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Thomas liked Nate almost immediately, which embarrassed him a little. He was usually more measured. At thirty, Thomas had accumulated enough bad dates to know that immediate chemistry often meant nothing more than two people being good at first impressions - and sometimes good in bed for one night. He knew not to confuse charm with compatibility or intensity with intimacy. He had repeated those lessons to friends often enough that they had become part of his public identity: Thomas, the sensible one. Thomas, the engineer. Thomas, who could turn almost anythingâincluding his own romantic disappointmentsâinto a problem with measurable causes and manageable outcomes.
Then Nate arrived at the restaurant five minutes late, carrying the faint scent of tobacco and rain, and Thomas forgot to be sensible.
Nate was forty-four. His hair was cropped short and touched with gray, particularly around the temples. A heavy brown mustache covered his upper lip, giving his face an old-fashioned severity that softened whenever he smiled. He was broad through the chest, in good shape without looking sculpted, and wore a dark green shirt with the sleeves rolled neatly to the elbows.
Thomas had always had a weakness for older men who looked as though they belonged beside a fireplace with a whiskey glass in one hand and a pipe in the other. Nate looked precisely like that. Exactly what Thomas found appealing.
âYouâre even better-looking than your pictures online,â Nate said.
It was not an unusual first-date compliment, but he delivered it without the nervous laughter or exaggerated enthusiasm Thomas was accustomed to. Nate looked directly at him as he said it, his pale blue eyes moving once over Thomasâs face before settling on his.
Thomas smiled. âThatâs a dangerous way to start a first date.â
âI'm nothing if not a little dangerous.â
That should have sounded rehearsed. Instead, it worked.
Their date lasted three hours. Nate asked good questions and listened carefully to the answers. He wanted to know what kind of engineering Thomas did, not merely whether he liked his job. He remembered the name of Thomasâs sister after hearing it once. When Thomas mentioned that he had moved twice as a child because of his fatherâs work, Nate asked which house still appeared in his dreams. No one had ever asked him that.
Thomas told him about the narrow brick house in Ohio, the maple tree beyond his bedroom window, the hollow knocking sound the furnace made at night.
Nate leaned forward, one hand resting beneath his mustache. âWhat color was your room?â
âBlue.â
âDark blue?â
âNo. Almost gray.â
âAnd the curtains?â
Thomas laughed. âWhy?â
âIâm picturing it.â
There was something flattering about the concentration on Nateâs face. Thomas answered.
After dinner, they walked beneath a row of wet sycamores. Nate produced a narrow leather cigar case from inside his coat.
âDo you mind?â
Thomas shook his head. âActually, I kind of like it.â
Nate looked pleased. He cut the end of the cigar with deliberate care, turning it between thick fingers before lighting it. The ember briefly illuminated the underside of his mustache. Thomas watched smoke drift around Nateâs face and felt a small, adolescent thrill you only get when in the company of an older man.
âYou really do have a type,â Nate said.
Thomas looked away. âIs it that obvious?â
âOnly because youâve been staring at me for most of the evening.â
âYouâve been staring too.â
âYes,â Nate said. âBut I have a better excuse.â
âWhatâs that?â
âIâm trying to remember everything about you.â
At the time, Thomas thought it was romantic.
âž»
They did not see each other again for almost three weeks. Nate traveled for work, though he remained vague about exactly what the work involved and where he was going. Consulting, he said. Private clients. Short contracts. He sent Thomas a photograph from an airport lounge, his mustache visible above a cup of coffee, and another from a hotel balcony overlooking a city Thomas could not identify.
Most of their courtship happened through messages. Nate did not text constantly. He appeared at deliberate intervals, often just as Thomas was beginning to wonder whether the connection had faded.
What are you wearing to your big presentation tomorrow?
Thomas sent him a photograph in the bathroom mirror: navy suit, pale shirt, no tie.
Nate replied almost instantly.
Blue suits you. Turn sideways. I want to see the fit.
Thomas did, laughing at himself as he took the second photograph.
Perfect - Nate wrote.
Later that afternoon:
Oh, btw did you get the promotion?
Thomas had forgotten telling him about that opportunity.
He sent voice messages while driving home, describing the presentation and imitating his managerâs habit of pausing too long before delivering good news. Nate responded with a voice message of his own, his tone low and amused.
Do that laugh again. The one at the end.
Thomas listened to the request twice before recording another.
Nate remembered everything. Thomasâs coffee order. His gym schedule. The name of the project coordinator he disliked. The brand of shirts that fit his shoulders without billowing around the waist. Thomas mentioned once that his mother called him Tommy only when she was worried, and Nate never forgot it.
Sometimes, Nate repeated Thomasâs own phrases back to him.
Thomas wrote: Thatâs a future problem whenever he did not want to make a decision. A week later, Nate used it.
Thomas often ended voice messages with Anyway, you get the idea. Soon Nate did too. It felt intimate, like the development of a private dialect.
Once, after Thomas sent a photograph from the gym, Nate replied:
You take very good care of yourself.
Thomas wrote back:
Trying to. Thirty isnât ancient, but the warranty is definitely expiring.
There was a long pause before Nate answered.
Thirty is the perfect age. Old enough to know who you are. Young enough to do something with it.
Then, after another minute:
You have no idea what some men would give to look like you.
Thomas read the message while standing beneath the locker-room lights, his hair still damp from the shower. He felt heat rise beneath the dark hair covering his chest.
You seem to like how you look - Thomas replied.
I know how I look. Thatâs different.
Thomas assumed he was being modest.
âž»
Their second date was at a small Italian restaurant Nate had chosen because Thomas once mentioned liking quiet intimate places where the tables were spaced far apart.
When Thomas arrived, Nate stood to greet him. His hand settled briefly at Thomasâs waist, firm and warm. âYou changed your hair.â
Thomas touched it self-consciously. âJust a trim.â
âShorter at the sides.â
âYou noticed?â
âI notice everything about you.â
Nate smiled after saying it, transforming the words into flirtation. During dinner, he asked Thomas about his apartment.
Not whether he liked the neighborhood or how much he paidâquestions Thomas expectedâbut which floor he lived on, whether the windows faced east or west, whether the building used keys or electronic access.
âElectronic downstairs,â Thomas said. âRegular lock on the apartment.â
âFacial recognition?â
âFor the building app? No. Just a code.â
Nate swirled wine in his glass. âAnd your phone?â
âFace ID.â
âOf course.â
âWhat does that mean?â Thomas inquired.
Nate looked at him over the rim of the glass. âIt would be criminal not to put that face to work.â
Thomas laughed. Later, after joking about taking bad photos, Nate asked to see Thomasâs driverâs-license photograph.
âNo one looks good in those,â Thomas said.
âI want proof.â
Thomas took out his wallet and handed over the license. Nate studied it longer than the joke required.
âYou were twenty-six here?â Nate asked.
âTwenty-five.â
âSame address?â
âNo. That was my old place.â
Nateâs thumb passed lightly over the date of birth, then across the small holographic image.
âYou always photograph well, I seeâ he said with a smile, returning it.
After dinner they went to a cigar bar. Nate chose a leather chair in the darkest corner, cut a cigar, and showed Thomas how to toast the end without setting it fully alight.
Thomas did not really enjoy smoking, but he liked watching Nate do it. There was something ceremonial about the way the older man handled tobacco. Mature. Controlled. Slightly erotic.
âYouâd look good with a pipe,â Thomas said.
Nate raised an eyebrow. âWould I?â
âVery distinguished.â
âOlder, you mean?â Nate replied.
âI didnât say that.â
âYou didnât have to.â There was no smile on Nateâs face.
Thomas hesitated. âI like that youâre older.â
The severity disappeared. Nate reached across the small table and touched Thomasâs wrist. âI know you do. Someday soon, before you know it, youâll be my exact age too and maybe youâll look good with a pipe.â
His fingers remained there while Thomasâs pulse beat against them.
âž»
The third date took place at Thomasâs apartment. He cooked. Nate watched from a stool at the kitchen island, asking questions about every object within reach. The framed photograph of Thomas and his sister at a lake. The ceramic bowl his mother had made. The narrow wooden box where Thomas kept his spare keys.
âOrganized,â Nate said.
âIâm an engineer, after all.â
âYou always say that like it explains everything.â
âIt explains a lot.â
Nate opened the wooden box and looked inside. Thomas glanced over from the stove. âPlanning to rob me?â
âOnly taking inventory.â
He closed the lid and smiled.
After dinner, Nate wandered through the living room while Thomas cleared the plates. He paused before a shelf of old photographs, lifting them one at a time.
In one, Thomas was twenty-two and standing outside his university dorm, thinner in the face but unmistakably himself.
âYou had more hair,â Nate said.
âI have plenty of hair now.â
âI meant on your headâ Nate said with a laugh.
Thomas threw a dish towel at him. Nate caught it. âIâm kidding.â
He returned to the photograph.
âYou were beautiful.â
âWere?â Thomas retorted.
