt from the bottom to take it off, letting it fall to the side of the floor. His strong hands roamed over his pectorals first, feeling how soft they were, a firm yet spongy mix, perfect for sinking his fingers into them as he let out a moan of pleasure.
His hands traced the outline of his abs, counting them one by one, sliding his hand along them. The V-shaped contour invited him to explore further. He bit his lower lip, his chest throbbing with anticipation. He stood up with an agile movement from the floor, feeling his strong feet grip the ground. Wow. He had no idea if he'd grown a few centimeters or not, but he felt big. He used to feel like his back was gigantic (and not in a good way), hunched over, clumsy. But now he could feel his well-defined back, with broad shoulders. He smiled arrogantly and began doing push-ups and other bodybuilder poses, exaggerated and even somewhat provocative, as if the main objective were to show off those thick pecs and biceps that now belonged to him.
He kept moving, enjoying controlling his new "puppet", chuckling softly as he flexed, puffing out his biceps and chest. His skin felt warm and slightly tense, even a little sore, but it was a very different kind of pain – vigorous, satisfying. It wasn't the pain of sitting for hours behind a monitor eating chips, nah, this pain was testosterone pumping through his body, his powerful abs, and, oh my god! Peter walked over to a mirror to get a better look at himself, and dude, was he not disappointed for a second by who he was now. His chin was perfect, his hazel eyes perfectly complementing his cheeks, which, when they met his chin, formed a sharp jawline. He looked attractive, damn good-looking!
His neck concealed a lovely Adam's apple that blended seamlessly with his defined, perfect collarbones. There was even a touch of stubble on his chin, a nascent beard that suited him well. He had a muscular, nerdy look that he was loving. But the best part was when he turned around to better admire the surprises his new physique held.
His defined shoulder blades, his sculpted waist, those plump thighs accompanied by perfect, plump globes, beautiful as bubbles! He gave himself a gentle slap, watching them bounce along with his pants, moving as one. In fact, the elastic in his pants didn't bother him at all, nor did he feel like he was about to burst. It felt light, firm, and with the perfect fit, like a glove. He started taking picture after picture of his firm back, his lovely thighs, damn, that giant cake he was now carrying around – it was a miracle that thing wasn't applauding with every step he took. Hahaha!
Euphoria coursed through his veins like adrenaline. He was perfect, an Adonis. He was finally like all those guys he envied so much, the ones who made jokes and cruel comments, or those who always refused to go out with him because he wasn't thin or "attractive" enough. Now they could all go to hell! He was so damn perfect!
Peter continued moving around the empty gym. He was loving this whole game of exploration and self-admiration, but he also knew it was late and he should go to… wherever this guy lived. Which presented another challenge. He moved casually toward the locker room, turned on his phone, and activated facial recognition. The phone unlocked automatically, revealing a few apps – nothing out of the ordinary, the typical social media, some exercise and diet apps. Wow, it seemed this guy really took care of his body, and as anyone would expect, he showed it off. His social media was overflowing with photos of himself, as was his gallery, filled with selfies, casual workouts, and the occasional "thirst trap".
He continued digging through chats, but from what he could tell, he was a very reserved person. He didn't have many conversations with friends, and there was no trace of a romantic interest, which completely confused Peter. How could a guy that attractive and handsome have no one paying attention to him? Was he crazy or something? He should have guys and girls going crazy for him, with those huge muscles and a pretty face!
He took the opportunity to check the phone's activity log. If he wanted to know where his new house was, he needed to find the way there. He moved around the lockers, inserting and removing the key until he found one that matched. Luckily, it worked on the third try. He opened the door. Inside was a suitcase with clean clothes. He thought about changing, but he was more than delighted by that pungent stench, the smell that stung his nose. Now that he thought about it… The guy slipped his hand inside his pants, making sure to feel what was hidden there. He moved his fingers around the shaft and the girth beneath, getting a little closer to the top of his thighs. He kept moving, rubbing his fingers together until he finally pulled them out, bringing them straight to his nose and inhaling deeply. The stench was pungent, strong, and fucking delicious… Mfhhhh, Peter loved it. He rubbed his fingers against the tip of his nose as if he wanted to etch that stinky smell onto his face.
He grabbed his things, licking his lips as he headed for the door, but when his gaze fell on the mirror, he stopped dead in his tracks, realizing he wasn't wearing a shirt. He shook his head to himself with a chuckle, taking the opportunity to bend down again and snap a picture with his new phone. The pumping in those arms looked fantastic! He was starting to get excited just thinking about all the guys who would be at his feet, eager to get a taste of those nice muscles. Damn, he'd suddenly have all the activity he hadn't had in years.
He put on his clean t-shirt (he had no idea where he'd left the old one, but meh, what did it matter? In fact, a naughty, lustful image also crossed his mind: imagining some skinny guy showing up the next morning to train, finding his t-shirt smelly and wet. The urge to press it against his nose would be inevitable, forcing himself to take a swig). He looked at himself in the mirror again, lifting his t-shirt to take a picture.
He'd never been so arrogant and conceited, but he couldn't waste such a great physique. Damn, he really hoped he wasn't dreaming because this was a fantasy come true.
He finally left the building, moving through the streets, attracting the gazes of all the passersby. Some looked at him with admiration, others with envy, and still others with desire. To the latter, he always made a point of winking while licking his lips. He felt great, masculine and powerful! A single movement was all it took to have them eating out of the palm of his hand.
His thick thighs, along with his strong but sweaty feet, guided him to the right address. It was an apartment complex; the challenge now would be to discover which floor was his. He climbed the stairs like a lynx, traversing the hallways until he found the right door. He opened it and left his things scattered about. The place was cozy; there was no one else there, so he concluded that he lived alone. He continued exploring his new abode. There was a room with sports equipment, another with his bed and a computer, the bathroom – there wasn't much to explore, really. The apartment was boring for any straight guy. He threw himself onto the bed, feeling the comfort of the mattress as he raised his arm to take a drag, inhaling with a smile.
— Mfh… Yes, this is the life.
He continued lying down for a while until curiosity got the better of him. Technically, he was now in the privacy of "his house", of "his room". Why not let loose then? He pulled down his pants to be a little more comfortable, approaching a large mirror in the bedroom. He didn't want to miss a single second of this live demonstration. He still hadn't gotten over the feeling of being in someone else's body, of having another man's arms belong to him, using his face, having his voice, absolutely everything about him under his control. It was like watching a video or something, with the only difference being that "that person" would do whatever he wanted. He continued the show, revealing tight red boxers, and whistled with an enchanted smile.
— Well, well... What do we have here? – He continued posing, flexing his muscles and taking photo after photo. He wanted to make the whole thing memorable. It was so enchanting that he wasn't even thinking about the nature of the event, the fact that his original body and identity had evaporated like candle smoke, that he was even in another city, states away from his original home. But what mattered most now was seeing himself in the mirror.
He had never seen another guy “all natural” like this in his life. The blood pumped to his tool as he gazed at his reflection. It was unlike anything he had ever felt or seen before. There was no fat, no love handles, no pitiful, pathetic look. Now there was power, attractiveness, a pungent odor that reminded him of the power that now coursed through his body, perfect and attractive. It was great!
