Felixkerr

My head throbbed and I felt more sore than I ever had in my life when I woke up this morning the sun peaking bright through my window. My bed strangely creaked and groaned as I attempted to turn over but when I opened my eyes reality hit me like a truck. Looking down at my body I was giant and hairy, much larger than my normal skinny body of Alex Henderson that was maybe 130 lbs soaking wet. I threw off the sheet and a monster dick that bobbed up and down almost matching my heartbeat and the smell of sweat invaded my nostrils. I panicked because what had slowly been spreading to my family for the last week had finally happened to me. Last Tuesday we were all gathered at home. Summer had just begun. My twenty year old sister had returned from college to study fashion while I was getting ready to leave to study marketing once summer ended. The whole world seemed to ripple for a minute and the sky seemed to change color for just a second and at first we didn’t notice anything different until we realized the internet didn’t work and the weirdest part we couldn’t leave the house we would just wind up back inside and the world continued on outside without us. I could have dealt with all that but the biggest change involved my family members morphing into copies of some of the men around town that I found most attractive. Worst of all they acted constantly horny like they were living in a porno and kept trying everything to get me to have sex with them. Don't get me wrong it would have been great all these hot guys throwing themselves at me but these sex obsessed fantasy guys were my family members. Even more strangely they would switch between acting like their old personality and their new one usually with a blink and shake of their head, it all was completely normal to them if I brought it up they looked at me like I was crazy.

My dad who luckily worked as an astrophysicist, a job I never understood but it came in handy when he said he recognized the pattern of the sky changing color from satellite imagery he studied last week and got to work in his basement office looking for a solution. Now looking in the bathroom mirror I was greeted not by my eighteen year old face but by the shocked face of Mr. Brown, my senior year history teacher and coach of the soccer team. I’d spent my senior year captivated by him the way his dress shirts would hug his bulky frame or how the smell of his cologne would invade my nostrils when I entered the classroom. My favorite way to spend the class period was hoping a student would ask him a question so he would bend down over their desk and I could get a look at his ass in his tight pants. After school I would sit in the bleachers hoping to see him running drills with the soccer team and working up a sweat in his gym shorts and tight school t-shirt. Now I had a front row seat to his naked body and it was even better than I imagined. Legs and thighs like tree trunks and a hairy body that exuded masculine energy and smell. His ass was even bigger than it looked in his dress pants. It felt great just to stand there and grab it with my much larger hands, eventually I worked my hands around to my stomach and down to my new dick. It was the best feeling I had ever experienced. I'd never felt so much pleasure radiate through my body and I didn't want it to end ever. No, I had to stay focused this whole situation had to be reversed even if it meant I had to lose this gorgeous body, with none of the clothes in my dresser having a chance of fitting me now I went into my parents room and found a pair of sweatpants and a shirt that could cover me up. I had to find dad and see if he could help me, he said yesterday evening he was close to a breakthrough as he analyzed some more data last night.

After lumbering down the stairs which my new hefty body made difficult, I saw out on the patio the guy who used to be my sister Ashley now with the body of her boyfriend Brandon doing yoga. Who knew the soccer captain could be so flexible? He was out there doing the splits and several different yoga poses I didn’t know were possible especially for a guy. “Brandon, have you seen where dad is? I need to talk with him” I asked. “Oh hey Alex do you like the outfit I found in my closet? It's so cute and luckily it fits I don’t know why but none of my clothes seem to fit lately. I must have visited the dining hall too many times. Even my underwear is too small especially in the front and I don’t know why I’ve always crammed my dick and balls in there before and I never had an issue but now even my favorite pair almost ripped today, even these pants can barely hide my ass” he said his voice even in a noticeably higher pitch as he run his hands up his backside, his white pants stretched to their limit over his butt in the yoga pose he was in. He blinked and shook his head and smirked at me, his voice resuming its deeper pitch Brandon’s personality back in control, “hey looser come out here to stare at me while I stretch? Shit I would too look at me this body is perfection” he said flexing and rubbing his chest. “Here let me give you a better look”, then he began to remove his white pants and was now completely naked, his caramel colored body shining in the morning sunlight. “Take a look at this, all this yoga has really loosened me up. I’ve been working on this for hours pretty soon I’ll be able to entertain myself all day since you love to play hard to get.” He then sat on the ground and brought his foot up to his mouth and licked it all over with his large tongue, never breaking eye contact with me and I couldn’t look away. After each toe had been sampled he raised both his legs up and locked both of his feet behind his head and began to try and stretch his mouth toward the hard dripping appendage between his legs. I finally snapped out of it and ran inside. Well Brandon had been no help just like he was before all of this only caring about himself. I left him in the backyards legs behind his head damn that yoga really was helping I’m pretty sure I saw his tongue make contact with his dick although, I was distracted with him in that position I could clearly see his asshole and there something leaking out of it things just kept getting worse.

I tiptoed into the kitchen because my mom was a little unpredictable in her new body, a former twenty-seven year old convict Luke who worked at the mechanic that I took my cheap sedan to for tire and oil changes. I just had to spend those hours staring at him dripping in sweat while he worked on my car didn’t I. One minute he would be my happy mother asking me how my day was and calling me his sweet boy to Luke’s personality taking over swearing up a storm and scowling and asking me what the hell i was staring at. “Hey honey! If you wait just a second I can have a cupcake ready for you” It must have been a good day today, although it was still so weird to see his tatted up body wearing only my mothers apron and hearing his deep voice call me honey. Even more unsettling was the large protrusion below her waist that was sticking so obscenely in front of her it knocked over the can of baking powder on the counter when he turned to face me. “Sorry, stupid thing won’t go down. I already had Brandon let me release a load in his ass before I started baking but these balls are full again and I’m going to have to mop when I’m done baking, I’m dripping all over the floor. Be a dear and help me out, maybe just a little tongue action on my balls please” Then he lifted up his apron showing the giant dick and dangling balls I had seen too often over the last couple days. He was almost whimpering, biting his lip as his dick twitched and bobbed up and down and continued to leak on the floor. When I declined as I so often had to do in this house it was like a switch flipped and Luke’s harsher personality took over with a shake of his head. “You fucking ungrateful piece of shit, I work hard all day sweating my balls off cooking and cleaning and all I ask is for you to help me out when I need some release you’re fucking useless”. “Um yeah have you seen dad by chance” I asked hesitantly hoping to get out of here quickly. “Where do you think he is in his office downstairs fucking dumbass, God damn it I need a smoke”. He yelled, throwing his apron on the counter and pulling a cigarette from the front pocket, lighting up and blowing a large cloud of smoke in my direction, grumbling and flipping me off and beginning to work his hand rapidly up and down his glistening shaft. As I began to leave the oven timer dinged and Moms regular happy demeanor was back and as he bent over the oven to grab the cupcakes Luke shook his bubble butt and said, “oooooh yay cupcakes are done I’m going to save some icing you can lick it off my ass later honey. oh dang it, excuse my language son I just made more of a mess look at these new puddles on the floor” I needed to find Dad he said he was close to figuring out what was going on last night hopefully he had made a breakthrough because this house was driving me crazy.

My worst fear awaited me when I went down to dad’s office. There sitting on the couch was Jesse, a guy who worked at the local pizza place and was probably the worst body dad could have been put in. Yeah he was extremely hot, why else would he be here making things worse, he was also extremely dumb multiple times when I handed him cash for my pizza order it took him minutes to figure out my change. “Wait dude stop you’re cracking me up so, sure I’m some smart scientist whatever you say bro hahaha. Why would I use my brain for numbers and stuff that shit gives me a headache. You don’t need to use your brain when you look this good, check out these abs and this chest touch them if you want. Dude what the fuck stop crying you’re killing the vibes it’s bad enough my phone isn’t working can’t even pull up my favorite sites to take care of this problem” he said as he pulled down his grey shorts releasing his dick that smacked his stomach as it escaped its confines. “Can you send down the hottie in the yoga pants bro? I couldn't get enough of him last night he snuck down here and was doing the splits and shit while bouncing on my dick it was amazing.” “No dad please you can’t be stuck as this dumbass you’re supposed to figure out how to fix this mess, I don’t want to be old I’m supposed to be starting college in a few months” I began to cry even louder then Jesse blinked and shook his head an angry look appearing on his face as his nostrils flared and a vein popped on his forehead just like dad’s when we misbehaved as kids. “I will not have you swearing in my house young man, how dare you call me a dumbass. Get upstairs, I don't want to see you until dinner Alexander” I climbed the stairs, the stern and familiar expression of my dad already gone from Jesse’s face and replaced with his tongue rolling out of his mouth as he flexed and grouped his pecs any sign of my intelligent father gone. I arrived at the landing on the ground floor greeted by the sight of Brandon and Luke making out naked on the living room couch. “Finally he’s free, hurry up, let's get downstairs Luke, that guy down there is so hot we can share him” they high fived and ran downstairs giggling, their matching boners swinging between their legs with every step. I climbed the stairs back to my room, my only hope of escaping this nightmare gone.

