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CONTENT WARNING: This story includes themes of transformation and body control with a suggestive approach. If this type of narrative is not to your liking or you do not meet the recommended age, we suggest you do not continue. All images used (if any) belong to their respective owners. I claim no authorship over them and they are only used for illustrative purposes. If you decide to go ahead, welcome to Possessed Desires, where mind and body are never completely under your control.

Holiday Stowaway

— Do you want to adjust your swimsuit?

— I'm already bored! Why don't we go to the hotel instead? – My "boyfriend" rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses, twisting his mouth uncomfortably – I want to play something on my phone or something. We can go to the bar!

— I didn't tell you to come in the first place.

— I thought it would be more fun, Jay!

The truth is... that wasn't my boyfriend. It was my cousin, Simon. He had just started college, was slim, somewhat short, and had trouble socializing. It wasn't like he was exactly rolling in dough at the moment, always eyeing what he wanted and wanting it from someone else.

And unfortunately, it turned out that his focus this time was on my boyfriend, John.

We had both saved enough money to go to the beach for almost two weeks, without worrying about work, overspending, or anything other than getting a tan, enjoying each other's company, and swimming. Or at least that was the plan until a stowaway sneaked inside.

— I told you. If you want this to be over, just get out.

— Ha. And miss out on this? No way!

— Then shut up and stick to the itinerary we both planned.

"John" rolled his eyes, still fiddling with his swimsuit. I knew perfectly well that he wanted to get his hands on what was underneath, and I wasn't about to let him.

This was supposed to be a perfect vacation. Shit!

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Hey everyone!

I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you liked it, don't forget to follow it and share it so more people can discover it.

Remember that in the coming months, I'll mostly be posting summer-themed stories. Other series you enjoy, like Haunted, Slipped, and others, will still be available, but I'll try to give them a more summery feel. I hope you're enjoying it!

I'm always open to suggestions and ideas, so if you have any fantasy or scenario in mind, let me know in the comments or in messages. See you in the next story... Who knows what body you will occupy this time?

Jaxon had been given to Eli and Easton to be their own personal slave for an entire week as part of him pledging to Kappa Sigma. Jaxon had heard about Eli and Easton, and what he knew is that they were the dumbest and douchiest brothers in the Frat, in fact they are so dumb that it is rumored that they “do favors” to pass their classes. Even worse than being owned by two bros who are dumb as a bag of rocks and have a think they are the shit is that they have a habit of letting putrid gas rip out of their asses whenever and wherever they pleased, didn’t matter if they were in class or in bed with a hot babe, if they needed to fart they were going to. It was almost as if the two weren’t smart enough to realize that they can hold in their stink.

“Yo bro! Welcome to mi casaaaaa” Easton spoke in a deep voice, “Make yourself at home man! Mi…or well our casa is su casa too! At least for the week.” Eli proclaimed in the dumb Southern Californian accent he had. Eli turned to Easton “It gonna be so nice not having to do chores around here broooo!”, given the state of the dorm it didn't seem like either one of them had done chores here in the first place. “I only see two beds in here dude” Jaxon said to Easton, “Where am I gonna sleep?”. “Thats the best part man!” Easton snorted, “You’re gonna sleep on the floor.” Jaxon could tell this was going to be a hard week, the floor was covered in junk, trash, and foul smelling clothes that the two obviously don't even bother doing sniff tests on anymore.

“Ohhhh…greattttttt” Jaxon said through strained teeth. “Huhuh okay Jaxon since you’re ours for only a week we are gonna use you to your full potential” Eli said, “Yea man! Your blasters are gonna have to be on full throttle!” Easton added as he blasted out a fart. Eli punched his arm playfully and remarked “Huhu good one man that reeks, but we don’t want to knock out our new best bro!” Jaxon waved his hand in front of his nose as if it could do anything against the force of nature that is Easton’s fart fumes. “Huhu trust me that won’t help, anywaysss” Eli continued, “your first order is that you have to make your bed!”, “How am i supposed to do that if Im sleeping on the floor?” Jaxon pontificated. “Well we don’t want you to be uncomfy so all of our dirty clothes can be your mattress and blankets duhhh” Eli pointed out, Jaxon obliged making the smelliest bed he has ever had the misfortune of being on. Once he had made his bed the two bro’s told him “We want to go to sleep since it’s getting late so you have to sleep too so you don't wake us” Easton stated, “Oh okay! Let me just go brush my teeth an-.” Eli cut Jaxon off, “Nah I don’t think you need to brush your teeth, I mean we only do it in the morning so it's only fair that you do the same. The two frat bros breathed their foul breath in unison at Jaxon. Jaxon, barely keeping from gagging, responded with “Whatever you say” knowing that he would never get into Kappa Sigma if he fought back.