Another spark of curiosity prickled his spine. His gaze fell on the wardrobe beside him, and he smiled inwardly. He started running his hands over all the clothes, every texture and color: compression shirts, sleeveless tops, leggings – some even had spandex – tight-fitting, looser, with shorter necklines or V-necks that perfectly showcased his chest.
He tried on each garment, not caring if he stained them with his sweat or that musty, sour smell. The clothes piled up on the floor as he pulled more out, trying to empty the closet, but meh. That would be a problem for the next day. He felt great, good about himself, cute, handsome. For the first time, he didn't hide his gaze when he stood in front of a mirror. He liked his reflection; he loved his new identity. He didn't want to be anyone else. He also experimented a bit with his new identity, discovering his "new" name.
At least he wouldn't have any trouble introducing himself to other people. Heh… That night he barely slept at all, continuing to rummage through the things in his new body, even the dirty clothes he'd amused himself with until he was dry. He fell asleep until the next morning, the sunlight streaming through the curtains to hit his face. He muttered a few things, opening his eyes. He thought maybe he was back in his own body, that everything that had happened had been a vivid dream, but as soon as his vision focused, he found himself tangled in the sheets wearing only his boxers. His enormous foot welcomed him.
Peter chuckled, moving his foot again, ecstatic with the control he had over that athletic and attractive body.
He put on only a pair of slightly tight, worn jeans and went to the kitchen for a simple bowl of cereal. Even his taste buds felt different; everything inside him was new. He checked his phone from top to bottom: his entire photo gallery, internet history, and more. It turned out this guy was a trainer at the same gym he'd been to before (which explained why he was there so late). His muscular physique and, in part, the fact that his bank account wasn't exactly what he'd hoped for all contributed to his success. But, well, his golden ticket had to fail somewhere. He got ready, putting on a sleeveless shirt with a rolled-down collar that accentuated his pecs. He also changed his pants for lycra shorts that highlighted his thighs, his round buttocks, and the outline of his package. He grabbed his suitcase again (though he made sure not to pack a change of clothes), sprayed on some cologne, leaving the deodorant behind, and left the apartment. He walked back down the streets, familiarizing himself with the route that, for some reason, now felt natural. He didn't have to look at his phone; it was as if his feet had activated an automatic GPS, leading him to the gym doors, which, unlike yesterday, were already packed.
The employee at the counter greeted him – in fact, everyone did. They gave him friendly glances, some of admiration, gently bumped his shoulder, or bumped fists with him. Peter felt like a fish out of water at first, but he couldn't ignore the fact that he felt…seen. His whole life he had been ignored, the guy they picked last, the friend who stayed behind, but now, he shone. He literally attracted everyone (or maybe it was his clothes and the absence of deodorant that were working), but damn, he was loving his new identity.
He had to manage to find his clients, put them through the motions he thought best, and learn how to use the machines, trying to keep that arrogant, egocentric streak from showing too much. He didn't want to leave any loose ends (although, pfft, who would suspect that he was actually a fat guy in this trainer's body? That only happened in the movies; he could relax a little).
— Pet, are you feeling okay? – Another trainer approached the guy, his eyebrow slightly raised. He was wearing slightly more "covering" clothing, but even so, his muscles were perfectly visible beneath that compression shirt.
— Better than ever, why do you say that, dude? – Peter was resting on one of the exercise machines, his massive back against the support as he occasionally flexed those big, strong arms.
— Well, I... I feel like you're acting more... Um. How can I put this without sounding rude? Arrogant?
— Oh, haha. Well, maybe today I'll wake up wanting to, you know. Show the world what I've got, don't you think that's fantastic? – He flexed his arms at the guy's astonished gaze. The real Peter used to be more reserved, dedicated to his work and sports. Now, he only had a guy obsessed with himself, uninterested in training and more entertained by looking at his phone and taking pictures.
— Um… I think I'd better go. If you need anything, you can tell me.
— Sure, bro – Saying that last word had made him feel great for some reason; even his tool stirred eagerly at that simple three-letter word.
Although that conversation left him thinking a lot… Was this really what he wanted? He had a killer physique, perfect charisma. He couldn't see a damn thing without those glasses, but meh, he wore them for a reason. His pecs were plump, fleshy, and firm; his arms, needless to say; Did he really just want to waste his potential being a trainer and nothing more? That body had potential, although he surely lacked any training or career background. Applying the knowledge from his old body would be ideal, but getting a job without real preparation would be difficult. What could he do? His gaze remained fixed on the gym ceiling, thinking, until the answer came to him like the presence of the letter, as if Circe herself were whispering in his ear what to do. He stood up, grabbed his things, and left; he needed to go to the store.
Peter spent all the savings from his new body on a gaming setup: a good keyboard, microphone, and camera. He was lucky that the old "Peter" had already bought a laptop before; maybe it wasn't the best, but it would be good enough to start with. He wanted to be a star, and he was going to work as hard as necessary to achieve it. It was a risky move, but what was stopping him? He could try and win.
I didn't want to stereotype video game fans, but undoubtedly, having a good physique that exuded charisma was a magnet for subscribers. In less than a week, he already had 500 subscribers. Some really enjoyed watching him play; others loved seeing his pecs bounce every time he won or lost, flexing, scratching his armpits – it was a show he loved putting on every night. The tips started pouring in, the subscribers increased until the name "Starboy" (yes, why not live up to everything that had brought him this far?) was selling like hotcakes.
The audience adored him, sending him gifts, keeping a close eye on his updates and social media. His followers skyrocketed, and his profile was filled with videos of him doing silly trends, mostly flexing, showing off his abs, doing ridiculous dances, or playing gameplay. His bank account swelled until he became a video game celebrity (with a solid fanbase who loved watching him flex his muscles in front of the camera).
— Hey, what's up, guys? – Peter said confidently as his stream began. Watching the comments pour in, he smiled confidently. That night he was wearing a gray compression shirt that fit him perfectly, like a glove. He flexed slightly – Are you ready for today's stream?
He winked.
Yes. He was loving this new life. He no longer hid or was ashamed of himself or his body (in fact, he was becoming addicted to showing it off). He finally had everything he wanted and more: fame, attractiveness, money. He was literally a fucking star. Other guys adored him, begged for a date with him, and even though he might not have fully committed to finding someone for a one-night stand or anything serious, that was fine. He felt like he wanted to give it a little more time. Why rush? He was comfortable like this, eager for more. He finally had everything he wanted.
— No way, this guy's got a great body – Cirse said with a smile as she ate some popcorn after finding Peter's account. She felt the magical seal of the tarot card all over him. She continued scrolling until she landed on his live stream, watching him casually lift his armpit while making a silly face after scoring a win.
She put another handful of popcorn in his mouth, another satisfactory trade achieved – Damn, he sure knows how to play. Good for him.
—-
Hello everyone! I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you liked it, don’t forget to follow it and share it so more people can discover it.
This is my new temporary blog. I'll be here until the situation with @possesseddesiress improves (if it ever does). If it doesn't, this will become my permanent account, but until I see more activity, this is just temporary. I hope you'll follow me here and support me by reblogging, commenting, or whatever you like. Your support would really help me get back on my feet.
I’m always open to suggestions and ideas, so if you have any fantasy or scenario in mind, let me know in the comments or in messages. See you in the next story… Who knows what body you will occupy this time?