You know I don’t remember what I was so worried about yesterday morning. I have this great body, huge dick, and a house full of hot guys who want to have sex with me everyday. This is paradise. I think this top really makes me look sexy. It kind of just appeared in my closet an hour ago how lucky is that!. I wonder if the boys will agree not that we’ll be in our clothes for a very long time. Damn it is that Luke moaning ugh only Jesse’s dick makes him squeal like that. I told them to wait for me.

Meanwhile in a galaxy three solar systems away…

I looked at the mirror, not being able to believe what I was seeing. Sure, I casted a spell to change my grandpa’s mind. To make him more tolerant, less racist, and that he would accept me regardless of my sexual preference. But I was not expecting this. I became him, well not exactly, I became him when he was young. Can you believe it? By looking at the calendar it seems that it is now the 1960s. Shit! His body is awesome. He looks so good. So now I can change his mind literally. However, if I change his past… does that mean that I would cease to exist in the future? Man, I don't know what to do! Probably, I should just enjoy the experience of being my old man and hope that everything will go back to normal.

Part 2 can be found here!

I couldn’t take it anymore.

For weeks the old freak had turned my life into his personal porn empire. He branded my body as “TomTheFlexKing” and flooded OnlyFans and Twitter with endless content.

Daily gym mirror selfies, my thick pecs and abs glistening with sweat as he pulled up tank tops and flexed for the camera. Post-shower towel shots where the towel hung obscenely low on my hips. Full-length videos of him stroking my stolen cock, moaning in my voice while flexing. Collab teasers where he’d get fucked on camera, my muscular legs spread wide, my handsome face twisted in pleasure as he begged for more.

The subscribers poured in. The money rolled in. Comments called my body perfect, addictive, built for sex. He replied to fans from my account, teasing future videos and “boyfriend content.”

Every notification was a knife in my gut as I rotted away in that disgusting old man body.

That’s when I decided something had to be done.

I confronted him one final time after a late night gym session, voice shaking, begging for my life back.

The old freak just smirked with my stolen face,

“Alright, Tommy. One final swap. Let’s settle this.”

The world flashed white.

When I regained consciousness, everything felt wrong.

There was no aching back. No frail, trembling limbs. No constant smell of decay. Instead, I felt smooth skin, lean muscle, and a strange, warm energy pulsing through me.

I was lying on soft sheets in an unfamiliar bedroom. Slowly, I sat up. My hands looked different, younger, tattooed with delicate ink running down the left arm. My chest felt lighter but defined. My legs were strong but not as thick as mine used to be.

Heart hammering, I stood up on shaky new legs and walked toward the large ornate mirror on the other side of the room. I stopped in front of the mirror and stared.

My reflection showed a handsome young man with dark curly hair, sharp jawline, and lean, athletic muscle covered in tasteful tattoos. I lifted a hand and hesitantly placed it on my new stomach, feeling the firm ridges of my abs. My fingers traced upward over my chest, then down my arms, exploring the unfamiliar form.

“Holy shit” an unfamiliar voice escaped my lips.

I know this body… it’s Adam… the man that pervert has been seeing since he stole my life!

The old man, still wearing my original muscular body, sat on the edge of the bed behind me, shirtless and relaxed, watching with a satisfied smirk on my face.

I turned slightly, taking in the side profile, the taper of my waist, the curve of my shoulders, the way my hair fell across my forehead. This body was younger, smoother, and responded eagerly to every touch. My new cock twitched in my shorts, I couldn’t help but look.

“…This is Adam,” I whispered in his smooth, slightly raspy voice. “The guy you were dating.”

The old man in my real body chuckled from the bed, leaning back on his elbows, my thick pecs and abs on full display.

“Smart boy. The real Adam sadly couldn’t handle another swap. That pathetic old body finally gave out the moment I pulled him into it. He’s gone. You’re Adam now. Permanently.”

I should have felt horror. Rage. Grief for the man whose life I’d just inherited.

Instead, a dark, addictive warmth spread through my chest. The old man’s magic was already working on me, softening my resistance, making this new vessel feel… right.

I ran both hands over my new torso again, slower this time, squeezing my pecs, tracing the lines of my abs. I turned to look at the old man, at my old powerful body, sitting on the bed watching me with hungry eyes.

He stood up and walked over, wrapping my former thick arms around me from behind. We both stared into the mirror together, my stolen muscular frame dominating this lean, tattooed one that was now mine.

“Looks good on you, babe,” he murmured, kissing the side of my neck. “Now be a good boyfriend and keep training that body. I want Adam looking even hotter when we film content together.”

I met his eyes in the reflection… and smiled.

This was my life now.

Adam’s life.

Epilogue

The first few days as Adam were a blur of disbelief and discovery.

I spent hours in front of mirrors, exploring my new body. Running my hands over the lean muscle, tracing every tattoo, flexing just to watch how Adam’s physique responded. The corruption worked fast, every pump in the gym made me hungrier for more.

I started training harder than Adam ever had. Mornings were dedicated to chest and arms, evenings to abs and back. I’d send old body progress pics from the locker room, my new abs glistening, tank top pulled up.

He loved it.

Our content together blew up. Gym mirror selfies where he’d flex my old thick arms while I stood behind him, hands on his waist. Couple shots of us training, sweating, smiling like the perfect pair. The comments called us “goals.” No one knew the truth.

Dates became routine.

We’d go out to restaurants, his arm around my shoulders, both of us laughing for the camera. At night he’d fuck me in my old body while I moaned in Adam’s voice, completely lost in the pleasure of being his boyfriend.

I stopped fighting weeks ago.

Now I wake up excited to hit the gym, to make this body even better for him. I catch myself staring at my reflection, flexing, touching, getting hard just from how good Adam looks, how good I look.

Tom is almost gone.

Adam, eager, trained, and happily owned, is thriving.

And I’ve never been happier.

*notification*

*notification*

“Ugh, who’s texting me this early in the morning”. I pick up the phone and I see the time: 8:25 AM.

Trying to get off the sleep, I see three messages coming from a number I hadn’t seen in my life, and those messages have two images attached to them. I open them .

“Hey, dude! Good morning!”

Holly shit, why is it Michael, our college’s team quarterback, sending me pictures of him.

“Uhh... Michael, I think you got the wrong number” I replied to him.

He’s such a jock, he only pass his classes because his father is the principal.

The three dots of texting appear.

“Isn’t this Liam’s number?”

“Yeah, but how did you get this number?”

We don’t even share classes, I’ve never talked to him.

“Your friend gave me your number?”

“My friend? What friend?”

“Jacob”

“Jacob?” Why Jacob gave my number to one of the jockest jock. “Is this a kind of joke?? How money did he give you?”

He stops replying and suddenly I get a videocall from Jacob’s number. I pick it up.

My camera turns on and then my whole screen is full of Michael’s face with a huge smile on it.

“Hey, dude!”

“Why do you have Jacob’s phone??” Did he just kill my friend??

“Hahaha still haven’t figured it out?”

“Figure out what??” I’m starting to get worry and angry.

“This is Jacob!”

Is this dude okay?? Is he drunk?? Why is he calling himself Jacob?

“Where’s my friend, Michael?”

“He’s right here” he turns the camera and it’s the same mirror where I got the pictures before.