âYou are. But differently.â
Thomas leaned against the bookcase beside him. âYou analyze people this much for work?â
âSometimes.â
âWhat exactly do you consult about?â
Nate set the photograph down. âTransitions.â
âThat clears it up.â
âI help people become who they need to become.â
The answer sounded manufactured, but Nate kissed him before Thomas could ask another question.
Later, in bed, Nate rested his hand against Thomasâs chest. His fingers moved slowly through the dense hair between Thomasâs pecs, tracing the path down his stomach.
âYou ever think about shaving this?â Nate asked.
âI did actually. Once in college.â
âAnd?â
âHated it.â
âGood.â
Thomas laughed softly. âStrong opinion.â
Nateâs hand stopped. âI wouldnât change it if I were you.â
Something in his voice made Thomas look at him. Nate was staring at Thomasâs chest, his expression distant and strangely tense. Then he seemed to notice Thomas watching and smiled.
âIt suits you,â he said.
Nateâs hand remained against Thomasâs chest, his fingertips moving slowly through the dark hair as if memorizing its texture. For a moment the intensity in his face made Thomas uneasy, but then Nate smiled and leaned in, and the unease dissolved beneath the warmth of his mouth. Thomas drew him closer, attracted all over again to the contrast between themâthe roughness of Nateâs mustache, the mature weight of his body, the quiet confidence with which he had guided Thomas back toward the bed. Nate took his time, watching Thomasâs reactions with an attentiveness that felt flattering, almost reverent. Each touch seemed to ask permission, and Thomas answered by pulling him nearer.
It wasnât long before Nate was fucking Thomas from behind observing how Thomas reacted - the younger man on all fours with his back arched as Nateâs mature dick tickled his prostate.
âLet me see how you move while being fuckedâ Nate said. âI think I know your body better every time I touch it.â
Thomas turned his head around with a grin, wrapped in the pleasure of being filled by the sexy older man. âYou like what you see?â
Nate gave a deep seductive smirk and replied, âOne day youâll understand exactly what I see when I look at you.â
A couple of minutes later, Thomas - overstimulated from penetration, sweat, and the feeling of Nateâs testicles slapping against his ass - replied with soft moans and an âIâm getting close.â
âTurn around I want to see the face you make when you cumâ Nate responded.
Thomas turned around, lying on his back while Nate reinserted his dick hard and quick into Thomas. Thomas grimaced then grabbed his own perky uncut dick and began vigorously jerking off while staring deeply at Nateâs handsome older face. Within a few seconds Thomas began to loudly moan as cum splattered on his abs and chest. Nate followed suit by ejaculating deep into Thomas then collapsing on his chest - leaving his dick inside.
Nate looked deeply into Thomasâs eyes and began to lick up Thomasâs cum. âI knew youâd taste sweet. Sometimes I look at you and think you were made for me.â
Thomas blushed at the kinky behavior and comments made by a man he was both enamored with and enchanted by. The attention to detail and the way Nate worshipped him made him feel seen, important, in a way no man had ever made him feel.
Later, the room had gone quiet except for their breathing. Thomas lay against the pillows while Nate rested beside him, one hand still spread over his chest. Thomas assumed the older man was savoring the closeness, but Nateâs gaze kept traveling: across Thomasâs face, down the shape of his shoulders, along the body he had already begun to covet. When Thomas caught him staring again, Nate softened his expression and brushed a kiss beneath his jaw. Thomas smiled, mistaking possession for affection, and closed his eyes while Nate continued studying him in the dark.
In the morning, Thomas found Nate in the bathroom wearing only his undershirt and trousers.
He stood close to the mirror, one hand resting on the sink. For a moment Thomas assumed he was washing his face, but then he realized Nate was not looking at himself. He was holding his phone. On the screen was a photograph Thomas had sent from the gym weeks earlier.
Nate raised his eyes to the mirror and saw Thomas in the doorway.
âYou caught me,â he said.
âDoing what?â
âAdmiring you.â
He turned the phone around. The photograph showed Thomas shirtless, smiling.
Nate looked from the image to the living man.
âYou make being you look very easy.â
Thomas smiled. âIâve had thirty years of practice.â
âLucky you.â
Nate slipped the phone onto the counter and kissed him.
âž»
Two more weeks passed before their fourth date.
By then Thomas had grown accustomed to Nate appearing in his days. A morning message. A photograph. A voice note late at night. Sometimes Nate asked questions Thomas found oddly specific.
What did his signature look like when he was rushing? Did his coworkers call him Thomas or Tom? Which side of the bed did he always sleep on? What was the first car he owned? Which knee had he injured playing soccer in college?
Nate remembered the answers better than Thomas did. Once, during a video call, Nate imitated the way Thomas tilted his head when skeptical.
âDo I really do that?â Thomas asked.
âConstantly.â
âShow me again.â
Nate repeated the gesture perfectly. Thomas laughed. Nate repeated the laugh and for one disorienting second, it sounded almost identical.
âYouâve been studying me,â Thomas said.
Nateâs eyes remained fixed on the screen. âYes.â Then he smiled. âYouâre interesting to study.â
The fourth date was the best one. Nate planned everything around small details Thomas had mentioned in passing: dinner at a restaurant with a rooftop greenhouse, a walk through a neighborhood of old brick homes, then drinks at a hotel bar with dark wood walls and brass lamps.
Nate prepared for the night of a lifetime. He wore charcoal trousers and a cream shirt beneath a brown jacket. His mustache had been freshly trimmed. A silver band gleamed on his right hand.
Thomas noticed it while Nate ordered two whiskeys from the bartender. âThatâs newâ he said while playfully tapping a finger on Nateâs ring.
Nate looked down. The ring was broad and old, made from two metals twisted togetherâone dark and new looking , one older and pale. âIt belonged to someone important.â
Thomas waited. Nate rarely discussed his past. Whenever he did, the stories had soft edges: a former boyfriend without a name, a family he no longer spoke to, a mentor who had taught him to smoke a pipe. Thomas had decided not to press. At forty-four, people were allowed to contain rooms they kept locked.
âMy uncle gave it to me,â Nate said finally. âThough he wasnât really my uncle. More like a father, for a while.â
âThat sounds complicated. What happened to him?â
âHe started over.â
Nate rotated the ring around his finger. âHe believed people spent too much of their lives trapped inside themselves. Their fears. Their bodies. The stories everyone else told about them.â
Thomas smiled faintly. âHe sounds⊠cheerful.â
âHe said two people could never truly understand one another until they had seen the world through the other personâs eyes.â
Nate slid the ring free. The skin beneath it was pale.âHe gave me this when I was younger. Told me Iâd know when I met someone capable of understanding.â
He placed the band in Thomasâs palm. It was heavier than expected and warm from Nateâs hand.
âYouâre giving it to me?â
âOnly for tonight.â
Thomas looked up. For the first time since meeting him, Nate appeared genuinely uncertain. His confidence had dropped away, leaving something naked behind it.
âI want you to wear it,â Nate said.
Nate pushed the ring onto Thomasâs right index finger. It fit snugly, though not uncomfortably.
Nate inhaled. His eyes followed the band as it passed over Thomasâs knuckle and settled against the base of the finger. âThere,â he whispered.
Thomas raised his hand. âHow do I look?â
Nate looked at the ring. Then at Thomasâs face. âExactly right.â
âž»
After their final round of drinks they returned to Thomasâs apartment shortly before midnight. Rain tapped lightly against the windows. Nate opened one of the balcony doors and stood beside it smoking a pipe he had brought in a leather case since Thomas said it would suit him.
Thomas watched him from the couch. The older manâs face appeared carved in the low light: gray at the temples, heavy mustache, blue eyes reflecting the ember in the pipe bowl. Thomas thought again that Nate looked like someone from another time.
âYouâre staring,â Nate said.
âIâm allowed.â
Nate smiled around the pipe stem. âCome here.â
Thomas joined him beside the open door. Nate rested one hand at the back of his neck and kissed his forehead.
For a moment, neither man spoke. âWhat are you thinking about?â Thomas asked.
âThat Iâm going to miss this.â
Thomas leaned back. âMiss what?â
Nate removed the pipe. âThis night.â
âWe could have another one.â
âYes,â Nate said. âI suppose we could.â
He turned away and emptied the pipe into a small ceramic dish. Thomas felt suddenly tired. It had arrived as a pleasant heaviness, the consequence of two much alcohol and a long week. He sat on the edge of the couch.
Nate closed the balcony door. âYou all right?â
âJust hit a wall.â
âIâll get you some water.â
Nate went into the kitchen. Thomas heard a cabinet open, then the tap. He looked down at the antique ring. The two metals seemed almost to move against each other in the dim light. Nate returned with a glass. âDrink.â
Thomas took it. The water had a faint bitter taste beneath the lemon slice floating at the surface.