The obsession lived in the corners of a cramped apartment—a shrine of posters and racing programs dedicated to David Taylor. David wasn't a champion; he was a mid-pack Ferrari driver, but to the college student watching from the shadows, he was a god.
When the Ferrari fan event was announced, the student poured his life savings into raffle tickets for David’s racing jacket. He didn't just want the gear; he wanted a piece of the man.
The first day was a crushing blow. When a wealthy older man—someone who could buy a Ferrari without a second thought—casually claimed the jacket,.
The student felt a jagged sense of betrayal. He left the track in a silent rage, but by the time he reached his apartment, the anger had crystallized into a plan. He wasn't going to settle for a jacket anymore.
He returned to the complex where the team lived. Stealthy and focused, he tracked David to the quiet hallways of his private quarters. With a steady hand, he drove a needle into the driver’s neck. The reaction was chillingly efficient. David collapsed, his body beginning to "hollow out" and deflate as the serum did its work.
In the silence of the bathroom, the once-powerful athlete became a supple, empty bodysuit. The student stripped off his own life and stepped into the shell. As he pulled the skin over his torso and zipped the hidden seam at his neck, the Memory Flood hit him. David’s childhood, the roar of the engines, and the precise muscle memory of a racer surged into his brain. The student didn't just look like David; he was David.
He stepped back onto the track like nothing had happened. The transformation was impeccable. He greeted fans with a warmth the old, arrogant David never possessed and signed autographs with a signature that was now second nature. But the true revelation happened in the cockpit. Gripping the wheel of the Ferrari, the new David drove with a precision that surpassed the original. The mixture of the nerd’s analytical mind and David’s physical peak created a superior driver. Even the pit crew couldn't spot the difference; they only saw a better, more focused version of their man.
As the days turned into weeks, the zipper at his neck faded into smooth, seamless skin. The old life—the posters, the college debt, the loneliness—was a ghost. One afternoon, at a regional race, he pushed the car through the final turn and took the checkered flag.
Standing in the winner's circle, his face flushed and his heart pounding, he held the trophy high. As the cameras flashed, he didn't feel like an impostor. He looked at his reflection in the silver award and saw the only version of David Taylor that mattered. He had finally won the prize he deserved. The whole idea was he didn't win the jacket so he took David as his personal prize and became him. It was an obsession where he actually became the person in more ways than one.
Mi historia es algo lamentable, tomé las peores decisiones en mi vida y por eso mismo me ví involucrado con una señora que resultó ser una bruja malvada que me encerró, retiro mi alma de mi cuerpo, dejándome atrapado dentro de un frasco y mi cuerpo lo uso como cascarón para venderlo a un demonio.
Solo podía ver como los días transcurrían, pensé que mi destino era el sufrimiento eterno, días, semanas, meses, años... perdí la cuenta desde que mi alma quedó encerrada en ese frasco que contenia algún tipo de condimento que no reconocía.
Un día la bruja salió de su cabaña del bosque donde nos encontrábamos, y de repente escuché al poco tiempo el ruido de la puerta abriéndose, de ahí entraron un grupo de varios jóvenes con mucha cara de curiosidad por el ambiente del lugar, no parecían ser simples ladrones, más bien un grupo de chicos en busca de aventuras por lo desconocido.
El grupo de jóvenes no paraba de inspeccionar el lugar y de repente uno agarró el frasco donde me mantenía fresco, escuché que el chico que me agarró pensó que era un tipo de proteína especial y se la guardo en su bolsillo, y cuando los jóvenes escucharon que alguien regresaba a la cabaña, todos escaparon corriendo antes de que los atraparán de invasores en propiedad privada.
No lo podía imaginar, finalmente tras largos años pude salir de ese infierno donde solo acumulaba polvo, ya en territorio seguro, el chico que me agarró, sacó el frasco de su bolsillo y ahí lo pude observar a mayor detalle, era un chico que tenía su encanto y que conservaba una buena juventud, me recordó a mis últimos días de vida.
El grupo se separó y el chico se llevó al frasco hacia el gimnasio, tenía curiosidad de lo que él tenía pensado en hacer conmigo, el frasco donde estaba encerrado se encontraba encerrado en una bolsa con mucha ropa y otros frascos que parecían tener otros polvos.
Luego escuchó como la cremallera de la bolsa se abre y el joven agarra mi frasco para abrirlo, pensé que este era mi momento de escapar, pero sin darme cuenta, el chico rápidamente depositó todo el contenido del frasco (incluyendome) en un termo de agua y lo revolvió todo agitandolo, creo que el chico realmente pensaba que el contenido del frasco era una proteína especial y se la pensaba tomar toda combinada con agua...
Solo veía desde el agua donde mi alma estaba revuelta, estaba siendo bebida por el muchacho. Intenté escapar pero era imposible para mí.
Luego lo sentí, mientras me introducía en el cuerpo del chico, el no paraba de agitarse bruscamente con ganas de convulsionar como si algo o alguien estaba invadiendo su ser. Luego lo supe completamente lo que sucedía... al beberme, mi alma se estaba apoderando del cuerpo del muchacho.
Mi hipótesis fue cierta cuando de repente mi visión cambio drásticamente, ahora tenía una perspectiva diferente como si volviera a ser una persona real, mire a mis alrededores y en los espejos del lugar lo confirmé, me convertí en el joven, me sentía vivió nuevamente, grite de la alegría porque regresé a estar vivo.
No sabía que esto era posible en primer lugar, al parecer nuestro mundo es mucho más grande de lo que imaginé y hay cosas que aún no conocemos en su totalidad, aunque al saber la existencia de las brujas uno puede ya darse la idea de que ahora todo es posible.
La sensación de estar vivo era algo que ya no recordaba, poco a poco me volvía a acostumbrar a sentir mis cinco sentidos con naturalidad, aunque soy consciente de que le acabo de arrebatar la vida a un chico inocente, igual no sabía la forma de regresarle su cuerpo y además recién acabo de renacer, aún es muy pronto para buscar una solución para ese problema, mejor solo me concentré en observar a mejor detalle mi nueva vida.
Este chico era demasiado musculoso, en mi antigua vida solo estaba acostumbrado a que los jóvenes no estuvieran tan marcados, pero ya parece que estos son otros tiempos, su cuerpo se sentía lleno de energía juvenil y su cuerpo albergaba una gran pasión por seguir mejorando su cuerpo.
Me seguia familiarizando con este cuerpo y con un poco de indagación supe su nombre "Kevin Ortiz" y que era conocido por muchos como el "león", era su apodo.
La vida de Kevin no parecía muy dificil, su vida solo estaba centrada en mejorar su cuerpo y en sus estudios, pero como recién se acababa de graduar sus días estaban libres mientras buscaba un buen empleo. Decidí apoyar un poco con las metas de Kevin y salí todo el día en busca de un trabajo digno, pero no lo pude conseguir y ya era de noche.
Luego en la oscuridad y bajo la luz de los faroles, algunas personas ya empezaban a acercarse hacia mí preguntando cuánto cobraba y en qué lugar podíamos ir juntos a disfrutar, ahí salió un poco de mi personalidad coqueta que tenía antes de mi tragedia, pero en esta ocasión tuve que rechazar las ofertas por un poco de respeto de la vida de este muchacho.