“Where!?” I’m starting to freak out.

“I’m inside Michael, Liam!” The fuck?! Is he on drugs? “Do you remember the astral projections I was talking about? Well, it’s real and I can also posses bodies!”

“This is joke, right?”

“No, this is real! Let me tell you something only I would know: do you remember that time when you got a boner by staring at my dad?”

“Jacob?? How did you do it?” That boner was a full shame, it was one time his father was shirtless around his house.

“Come here and I’ll show you how to. I’ll send you the location” he hangs up and I got a message with the location on. It’s not that far, so I’ll make it fast, I need answer and also I need to know how to do that... I want to take Michael’s friend body.

................................................................................................

These picture were sent by @jacobsbodyswapcollections, thank you so much!

This is a sequel to Couple's Therapy, which can be found here.

Marcus looked down at this request before crumbling it up and placing it in his pocket. He let out a sigh, took a long drag from his cigarette, and stomped it with his foot before going out on a walk to clear his head and to get a better idea of the new town he was in.

After a few months of operating in his hometown, Marcus decided it would be better to move on and not stay in one area for too long. Part of the reason was born out of regret. His powers weren’t fully under control as he initially believed they were, which caused some friction for about half to the couples he provided his unique counseling skills to. The other half seemed quite satisfied, but a 50% failure rate wasn’t exactly a passing grade for himself.

Of course, Marcus made sure to let most of his old clients, the satisfied ones at least, that he was going to be moving. For now, he was just rented out a little office space he discreetly also slept in, though the landlord didn't need to know that. However, he hadn't started advertising to the locals just yet—he wasn't quite ready to start. Even so, when awoke that morning and checked the mail, he received an unmarked envelope.

And as Marcus scanned the contents, he scowled.

“My father’s still in the closet. I’ve already graduated college and moved out with my partner, but my father still seems to be in denial about his sexuality. He’s been divorced from my mother for a while now, and I just want him to be happy, but it seems like he’s just holding himself back for some reason. Is there anything you can do?”

On the bottom of the letter was a single phone number. Likely a burner phone, considering the sender didn't put their name or address anywhere. The sender probably didn't want Marcus to find them or for anyone to know they had even contacted Marcus in the first place. However, they must've kept up with Marcus' work and movements if they knew he was staying here. He had to admit, he was rather impressed, but that didn't overshadow just how annoyed he was. The sender must've known he was currently on break and wasn't even sure if he was going to continue his work. Marcus crumbled up the note and took off.

He should’ve just thrown it in the trash and forgotten about—that would've solved everything—but some of those words weighed heavy in his mind. Still in the closet... he thought. Those words alone made him reconsider. It wasn't like any of his previous jobs, but the usual method might be able to fix it. Still, he hesitated. And with that came a whole host of problems. Now that sheet just felt heavy in his back pocket as he walked through the streets of this unfamiliar place, intent of memorizing routes.

A new problem arose: he was lost. Streets looked familiar and yet utterly unrecognizable. Marcus knew he wasn't great at following maps or remembering the routes, but he figured with enough age he'd eventually get good at it. Unfortunately, it seemed like he was wrong. Nevertheless, he kept his gaze firmly forward and his visage neutral. Nobody would know he was lost if he simply acted like he knew where he was going, and eventually he would, right?

Not too long after, just when he was about to give up hope and look for a map on his phone, a familiar voice rang out. “Marcus! Is that really you?” He couldn’t help but turn around despite how risky it could’ve been. He had his fair share of enemies at this point, but just the thoughts of finally interacting with a voice that wasn’t his own—wasn’t his inner monologue—was so enticing he could not help himself.

And to his relief, it was a friendly face. Not only that, but one that was rounder, fuller, and more colorful than last he saw her. “Julia…?” he breathed out, almost speechless as his former client came bounding over.

Beaming brightly as she approached, Julia didn’t slow down. Marcus nearly held his arms up in a defensive posture before she extended her arms out and tackled him into a hug that nearly bowled him over. It was only due to him expecting an impact that the pair remained standing, but never in his life would he have imagine she was going to embrace him like this.

Marcus blinked hard, staring up at the sky to make sure not a single tear fell. Once he was certain he wouldn’t embarrass himself, he said, “It’s nice to see a familiar face here,” with the dry tone he often used.

Julia tittered as she pulled back. She had gained weight, looking much healthier than the twig-like and stressed out woman Marcus had initially met; her round cheeks regained some of the lively, rose color they had lost;, and her eyes were gleaming with energy like fireflies on a cool summer night. “How are you? I haven’t seen you in so long ever since I moved. I tried to tell you but I found your office all but deserted when I stopped by!"

Marcus winced at that. He had been intending to let Julia know as well, but with her case being part of the reason he had gotten so big at his previous locale, it felt a bit awkward to tell her about it without accidentally implying that it was her fault he was leaving town. So he decided to forgo visiting her or leaving a note. "Sorry, I couldn't find your address. I lost it by accident."

"That's all right!" she said, still beaming. "Oh my gosh, are you busy right now? We should definitely sit down somewhere and catch up! I know all the nice eats around these parts.” Chest puffed out with pride, she dug into her purse and pulled out a folded up magazine. A local paper? She flipped to a certain page and all but shoved it in Marcus’ face. “Look, look! See?!”

Marcus took the magazine and skimmed through the page. Julia Hawking’s Juice Japes. The mouth-watering pictures of food and Julia posing with a few cooks and chefs spelled it all out. “I didn’t realize you were a food critic.”

“I wasn’t, when we first met,” she said. “Are you busy? I’d like to tell you all about it.”

“No, I can’t say that I am. Please, lead the way. I was actually trying to scope out this new location.” They walked side-by-side, and the whole way Marcus was reflecting—both on how much Julia had changed and if this was what it was like growing up with a sibling, although Julia had a few years over him.

“It’s really nice to see you again. To be honest, I was actually hoping I could show you how much I’ve changed,” she said, taking a sip of her sugary smoothie she had ordered. Marcus, meanwhile, ordered a juicy steak for his meal. He had skipped breakfast today, as he tended to do.

“With Trevor’s attitude change," continued Julia, "I’ve had time to keep growing my career and now…” she blushed before saying, “Yeah, I’ve started running my own business. Anyway, we ended up moving here since it’s closer to my husband’s mother so he could continue taking care of her.”

Hmm? Marcus hadn’t expected that reveal. When was his mother in the picture?

“To be honest, she really wasn’t—for a while, a least,” said Julia. “But after the treatment we did with you… he changed. Not just him being more open to all this other stuff, but he’s become much kinder. Much more interested in people’s well-being. To be honest, it was such a 180 that I was nearly floored. I know I asked for you to make me treat me nicer, but he really has become a stand-out guy.”

Marcus nodded to himself. “Well, at least it worked out for you," he said, resting his elbow on the table, forlorn.

Julia's brow furrowed. "Oh, I did hear some things before I left—about your business. Um… there were some issues?"

'Issues' was putting it lightly. What had ended up happening was several of the husbands of his clientele becoming far more sexually active and more interesting in the same gender. The end result is many of the husbands cheating on their wives with each other. To make things worse, not all of the wives were completely outraged. About enjoyed the little 'shows' their husbands put on or saw it as a form of sexual liberation. From t hat came disagreement—and then friendships began to shatter. The whole town ended up becoming a battlefield or sorts.

Marcus becoming the enemy of the heterosexual couples of that town would've suited him just fine. He was used to being outcasted and scapegoated, it was almost nostalgic. It didn't feel great, but it was something her was used to. Having others stick up, defend him, and ruin their standing with the rest of the town was what made him uncomfortable. So he packed his bags, apologized, and left.

Julia sighed when Marcus finished telling his story. "It is a shame," she said.

"I know. I didn't mean to mess up their marriages like that," said Marcus, bowing his head as he thought back to the women yelling at each other. "I didn't think I influenced them that much."

"No, I meant all those ladies running you out of town as if we're not all on the same boat." Julia reached out and squeezed Marcus' hand. "You really helped me out, y'know. Not just me, but also all those other women in town, even if they didn't particularly care for the end result." She spoke with such confidence that Marcus was almost convinced. However, he wrested his hand from her grip and drew back.