Thomas laughed, though the sound came out sluggish. By the time he reached the bedroom, the carpet seemed unusually soft beneath his feet. Nate helped him remove his outer shirt and slacks. âYou donât have to baby me,â Thomas said.
âI know, but Iâve made a considerable investment in you and I want to ensure you donât hurt yourself.â
Nateâs hand rested against Thomasâs chest. His fingers spread across a grey t-shirt, pressing lightly over Thomasâs heartbeat.
âYou really are remarkable,â Nate said.
Thomasâs eyes were closing. âThatâs a strange thing to say to someone passing out at the end of a date.â
âYouâre not passing out. Youâre falling asleep. Don't worry, when you wake up you'll feel like a new man.â
Thomas tried to focus on Nateâs face, but the features blurred. The pale eyes. The mustache. The thin gray at the temples.
Nate lifted Thomasâs right hand. The ring seemed to tighten around his finger. âDoes this hurt?â Nate asked.
âNo.â
His thumb stroked the band. âGoodâŠâ
Thomasâs body felt distant now, as though the bed were lowering him slowly into deep water. âNate?â
âIâm here.â
âWhat was your uncleâs name?â
Nate smiled. âThatâs a future problem.â
Thomas recognized the phrase. He wanted to laugh. Instead, darkness moved quietly across the room and covered him. The last sensation he felt before drifting to sleep was Nate removing his own button up and laying beside him on the bed.
âž»
The ring grew cold. Not cool, but impossibly cold, a small circle of winter clamped around Thomasâs finger.
Nate watched the unconscious manâs face. The sleeping expression was softer than the one Thomas wore in photographs. His mouth rested slightly open. A strand of dark hair had fallen across his forehead. Beneath the collar of his undershirt, dense chest hair curled against his throat.
Nate had imagined this moment so many times that the reality of it seemed strangely subdued. No thunder. No flash of light. Only the cold tightening of the ring and a sensation like his body dropping through the floor.
For an instant he could not breathe. Then he inhaled. The breath came easily. Too easily. The lungs drawing it were younger and deeper than his own had been. Nate opened his eyes. The ceiling looked different. Closer, somehow, though he knew that was impossible.
He raised one hand. Thomasâs hand. Broad palm. Long fingers. A faint white scar across the knuckle from the childhood bicycle accident Nate had heard about on their second date. Dark hair dusted the wrist and forearm. The ring was gone.
Across the bed lay Nateâs old body, unconscious and slack. Nate stared at it as if he were looking into a mirror. The gray hair at the temples. The heavy mustache. The chest that required more effort each year to keep firm. The softening around the waist that Thomas had never seemed to mind but he had grown to resent.
He felt no affection for it. Only relief. Nate sat up. The motion was startlingly fluid. No stiffness in the lower back. No familiar pressure in the neck from an old weightlifting injury. He rolled Thomasâs shoulders once, then again. A laugh escaped him. Thomasâs laugh.
Nate froze. He placed a hand against his throat. âHello,â he said. The voice was clear, warm and younger than the one he had used for forty-four years.
âHello,â he repeated, lowering the pitch. He stood. The body rose with effortless balance. Strong legs. Firm stomach. Weight distributed in ways Nate had studied through photographs and clothing but could never tottally imagine.
He pulled off his grey shirt and underwear and crossed the bedroom naked, leaving his old body discarded asleep beneath the sheets. At the bathroom door, he stopped. His heart was racing. Thomasâs heart. Nate stepped inside and switched on the lights. The mirror gave him exactly what he had wanted.
Thomas stared back. For several seconds Nate did nothing. He simply absorbed the face. Thick dark-brown hair, slightly disordered from lying in bed. Strong brows. Clear hazel-brown eyes. Straight nose. Firm jaw darkened with short stubble. Smooth forehead without the permanent horizontal lines Nate had begun noticing in photographs of himself.
He moved closer. Thomas moved closer. Nate touched the glass with two fingers. Then he touched his face.
The skin beneath his eyes was firm. He pulled gently at one lower lid, examining the unlined surface. Turned his head left. Right. Lifted his chin. Pressed his tongue behind his perfect teeth.
He opened his mouth and inspected the even white smile. âThomas,â he said. The name sounded natural in the stolen voice. He said it again. âMy name is Thomas.â
A smile spread across the reflection. It was Nateâs smile at firstâsmall, private and cold. He erased it. Thomas smiled differently. More openly. One corner of the mouth lifted first. His eyebrows softened. His eyes narrowed slightly when the expression was genuine. Nate had catalogued it from dozens of photographs. He tried again. This time Thomas smiled back. âThere you are,â Nate whispered.
He ran both hands through the thick hair, pushing it away from the forehead, then allowing it to fall naturally. He tested different parts, remembering how Thomas wore it at work, at the gym, on weekends.
He turned sideways. Thomasâs jaw was even better in profile. Nate traced it from the ear to the chin, feeling the rough stubble beneath his fingertips. He examined the ears, the hairline, the shape of the neck. He lifted each eyebrow separately. Frowned. Looked surprised. Concerned. Amused. He practiced Thomasâs skeptical head tilt. Perfect.
Nate stepped back from the sink. His eyes moved downward to take in the entirety of himself. Thomasâs body was everything he had hoped for and more. Athletic without being exaggerated. Wide shoulders. Defined arms. A flat stomach softened just enough to look natural. Dark hair spread thickly across the chest, densest between the pecs, narrowing into a line down the abdomen.
Nate pressed both palms against his chest. The muscle beneath the hair was warm and firm. He inhaled deeply and watched it rise. Once. Twice. He curled his fingers into the dense hair, then smoothed it back into place with almost ceremonial care.
âDonât change it,â he murmured, repeating what he had told Thomas weeks earlier. Now it belonged to him.
He lifted one arm, studying the hair beneath it and along the forearm. Flexed the biceps. Rotated the wrist. Spread the fingers. He bent forward and touched his toes. Another laugh escaped him.
On the way down he got a good look at his new dick. He and Thomas had already had sex, but the lights were dim and Thomas a little modest. He stood up and wrapped a hairy young hand around his new dick. Lifting it up to feel its weight. Cupping a hand around his new testicles - noting their sensitivity. He reached a hand around to his asshole and fingered the outside before pushing two fingers in a bit deeper - the sensation making plain to him why Thomas had enjoyed bottoming so much. Why he would enjoy bottoming.
Nate began to rub his new shaft slowly. It responded with the enthusiasm of youth - the head sliding out of the foreskin. Nate continued to slide his foreskin over the head while looking at his new face in the mirror. He practiced his new smile, mimicked the seductive faces heâd seen Thomas make when they fucked, he touched his stubble and ran his hand through his chest hair, tweaking his sensitive nipples.
Before long Nate could feel the heat begin to rise in his body as Thomasâs dick stiffened and his testicles pulled up close and tight as a rush of heat passed through his new younger body. He climaxed shooting ropes of thick white cum onto the sink and vanity mirror. âI guess weâre a shooter now, arenât we Thomas?â He muttered in Thomasâs lighter voice.
Nate straightened his back and studied the reflection again. Thirty. Not pretending to be younger. Not flattering lighting. Not an app smoothing away age. Thirty. Fourteen years returned in a single night.
He thought of every room he would enter in this body. Every man who would look twice. Every opportunity that would no longer feel belated. He imagined Thomasâs coworkers greeting him by name, Thomasâs mother hearing this voice on the phone, Thomasâs friends leaning in for hugs.
All of them would see what the mirror saw. None of them would see Nate. He reached for Thomasâs phone. Facial recognition opened it immediately. The lock symbol disappeared.
Nate stared at the screen, then at the mirror. The world had already accepted him. He opened the photo library. Thousands of images. Thomas at work. Thomas running beside the river. Thomas shirtless at a lake. Thomas with his sister. Thomas laughing beside a birthday cake, head tilted back.
Nate selected the photograph from the university dorm, the one he had studied during their third date.
He held the phone beside the mirror. The younger Thomas had been leaner, almost boyish. The current face was better. More complete.
Nate swiped forward. He found a recent selfie and mimicked it: chin slightly down, mouth relaxed, eyes warm but confident. He adjusted. Again. Again. The third attempt was exact.
Next came the voice messages. Thomasâs cadence. The slight upward inflection at the end of a teasing question. The relaxed rhythm when talking about work. The laugh that began in the throat and ended breathlessly.
Nate played one. Then repeated it. âAnyway, you get the idea.â Too slow. Again. âAnyway, you get the idea.â Better.
He replayed another message. âThatâs a future problem.â Nate watched his stolen mouth form the stolen phrase. âThatâs a future problem.â Perfect.
He left the bathroom and dressed with equal care. Dark boxer briefs from the second drawer. Gray trousers. White undershirt. The navy shirt Thomas wore when he wanted to look polished without appearing formal.
Nate buttoned it, then stopped. He opened the top two buttons again, exposing a deliberate triangle of chest hair. Thomas often wore it that way. Nate remembered watching him adjust the collar on their first date. He copied the gesture in the closet mirror.