La brisa mañanera en mi cara... algo que no pensé que volvería en sentir... Solo ha pasado un día y eso me hizo reflexionar mucho sobre la importancia de disfrutar de la vida mientras la tengamos y valorarla mucho más, nunca pensé que fuera posible tener una segunda oportunidad desde mi tragedia...
Pero también soy un hombre de palabra ,y después de pasar unos días más dentro de Kevin, sería momento de buscar una solución para que yo buscara un nuevo cuerpo para usar como mi piel permanente, y liberar a este pobre muchacho que no tiene ninguna culpa de todo esto y merece vivir su vida, no se la voy a quitar como lo hicieron conmigo injustamente.
I’d never been the fittest guy out there. Growing up, I was always kinda skinny - lanky arms, no real muscle definition. But last year, at 26, I finally hit that point where I said screw it, I need a change. So I started poking around online for workout tips - YouTube, random forums, the usual. That’s how I stumbled onto this subreddit called r/EnforcedFitness.
At first glance, it seemed totally normal. Maybe 500 members, nothing like the massive r/Fitness sub with millions of people yelling about macros and cutting phases. It was chill: guys posting progress pics, sharing routines, hyping each other up in the comments. Most of the members were older dudes - 40s and 50 - real experienced lifters who’d been grinding for decades. I scrolled through for a while, saw before-and-afters, guys talking about smashing PRs on bench or deads. Thought to myself, yeah, this could be my spot. Small enough that my noob questions wouldn’t get lost in the noise.
Then I hit the pinned post: the rules. That’s where it got weird. It laid out this whole thing about “fitness directives.” If someone posted a pic or progress update, anyone could comment with a directive - a specific workout split, diet tweak, supplements, whatever. And if more than 50% of the active community upvoted it, the directive became binding. Magically binding. No one explained how or why it worked; the mods just said it’d been that way since the sub started, and questioning it got you banned. I read it twice, chuckling like, alright, this is some elaborate roleplay bullshit, right? I shrugged it off as a clever gimmick to keep people accountable.
My first post was a skinny-ass progress pic in my bathroom mirror, shirt off, looking stringy and pale under the shitty fluorescent light. Caption: “26M, Vegas suburbs, just starting out. Any tips for a beginner routine?” Hit submit and waited. Comments came in quick.
u/OldSchoolLifter45: “Welcome, Niall! Solid start. Directive: 3× full-body workouts per week - squats, deadlifts, bench, rows, OHP. 3 sets of 8–12 reps each. Add protein shakes post-workout.” u/DadBodNoMore: “Directive: Cut soda completely, aim for 200g protein daily from whole foods. Track it in an app.”
Upvotes piled up fast. OldSchoolLifter45’s directive hit 300 overnight. When I woke up the next morning and started scrolling Reddit in bed, this weird pull hit my gut like my body was itching to move. My legs started tingling, muscles tightening like they’d cramp if I didn’t get my ass in gear. It was freaky as hell. I ended up driving to the gym on autopilot, cranking out those exact sets. Couldn’t slack on a single rep; if I tried to quit early, an invisible tug yanked me back to the barbell. Felt the burn, but damn, it worked. By the end of the week I was hooked - sore as fuck, but already seeing tiny changes. Those older guys knew their shit, and now I literally couldn’t skip even if I wanted to.
Over the next couple of years, I kept posting progress pics whenever I had a good pump or noticeable change. Each time, more directives rolled in, locking me into stricter protocols. In no time I went from the lanky kid who could barely bench 100 lbs to someone who actually filled out his shirts. And the best part? I didn’t have to think about any of it. The magic handled the discipline and my body just obeyed.
Over time, I started noticing one guy in particular: Carson.
He was one of the older ones, early 60s, and holy shit, the dude was carved. Bald head, short white mustache and goatee trimmed razor-sharp, tanned skin that said he spent real time in the sun, veiny forearms, biceps peaking even at rest, triceps horseshoeing out. Thick but lean chest, abs still visible under a light dusting of silver hair.
Every post of his got flooded with fire emojis and “goals” comments, but nobody ever dropped a directive on him. Not one. The sub treated him like he was already the finished product.
I paid closer attention and realized something: Carson was behind damn near 80% of the directives that stuck to me. He’d comment early, usually within the first hour of my update, and his wording was always precise. “Directive: Bump protein to 1.2g per lb bodyweight, whole-food sources only, no shakes after 6 p.m.” Or “Directive: Hypertrophy focus, 10–15 rep range on accessories, drop sets on final set.” He never targeted anyone else like that. On other guys’ threads he might drop a supportive comment or an upvote, but he wasn’t micromanaging their lives the way he did mine.
I got curious enough to dig deep into his profile. Years of posts: old progress shots from when he still had hair (dark and thick), contest pics from the ‘90s, placing top five in regional masters shows. Recent stuff was simpler: deadlifting in his garage, flexing post-shower with that same cocky half-smile. No ego posts, just quiet proof he knew exactly what he was talking about.
I didn’t know whether to feel flattered or weirded out. Part of me loved the attention and the results spoke for themselves. Another part wondered: why me? Why pour all that focus into some random guy when dozens of other newbies were posting every week?
One day I dropped my latest progress pic mid-pump after chest day, lighting hitting just right so my pecs looked fuller than ever, veins snaking down my biceps, sweat still beading on my skin. Caption: “2 years in. Feeling unstoppable. Thanks for the directives, fellas.” Hit post and went about my day.
Comments rolled in fast: fire emojis, “beast mode,” a few new directives about incline work or creatine. Then Carson’s dropped:
“Directive: Practice full semen retention for the next 30 days. No release whatsoever. This will spike natural testosterone, sharpen mental focus, and accelerate hypertrophy gains. ”
I read it twice. Semen retention? No nutting at all? I almost replied with something sarcastic, but the upvotes started pouring in: 50, 100, 200 in under an hour. By bedtime it was at 420, way past the threshold, and according to the sub’s little stats tracker, the most-upvoted directive ever. Replies were wild: “holy shit this is gonna be legendary” and “Niall’s about to level up HARD.”
Workouts became torture. Mid-set on bench, my dick would twitch hard against the tight briefs Carson had me switch to months earlier, and I’d have to grit my teeth to keep form. Showers were the real hell. Day three I was so pent up I couldn’t think straight. I stepped under the hot water, soaped up, started stroking fast and desperate. It felt incredible, right on the edge in thirty seconds… and then nothing. The magic clamped down like an invisible fist around the base. I pumped harder, faster, begging out loud, “come on, just let me,”but my body flat-out refused. I ended up slumped against the tile, panting, aching, balls heavy and sore, cock still throbbing like it was pissed at me.
Two weeks in, I was a walking hormone bomb. Everything made me horny, the way my gym shorts rode up my quads during squats, the pump in my arms after curls, even catching my reflection in the mirror. I was leaking constantly, briefs soaked by the end of every session, but I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Focus was razor-sharp, though. Workouts felt explosive. Recovery was great. I was adding weight every session like it was nothing.
So I posted another update pic—back double-biceps, lats flaring, looking thicker than ever. Carson’s comment was the second one:
“Directive: Niall and I should train together in real life for personalized, hands-on guidance. In-person sessions will maximize his current protocol and ensure perfect form/technique.”