"I made them unfaithful."

“I don't know if you did all of that. I think my husband became kinder and more considerate of others because you possessed him. And you didn’t reprogram him—not completely anyway, I think. You showed him that he’s capable of becoming that kind of person." She flashed an awkward smile, which reminded Marcus of the timid young woman who first stepped into his office with her head bowed and her hands trembling. But there was no meekness in that smile anymore. No, she seemed like she was having fun at how awkward she was being, like she was inviting him to joke and smile with her.

“I’m no doctor, lawyer, or psychologist so I can’t exactly discuss with you how ethical your method is, but I do know one thing: you saved me, and Trevor, too. I think he’s much happier this way, not because he’s been reprogrammed to think so, but because he’s just much more comfortable living in his own skin again. Life tears you down," she continued, "but I think you helped him take the first step in rebuilding himself back up. After that, the rest was for the two of us to do."

Comfortable in his own skin, huh…? Marcus let those words echo in his head throughout the rest of the meal. The two conversed, with Marcus nodding along and congratulating Julia as she told him about her latest promotion and then taking notes when she began telling him about all the best places in town to try out.

Before Julia left for her Zumba class, she asked, “Are you going to go to the Pride parade this weekend? Trevor and I were planning on going—and knowing you’re gonna be here, I think it’d be neat for the two of you to formally meet.”

“I think I will, but I won’t exactly be there as myself.” Julia nodded, an understanding smile on her face, and wished him good luck. With the tab paid and his belly full, Marcus resumed his walk throughout the town with a much more energetic gait.

Tomorrow would be his first Pride parade as well.

Douglas Moore had been intending on spending the weekend quietly at home. He picked out a good book to read, he was planning on running the bath later that evening, and there was an unopened bottle of wine in the living room that had been teasing him all week to finally uncork it.

Yes, it's going to be a lovely weekend indeed, Douglas thought as he awoke to the sounds of the birds nesting by his windowsill gently awoke him with the lovebird symphony. He slowly sat up, blinking himself to full awoke ness, and then was forced back onto his bed immediately by an invisible force. He flopped on the mattress, shivering and moaning as a numbing sensation spread throughout his body. At first, he was concerned he was having some kind of heart attack before, all of a sudden, it subsided. Douglas was left breathless on his bed.

Slowly, he sat back up, rubbing his hands over his chest to check his on his racing heart. Yes, he felt fine, right? Hmm… for whatever reason, he was rubbing himself a bit more than he thought he needed, but better to be safe than sorry.

"Nrgh…!" Douglas' whole body shivered as he suddenly tweaked his nipple through his wifebeater. He hadn't expected such a sensitive reaction from just touching himself, but now that he was, he couldn't just ignore the rising tent in his boxers. "Shit, I'm like a hormonal teen," he muttered. He didn't expect to curse out of the blue like that, but he should cut himself some slack. What's the matter with a curse every once in a while so long as it was kept out of children's ears and away from the house of God?

Douglas was so caught up in these new thoughts that he didn't consider that, up until now, he never had any sort of inner narration like 50% of the population. Suddenly he was on the other camp, yet he didn't find it off-putting in the slightest.

He threw the blankets off his body with a flourish he never hand before and glanced down at himself as if witnessing his form for the very first time. He breathed in and out, seeing the chest rise and fall rhythmically. His wiggled his toes and waved his bare, hairy feet like they were some new-found novelty. Oh my, he thought, I don't know why I'm feeling so frisky but I kinda like it. So much of his life was spent being a prude, so why not enjoy the physique he had worked hard onto maintain? With that, he grabbed the rim of his boxers with both hands and threw it to the other side of the room. His cock, already hard and swinging in the air, looked like it needed attention.

"Nrgh…! Mmmf…! Love doing this shit!" Douglas cried out, jacking his meat with little shame. He couldn't remember the last time he was so enthusiastically choking his cock like this, but it felt so good! He couldn't get enough of it. He turned over so he lied on his belly and started humping the mattress. "Nrgh! Yeah, y-yeah! This is great…" he kept muttered, one hand tweaking his nipple while the bed covers enveloped his dick. "Haah…! Oh yeah. I-I'm… fuck, I'm fucking cumming…!" He cried out, his whole body curling up into a C as his twitching cock could take no more and started spewing out semen all over the sheets.

Douglas collapsed onto his own mess. "Heheh…! Think I went a little overboard," he said with an embarrassed yet still shameless titter. He rubbed the cum over his stomach like sunscreen. "There we go, all clean," he said. It was just fluids, after all. Only some immature prude would really make a big deal about cumming on the sheets. Today was laundry day, anyway.

Satisfied, Douglas swung his large legs to the side and had enough restraint to not leapt out of his bed. With a swagger normally reserved for big-shot athletes, he marched over to his closet, threw the door open, and recoiled in horror. "Oh no… oh no, no no no—oh this is dreadful," he muttered to himself as he went through each garment. "It's borderline terminal. Nothing even the tiniest bit bold of colorful." Douglas internally withered as his hands went through and rummaged through years of dull, mono-colored shirts and sweaters—only occasion finding a red or yellow that had grown faded from the years. When was the last time he had gone clothes shopping?

"It's been too long," he said, and he absolutely agreed. "I've got to get ready since I'll be preparing for today's Pride. Need something fashionable to wear. Don't need to look like a grandpa for the party over there."

Today's Pride? Douglas was surprised a this own words, but also more surprised at just how nonchalantly he was speaking to himself as well. But… this was his own decision. Yes, he wanted to go to pride of his own accord. Even though he couldn't recall knowing any details of the event or what he was supposed to do when he got there, he put on the least atrocious combinations of colors he could put on, scarfed down a plain breakfast, and rushed to the clothing store.

"Mmm… nice." Douglas had never been much of a fashion connoisseur, but there was something almost hypnotic about watching himself try on these different, much more colorful styles and pose in the mirror. On occasion, he would even wink to his own reflection. Once, he even leaned forward, both arms pressed up against the glass and shook his hips while panting with his tongue out. "Ohhh," moaned Douglas, quickly pressing his hand over his mouth. Even without anybody else int he fitting rooms, he couldn't help but be overwhelmed by all these emotions. Even better he really wanted to just tear of all these clothes and just start ravaging himself and bust his load all over the mirror.

Have I always been this good-looking? Douglas thought. No, it's because I'm finally giving a shit about my appearance like this.

"I think I've got a nice look down," he said, chuckling to himself and even giving a tiny flex in these fashionable clothes. "Bet all the handsome hunks will be thrilled to see a nice little DILF like this." And Douglas agreed. He'd give them all a nice little show as they marched down the streets.

As the young clerk rang up his purchases, Douglas noticed just how long his gaze lingered. He grinned and said, "Going to the pride after parties once your shift's over?"

The young man flinched but then shyly smiled. He nodded with a small, meek smile. "Knowing you'll be there, I think I can make the effort," he said, tittering. He took out a few bills from the register and handed Douglas his change. Douglas reached out, cupping the young man's hand and tenderly stroke it before taking his cash. The young man was fully blushing and left a stuttering mess.

"See you around," Douglas said with a killer, confident grin. He couldn't believe he had done that, but… he wanted to do it again. He wanted to make that clerk's whole body blush while ramming inside of him. As he walked back to his car, Douglas' cock was tenting up in his pants, but he walked around with little shame. "Why bother with shame?" he said outloud, walking around with a swagger only a hot older man could possess. "Keeping this hot body all to myself would be a disservice to the world. We got only one life, we gotta live it."

Douglas had heard that kinda nonsense all his life, but saying it himself just now… he was believing it. Hell, he was even living it.

The parade would start around noon, so Douglas wasted no time… is what he told himself. The truth was, as he took out the boring shirts and jeans he had on, he stopped and took a clear look at his reflection. He was oozing confidence he had no idea he could ever possess. So much of his his life was spent gazing at his own feet and awkwardly shuffling forward. Any flamboyance or even simple joy in life was swiftly beaten down by his father and older brothers. Being a real man was being a stoic, miserable wretch that until until he died—that was what they believed, and they firmly made sure Douglas believed the same thing. And for most of his life, he did.