Then he tried Thomasâs posture: shoulders relaxed, weight resting slightly more on the right leg, one hand casually in a pocket.
The handsome engineer in the mirror looked friendly, outgoing and entirely at ease with himself.
Then Nate practiced a mild expression of concern.
âWhat if Nate contacts anyone?â he asked the reflection.
A crease appeared between Thomasâs brows. âHeâs been acting strangely. I think he may be having some kind of breakdown.â
Too clinical. Too prepared. Nate relaxed Thomasâs shoulders and softened the stolen face. He imagined his old body arriving at Thomasâs office, wild-eyed and desperate, insisting that the handsome man standing before them was an impostor. Telling them about the ring. Demanding that Thomasâs friends believe an impossible story.
âNate became fixated on me,â he tried. âI didnât realize how bad it had gotten until last night.â
Better, but not enough. He let uncertainty enter Thomasâs hazel eyes, followed by reluctant fear.
âHe thinks heâs me,â Nate whispered. âI know how crazy that sounds, but thatâs what he keeps saying. He knows things about my life because I trusted him. Now heâs using them to convince people.â
The reflection looked frightened rather than defensive. Sympathetic. Believable. Nate held the expression for several seconds, memorizing it. Then he smiled.
He packed methodically - knowing he would need to vanish for a few days until the real Thomas cleared out of the apartment and the dust settled. He took everything that could be tied to his new identity. Thomasâs wallet. Driverâs license. Credit cards. Work identification. Passport from the locked desk drawer. Social Security card from the small fireproof box in the closet. Birth certificate. Laptop. Backup phone. Keys - so when Thomas left he couldnât return. The folder containing tax documents and employment records. Thomasâs life fit neatly into two bags.
Before leaving, Nate returned to the bedroom. His old body remained unconscious on the bed. The mustached face looked older from this height. Smaller. Less formidable.
Thomas had desired that face. The thought almost made Nate laugh. He leaned over and removed the silver ring from his old bodyâs clenched hand. Nate slipped it into his pocket. He studied his former self one last time. The chest hair. The broad shoulders. The graying hair and thick mustache Thomas had found so mature, so masculine, so dangerous. Discarded packaging.
Before he turned away Nate leaned into his old face and whispered into his ear âDonât worry, Thomas, no one will notice the difference.â
With that Nate walked into the bathroom and placed a folded note beneath the bathroom mirror. Then he left the apartment carrying everything that proved he was Thomas.
âž»
Pain returned first. A dull pressure behind the eyes. A bitter coating on the tongue. A heavy pulse beating inside the skull.
Thomas opened his eyes. The room was too bright. He closed them again and tried to remember how much he had drunk. Wine at the restaurant. Whiskey at the bar. Something at home maybe?
Water. Nate had given him water. Thomas shifted beneath the sheets. His body felt wrong. Not painful exactly. Misaligned.
His legs seemed heavier. His stomach rested against the mattress in an unfamiliar way. There was stiffness in his lower back and a faint ache in one knee.
He lifted a hand to his face. Hair brushed his fingertips. Not stubble. A mustache. Thomas opened his eyes fully in a state of panic.
The hand before him was broader and rougher than his own. Pale hairs crossed the knuckles. A small dark spot marked the back near the thumb. He stared at it without comprehension.
âNate are you here?â The voice that emerged was deep. Older. Nateâs voice. Thomas jerked upright.
The sudden motion made the room tilt violently. He gripped the mattress and waited for it to settle.
âNate!?â The same voice answered him from his own throat.
He touched his face again. Heavy mustache. Deeper lines beside the mouth. Short hair at the temples.
Thomas threw back the sheets.
A broad, mature chest greeted him, covered in dark hair flecked faintly with gray. The stomach beneath it was solid but heavier than his own. His hands moved over the unfamiliar torso in frantic disbelief.
âNo.â Thomas stumbled from the bed. âNate!â
Empty apartment. The living room had been disturbed so subtly that he did not understand at first. The laptop was gone from the desk. The charging cable remained, curled uselessly beside an empty space.
His phone was not on the kitchen counter. His wallet was gone. The wooden box stood open. No spare keys.
Thomas pulled at drawers with shaking hands. Documents missing. Passport missing. Work badge missing. The fireproof box open and empty. Every object that connected his name to his life had vanished.
He rushed back toward the bedroom, catching one shoulder against the doorway because the body was wider than he expected.
The bathroom light was still on. Thomas entered. He looked up. Nate stared back at him from the mirror.
Pale blue eyes widened beneath a lined forehead. Short gray-brown hair stood unevenly from sleep. The heavy mustache shifted as Thomasâs mouth fell open.
The face he had admired across candlelit tables. The face he had watched behind curling pipe smoke. The face he had believed was dangerous only in the ways he wanted.
Thomas raised one hand. Nate raised his. The reflection touched its mustache, then its cheeks, then the creases beside its eyes. Thomas tried to find himself somewhere inside it. There was nothing.
A folded piece of paper rested beneath the mirror. He opened it. Four lines had been written in his own familiar handwriting:
OohhâUuoohhâHuuhh⊠Hoooo, WOW. Hoomygod, fuck what a mmesssss⊠Jesus Christ, man, I canât believe it took all that to tap me out. But fuck get a look at us!
Look at these⊠guns as big as my head⊠And these.. mmff, these titsssss, yeeeow! Damn I gotta be 280 at least, and⊠god, Iâm gonna choke some motherfuckers with this thing. Hah! Almost hurts to swing around.
Alright dude, Iâll let you go your own way, but first weâre gonna have a weekend together thatâll change your fuckinâ life. Hell, you might come crawling back to have me to slip you on like a condom on the regular⊠All my other clients do.
I adjusted my glasses and leaned back in my office chair, the glow of my monitor lighting up my face. It was our twelfth session. Sohilâs video feed filled most of the screen. He was shirtless again, sitting in his gaming chair in is room, one thick arm draped lazily over the backrest. His dark chest hair was still slightly damp, like heâd just come back from the gym.
Sohil Kapoor. Thirty-two. Bisexual. Sex addict.
At least thatâs what he called himself.
âEvening, Dr. Reddin,â he said with that familiar half-smirk. His voice had that deep, easy confidence that always carried a hint of mischief.
âHello, Sohil,â I replied calmly, keeping my tone professional. âHow have things been since our last session?â
He let out a tired laugh and ran a hand through his messy black hair. âSame old shit. Made it nine days this time with this guy I really liked⊠then I fucked his best friend in the parking lot after drinks.â He shook his head. âIâm starting to think thereâs something actually broken in me. Like physically. Other people can control themselves. I canât. Its like my dick has its own fucking brain.â
I nodded, listening carefully. Iâd heard variations of this from him for months now. His friends had pushed him into therapy after yet another destroyed relationship. He was charming, successful, and objectively very attractive â which only made the pattern more destructive.
âWeâve discussed open relationships,â I said. âYou mentioned your last attempt didnât go well.â
âYeah, because even with permission I still broke every rule. Especially the condom one. I need to feel it raw. The second thereâs latex I lose half the sensation and it just⊠doesnât do it for me.â He sighed heavily.
I paused, tapping my pen against my notepad. We had made some progress, but it was slow. Too slow. I knew it was time to suggest something more radical.
âSohil,â I said carefully, âIâd like to propose an unconventional treatment option. One I only use in really rare cases.â
He raised an eyebrow, leaning closer to the camera. âWhat is it?â
I met his eyes through the screen.
âBody swapping. A temporary therapeutic exchange. I would enter your body, and you would enter mine. It would allow me to experience your impulses and urges directly. To understand the intensity of what youâre dealing with from the inside. That level of insight could help me develop far more effective strategies for managing your compulsions.â
Sohil stared at me for a long moment, his mouth slightly open.
âYouâre⊠serious?â
âVery,â I said. âItâs not without risks, and itâs not something I suggest lightly. But after six months, I believe this may be what we need to make real progress.â
I watched his face carefully. There was surprise, hesitation⊠and something else.
He swallowed visibly.
âOk⊠so when can we do it?â
---
The following week, we logged onto our scheduled Zoom session. Sohil appeared on my screen looking unusually tense, sitting in the same spot on his couch.
âHow are you feeling about the swap? Are you ready?â I asked, keeping my voice steady and clinical.
He rubbed the back of his neck. âHonestly? Nervous as hell. But also⊠kind of excited? Iâve been like this my whole adult life. If you can actually feel what itâs like in here,â he gestured to his own body, âmaybe youâll finally get it. Maybe you can help me fix it.â
We spent most of the session discussing boundaries, consent, and the temporary nature of the procedure. Toward the end, I walked him through the final steps.
âAre you ready?â I asked.
Sohil nodded. âLetâs do it.â
We both initiated the swap through the secure therapeutic portal. There was a bright flash across my screen, a dizzying rush, and then everything shifted.
When my vision cleared, I was no longer looking at my monitor from my office chair.