Upvotes exploded again, 300+ in a day. I DM’d him right after to plan a few sessions. First one was that Saturday morning.
The whole drive up I-15 my heart was hammering. I pulled into the lot of this sleek, glass-fronted gym that looked more like a high-end spa than a lifting spot. I grabbed my bag, took a breath, headed inside.
Carson was already there, standing by the squat rack in a black tank and shorts, arms crossed, looking exactly like his pics but bigger in person. He turned, locked eyes with me, gave this slow nod like he’d been waiting.
“Niall,” he said, voice deep and steady. “Good to finally see this impressive body in person.”
“Yeah… good to meet you too, man.”
He clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder - firm, lingering just a second - and steered me toward the warm-up area.
“Let’s get you loose,” he said. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
Our first joint workout kicked off intense. Carson had me on bench press warm-up and he was spotting from above, thick arms locked, eyes glued to my chest as I pushed the bar. He called out, “Good form, Niall. Chest up, squeeze at the top.” But his hands… they brushed my pecs when he guided the bar back to the rack, fingers lingering a beat too long on the damp tank, thumb grazing my nipple almost accidentally. Almost. I glanced up, caught his gaze dropping down my body - over my shoulders, my veined arms - and yeah, there was a subtle tent in his gym shorts. Not raging, but enough to notice. The dude was packing; thick outline pressed against the material. My stomach flipped. Is he… into me? Like that? I’ve always been bi-curious - messed around a little in college with a buddy once, never went full-on, but the thought’s been there. My own dick throbbed hard in response, balls pulling tight with that denied ache.
We switched - he benched heavy, me spotting - and I was right there, hands hovering, close enough to smell his sweat mixed with clean, musky cologne. His chest heaved, pecs flexing under the tank, veins popping on his forearms. By the end we were both drenched, shaking out our arms in the mirror. He clapped my back, hand sliding down to my lower back a second too slow, and said, “You’re a natural, kid. We’re gonna make you unstoppable.”
We met up a few more times that week and each session cranked the tension higher. He pushed me through grueling sets: drop sets on flyes that left my chest burning, forced reps on squats where he was behind me, hands firm on my hips “for stability,” breath hot on my neck as he counted down. “One more, Niall. Push through it.”
After one session he grabbed my phone, took a mirror selfie of the two of us and told me to post it in the sub that weekend.
As soon as I did, he dropped another directive:
“Directive: Niall should let me possess his body temporarily to optimize his training from the inside. I’ll be able to feel every muscle contraction, correct form in real-time, and push his limits precisely. Short-term only—back to normal after the session. Perfect for hypertrophy breakthroughs.”
I stared at my phone, heart slamming. Possess my body? Like… take over? It sounded insane. But upvotes flew: 100 in minutes, 200, 300. Cleared 50% easy.
Before I could DM him to question it, the magic pulled. I was sitting on my couch, scrolling, when this heavy trance washed over me, eyes glazing, body going slack like I was drunk on exhaustion. My mind fogged, thoughts slowing, and then… he was there. Flooding in. Carson’s presence hit like a warm, insistent wave crashing through my skull, pushing me to the back of my own head. My arms twitched as he tested the controls, legs shifting under his command. My voice muttered low, “There we go, Niall. Relax. Let me handle this.”
I was trapped in my own skin, watching through my eyes as my body stood up, grabbed my keys, and headed out the door toward his gym. Panic mixed with that same taboo thrill. What the fuck was he gonna do with me?
After the gym he drove us straight to his place rather than back to mine. The whole hour ride he hummed low in my throat, flexing my fingers on the steering wheel, rolling my shoulders like he was testing the range of motion in this younger frame.
Back at his upscale condo he didn’t bother turning on many lights. Just stripped my gym clothes off piece by piece in the hallway, leaving a trail of sweaty tank, shorts, compression briefs. My cock sprang free still rock-hard from the retention torture, veins thick, head shiny with pre. He let out a long, appreciative groan in my voice. “Fuck, Niall… you weren’t kidding about how pent-up this feels. This young dick of yours hasn’t shut up. I’m losing my mind.”
He walked us to the full-length mirror in his bedroom, flipped on a single lamp. My reflection stared back—broad chest heaving, abs carved deep, quads sweeping out, arms heavy with fresh pump. Carson made me turn side to side, admiring every angle like he was appraising livestock. “Goddamn,” he muttered through my lips.
The next few days blurred into a surreal possession loop. He kept me in my body—working out, eating, sleeping—narrating his reactions out loud like I wasn’t even there. Morning wood hit like a freight train; he gripped my shaft through the sheets and just held it, chuckling. “You’re so responsive, kid. One thought and you’re leaking.” During lifts he made me push heavier than I ever had solo, grunting my voice raw on the last reps, then flexing in the mirror afterward, running my hands over the sweat-slick peaks of my pecs. “These tits you built… perfect.”
As day 30 of retention crept closer, the tension ramped up. He was obsessed with the mirror now. That night, with maybe 45 minutes left on the clock, he stripped us naked again. Stood us square in front of the glass. My hands—his hands—started slow: palms flat on my firm pecs, thumbs circling the nipples until they pebbled hard. Down over the ridges of my abs, tracing every cut line like he was memorizing a map. Lower still, fingers wrapping around my throbbing cock—thick, dripping steady pre now that release was so close. He stroked once, slow, savoring the slide. A low moan rumbled out of my chest. “Jesus… the way this thing jumps in my hand. So full. So young.”
He snapped a pic then, cock fully erect and in view. Posted it straight to r/EnforcedFitness from my account. Caption: “Day 30 of retention. Look how far I’ve come thanks to you all. This physique is prime. Grateful for every directive that got me here.”
The post blew up instantly—likes, fire emojis, comments flooding. Then, while notifications chimed, he typed the comment that made my mind scream:
“Niall should swap bodies with Carson forever to ensure lifelong peak fitness. Permanent exchange.”
He hit post and glanced at the time—only five minutes left until the retention period ended. Carson gripped my cock again, stroking while admiring himself in the mirror. He looked back at my phone, buzzing like crazy; the directive was already racking up upvotes. “Fuck yes,” he muttered. “Fuck yes.”
Then finally—release. Pleasure exploded through us—my balls unloading in thick, forceful ropes that splattered the mirror, my abs, the floor. He gasped loud in my voice, hips bucking forward, milking every spurt while waves of ecstasy crashed over him. “Fuck… yes… YES.” He rode the afterglow, stroking slow now, letting the last drops ooze out, body trembling in the mirror.
The phone kept buzzing. Upvotes were racing toward 50%.
Inside my head I was screaming, wordless, frantic. Stop. Don’t do this. That’s my life. My body. My youth.
He just smirked with my lips, eyes locked on our reflection, my jacked, spent, cum-streaked form staring back. He leaned in close to the mirror, whispering so only I could hear it in the echo of my own skull.
“Shhh, Niall. Relax. This perfect young body? It’s about to be mine. Forever.”
Gerald thought he could get away with it when the officer that pulled him over agreed to let him go, on one condition.
"Sir, I'm really sorry but...can we please switch back? I-It's been a month and--" Hudson just laughed and waved his finger mockingly in his direction.