But now—fresh shirt, suit, and colorful pants on—Douglas felt like he was truly alive. "Yup," he said to his own reflection, "this is what a real man looks like." It wasn't so much that he was looking a handsome man in the mirror, but rather that it was a a man who was finally able to make choice without worrying about what an outsiders might think. "Confident, nicely groomed, and ready to turn heads."

The energy of the parade was electric. People chanting, shouting, cheering, and marching forward with so much determination in their gazes and voices. Not a single one of them looked ashamed to be there, and Douglas was right there with them. He pumped his fist in the air, walking forward and catching people's eyes. So many people chatted him up, speaking and asking him so many questions as a 'queer unc.' He had no clue what that meant, but he still smiled and spoke with confidence.

It was during the aftermath that he started getting a more attention. "Heeey handsome." A younger man, shirtless and carrying a microphone, waved Douglas down. Trailing just a few steps behind was a cameraman. "Mind asking some questions for my channel? It's always nice interviewing some older gay men to get a fresh perspective."

The implications weren't lost on Douglas. He nodded and walked over. He asked some basic questions, and Douglas answered with mostly the truth. "I think I knew my whole life, but I wasn't quite ready to accept it until I was much older," he said, and he supposed that wasn't untrue. Ever since he was a child Douglas always felt like he was a tiny bit different than the other boys his age. He stared at the men in his life, gaze lingering a bit longer. "It took a while to let go of the shame. This is actually my first pride, but I think I'd like to attend more." He looked around, seeing all the different kinds of folks milling around and having fun. So many of them seemed relieved and at home. It felt like their own little slice of heaven here on earth.

"So, this is something I ask everyone I interview," the host said, "what does pride mean to you?"

Douglas took a deep breath. He had never given it much thought before. Honestly, in the past he figured that the whole thing was silly and the gays didn't need to make a whole parade over being who they were. "I think it's a way to express ourselves, and individuals," he began. "We were get labeled growing up, but I think part of maturing and growing into our own skin is taking these labels and using them not just to define ourselves but to show the world 'this is who I am. This is what I'm about.'"

Who I really am… Yeah, this is what I want the world to see me as. This is who I want to be. Queer and free.

"Pride is to celebrate that. It's like a big artshow, and the craft is ourselves. Our identities, our lives, our experiences—we're here to show all of ourselves to each other, and to make sure we're not all drowning in loneliness," he added, chuckling. "I think that's what pride is to me, and why it's so important."

"Interesting," the interviewer said, nodding. "Well, thanks for your time, and be sure to follow us at…"

I didn't realize I was so eloquent with words, thought Douglas. Perhaps it was time to get back into the arts, as well. With the passion he was speaking with it'd be a waste to not channel that one in a creative pursuit. Gays generally made for good artists, right? He was certain he heard about that somewhere before.

As the festivities wound down, Douglas found that same clerk from the show store. "So," he said as he approached, nearly making the younger man jump out of his skin, "you made it. So glad to see you. By yourself, though?"

"Ah, well…" said the young man, sheepishly scratching the back of his next. "I mean, not too many of my friends really know. And this isn't really their scene, so…"

Douglas nodded, empathizing with Steven. If anyone he knew saw him here… well, before he was certain he would've been panicking and pleading for them to not reveal this to anyone. but for whatever reason he no longer had that fear. If anyone saw me here, he thought, I'd tell them to fuck off and mind their own business. I'm a grown-ass man and can make my own choices and my own decisions.

Suddenly Douglas let out a groan as that weighty feeling vanished. That slight disassociation disappeared, and he truly felt like he was back in his own skin. Though strange, it didn't matter right now. "C'mon, then. Want me to show you around? There's still plenty to see, and a nice nightlife to check out afterwards." Douglas gently took the younger man's hand as he tried to strutter out a response. "Name's Douglas, but just Doug's fine. You?"

"St-Steven…" was all the young man was able to get out before Douglas pulled him along.

Neither of them saw the figure walking away, whistling to himself in satisfaction of a job well-done. Both just enjoyed what they night offered them.

Part 1 can be found here!

Six days later, I was still trapped.

Six days of shuffling around in this weak, aching, foul-smelling old man body. Six days of people avoiding eye contact. Six days of searching desperately for my own body while my tiny useless cock stayed soft no matter how horny I got from the memories.

Tonight I finally found it.

I was lurking in the shadows near the back patio of a waterfront restaurant when I saw him. Me. Sitting on a cushioned wicker couch under the string lights, wearing a crisp white button-up shirt with a pearl necklace, looking stupidly hot. My curly hair was perfect. My face was turned toward this sharp, dark-haired guy in a full black suit, smiling that flirty, easy smile I used to use on girls.

They were on a date.

The suited guy leaned in and kissed me. My stolen body kissed him back hungrily, tongues sliding, my hand sliding up to cup the back of his neck and pull him deeper. A soft, needy moan escaped my real mouth as the guy’s hand rested high on my thigh, squeezing.

I gripped the lattice fence with brittle old fingers, tears burning in my sunken eyes. The freak inside my skin smirked as he spotted me, whispered something filthy to his date, and led the guy away by the hand.

For the next few weeks, the old freak didn’t just live my life, he turned it into a full-time performance.

He rebranded my Instagram, Twitter, and started an OnlyFans all within days. My face, my body, my name… now plastered across the internet as fresh meat. “TomTheFlexKing” or some shit like that.

Every day the notifications destroyed me.

Selfies and videos flooded in: me in the gym, shirtless, pulling up my tank to show off my ripped abs while flexing my thick biceps for the camera. Mirror pics right after showers, water still dripping down my chest, pearl necklace on, cock half-hard in tight shorts.

Then the real content started. Teasing clips of my stolen hands slowly stroking my thick cock. Flexing my arms while moaning in my voice about how good it feels to show off this body. Full-length videos of him getting fucked, my muscular legs spread wide, my handsome face twisted in pleasure as he begged for more on camera.

He gained thousands of followers overnight. Guys flooding the comments calling my body perfect, hot, fuckable. He replied to some of them from my account, teasing future collabs.

I was forced to watch it all from this rotting old man body, shuffling past gym windows just to catch glimpses of him posing inside, or hiding in alleyways refreshing his Twitter feed like a pathetic addict. Every new post hit like a punch: my abs glistening, my ass flexed in the mirror, my cock throbbing on camera while he moaned filth in my voice.

With summer break on horizon I have decided to create trilogy about college sports. We are starting with everybody's favourite, the wrestling. If you have other sport you want to have story about, type it to the comments. Also, as you may know, I created an account on Ko-Fi. If you like this or any of my other stores. You can tip me there.

The office smelled of stale coffee, wintergreen liniment, and the heavy, intoxicating musk of raw testosterone.

Johny stood just inside the door, nervously clutching the straps of his oversized backpack. Short, with a thin, angular frame and a perpetually shy demeanor, he looked like the academic nerd who spent his life buried in library basements rather than athletic halls. He was decidedly not an athlete.

Behind the heavy oak desk sat Coach Marcus. The man was a mountain. He was mature, ruggedly handsome, and built like a literal bear – tall, dense muscle, broad shoulders that stretched his polo shirt to its absolute limit, and a huge chest that surged forward with every breath. He projected an aura of absolute dominance.

Coach looked up from a file, his deep voice vibrating through the room. "Have a seat, Johny."

Johny swallowed hard, remaining standing. "Is something wrong with my academic standing, Coach?"

"Not your academics," Coach rumbled, a slow, knowing smile spread across his handsome face. "But you're short on your physical education credits. It's mandatory for graduation. A lot of you high-IQ guys forget about the body while feeding the brain. But I have a way you can fix it. Right now." Coach reached into a sports bag on his desk and pulled out a spandex wrestling singlet. It was vibrant red with deep blue stripes running down the sides. He held it out. Johny looked at the skimpy piece of fabric, his face flushing a bright, nervous crimson.

The light clicked on, keys were tossed on the chest of drawers by the door, Thomas gasped and gaped at the titanic man sprawled on his sofa across the room.