I was looking at it from Sohilâs couch.
A massive wave of heat crashed over me instantly. My â his â cock thickened rapidly in my pants, throbbing with urgent need. The intensity was staggering. My thoughts grew hazy as raw, aggressive horniness flooded my system. I gripped the edge of the couch, trying desperately to maintain professional composure.
On the screen, Sohil â now in my body â let out a long, relieved exhale. He adjusted my glasses and smiled softly.
âWow⊠I can actually think,â he said, sounding lighter than Iâd ever heard him. âNo constant noise in my head. This is⊠peaceful.â
I forced a professional tone, even as my new cock continued to pulse insistently between my legs. âThatâs⊠excellent, Sohil. So as I said, weâll remain in these bodies for the next few weeks. This will give me time to fully understand your urges and begin implementing strategies while Iâm in your body. We can get your physical routines and habits started on the right track.â
As I spoke, my eyes drifted down to the screen â to the slight cleavage visible in the blouse I had been wearing. God, is that really how he saw me every session? I made a mental note to dress far more modestly once we swapped back.
Sohil cleared his throat. âDr. Reddin?â
I blinked, snapping back to attention. âSorry. I lost my train of thought for a moment.â I continued explaining the plan, trying to sound composed, but the throbbing between my legs was becoming unbearable.
Under the table, my hand moved almost on its own. I unbuttoned Sohilâs pants, wrapped my fingers around his thick, hard cock, and started stroking slowly. The pleasure was overwhelming. I kept talking, voice slightly strained, while pumping faster, getting dangerously close to the edge.
ââŠand weâll check in regularly to monitor progress,â I finished, barely holding it together.
âSounds good,â Sohil said, nodding in my body.
I ended the call as quickly as possible.
The second the screen went black, I let out a shaky breath. Not even thirty seconds later, I came hard. Thick ropes of cum shot across the underside of the table as Sohilâs cock pulsed violently in my hand. My vision whited out for a moment from the intensity.
I sat there panting, staring at the mess Iâd made.
Damn⊠this guyâs body was horny.
Sohil hadnât been exaggerating at all.
---
Over the next couple of days, I tried to resist.
I really did.
But Sohilâs body had other plans.
The first morning I put on one of his tight black t-shirts. The fabric stretched across his broad chest and hugged his biceps perfectly. Just the feeling of the material clinging to my new arms as I moved sent a low throb through my cock. I had to sit down for a minute and breathe through it.
Later that afternoon I went for a walk. A light breeze picked up and rippled his loose tank top against my chest. The soft fabric dragged across my nipples and I instantly hardened in my shorts. I had to stop and pretend to tie my shoe just so I could adjust myself discreetly.
At the grocery store, a young woman in a slightly low-cut top reached for something on a high shelf. The way her breasts pressed together as she stretched made my mouth go dry. I stood there frozen for several seconds, staring, before I forced myself to look away. My cock was already half-hard in my sweatpants.
Then there was my neighbor â a tall, muscular guy who walked out shirtless to grab his mail. The sight of his defined chest and abs glistening in the sun made something primal surge through me. I stood at the window watching him longer than I should have, my hand unconsciously pressing against the growing bulge in my pants.
Every single time, no matter how minor the trigger, I ended up painfully hard.
And without fail, the moment I got home I went straight to Sohilâs bedroom. Iâd strip down completely naked, climb onto his bed, and wrap my hand around his thick cock. Iâd stroke myself furiously, sometimes for less than five minutes, before I came hard â thick loads splattering across my hairy stomach and chest.
Yesterday I made it through the entire day without touching myself until I got home. Today I only lasted until 2 PM before I was back in his room, pants around my ankles, jerking off like a man possessed while staring at myself in the full-length mirror.
This body was insatiable.
I thought going to the gym might help burn off some of the constant energy. But it just made everything worse.
The moment I walked into Sohilâs gym wearing one of his tank tops and shorts, I felt eyes on me. His body drew attention â broad shoulders, thick arms, the way his chest hair peeked out from the neckline. Every time I lifted weights, the pump in my biceps and pecs made my cock twitch. The burn in my muscles somehow translated straight into arousal.
By the third set of bench presses I was fully hard. I had to practically sprint to the locker room stalls. I locked myself in one, dropped my shorts, and jerked off furiously, biting my lip to stay quiet. I came in under two minutes, shooting against the stall door. Even after that, I was still half-hard.
Even then I couldnât control myself. I started approaching people â a pretty woman doing squats in tight leggings, a muscular guy checking himself out in the mirror. I was way too forward. Told the woman she had an incredible ass and asked if she wanted to grab a smoothie after her workout. Told the guy his arms looked strong and offered to spot him⊠then immediately suggested we spot each other somewhere more private. Both of them gave me polite but very clear rejections.
I stood there in the middle of the gym, Sohilâs face flushed with embarrassment and lingering arousal, realizing how desperate I must have looked. This body didnât just want sex â it craved it constantly, and it had no filter.
---
By day six, I was losing the battle.
After another humiliating rejection at the gym and two more desperate jerk-off sessions at home, I gave in and downloaded Grindr on Sohilâs phone.
The app opened and immediately flooded the screen with nearby profiles. Shirtless torsos, hard cocks, hungry stares. Within minutes the messages started pouring in.
âDamn dude youâre hot as fuck.â
âTop or bottom?â
âHosting right now if you wanna come through.â
I told myself I was just researching. Just trying to understand the scale of his compulsions. But my cock was already rock hard as I scrolled through the endless stream of willing men.
There were so many. Hot guys. Fit guys. Hung guys. Some wanted to fuck me. Most wanted me to fuck them.
I started chatting with one guy â mid-20s, muscular, only two blocks away. Before I could talk myself out of it, I sent him a face pic and told him I could be there in ten minutes.
The moment I stepped into his apartment, any last shred of professional restraint vanished. He barely had the door closed before I had him pinned against the wall, kissing him hard. Within minutes I had him bent over his couch, fucking him raw and deep while he moaned loudly.
It felt incredible.
The power, the heat, the raw physical pleasure of pounding into someone with Sohilâs thick cock â it was overwhelming. I came hard inside him, groaning as I filled him up. He asked if I wanted to go again. I did.
I ended up staying for almost two hours.
When I finally left, legs shaky, I felt a strange mix of shame and satisfaction. On the walk home my cock was already stirring again at the memory.
That night I opened Grindr again.
---
After a few days of nonstop Grindr hookups â sometimes two or three different guys in a single day â the novelty started to wear off. The sex was good, intense even, but something was missing.
I needed pussy.
Tinder proved much slower and more frustrating. The matches came in, but the back-and-forth flirting took time I didnât want to waste. My patience was nonexistent in this body.
I knew it was a terrible idea. Unethical. A complete violation of every professional boundary. But the urge was louder than reason.
I opened the camera on Sohilâs phone and took a series of thirst traps â shirtless in the mirror, flexing his biceps, one with his hand pulling down the waistband of his sweatpants just enough to show the thick base of his cock. I sent them to my own number.
The message I typed made my stomach twist even as I hit send:
âI know you want to get fucked by yourself. I just know you want to feel your old cock deep in that pussy.â
I stared at the sent messages, heart racing.
Three dots appeared, then stopped. Then appeared again.
Before he could reply, the images and words hit me like gasoline on a fire. I was so turned on I couldnât wait. I shoved my pants down, wrapped my hand around Sohilâs throbbing cock, and jerked off furiously on the couch to the fantasy of fucking my own body. I came hard within minutes, groaning loudly as thick ropes of cum splattered across my hairy chest.
The second the orgasm faded, cold reality crashed down on me.
What the hell did I just do?
I quickly sent a string of apologetic messages:
âIâm so sorry. That was completely inappropriate.â âI lost control. That was unprofessional and wrong.â âPlease forgive me.â
Sohil (in my body) replied a few minutes later:
âNo worries doc lol. I understand exactly what that feeling is like. Trust me.â
I let out a shaky breath, still half-hard despite just cumming.
âIâm going to figure this out,â I typed back, trying to sound more in control than I felt. âIâm going to find a real way to help you manage these urges. I promise.â
I set the phone down and looked at myself in the mirror â Sohilâs muscular, hairy body staring back at me, cum still drying on my abs.
---
I tried to resist.
I really, really tried.
I deleted Grindr twice. I went to the gym and forced myself to focus only on lifting. I tried meditation apps, cold showers, even jerking off six times in one day just to take the edge off. Nothing worked. The horniness always came back stronger, like a constant buzzing under my skin that refused to be ignored.
One night, I put on one of Sohilâs tight black shirts and a pair of fitted jeans and went to a gay bar downtown. The place was packed and loud. Within twenty minutes I locked eyes with a cute, twinky guy in his mid-twenties with messy light brown hair, smooth skin, and a hungry look in his eyes. He was exactly my type.
We barely spoke.
I walked straight up to him, grabbed him by the waist, and pulled him in for a rough kiss. He melted against me immediately. No names. No small talk. I took his hand and led him straight to the bathroom.