"We've been over this boy. You agreed to the swap, not my fault if you got tired of it eventually." Hudson grinned as Gerald simply tucked his lips in. What was he going to say anyways? Say he swapped bodies with someone and that guy didn't want to give it back? He'd be ridiculed to hell and back.
"I decide when I wanna switch back, got it? Force my hand, and I'll make sure you do end up in the back of that cruiser, a'ight?"
Gerald quietly tucked his lips and nodded slightly. To be honest, he'd take that over this any day of the week, but he couldn't risk it. Taking a few steps back, he just mumbled. "You're free to go, s-sir..."
Hudson quietly chuckled as he drove away. "Heh. 'Switch back'. Like I'm gonna."
El concierto fue una maravilla, era uno de los más grandes del país y fue excelente pasarla con un grupo de grandes amigos. Nunca he sido sociable, pero gracias al cuerpo y personalidad de Diego he podido ser más extrovertido.
Por supuesto que expandí mi visita a Honduras por un mes más, quería seguir experimentando como era la vida de Diego.
Pero durante esos días, sucedió algo que me llamó la atención. Me encontraba en el gimnasio realizando la rutina de ejercicios de Diego y pude sentir la presencia de otra alma astral en el lugar que divagaba. Tengo la habilidad que soy más perceptivo ante otras almas.
Sentia como esa aura desconocida se acercaba a un muchacho que estaba acostado que estaba descansando entre series. Y en un momento en otro vi como el muchacho empezaba a agitarse bruscamente.
En mi mente dije que capaz esa alma astral era un estúpido porque no debe meterse en el cuerpo de alguien más hasta que se encuentre completamente dormido. Estaba preocupado por lo que iba a pasar pero me sorprendí al ver como el muchacho se reincorporaba sin dificultad alguna.
El muchacho se levantó de espalda y empezó a moverse ligeramente en su lugar. Me estaba preguntando si la alma logró apoderarse de ese cuerpo o no. Entonces ví al muchacho sonreir raramente hacia mí por lo que ya sabía que si logró poseer ese cuerpo.
El muchacho se acercó hacia mi y me empezó a hablar, me compartió que se llamaba Christian y que el tenia la habilidad de identificar la ubicación de almas que se encontraban dentro de otros cuerpos ajenos a los suyos.
Él sintió mi presencia acá en Honduras dónde el vive y quería conocerme. Christian me dijo que el es un excluido socialmente, dejo la universidad y no tiene ningun familiar o trabajo para sobrevivir.
Christian pensó que iba a estar solo para siempre hasta que sintió mi presencia cuando me apodere de Diego.
Le explique a Christian que no era de por acá, sino de un país extranjero y solo vine a visitar a un amigo por un concierto que siempre quise ir, pero que ya me iba en pocos días.
Por supuesto que Christian estaba triste al escuchar mis palabras porque el esperaba corregir su vida con un nuevo amigo que lo podia entender.
Me di cuenta rápido de la insatisfacción del muchacho, entonces le propuse que se quedara a mi lado los días que me restaban dentro de estos cuerpos y cuando me fuera, los dos nos fueramos a juntos a donde vivía para buscarle una nueva vida allá.
Entonces los siguientes días restantes invité a Christian quedarse en la casa de Diego como mi hermano. Íbamos a disfrutar juntos los cuerpos que poseemos y luego buscaríamos en mi verdadero hogar su nueva vida.
Voy a ir a conocer a un amigo de internet, pero vive en Honduras y no tengo el dinero para pagar el avión, entonces lo conoceré con otro cuerpo gracias al viaje astral.
Busque en redes sociales por un largo tiempo, estaba checando los perfiles de hombres que fueran de Honduras. Fácilmente pude escoger al primer hombre que me pareciera en mi búsqueda.
Pero también quería tener el cuerpo de alguien joven y en forma para poder disfrutar mucho más mi viaje.
Por fortuna después de descartar a muchos sujetos, me apareció el perfil de Diego, un joven prometedor, carismático y fiestero. Ese era el cuerpo que quería.
Entonces al ya investigar más a profundidad la vida de ese muchacho como el lugar donde vive exactamente, me fui a dormir en mi habitación y expulsé mi alma de mi cuerpo que se quedará en piloto automático.
Fue un viaje que demoró varias horas poder llegar, ya me estaba aburriendo cuando me percate que ya había llegado a mi destino.
Ahí estaba Diego haciendo una rutina de ejercicios nocturnos, era perfecto porque si el estaba agotado iba a ser más rápida y controlada la posesión.
Tuve que esperar hasta que Diego se durmiera profundamente y ahí volé a rápida velocidad hasta chocar con el cuerpo de Diego que me dejó introducir mi forma ancestral en él.
Me levanté de la cama y me retire la camisa para poder apreciar mucho mejor el cuerpo de Diego en todo su esplendor.
La sensación era muy satisfactoria, sentía como su sangre fluía en sus venas que se marcaban en todo mi cuerpo y nuestra respiración iba sincronizada.
Decidí que era momento de salir a probar por un rato este cuerpo y sus habilidades de socializar.
Entonces salí de su casa en la noche para dirigirme a una fiesta en el antro más famoso del lugar.
Es necesario decir que nunca antes me había sentido más vivo, todos me invitaban unos tragos y me hablaban como si fuera su amigo de toda la vida.
A la mañana siguiente me tomé el día libre para descansar y conocerme mucho mejor.
Le escribí a mi amigo que ya estaba listo para el concierto que íbamos a ir a ver juntos en grupo con unos colegas suyos.
Le compartí a mi amigo la red social del cuerpo que habitaba para que me identificará fácilmente en el evento. Mi amigo escribió que con mi apariencia lo más seguro es que nos dieran acceso VIP o tener mejores asientos y que muchas chicas nos hablaran.
Ya estoy listo para ir al concierto que estuve esperando ir por años.
CONTENT WARNING: This story includes themes of transformation and body control with a suggestive approach. If this type of narrative is not to your liking or you do not meet the recommended age, we suggest you do not continue. All images used (if any) belong to their respective owners. I claim no authorship over them and they are only used for illustrative purposes.
If you decide to go ahead, welcome to Possessed Desires, where mind and body are never completely under your control.
On-Call Secret Santa
Like any workplace at the end of the year, the Northbridge Memorial Hospital had a Christmas gift exchange system. Small slips of paper were used, and each intern, doctor, nurse, or other staff member wrote their name on them to see who in the hospital they would be assigned to give a gift to.
Although, of course, it wasn't as commonplace as one might think. In reality, it was more of an exercise (mandatory, of course) to allow the workers, students, and doctors to get along much better with each other, with respect and dignity. Since it had been implemented a few years prior, complaints about workplace grievances had decreased by almost 80%, and the atmosphere felt friendlier and more cordial among everyone.
But... it was also partly due to the fear of what “gift” you would end up giving. It was like maintaining a peace that could be shattered at any moment, leaving you exposed. Because there was a confidentiality clause for everyone working at the hospital in December; the exchange could not be discussed with anyone except those directly involved. It was unilateral and secret.
Like when one of the interns ended up switching bodies with the head of trauma surgery, using his thick muscles for more than just setting bones. The problem? That same doctor had said a few homophobic things to the intern at one point, and inside his own body, he unleashed his fury to exact his revenge.