“Startled you?” He purred in a deep, Eastern European accent.

Thomas paused and then choked out an impressed chuckle, pointing a finger towards the backpack, “So who’s it this time? Exchange student? New in your department?”

“Maybe. Maybe just some piece of ass I saw stumbling around campus. Does it matter?” He cockily flexed for himself, indulging in his huge size, taking heavy deep breaths intermingled with soft moans, teasing Thomas.

Thomas and Professor Navarro—Juan to Thomas now—had been going steady pretty much since the first month Thomas had his upper level religion class in his 3rd year. Juan was always so charming and intelligent to Thomas, not to mention he rocked a tight Latino silver fox look, and Thomas was always an attentive and passionate student, plus his short but stacked bod he’d maintained from his wrestling years in high school had always attracted its fair share of admirers. Including from his professors. Needless to say, visits to Professor Navarro's office hours quickly transitioned first into heavy petting, then followed by mutual suck sessions right there in the religious studies hall.

Since then, Juan and Thomas had turned their taboo situationship into a full blown relationship, with much more openness after Thomas finally graduated. But it had only been within the last two months since Juan—through his more esoteric studies—discovered that spell (hex, really, but who’s worried about precision of language when you’re dealing with possession incantations). Even in the short two months since the discovery, he and Thomas had taken insane advantage of it. Both Juan and Thomas had stuffed themselves into a village’s worth of people since then—other men, women, students, grad assistants, and professors alike, a small mob’s worth of men at the townie bars, into each other’s bodies (too many times to count really)—but this was easily Juan’s most massive find to date.

Juan continued to admire himself, relishing in the ridiculous scale of his borrowed body, flexing and copping a feel all over himself through hot and heavy pants of breath. Thomas had trouble catching his own breath, squeezing his thick hog that was forming a spike in his gym shorts at the sight, soaking his briefs in sweaty pre and coaxing Juan to tease him further.

Juan sighed and brought his massive hands down together to his crotch making an O with his hands and bunching up his stiffening package over his shorts making an obscene bulge, then waggled the copious bunch of meat at Thomas.

"You want I should stretch your hole wide open like pig, да?" He purred deeply again, really leaning into his borrowed Eastern European accent. “Come, let me taste, красотка.”

Thomas huffed another giggle and dropped his bag, swiftly moving over to the couch and basically falling on top of Juan's enormous form, immediately linking lips with him and exploring each others mouths and tongues. Thomas rutted his cock against Juan’s chiseled torso while Juan sucked face and took greedy firm fistfuls of Thomas’s ass. Suddenly, Juan manhandled Thomas up higher to his face, yanking down his shorts and briefs, burying his face into Thomas’s fuzzy bush and taking licks down his throbbing pole, while Thomas steadied himself with his hands around Juan’s buzzed head. Juan went to work swallowing deep gulps of Thomas’s chubby boyfriend cock, as Thomas gasped in deep satisfied moans of ecstasy.

Suddenly, after riding cresting waves of pleasure inside Juan’s mouth, stampeding quickly towards cumming, a devilish thought hit Thomas. Maybe even a risky thought, but that made it so much hotter—and fuck, could it be hot…

Between the noisy gulps and slurps he was making, Juan could also hear the first few syllables of that familiar incantation being whispered between whiny gasps. Juan immediately understood what was happening. Greedy fucker, Juan thought with a grin and intensified his assault on Thomas’s dick, pushing his man ever closer to unloading while he hurried out the last of the lines. Thomas panted urgently the last few syllables as he felt his balls hitch and his head vibrate as he flooded Juan’s gullet with spooge.

Simultaneously, as he voided his nuts into Juan’s new thick neck, Thomas felt the familiar sucking pull, as he began his plunge into his lover once again. Only this time, he felt a triple-fold hurricane wind of tightening pleasure pervading his goo-ifying body, sloshing around and through his own fresh load. He felt something—someone—with him there in the churning, throbbing vessel he was invading, and he knew within a second that it was Juan there he was sliding against, thrusting against, grinding against, melding into. Their body thrashed there on the couch, flexing and grunting involuntarily, humping against the air, their whole frame pulsating and cracking bigger while their clothes came loose at the seams, their cock hiccuping into thicker and longer extremes.

Thomas and Juan churned and twisted more into each other, squeezing into each other with such erotic intensity until—…

Their eyes shot open to the bright light in the same second as their neck cracked higher, forcing their shared body into its 7’8”, 430 lbs behemoth finality, also the same second their 13 inch coke can cock and orange sized nuts began gushing and spitting out a liters worth of hot, gooey jizz into the sweating, matted forest of his heaving barrel chest.

“Holy shit... Mike!? I-It… it really is you! How???”

Glen was supposed to get picked up from work by his roommate, Mike. He could have sworn he got into the right car, and now was sitting next to a 6 foot muscle giant! He would’ve assumed it was just an awkward mistake on his part, if the guy didn’t just list of TONS of person info on him! Things only his pal Mike would know!

Mike quit flexing for a second as he began his explanation. “Well remember how I told you I wanted to build some muscle? I even got a gym membership and everything!”

“Mike, I think we both know a gym membership doesn’t turn you into a completely different person...”

“I know, I was getting to that! Ok so there I was in the corner of the gym, I was struggling to hit some of the weight I hit back in high school. Suddenly, this literal mountain of a man walks up and offers to spot me. He seemed cool enough from our brief chat, now I’m not gay but I definitely got the vibe he maybe wanted to hit on me but didn’t want to make a big deal of it.”

Mike’s friend Glen rolled his eyes. “Yeah dude, I’m sure every guy at the gym was drooling over you.”

“Glen can you let me finish!”

“Fine, proceed with your story that sounds like the start of a bad porno.”

“Well as I was saying, it turns out he WAS gay but wasn’t helping me just to flirt.”

“Big surprise there.”

Mike shook off the comment and proceeded with the story. “Apparently him and his boyfriend are into really kinky stuff involving, and you wouldn’t believe this…body swaps.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me…”

“Glen I’m literally sitting next to you and look like another man. I think we’re passed the “Prove it!” phase! As you can see I took the deal. Apparently him and his bf often pick swaps for each other and the theme this time was… *sigh* Ex jock.”

Glen had to hold in a chuckle. Mike had definitely let himself go a bit after high school. It’s like he kept loading up on carbs like he did in the wrestling days but with less workouts to burn them off! He wasn’t a total tub of lard but that developing belly of his was the source of many a joke in their time.

“So wait Mike. From what you’re telling me… that means your current body is getting fu-“

His buddy’s new, veiny hand then clasped over his mouth mid-sentence.

“DON’T say it! …But essentially yeah, he was um, let’s just say very thorough, when explaining to me exactly what my body was in for. Frankly I could have gone without the more explicit details but he insisted I knew what was going to happen. Overall it was wayyy too good of a deal to pass up so I took it!”

“Isn’t he worried you’ll just take his body and run?”

“He said whatever magic crap the used to do this comes with strings. Him and his bf have a sort of passive control of my this body from wherever they’re at. Doesn’t really mean anything unless I fail to show up on our planned day to switch back.”

After hearing his friend’s story Mike was intrigued when he picked up on a not so little something.

“So, any side effect to this swap thing?” Glen asked.

Mike thought to himself. “I think the guy mentioned one last thing as he left but it didn’t hear it too well. Why?”

“Well man, you’ve been kind of handsy with me throughout your little story and you’ve got quite the boner. I’m thinking sexuality’s might be a tad influenced by the swap. Not that it’s too much of a problem for me.”

Mike saw the boner and began to list of a bunch of potential rationalizations and excuses.

Father's Day Singlet

Detective Robbie McKay laid on the gurney, surrounded by doctors and nurses who rushed him through the endless hospital hallways with a pace indicating urgency. His body throbbed with pain and each breath was more agonizing than the last. As the medication did its best to numb his discomfort, his mind floated in and out of consciousness with memories of a shootout flashing before his eyes. He could still hear the exchange of gunfire, see the bombardment of quick flashes, and feel the searing pain of a bullet tearing through his flesh.