———————————————————————————

Over the course of the next week days Jaxon was constantly running errands, doing chores, doing Eli and Easton’s homework, etc. Jaxon was getting sick of the way the room always reeked like a High School locker room and hated the fact that he was starting to smell like that too. It was Saturday and Jaxon was so excited! Tomorrow he will be free from the stench, from the two bro’s stupidity, and will be a full fledged Kappa Sigma brother. That night the two bro’s ordered a pizza and got a bunch of soda and beer to celebrate his ascension into the frat. “uuuugh I am so so full!” Jaxon said, leaning his head back. “Me too” belched out Easton, Jaxon after being around the bro’s belching and farting all week found it kinda humorous now, his humor had regressed back to middle school but he didn’t mind. In fact Jaxon didn’t mind a lot now that he had spent a week with Eli and Easton. Jaxon didn’t mind the smell of the improvised bed all too much anymore, he didn’t mind doing all of Eli and Easton’s work, and he didn’t mind the farts anymore, the weak ones that is. He even started farting loudly in public just like them. “It’s been so fun having you here to do whatever we want man! We are gonna miss your servitude!” Eli said, “Yea man! Me and Eli were talking about it and we have one last thing we want to give to you!” Easton said excitedly, “It’s a surprise tho! So you gotta close your eyes!”. Jaxon, not wanting to not get the gift or insult them by not following their orders this last night did as he was told. Jaxon could hear the two shuffling around and Eli moved him from where he originally was in the dorm to right beside Eli’s bed. Still keeping his eyes closed he began to smell something rotten, it smelled like fermented cheese and unwashed ass. “One…Two…” he could hear them say in unison, “THREE” and all of a sudden he was met with a face full of ass fumes straight from the gassy bro bums. After what felt like a full minute, Eli and Easton’s putrefying butt vapors finally ceased. Jaxon sat there without saying a word. Inside his head the miasma of stink eliminated all higher thinking, Jax within a few seconds turned from a decently bright finance bro, to a bro dumber than a bag of rocks. Jax’s only future now would be as a janitor or something else of that nature. Jax’s memories were also being warped by the fumes, his strict heterosexuality loosening its grip became bisexuality as Jax began to have memories of sleeping with the other guys on the soccer team. All of his intellectual capacity and memories became one with the fart funk floating around in his head, but that cloud needed to go somewhere… As Eli and Easton began a second round of farts right into Jax’s face, Jax’s butt trumpet began to add to the symphony of flatulence. Just like that Jax essentially farted out his brain into a malodorous mist. Jaxon was gone, just a foul smell in a litany of foul smells in the room, all that remained was Jax, the dumb, gassy, bisexual frat bro. “Broooooooo” Jax moaned, “…That…was…SO RAD!” he said as his brain flickered back to life.

Jax, Eli, and Easton all became inseparable frat brothers, they had class together, they ate together, they played video games together, they jerked off together, and they fucked each other. But most importantly they farted together, constantly farting. No one would sit near them in the dining hall or in a single class due to the corrupting haze of gas that constantly surrounded the three. The three frat bros moved out to all live together, moving out of the cramped dorm room and into an off campus apartment. Jax’s fate continued to befall every guy who resided in that room, the FRATulence kept making the brilliant college students into dumb gassy bros, ready to add their own fart flavor to the room before they dropped out. “Rumor has it that the FRATulence has been absorbed into the carpet, mattresses, pillows, etc. But thats just some weird dumb story to keep this room empty I guess” Your RA told you when you moving in to the room with your roomie, “The rumors at this school are so weird man…” he commented. After he left your room, you and your roommate went back to unpacking and you yelled him as the funk of your roommate’s blundering fart filled your nostrils, “DUDE! You’re really gonna let one rip in here after that dumb story!” Soon you and your roommate are gonna leave your mark on this school, or at least on some poor pledges nose.

Feeling like he had admired himself in the mirror long enough, Trevor went back to changing out of his sweat stained gym clothes in the gymnasium’s locker room when he saw, sitting on a bench, a pair of boxer briefs. He knew that they were expensive and someone probably will come looking for them but the voice in the back of his head just told him to take them before anyone sees, so that's exactly what he did. Trevor grabbed them and hastily walked back to his locker, then the voice told him to do a sniff check to see how badly they needed the attention of a washing machine. The crotch smelled like it had never been worn, or at least not been worn to the gym, but the back of the briefs smelled absolutely rancid. Trevor quickly shoved them in his gym bag, noting that he needed to get these in the wash before they made his gym clothes smell like someone just spent their entire gym session passing gas, and made his way back to his place. On the drive back to his place he could smell the air wafting out of the gym bag, he normally didn’t mind the smell, being a semi-unhygienic eighteen year old afterall, but the air wafting out today was absolutely awful. Instead of the normal smell of his teenage boy funk unable to be contained by his deodorant, all he could smell was the intense funk of a stale fart, even after rolling the windows down it didn’t help. Pulling into his parking spot at his apartment he just needed a breath of fresh air. Hopping out of the car but leaving the bag on the passenger seat, did a lap around the parking lot and refilled his lungs with fresh air, uncontaminated fresh air. Getting his fix of clean, healthy oxygen he opened his passenger side door and leaned it to get the bag, somehow in the five minutes he had been away the stench was no longer the smell of a old fart lingering in the air but had intensified into what made him feel like he had caught a fresh fart right in the face. Gagging as he swiftly snatched the smelly gym bag up he rushed into his apartment to throw everything into the washer unit in his apartment. Dumping more laundry detergent in than he normally would for a full load, he started up the washer with only the few things his gym bag contained spinning inside of it. As the funky gym clothes and the rank boxer briefs spun he used the time to wash his own foul funk off of him.