That's how dangerous it was to switch bodies with the "wrong" person.
Matt nervously paced the hospital corridors until he reached the auditorium. Almost everyone was already gathered there. This would be his first body swap, and he hoped it would be his only one. He planned to leave the hospital as soon as his internship was over, although... It was hard to know which hospitals carried out the same practice (at least since CORPUS.Inc. had promoted this method to improve the work environment to the point of exhaustion). He sat in the back row.
He didn't get along with many people, not even his own classmates. Everyone saw him as arrogant (which, well, wasn't entirely true. He was intelligent, yes, the best in his class, which made... people wary of him), and for that very reason, he became the direct target of "revenge". You might think, "And aren't there any consequences?"
To maintain that "no reprisals" and "respectful" atmosphere, actions were considered to have been committed by the original body (as long as it wasn't something "of high importance"), but the classic acts of revenge didn't go that far; they were more... subtle.
The lottery was actually very quick. Each person was called to the podium, given a slip of paper with the name of the person they were going to switch bodies with, taken to the back where the process would take place, and from there, back to work (obviously, to the activities of their current bodies). The exchange rate allowed for the retention of the host unit's memories and skills, so there was no problem with switching between areas and positions.
Matty was still nervous, his foot tapping incessantly against the floor, biting his nails. The auditorium was almost half empty; nearly all the department heads had left, along with some orderlies, and nurses. Only a couple of doctors and more than half of his colleagues seemed to remain. They were all staring at him, though he didn't know if it was his imagination or reality.
— Matthew Reeves – his name broke the silence. He cleared his throat, stood up, a tingling in his stomach, as if it were twisting with fear. He stood before the podium, plunged his hand into the urn full of slips of paper, shuffling them back and forth until he felt brave enough to pull one out. His heart sank as soon as he read the name: Alaster Grove.
He was one of the dermatology residents, and his former love interest, they had ended on "good terms", until Matt found out that Alaster had been cheating on him for at least three months with another intern.
They had argued, exchanging words and a few slaps, and hadn't spoken since for obvious reasons. And now he was going to have it inside his body?!
He knew that, in part, the one who should be most panicked was Alaster; after all, he was the one who had ruined everything. Matt stood on the stage for a while, his legs trembling, until the director cleared his throat to signal him to go to the back.
The back facilities were relatively private, more like a tanning bed. There was only a sealed bed, a monitor that must not be touched, and that was it. The beds were interconnected to allow for the transfer of consciousness. Matt sighed. Having no other option, he lifted the lid and lay down inside. The bed closed again, leaving a green glow in the darkness. The intern closed his eyes, then felt a violent tug. It was like seeing thousands of lights flash around him, sounds, smells, images he had never seen before, sensations, until everything transformed into a whirlwind that turned against him and faded into black.
Matt opened his eyes again, his breathing ragged. Everything was spinning. He felt a little nauseous. He had to practically run out of bed to stand and go to a nearby trash can. Going through the exchange process was never easy, even after several years of experience. Because yes, that wasn't Matt anymore. He was Alaster.
— Damn, Matty – he said with a smile, feeling better. He stretched with the grace of a feline, looking at his hands with a small smile – I have to admit I missed you, you know? – Without any shame, he unbuttoned the first layer of his shirt, revealing his chest with a soft trail of hair.
— Looks like you've gotten in better shape. I like how you look – he admitted, running his hands over his chest, caressing it and letting it move freely with the water. He also slid his shirt down until he was only in his pants (for the moment), lifting his armpits and taking a drag – Mfhhh. Yes – he reveled in the scent – You still have the habit of not showering after your shifts, which is good for me.
The resident admitted with a chuckle, sliding his hands down his abs to the upper part of his thighs. He slapped them hard with a resounding "clap", and couldn't help but gasp. He loved the sound of his new voice.
— I hope you don't mind everything I have in mind for you – He murmured, focusing on his pectoral muscles, squeezing them together, biting his lower lip to stifle any physical response.
Around him, other people were possibly in the same situation, finding themselves in different bodies, with more or fewer years between them, better jobs, worse lives; it was a game of Russian roulette that depended solely on fate (and how "demented" the other person was).
Matt woke up in Alaster's body, his head spinning, the capsule opened, releasing him. He felt like a fawn, struggling to stand without his legs buckling. His new body was taller, lighter, a couple of years older, but still, it had a different center of gravity than what he was used to.
— Damn it – he muttered under his breath, carefully picking up a mirror from a nearby table. He admired his reflection with a certain suspicion – Why of all people did it have to be you?
He snorted, studying the new contour of his chin, those eyes, and that arrogant demeanor. He had loved him at some point in his life; now he only made his blood boil. He could take advantage of his new identity if he wanted, let loose, and act like the miserable fool he now was. But his character wasn't like that; he was calmer, more controlled, with the typical motto of "don't do to others what you wouldn't want done to you".
He huffed. The exchange would only last a couple of weeks before vacation, and he could return to his own body. He had the knowledge of Alaster's specialty, some of his patients, creams to apply, and everything else. It would be like... a piece of cake. Right?
He left the room, straightening his shirt. He was about to head to the dermatology area when he saw his old body, strutting around. His knuckles turned white the more he looked at it. What the hell had he done? Not even fifteen minutes had passed, and he could already sense that something was different.
The buttons were lower than usual; he almost looked like his scrubs were open halfway down his chest. He was smiling and winking at other men who walked by, and... why was his hair so messy? He'd styled it perfectly before the meeting and...
His gaze fell on a nurse emerging from a nearby cubicle. It was obvious he wasn't the body's original owner; his arms were too visible, he was doing casual push-ups, and his hands looked restless, as if he wanted to explore himself as quickly as possible. His hair was also disheveled, with marks on his neck as if he'd been... That son of a bitch!
Why was he using his body like it was easy?! Not even fifteen minutes had passed! NOT EVEN FIFTEEN AND HE'D ALREADY BEEN WITH SOMEONE!
Well, two could play the same game.
— Hey everyone! – The eyes of every employee in the hallways turned to him. Matt was terrified of all this attention. But even so, he swallowed his fear and let his anger take over. He remembered every time Alaster had been unfaithful, the arrogance he displayed when using his body. The inmate simply ran his hands over his chest, lowering the body's natural axis until he reached his member, giving it a sharp tug that caused a natural gasp from him – I think I owe you all an apology! Sorry for being so, so...
Their eyes met. Alaster, in his new body, had red cheeks and a fist clenched in anger. Matt just wore a mocking smile.
— Idiot and egotist, I know I think I'm all that and that makes me a jerk, so sorry for being a pain in the ass!
People laughed, some even applauded. The only good thing about that season, besides the holidays and the Christmas bonus, was undoubtedly seeing these kinds of performances; gossip was gossip, after all.
From then on, everything transformed into a silent war between them. On the one hand, Alaster felt pretty screwed about having to go back to being an intern, the same heavy-handed treatment from the doctors (who were surely now occupied by interns or nurses looking to get their revenge), exhausting shifts, paperwork upon paperwork. He'd gotten the worst of the exchange, yes, but that wasn't going to stop him.