The moment the stall door locked, I spun him around, yanked his pants down, and shoved him forward against the wall. I pulled my own cock out, barely taking time to spit on it before I pushed inside him.
âFuckâŠâ he moaned loudly as I sank in deep.
I started thrusting hard, one hand gripping his hip, the other braced against the stall wall. The sound of skin slapping skin echoed in the small space.
âSohil⊠fuck, Sohil,â he gasped, moaning my â Sohilâs â name.
A dark thrill shot through me.
âFuck yeah,â I growled, pounding into him harder.
âSohil⊠oh my godââ
Hearing him moan while I was balls-deep inside him made something primal take over. I fucked him with long, powerful strokes, gripping his waist tight as I drove into him again and again.
I didnât last long. The way his tight hole clenched around my thick cock â it was too much. I buried myself deep and came hard, groaning as I filled him up.
I was still catching my breath, cock softening inside him, when reality started to crash back in.
The guy I had just raw-fucked in a public bathroom stall was Drew â one of my other therapy clients. Mid-twenties, gender-questioning, sweet but anxious. I had been seeing him for months. I had been too horny to even recognize him until now.
Then it hit me.
He had been moaning âSohilâ the entire time.
I never told him my â Sohilâs â name.
I pulled out slowly, heart pounding for a completely different reason now.
âDo we⊠know each other?â I asked, voice rough.
The guy â Drew â turned around with a lazy, satisfied grin that looked completely out of place on his face. He looked me up and down, eyes lingering on Sohilâs cock.
âI think I would recognize my own former body,â he said casually. âAnd damn⊠its dick feels good. I get why people put up with me even though I was such a cheater.â
I froze.
âWait⊠Sohil?â
He smirked. âHey, Doc.â
I stared at him â at my clientâs body â in complete disbelief.
âWhat the hell are you doing in Drewâs body?â
Sohil (in Drewâs smaller, twinky frame) shrugged, still breathing hard from getting fucked.
âDrewâs been seeing you too, right? Heâs been talking about wanting to transition for a while. Really wanted a womanâs body to start figuring shit out. So I offered him a swap. He gets your body â soft, feminine. I get his cute little gay body with way less constant horniness. Win-win.â
He reached down and gave Sohilâs cock â my current cock â a playful squeeze, still slick from being inside him.
âIâve been having a great time, honestly. This body is so much easier to manage. I can actually think straight. I could get used to this. Could maybe even see myself getting into a relationship. Meanwhile, youâve been living my old lifeâŠâ He raised an eyebrow. âHowâs that been going for you, Doc?â
I stood there, pants still open, cum slowly leaking down Drewâs thigh, trying to process everything.
Sohil in Drewâs body just smiled sweetly.
âBy the way⊠you fuck really good in my body.â
My cock twitched and started hardening again almost immediately, still slick from being inside him. I was furious â at Sohil, at myself, at this entire situation â but the anger only seemed to make the arousal worse. The rational part of my brain was screaming that I needed to stop, to think clearly, to regain control.
But Sohil â or Drew, or whoever the hell he was right now â was right here. Convenient. Already bent over, his hole glistening with my cum, still slightly open and twitching.
I grabbed his hips and pushed back inside him in one smooth thrust.
âFuck, Doc,â he moaned in Drewâs lighter voice, pushing back against me. âRound two already?â
I didnât answer. I just started fucking him again, harder this time, my hips slapping against his ass. The wet, filthy sound of my cock sliding through my own load filled the stall. Every thrust felt better than the last. My mind was fogging over again, thoughts becoming slippery and unfocused.
We could switch it all back⊠if onlyâŠ
I tried to hold onto the thought, but it kept sliding away.
If only⊠what was I trying to do again?
The question dissolved as pleasure took over. I gripped his waist tighter and pounded into him, grunting with each deep stroke. Sohil in Drewâs body moaned loudly, clearly loving every second.
âGod, you really canât control it, can you?â he gasped between thrusts, sounding amused. âFeels good though, doesnât it?â
I wanted to argue. I wanted to pull out and walk away. But instead I fucked him even harder, chasing that building pressure again, my balls tightening as I got closer to another orgasm.
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âYo bro, I think that old dude is checking you out.â
Tyler turned and made eye contact with a rather large and older man, sitting on a beach chair. He looked like a hairy beached whale, obviously eying the young jock. Tyler smirked and turned back to his bros.
âWhatever man, let âem look.â The brunette tossed the football back to his bro, âIâd be staring too.â He chuckled and flexed one of his arms, showing off one of his muscular biceps.
His bros chuckled and continued their game, enjoying their time off on spring break. And after a few hours of spending time on the beach, Tyler was in need of some AC. He said bye to his bros and made his way back to his hotel room, making sure to give his signature smirk to a few of the girls he saw along the way. The young jock was planning for a night out and he made sure to get his own room for the trip. He was in some serious need for some action, which he was pretty confident heâd get.
âNot like many people can resist this.â He thought with a grin, âFuck, her tits are big.â He thought as he passed by another blond, âI hope I see her tonight.â
He felt himself chub up a bit and quickly made his way back to his room. But when he got there, he was surprised to find his door slightly unlocked and ajar. He couldâve sworn he shut and locked it beforehand. And thatâs when he heard it. There was someone in his room, rummaging around.
âA thief?â Tyler thought, âThis asshole has another thing coming.â
âHey dude what do you think youâre doing?â Tyler shouted as he entered his hotel room, immediately coming face to face with the intruder, âWait you? Get the fuck out!â It was the older man- the man who Tyler remembered was checking him out earlier, âYou fucking creep.â
âWait, please I can explain!â The older man said in a gruff voice, holding what looked to be a gray body suit, âI-I...â Tyler shoved the man into the wall, inadvertently touching the gray body suit.
âI donât give a shit. Iâm gonna call...â Tyler heard a strange hissing sound and looked down at the gray suit on the ground.
It was quickly changing, taking on a human skin tone. A tan color that Tyler recognized as his own. But that wasnât all. Key details started to appear on its initially formless shape, until Tyler realized he was basically looking at an incredibly detailed costume of himself.
âWhat the hell?â Tyler whispered, stepping away from the older man.
And Tyler watched closely as the suit seemed to move on its own and reached towards the older man like a zombie.
âNeed... body...â It hissed.
Tyler felt frozen to the spot. This was unreal. There was no way this was happening. The older man smirked and let his arm enter the suit.
âI didnât want to cause any trouble.â The older man said as the suit continued to wrap around his body, âBut youâve seen too much.â
Before Tyler could even register, the older man flexed his new, muscular arm, and punched the younger man with his new found strength. Tylerâs world spun before he passed out.
....
Tylerâs eyes flickered open and he winced at the mild pain in his head. He went to grab his head, but found that his arms were held above his head and restrained on a hotel bed frame. And it wasnât just his arms, his legs were also bound. Dread settled in and he quickly tried to free himself to no avail.
âOh shit youâre awake.â Tylerâs eyes widened and he looked around in terror. That voice... It sounded exactly like his, âI was hoping for just a little more time.â And then a man walked out from the bathroom.
And to Tylerâs terror, it was like looking in a mirror. The man who stood at the end of the bed was Tyler... Or at least an exact physical copy of him.
âYouâre...?â
âYou? Yeah you catch on fast.â The doppelganger chuckled, flexing an arm, âWell, Iâm not âyouâ per se, Iâm âmeâ now.â The new Tyler said, âI saw you on the beach and knew I needed to be you. So fucking sexy.â He kissed his bicep.
âWhat the fuck does that mean?â
The New Tyler smirked, âIâm Tyler from now on. Doesnât seem too hard to understand. Right?â
âLet me go!â Tyler shouted, âHow the fuck are you going to explain...?â
And thatâs when Tyler heard it. Another hissing sound and a whispered voice, âNeed... body...â Tylerâs heart sank as he heard something shambling through the hotel room. And thatâs when he saw it. Crawling up the side of the bed was another one of those things. But this one... this one had the same appearance of the older man.
âNo no no no!â Tyler begged as the suit got closer to him, âNo please! Fuck let me go!â He was trying his bed to free himself from his restraints. A smile formed on the mask as itâs empty eye sockets cast their gaze on the restrained man.Â
It crawled inhumanely and began positioning itself over the restrained young man. Tyler watched in terror as the suit began to lower itself on Tylerâs helpless form.
âPlease! Stop this!â Tyler shouted as he felt the skin of the suit on his legs.
He let out a cry as the suit aggressively wrapped around his lower legs, breaking the restraints nearly instantly. And as the suit settled over Tylerâs legs and feet, he could feel them begin to shift and crack. And to his horror, he realized he could no longer feel the difference between the suit and his own body. There was no suit, he realized as he wiggled his new toes, this was his body.