Memories of the briefing earlier that day invaded his thoughts as well. He remembered sitting at this desk, surrounded by fellow officers, listening intently as Chief Ramirez laid out the plan to bust a notorious drug ring.

"An informant on the inside tells us that they're planning on moving a shipment of drugs, guns and other paraphernalia out of their warehouse tonight. That's why I'm gonna need all units on deck." Chief Ramirez spoke with authority as he went into the details, most of which were too hazy for Robbie to remember.

Robbie did remember being pulled aside by the Chief. "Thanks again for agreeing to come along McKay. I know you're in homicide but for a bust this big I'm going to need my best guys."

"As if saying no was even an option Chief. You know I'll follow you anywhere into battle." Robbie was as loyal as they'd come. Devoted to his job and to his boss, those last words echoed in Robbie's head as he soon faced the consequences of his undying commitment.

As Robbie drifted back to awareness, he caught snippets of conversation around him. Voices muffled by the haze of medication and trauma. But one voice cut through the fog—the commanding tone of Chief Ramirez.

"Do whatever you can to save him. We can't lose him." The Chief's voice demanded.

"But sir, he's lost a lot of blood. And the bullet pierced one of the lungs—"

"I don't care dammit!" Chief Ramirez slammed his fist against the wall, urgency dripping from every word. "Use the machine if you have to. You have my permission."

Robbie tried to focus, to make sense of the situation. Machine? They were speaking as if he was on the verge of death. Robbie had much more questions on his mind but he was soon hit with another wave fogginess. His eyelids grew heavy again, a sign that the meds were about to work their magic once more.

The next time he opened his eyes, he found himself in a sterile hospital room, monitors beeping softly in the background. He tried to move, but every inch of his body protested in agony.

"Ch-Chief?" Robbie tried to call out, his voice sounding off. "Nurse??" His throat felt dry but thankfully a glass of water sat on the table next to his bed. As Robbie feebly reached for the drink he noticed a drastic change that sent a jolt of panic down his spine.

His hands, once fair and calloused from years of police work, now bore a darker complexion, somewhat of a caramel color. And they were adorned with tattoos—symbols he didn't recognize inked into his skin.

He reached up to touch his head, expecting to feel the familiar buzz of his crew cut. But his fingers met smooth skin instead, his hair shaved down to the scalp. And when he brushed his hand against his face, he felt not the familiar stubble of his beard, but a neatly trimmed goatee framing his fuller lips.

"What's going on??!" Robbie screamed out, hoping for anyone to hear him. "What happened to me??" This time he could make out the distinct change in his voice. With these longer sentences he could make out an accent, one belonging to the people he'd occasionally arrest on the streets.

Fear surged through him as he struggled to make sense of the situation unfolding before him. He had been shot in the chest, he remembered that much. But everything else felt wrong—unnatural. This had to be dream, a nightmare even, but the constant pain he felt confirmed that this was indeed reality.

Summoning all his strength, Robbie pushed himself out of the bed, his muscles protesting with every movement. Clutching his midsection where the pain was the strongest, he stumbled toward the bathroom, desperate for answers.

When he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror, his heart nearly stopped. Staring back at him was not the face of Robbie McKay, decorated and revered detective from the LAPD, but that of a stranger—a Latino man with dark eyes and a stern expression.

Panic seized him, his mind reeling with disbelief. What had happened to him? How could this be real?

Robbie approached the mirror, getting a better look at his new self. The height disparity was one of the first things he noticed. Having been accustomed to towering over everything at 6'4'', he must now have been no taller than 5'7''. He also realized his tattoos not only stopped at his arms, but covered his chest, torso, and from what he could make out his back as well. Whatever skin wasn't covered by black ink was marred by scars.

Before he could make sense of it all, the hospital staff burst into the room, their voices a blur of confusion and concern. They moved quickly to sedate him, their hands gentle yet firm as they guided him back to the bed.

And then Chief Ramirez entered the room, his expression grave as he approached Robbie's bedside.

"I'm sorry, Robbie," the chief said, his voice heavy with regret. "You are one of our best and you were on the brink of death. So I had to make a difficult decision."

Robbie's heart pounded in his chest as he listened, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place.

"The procedure is experimental. Only the higher ups back in DC know of its existence. But I managed to pull a few strings in exchange for access to their machine." The chief coldly explained the situation.

"What did you to do me? Who is this man?" Robbie pleaded for answers, pointing at his face as he looked at the chief with frantic eyes.

"We swapped your body with that of one of the gang members. He got hit pretty badly during the exchange, but his situation wasn't as dire as yours." There was a pause that for Robbie felt like an eternity.

"He died in your body just a moment ago." Chief lingered on that last sentence for a moment. "It was the only way to save you."

The words echoed in Robbie's mind, sending a chill down his spine. He had been transformed into a stranger, thrust into a world he didn't belong to, all against his will.

"And who said I wanted this? To look like a fucking thug from across the border? What am I supposed to tell my wife? My kids??" As Robbie's voice rose, the beeping from the monitors followed suit.

"Please try to keep calm. Your heart rate's spiking." A nurse tried to get the cop to settle down.

"Vete a la mierda pinche cabrónes!"

The sudden outburst caused the entire room to fill with silence, the only noise being the increasingly frequent beeps coming from the machines. Robbie hadn't even realized he cursed out everyone in the room in fluent Spanish, a language he was barely familiar in.

"Give us the room." The chief ordered the doctors and nurses working on Robbie to leave, which they all promptly did. Shutting the door behind them, he approached Robbie, standing right next to his bed.

"I understand that you're upset, son." Chief Ramirez spoke up, breaking the silence. His voice ditching his usually authoritative tone, this time adopting a tinge of empathy. "But we have a plan for you. That's if you want it of course."

Robbie stared at his boss with a vindictive expression. What could he do to make this situation better? What could the Chief even remotely offer? Curiosity eventually got the better of him. "What is it?"

Chief Ramirez took out a manilla folder and tossed in on Robbie's lap. Opening it up, Robbie would find a picture of the man whose body he now possessed. Beneath it would be documents listing the man's demographics, arrest records, even unpaid parking tickets. Any information the government would have about this man's life would be found in that folder.

"Rogelio Fuentes." Robbie read the man's name out loud with a quiver in his voice.

"You're a great detective Robbie. One of the best the department's ever seen. Now with you in that body, we have a direct line to the underbelly of the crime ring that's devastating this city. We have the opportunity to take it down from within." The chief explained.

"Y-You want me to pretend to be this guy?" Robbie gawked in disbelief. "Play undercover cop?!"

"That's exactly what I'm asking. Assume this man's life, live as Rogelio Fuentes and coordinate with us as we dismantle this gang from the inside."

"But my wife and my kids..?"

"As far as they're concerned, you'll be dead. Died bravely fighting for his city. I know it's a tough pill to swallow, but I also know how important serving and protecting the community is to you. Your unwavering dedication to the force is what drew me to you. It's what made me fight hard to get those doctors to save your life. Because we can't let someone like that go to waste."

Robbie stared ahead, ignoring Chief Martinez as he deeply pondered the predicament he found himself in. While he loved his job, was he willing to throw his previous life away for such a big task?

"And like I said before, this was an experimental procedure using technology from the Feds. Complete this mission and impress them enough, maybe they'd let us use it again to get you a more suitable body in the future."

The room filled with silence once more. Robbie could only think about what he'd be leaving behind. His family, his friends, his old life. But if he said no to Chief Martinez, would he even be able to return to his wife and kids as he is? Would they accept his story? Believe him when he were to tell them who he is?

"I'll do it." Robbie looked at the chief with determination. "Nomás digame lo qué tengo que hacer."

Robbie felt a surge of valor coursing through his veins. He knew the risks involved—the dangers of taking on and dismantling a powerful cartel from the inside. But Robbie was never one to back down from a challenge. He was determined to do whatever it took to rid the streets of drugs and violence, to make his city a safer place for its citizens, but most importantly his family who'd have to carry on without him. Although a little hope remained that after all was said and done, the Chief would even be able to carry out his end of the deal and he'd soon be able to reunite with his family.