He knew Matt had a great body, he was just too self-conscious to show it off, and dermatologists are like the fairy godmothers of medicine. Right? So... why not use what he already had to make it "shine"?
Rumors that "Matt" had become more exhibitionist and had even locked himself in the cleaning closet with a resident reached the ears of the real Matt, who nearly choked in the cafeteria. The counterattack was launched on Alaster's social media, with photos of him leaving the gym, tongue lolling out with a stream of saliva and eyes rolled back – “Of course I’m a brainless idiot”. The responses were swift, and the whispers throughout the hospital were even more intense.
For every action, the other responded with equal hostility. Humiliations in front of patients, revealing clothing, “accidents” with the stench. At a certain point, it was easy to tell who was who, because they were the only ones waging this battle for everyone else's entertainment.
Matthew strode furiously toward the student wing. Someone had told him that strange “noises” were coming from the dormitory area, and that Matt had been seen entering with another doctor.
At this point, anyone could join the fray, further fueling the fire. The medical student burst through the door, only to find his old body with his pants pulled down to his thighs, hair disheveled, and the doctor in bed with his shirt unbuttoned and breathing heavily.
— Outside – he ordered – I need to talk to 'Matthew'" – he emphasized the name. The big, muscular man just glanced nervously between the two bodies and practically ran out, trying to hide the tent in his pants; he was surely another cog in someone else's machine.
— So you finally deign to show up, huh? – his old body responded with a mocking laugh, closing the door behind him.
— Go to hell, Alaster. What's your problem?
— My problem?! What's yours, you idiot? You literally humiliated me in front of the whole hospital!
— That wouldn't have happened if someone knew how to keep their pants on for even fifteen minutes! – The shouts echoed off the walls; some gossips were already milling around the door trying to eavesdrop on the fight.
— Ha. You're just jealous, because I know how to use this body properly – he licked his lips – Well, if you were so eager to find me, here I am – He took off his shirt, finished by pulling down his pants, and arrogantly combed his hair back as he began to flex his arms. Matt felt nothing but rage at the way they were treating his body; it was like he was a fucking puppet! Who in their right mind had come up with a dynamic like this?!
— Go to hell – and mimicking him, he also proceeded to get rid of what he was wearing. Alaster just laughed at the other, sitting on the bed to lift his foot and take hold of it, bringing it closer and closer to his face.
— Perhaps it would be a shame if…
— Don't you dare, you fucking pervert! – Alaster just gave a sly smile before sticking out his tongue and licking the entire sole of his foot.
Matthew was red with fury.
— You son of a…! – He lunged at him, and they both began to struggle. There were at least twenty people outside, still trying to listen; at least one tried to open the door without success, it was locked. The fight between the two doctors continued, their hands fighting each other, their sweaty bodies rubbing against each other on the sheets.
— I hate you! – Matthew yelled, trying to break free from the other's grip. He hadn't counted on his old body being stronger than his current one.
— I hate you more! – Alaster shouted at him from above, his chest rising and falling, their hearts beating erratically, sweat trickling down their foreheads. The former resident swallowed hard at the sight of his old body beneath him; perhaps it sounded arrogant and utterly self-centered, but he didn't look bad at all...
They both remained silent, just looking at each other before their lips met. Saliva and their sighs mingled like their fingers. Alaster took the other by the waist, caressing his skin, trailing kisses down his neck, causing him to gasp.
— You're a…
— Shh... You're in my body, and I know my weak spots. I don't think it's a good idea to act angry now – And as a warning, he moved closer to his ear, licking it, which caused Matt to squirm beneath him, letting out a sharp sigh as his eyes rolled back.
All the people outside could hear were the gasps, the sweaty sound of skin slapping together, and the creaking of the mattress springs.
— F-Fuck! – Matt yelled as he felt his old flesh fill him, his legs trembling around his waist. His eyes were wild, the sensations burning him red-hot.
— What's up, rookie? – Alaster boasted, pressing on a certain part of his chest, which made him almost howl – Not so angry anymore? I thought you were furious – That mocking smile was etched on his old face, but Matthew couldn't even utter a word without letting out a gasp or a sigh first. His lips were red from the constant action on them.
He felt pathetic, and at the same time, he was finally "fully" occupying Alaster's body. Since arriving, he'd focused solely on doing his job and nothing more: seeing patients, following his routine. It was boring, but that was Matthew – systematic, organized, and with a libido far lower than Alaster's, which was... overwhelming, now that he had his body.
He felt his hormones burning up, the slightest touch sending his blood rushing down his throat. Every scent drove him wild. He didn't know if it was because he was so repressed, but being in a body with such a... scattered libido was driving him crazy.
— S-shit…
— Just say I won – Alaster looked at him with a wicked glint in his eyes, thrusting again. Matt had to grab the sheets, feeling himself getting closer and closer.
— N-no…
— Are you sure? We can make this take more... time.
He gripped him tightly at the base of the rod, squeezing it. Matt let out a small yelp, feeling restrained. He shifted nervously again, his pupils desperate.
— You just have to say I won.
Their eyes locked.
— You... won – He looked away, swallowing his pride. Alaster immediately released him and thrust again so hard he didn't have a chance to say anything back. Matt's brain almost seemed to shut down from the sensory fog. It wasn't long before they both exploded, the older one collapsing on top of the other, sweaty and breathless.
— Damn, that was…
— Incredible.
They both stood there, trying to compose themselves, swallowing hard and letting out soft laughs.
— You're still an idiot anyway.
— And you're a bore.
Alaster finally sat up, and they looked into each other's eyes before sharing a slow kiss.
The war was finally over. There were no more humiliating displays, stories full of innuendo, or anything like that; it seemed they had both gotten used to being in each other's bodies.
Matt was more self-assured, wearing clothes that fit him tighter, highlighting his muscles and his new height, even his more chiseled face. He had even taken Alaster's vacation time for himself and gone away for a couple of weeks sightseeing. (Was that legal? Of course, as long as he returned before the stipulated time for the return trip)
Alaster still had the smaller end of the bargain, rotating through a specialty he hated and losing his position in “the food chain”. But it wasn't all bad. He liked his more muscular body, those biceps expanding every time he lifted a weight, how snug the scrubs looked around his chest.
And his scent... It was a delight. He'd become a little addicted to it, he had to admit. Sometimes he'd sneak off to the emergency stairs just to smell himself. He couldn't understand how Matthew could be so boring. In the few weeks he'd inhabited his body, he'd felt so "excited", even more so than in his own. And to say that meant his hormones were truly raging.
The two of them still hated each other, practically, and perhaps that would continue for a long time. But at least they helped each other "de-stress" from time to time. An improvement in the work environment, as CORPUS.Inc. had promised? Of course.
—-
Hello everyone! I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you liked it, don’t forget to follow it and share it so more people can discover it. This story is the first for Holiday’s stories, so I hope you like it!
Also, my plan is to write more stories of this type, like “secret santa” and exchanges, I think the idea works well with the topic, but please let me know what you think!
Would you like to see more stories with a "secret santa" thematic?
Yes!
Not really
Voting ended onDec 18, 2025
I’m always open to suggestions and ideas, so if you have any fantasy or scenario in mind, let me know in the comments or in messages. See you in the next story… Who knows what body you will occupy this time?