âPlease, you can stop this? Right?â Tyler begged as the suits torso began to approach his toned abdominal muscles, âI... please stop!â
New Tyler shook his head, âI canât stop this.â He said as he watched the suitâs dick encase Tylerâs, âAnd unfortunately once youâre bonded with this suit, it isnât easy to undo.â
Tylerâs eyes widened before they closed in pain as the suit bonded to his torso. He felt his toned abdomen become seared to the suit and push out until he again couldnât tell the difference between his body and the suit. His pecs followed- the muscle behind them vanishing as the suit fully connected and forced them to remodel to match the suitâs sagging chest. Tyler let out a frustrated grunt as he realized he could no longer feel his muscular chest. It felt old... somewhat jiggly and he winced as the New Tyler plucked one of his new chest hairs.
âAnd unfortunately, this little guy doesnât work the way it used to.â Tyler could feel tears in his eyes as the New Tyler tugged on his dick, which didnât show any signs of getting hard, âDonât worry, I have stuff that might help you.â New Tyler reassured mockingly.
âYou need to stop this.â Tyler huffed, âPlease... I canât...â
âItâs okay. Iâve made a few modifications to this suit.â New Tyler said calmly, âYou wonât even miss your old body.â
Tyler groaned as his arms were encased and quickly bonded to the suit. His restraints came undone, and the larger man rolled off the bed with a thud. He sat up his knees and looked down at his hairy abdomen that now sat between his legs. He frowned and grabbed a fistful of his new fat.
âYou need to reverse this... please... I want my body back.â Tyler begged as he felt the back of his head become wrapped by the suitâs. There was something odd though... Tyler could feel something else... not just the usual feeling of the physical changes, but new thoughts that also seemed to permeate his mind as the suitâs head touched his.
âI canât do that.â New Tyler smirked, pulling down his pants, âBut Iâll give you one last chance to enjoy your body.â
Tylerâs eyes widened as he came face to face with his own dick. He could barely process what was happening, as New Tyler slapped his face with it. Tyler wanted to resist, to turn away, but he felt another pulse from the back of his head and suddenly, he was slowly opening his mouth, inviting his own cock into his mouth.
âThere you go.â New Tyler said as Tyler started sucking his cock, âEnjoy it while you can.â
Tyler felt tears in his eyes as he swallowed more and more of his large cock. At the same time, the suit was finishing its process. Tylerâs face was slowly covered by the suitâs, which quickly bonded to him and started cementing the changes. His once clean shaven face now sported an unkempt beard, which covered his double chin. His hairline now receded, while his once youthful features were now older. And with this final physical change, Tyler was bombarded with mental alterations.
âFuck.â He thought as a cloud settled over his brain and he gained new appreciate for sucking cock, âThis guy is so fucking hot.â
New Tyler moaned as the Old Tyler continued to vigorously suck his cock, now with the skill of an expert. And after a few more moments of intense pleasure, New Tyler let out a moan and came- coating the back of the old manâs throat. The young jock breathed heavily and smirked as he watched the older man wipe the sides of his mouth.
âFuck, youâre good old man.â New Tyler smirked, âBut that was a one-time thing for us, got it?â
Old Tyler nodded, âThank you.â He whispered in a far gruffer voice, gazing at awe at the hunk of a man standing in front of him, âIf you change your mind though...â But New Tyler was already gone, leaving the old man sitting on the floor. He eventually picked himself up and walked over to the mirror, looking at himself carefully. Sure he was out of shape and not much to look at, but if he was able to get someone like that young man to come by, he felt like he might have some better luck that night. He quickly snapped a photo of himself for Grindr, waiting eagerly for another chance to have some fun.
They just kept cpming once we turned the first one on a whim, following him through the open door of his home. We were really lucky as it seemed like he was on visit home with hus family and he was alone at that point. But I really was looking forward to meet his dad and... well, you know...
"How do you feel in there?" I asked my friend as I adjusted the vest I was wearing.
"The bald head I'll have to get used to, but I'm kinda loving the handlebar mustache" my friend responded with a cocked smile.
"Look at all those idiots out there still searching for us, they have no clue we hopped into these officers" I said.
"Shhhh, we aren't in the clear yet" my friend responded. It was kind of erotic hearing his hush me in such an authoritative done. My boner must have been poking through my uniform.
"We're gonna head back to the station, we'll see if anyone called in for them there" said my friend, perfectly emulating a police officer. As soon as we hopped in the car my friend pulled me in close and began making out with me. I couldn't help but feel his smooth bald head as I felt the bristles from his moustache graze my skin. He leaned back, and began driving away with one hard on the wheel and the other unzipping his pants.
"What? Just because we're on the run from the cops doesn't mean we can't have a little fun in there bodies" he said. I laughed, and got ready to please him, hoping he'd return the favor back to me afterwards.
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Despite my best intention, I can't help but put my face under his armpit, letting myself moan as the sweat hit my skin and tongue, as his manly smell penetrates my brain.
I barely recognize myself these days, both physically and mentally. That's coach doing, of course, but I can't really blame him. I was the one who begged to stay on the team despite having missed so many training sessions. I was the one who said I'd do anything. I was the one who accepted to take the role of the team pig. And when he gave me strange drinks and hypno tapes and costumes, I was the one who accepted to use them.
Part of me knows I didn't really have a choice. If I lose my spot on the team, I also lose my scholarship, and lose my future. But also, part of me can't help but know that I've always wanted this. It's always been a fantasy of mine to be dominated, just maybe not to that extent.
As I slob over Jon, he laughs softly.
"That's a good pig. You know, I've heard even after all of what he did to you Coach has some more modification planned. I hope you're ready for it pig, because it seems you're never escaping this life now.
âHey Brad, how's it going being me? Are you done crying every night yet?â said my old body in the video I received in my email this morning. It had been two weeks since this nerd switched our bodies using some magic spell or some shit. It even made it so I couldnât tell anyone what had happened. Who cared if I had made his life miserable in high school or whatever he called it, nerds like him deserved to be put in their place. Then he had the nerve to show up at the same college I had gotten a football scholarship too. It was like he was asking for it. Now he had switched our bodies and would send me updates on what he was doing in my body.
âIâm having the best time. Who knew I could pick up your workout routine so quickly, but you really should have told me about these huge tits of yours. He lifted up his shirt exposing my pecs and stomach. I canât even get through a workout without needing to message these bad boys theyâre so big. These nipples are out of this world too just a little twist or tug and itâs like a lightning bolt shoots down to my dick. Sure people stare when Iâm sitting in the locker room shirtless rubbing my chest but I canât help it. I barely make it to the shower sometimes before Iâm ready to blow.â âOh I should mention you canât come to your old dorm room anymore I kind of got kicked out of the student housing. I guess your roommate didnât like coming home last Thursday to me with my eyes rolled in the back of my head as a guy on the university hockey team made me drool all over his bed.â He winked and then pointed the camera behind him and shook my ass which I now saw was in a bright pink jockstrap. âThis thing sure can take a pounding and do you like my new outfit it does make some of the guys in the locker room stareâ he laughed as he spanked it hard.
Donât worry I found a great place to live. I sent you another video with my new boyfriend. I opened my inbox again and found the link to a new video of a blonde guy with a hat on standing shirtless with my old body behind him. âI met him at the club and we instantly fell in love. He loves it when I flex for him and heâs teaching me how to pole dance just like him so I can drop out and work as a dancer just like him! You probably wonât be hearing from me for a while so enjoy this video of our training session and enjoy your new life. I know I will.â The video continued to play as I dropped my phone in shock. I could hear my former body and his new boyfriend giggling as he was taught how to dance like a stripper. I collapsed on the bed and began to cry as reality sank in.
Me and my boyfriend James had been dating for a month, the longest relationship I had ever had when we went to see a new horror movie Obsession . The guy in it made a wish with a âone wish willowâ and snapped a piece of wood in half and it came true but that was it there was no taking it back and you didnât get another one. James and I loved horror movies and it was the perfect date. They even gave us free replicas of the wish willow on our way out. That perfect night was ruined when a truck crashed into our car killing James instantly. I spent the week crying and found the wish willow in my jeans pocket. I figured it wouldnât work but I was so desperate I gave it a try and wished to have my boyfriend back and snapped it.
That was two weeks ago and the wish did work to my complete shock, just not in the way I had hoped. Minutes after making my wish my dad came into my room with a look of wonder on his face as his hands shook âEthan itâs itâs me Jamesâ, he stammered. I couldnât believe it but my wish had come true James was back from the dead but in the body of my father. Since then James had made himself at home in my fatherâs body since we realized there was no way to reverse the wish until I was dead as a very unhelpful customer service rep said when I called the number on the back of the box. He had always wanted a tattoo so imagine my shock when I came home one day to his arm, chest, and legs covered in them. Then there was the Tuesday when I came home for lunch to find him playing his favorite onlyfans videos on the living room tv and panting heavily as he stained the couch. Iâll never forget seeing my dads face with his eyes rolled into the back of his head and tongue flopping out of his mouth. Sweat dripped off his chest like he had been doing this since I left hours ago. The T.V. and his own grunting must have covered the sound of me walking in because he didnât seem to notice until I dropped my bag on the floor and he hastily covered up with a pillow. I was ready to vomit and he didnât even seem to care. Yes, my father was good looking for an older guy and kept himself in shape but it didnât matter if it was really James inside of him it was still my dad and I wasnât attracted to him at all. He just meekly apologized and put on his swim trunks to go for another dip in the pool. While I had to keep up appearances at the local community college he got to lounge around while exhausting my dads vacation time.