Quando mi imita - When he mimics me

🇮🇹 “Al mio amico piace farsi scopare da me, ma gli piace anche trasformarsi nella mia copia esatta per fare l'attivo. Devo ammettere che vederlo rubare il mio aspetto mi infastidisce un po' (dopotutto ho faticato parecchio per ottenere questo fisico, mentre a lui basta un attimo per diventarne la replica perfetta) eppure, sotto sotto, lo trovo eccitante, anche se non saprei spiegare il perché. Fare un rapporto a tre con lui in questa versione è divertentissimo: dopotutto, molti sognano una fantasia con due gemelli. In più, lui si diverte a stuzzicarmi facendo il verso alle mie piccole abitudini: il terzo a letto non può capire e io devo fare di tutto per rimanere serio, anche se lo trovo molto divertente… Resta un piccolo gioco segreto tra di noi.”

I was just getting my life sorted out after the last one. The personal training gig was going well, there were a lot of people that needed to tone up their bodies, and I was there for them. I, of course had no problems keeping my body in great shape. I was wealthy, and had my own gym/studio at my house.

There were options, run Zoom training as I did before, but there was something missing. Being a batcholor had its benefits during normal times, although during lockdowns and enforced isolation made me feel lonely and detached. I was no fun during the first one, and being on the dawn of another made me feel sick.

They had no idea how long this one would last, and that scared me, but I had a plan to keep sane.

On the eve of the lockdown, I headed out to the park. My plan was simple, make sure I wasn’t alone, And to have people around me.

I was looking for Jordan, one of my younger clients. He’d told me his plans earlier; a final last session at the gym for a three hours and then head home, back to his family.

It was my third lap joggin around the park when I spotted him. The area was clear of people, many had already returned home I guessed.

As I jogged towards him I admired the seventeen year olds physique and style. He was hadsome fuck, his thick chunky knit sweater clung to his body only suggesting the tight, lean, and muscular body below. I knew what he looked like, I had pictures, I was his trainer after all.

“Hey Jordan,” I said cheerfully as I came to a stop.

“Rick, I’m good man. Are you ready for the lockdown?”

“Yeah, sort of. How did your training go?”

“Really, good.”

He flexed his biceps, and then traced his hands down his pecs and torso.

I chuckled, “You’ve made a lot of progress, don’t give it up over the coming weeks. Hope you’ll join me on some Zoom-Training sessions?”

“Of course man,” he replied with a thumbs up.

“Sweet.”

Letting him pass, he took a few steps. I couldn’t wait any longer, reaching over I grabbed him from behind and choked him to the ground.

I checked his pulse, all good, so I carried him into the shrubs and out of sight of anyone that might be passing.

Without waiting I pulled off this back pack, sweater and undershirt. His young body had perfect form; strong shoulders, thick round shoulders down to a narrow waist. Soon he as naked, his designer clothes in a pile next to him.

Jordan was the key. Get inside his body, steal his life until the lockdown had ended. It was perfect, the youngest in his family and loved by his parents.

It was getting late, I stripped naked and got down on all fours next to Jordan.

With a deep growl, I started to work my shoulders, abs and torso. This was never going to be easy.

I roared, and pushed down hard. Glancing across at Jordan only made me work harder.

“Fuuuck!” I screamed as Rick’s powerful back started to swell and contort.

Rick’s back ballooned, as I started to push myself free of his muscular boady.

Gasping I pulled myself out, Rick collapsed to the ground. I stood up to my full height, six foot six.

I checked on Rick, gently shaking him. He was just twenty-three, he could easily be old enough to be my son. He wasn’t, but he did belong to me now. I’d been inside him for the past four years building not only his body, but also his business and popularity.

“Rick, wake up!” I said in my own deep voice.

He groaned as I rolled him over, blinking he looked up at me.

“Tom?”

I smiled taking his hand and pulling him to his feet.

“Yeah, but not for long.” I nodded towards Jordan.

Rick blinked in disbelief, “You mean?”

“Yes, but only for a few months.”

“But... he’s so small.”

“I’m a determined man, you should know that Rick.”

He nodded and looked down at his body and gasped. His eyes went wide as he felt his body.

“Hope you enjoy it, I’ve worked hard to make it that good. Now get dressed, I’m going to need it back after I’m done with Jordan.”

I watched him get dressed, his damp clothes hugging the boys I’d built for him. I put a hand behind his head, and pulled him close.

“Go home, and keep my spot warm,” I kissed him on the forehead, giving him all the memories he needed to carry on his life. “I’ll be in touch.”

He ducked through the shrubs and left me with Jordan.

This was going to be tough I thought to myself. I stretched a few times, cracked my neck and took a deep breath.

I climbed over Jordan’s much smaller body, glancing behind I pushed my toes into his calves and stretched down into his foot. His skin shifted, muscle moved to make room, expanding to accommodate by heavier build. Jordan moaned as I invaded his thighs, taking control of his legs.

Years inside others had taught me a valuable lesson, never expose your own DNA, this meant in your cum. I’d got a girl pregnant, and we had a child. Let’s just say the child was nothing like the body I was in at the time.

So as I pushed hard into Jordan, my dick instead of sliding up inside the kid’s member, it was pinned against my abs, and under his. My balls lacked around his, I gasped as I felt his dick hard against the ground below us.

I continued up his body, a mixture or slowing easing and aggressively pushing into his smaller frame. All this time his body expanded to accept my giant proportions.

My abs, pecs and arms had found their way inside. Wriggling, I stretched Jordan’s body to accept my shoulders and the remainder of my body—only my head remained.

Pushing myself up I kneeled and examined my torso, thick and muscular, covered with Jordan’s tight skin, straining to contain it’s contents.

My thick hard dick was clearly visible in releif pointing towards Jordan’s belly-button. His own dick was hard as well, not as thick, but damn it was long.

Touching my own, hidden dick, I gave it a rub and groaned as it became numb. I gasped as it outline disappeared into our shared abs.

I took a few moments to steel my nerves and I dropped to all fours.

It was time, to sink completely into Jordan. It had been easier with Rick, as he was of similar height at least. The kid was originally five foot seven, almost a foot shorter.

With deep breath, I focused on the physique that contained my body. I started to writhe, twisting and pulling inside. Gradually I reduced my mass, minutes passed and limb by limb Jordan’s original dimensions returned.

I gasped and knelt again feeling my stolen identity for any irregularities, “Perfect.”

There was just one more task, to assume Jordan’s mind and personality. I gritted my teeth, and took cues from the body I mostly owned to change my head.

My square jaw, and bull head shifted. I grimmiced, as the shape of my head changed; into an oval, almond. I jerked free of my concerntration; my hair was the same, so was my grey/white beard, but the dimensions of my face was replica of the kid’s.

I cleared my throat. “Are you ready son?”, it was Jordan’s voice that came from my mouth.

For me to use his memories I needed to be awake. I gently shook his head, “Come on Jordan, wake up.”

He let out a groan, and looked around.

“What the fuck? W-where’s my clothes?”

“Good, you’re awake.”

He was startled to hear his own voice whisper in his ear, and he jerked his head and saw my head.

He started to yell, but I covered his mouth. He was trying to shake his head free of my grasp, but I held it firm facing forward.

Slowly, I pushed into the back of his head. Our necks merged, as did our skulls — all perfectly sized and aligned. There was a soft pop as I completely submerged into the kid.

I groaned, and took a breath. There was no rush of information, Jordan’s life, his memories and desires. They were just there, as if they’d always been there.

With a confident smile I’d inherited from the kid, I flexed. I snorted a laugh as I traced my hands down my torso just as he had done earlier. I was wrapped in his carefree persona now.

I was Jordan. No, I was more than Jordan, but just a kid on the outside.

A few minutes later I’d pulled on my clothes. Damn, I looked good.

After hoisting my back pack onto my shoulders I made my way back to Jordan’s home, my home.

When I arrived, my father was waiting. I had a single parent, but he was loving and very protective. I was surprised to see my cousin, Cody.

“Cody is staying with us during the lockdown. He tried to get a flight home, but they were all fully booked. I’ve told his family it’s OK for his to stay with us.”

This was truly going to be a fun expereience I thought to myself...