I came home after another long day at work later that week and yelled that I was going to bed early when I opened my bedroom door to a shocking sight. My forty year old father draped in silk with a rose between his teeth and in just a skimpy pair of briefs.âHey sweetie I got you some roses, your favorite and I can definitely help relieve some of your stress. I've been thinking about you all day.â, he said while rubbing his obvious bulge and licking his lips. Then he got up on his knees and turned around, tugging his shorts down and revealing his hairy ass that jiggled as he waved it back and forth. âSee anything you like?â It was like he never heard what I was saying. I constantly told him the way he was flaunting my dads body and begging me to fuck him was making me uncomfortable. I mean this was the man who taught me to ride a bike and shave and now he was on my bed in his underwear trying to get me to have sex with him. Ever since my stupid wish he had only seemed to care about sex I had enough with how he was acting. I grabbed my keys and told him I needed time to think about if this was ever going to work and stormed out the door speeding out of the driveway as he ran to the front door after me. The next day after I had cried in my car in the mall parking lot all night, I went home after the sun had already gone down to tell James we would need to set some boundaries but maybe we could make it work. After all it was my wish that had put him in this situation I owed it to him to try. Unfortunately, what I found in my family living room that night would end any chance of us mending our relationship.
âHey there you are son, I think you remember these guysâ said James doing his best impression of my dad I had heard him ever do. He motioned to three athletic men I remembered being assholes to us at the gym when we worked out there once. âI found one of those wishing sticks and used it to help me out. Since you wonât love me in this banging body you trapped me in, I wished that those three homophobes from the gym who used to terrorize us would only be attracted to me and would do whatever I tell them too.â He then leaned in and stuck his tongue down one of the guys throats as the other two caressed him and moaned in unison. Then he made each one get up and start jerking each other off, each one chanting âwe love you James and your awesome daddy bodyâ. âArenât they great? Last night I had one of them stand in the living room frozen like a statue while his hard dick leaked on the floor all night which he gladly licked up in the morning with a big smile on his face. The other two worshiped me all night like you never would. Then I sent them to sleep in your bed. Well, actually I ordered them to screw each other until they fell asleep. They were so cute when I found them in the morning still laying on top of each other. Your dadâs body really is amazing, it can't be satisfied. We must have been going at it for hours and I emptied into their eager jock holes multiple times and still these huge balls were ready to go after only a few minutes. Then I had the best sleep of my life and woke up rock hard and ready to go all over again and let me tell you itâs amazing to have three eager mouths in the morning to start the day off right. Itâs my body now and Iâm really learning to love itâ, he laughed but then his eyes grew angry as he glared at me.
âI never heard you ask how I felt about all this, you know how hard itâs been trapped in a body twenty one years older and for some reason with ten times more sex drive and you wouldnât even look at me most days. You think it was easy to see the disgust on your face. I couldn't help it. Your dad must have a lot of testosterone or maybe that wish did something to me, but you didnât care! You wished me back to life, I was so happy to be back with you but you couldnât get past my new face and only thought about yourself. Now I have three boyfriends who canât get enough of me and would jump in front of a car if I told them too and I donât need you anymore. You were so right babe this isnât gonna work out Iâm gonna need you out of the house by tonight. I donât need my lame son lurking around the house, I want to be free to have my sweaty balls licked on the sofa or get my hairy ass pounded on the kitchen counter by my three studs without being judgedâ. He stripped off his clothes and began walking upstairs when he told one of the guys to throw my things out on the lawn and for the other two to get upstairs he was ready for another round of their straight jock asses. Why did I have to make that stupid wish that had ruined my life.
Shit, itâs been two weeks since we wound up here. I don't know how much longer we can pull this off. Me and my boyfriend had booked a vacation to Fiji but of course we couldnât afford it if we went the normal route, so we booked a swap vacation instead. Thatâs where it went wrong. It was supposed to be two of the hotel employees but some wires got crossed and we got put into the bodies of two straight dudes on a neighboring island. That would have been great theyâre both hot and two gay guys could really put their bodies to good use. Me in the body of this blonde model and him in the body of a dark haired british guy. Unfortunately theyâre filming some kind of reality show trying to find love. Itâs terrible! We're on camera all day and these two have already been paired up with women. They want to make out with us all the time, and talk about what weâre gonna do once the show is over and constantly trying to get us to have sex with them. Everyday is a struggle to maintain the act and hopefully that vacation company will get everything fixed soon.
I think weâre doing a pretty good job imitating these two bros so far no way anyone has noticed right? Right??
Damn it, here comes my body's girlfriend. I guess our relaxing day at the beach is over.
âOh, itâs you! Hey man thanks for the muscles.â
âWhat? You want me to give them back?â
âHaha not in a million years. I donât care if you worked hard for them.â
âI donât need any fitness tips now that I stole your pecs, abs, arms, and legs. Oh and your special package too!â
âFace it, your muscles look better on my body anyway. Your pale complexion werenât doing these babies justice. â
*flexes biceps with a cheeky grin*
âMy tan skin on the other hand. Ohhhh man, the crowd is going wild out there. And itâs all thanks to your generous quote on quote donationâ
âIâm never going back to that flab. Itâs your problem now. So if youâll excuse me, Iâm going back to finish my routine. All the chicks and twinks love it when I strip EVERYTHING now.â
âYeah, taking your cock was a nice touch too, and seeing my face with all these muscles sure gets me hard everyday.â
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âDude! Your dadâs cock is thick as fuck!â I moaned as Cody plunged his old manâs tool as far it would go into my ass and bucked his hips gently back and forth.
âTell me about it bro!â Cody replied in his dadâs rumbling bass as his own unmistakable smile beamed back at me from his fatherâs face. Â He leant back, loosening his tie and pulling open his shirt to expose his beefy, thick chest as he let me ride him to yet another mind blowing orgasm, filling my ass with his hot creamy Daddy load.
I leaned in for a long, lingering kiss and couldnât help throwing another boner as the thick, silver goatee and mustache scratched my face and my cock rubbed against his soft hairy belly.
As he flipped me over and went down on my rock hard pole, Cody made me promise that we could use the magic zipper on my uncle tomorrow.
It would be a shame not to spend the day fucking around with Codyâs dad but on the other hand, my uncle James is a totally ripped muscle daddy. Â Slipping into his body for the day and pounding Cody would be all the compensation Iâd need!
âWell thanks for the body, stud,â my own voice said, loud and cocky.
The thief stood tall in my skin, pulling my shirt off and rolling my broad shoulders back with a satisfied groan. He stretched luxuriously, arms raised high, then let his strong hands slide down my former chest, squeezing the thick, hairy pecs Iâd spent years building. His fingers traced over my abs, clearly loving every ridge and cut.
âGoddamn,â he muttered, using my smooth, deep voice. âThis feels even better than I imagined.â
Then he winked at me.
At me, a now pathetic, wheezing old man collapsed in the sand. I tried to stand, but this disgusting body fought me the entire way. My knees cracked. My massive gut spilled heavily over the waistband of stained swim trunks. Thick, liver-spotted hands sank into the sand as I struggled to push myself up. Every breath felt like fire in my weak lungs.
He laughed, using my laugh, and turned slightly, looking over his shoulder. With a filthy grin, he reached back and playfully jiggled my muscular ass through the shorts Iâd been wearing. The firm cheeks bounced perfectly under his touch.
âLook at this thing,â he taunted, giving it another firm slap. âSo tight and perky. Never had an ass this good before.â
Then his hand slid around to the front. He grabbed the growing bulge through my shorts, giving it a slow, shameless squeeze. His fingers wrapped around the thick outline of my stolen cock, stroking it once through the fabric as it hardened even more.
âMmm⊠and this fat dick,â he groaned loudly, still palming it. âHeavy. Thick. Already leaking for me. Iâm definitely putting this to good use.â
People nearby were openly staring now. A couple of guys smirked. Someone whistled. He ate up the attention, still groping my bulge while flexing my free arm.
âIâm gonna take real good care of this beefcake,â he announced, loud enough for everyone to hear. âIâll make sure this body gets used way better than you ever did.
He gave my ass one final, mocking slap, then strutted off down the beach like he owned the world. My broad back flexed with every confident step. My ass and bulge looked incredible in my shorts. Heads turned as he passed.
I collapsed back onto the sand, a fat, disgusting, broken mess. Tears burned in my sunken eyes as I watched my perfect body disappear into the distance.
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