Jumping out of the shower smelling fresh and squeaky clean he was ready to completely be rid of the worst smell he had inhaled all week. At the end of the washers cycle the washer beeped and he fished out all the clothes hanging them on his balcony to dry. His apartment luckily came with a washer but the landlord skipped over the dryer, so Trevor always had a myriad of gym clothes airing out on the balcony. With the sun going down Trevor got ready for bed and hit the hay soon after hanging up his clean gym clothes and new addition to his underwear collection. Waking up the next morning he was in the midst of getting ready when he went to bring the clothes back inside from the little clothesline he had outside, grabbing all his gym clothes first. He left the boxer briefs last hoping that the extra minute it would take for him to come and get them would let them air out just a little longer. Picking them up off the line Trevor went inside through his sliding glass door and took a sniff of them again praying that he wouldn’t be subjected to another nasal assault. Luckily he was in the clear, the boxer briefs had been de-funkified, so having a nice new pair of fresh smelling undies, Trevor slipped them on.

Finishing getting ready the eighteen year old gymnast headed back to the gymnasium to teach a class to some younger kids. While he was teaching the class Trevor overheard some of the young teen boys he was training whispering to each other that “It smells like someone just ripped ass in here man it reeks”. Trevor thought nothing of the comments given that he didn’t smell anything and that when he was training at their age he and his friends used to pull gross pranks like crop dusting each other, ya know dumb stuff preteens do. Working up a sweat after the class he went back to the locker room to grab his stuff, he didn’t bother to bring a change of clothes since he was going straight home after he taught the class.

On the way home one of his homeboys texting him to see if he wanted to go study at the community college library. “Yeah totally Brad but I won't have time to go home and shower if I do…and I kinda smell”, “Dude I’ve probably reeked worse than you do right now” responded Brad. Knowing that Brad probably has worked up a better funk in his life, probably in this week alone, Trevor headed home to grab his laptop and school bag and quickly headed over to meet up with Brad. Getting to the library he checked his phone and saw that Brad texted “Yo bro I scored a study room for us! Come find me”, doing a lap around the library to find the room Trevor bumped into a guy built like a nerd. “I'm so sorry man! Let me help you with that!”, Trevor quickly said after knocking the stack of book out of the nerds hands. Covering his nose with his shirt the nerd sputtered out “No it’s okay man I got it don't worry” the nerd said in a tone that was attempting to shoo off Trevor. “Uhhh okay dude if you say so”, Trevor walked away wondering to himself why the nerd covered his nose. Finding Brad, Trevor burst into the study room, “Hey bro!” Brad proclaimed. “Yo man what's up!” Trevor responded. After having a quick conversation to catch up and talk about how hard their stupid math class is they broke open their laptops and began working silently, only talking every so often. After about ten minutes of studying Brad piped up and said “Trevor, man I know we are friends and I told you you could come smelly or not but can you go outside to rip ass it’s really starting to reek”, Trevor not thinking he was being serious said “Hawhaw dude, what are you talking about? It doesn’t even smell bad in here”. Brad rolled his eyes and remarked “Whatever dude, just go to the bathroom or something next time you need to fart”, Trevor feeling a little embarrassed that his friend thought that he would just rudely let it rip like he was a brainless Neanderthal just softly told him he would and they went back to studying. Not even five minutes later Brad, with annoyance and a twinge of agitation in his voice, said “Dude I just told you not to funk up the room with your ass! I don't know what you ate earlier but whatever it is, it’s making you into a gassy mess!”, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! I didn’t know it was me!” Trevor said incredibly embarrassed as he stepped out to got to the bathroom. “Leave the door open man, the room’s gotta air out now” Brad sternly asked as Trevor walked out.

In the bathroom Trevor was just looking at his phone in front of the mirror searching up what could make someone so gassy so suddenly. He still didn’t really think it was him who was letting out the butt funk but he couldn’t be sure after Brad’s outburst. After a few minutes of thinking over what it could be a thought came to him, what if the boxers were still wafting off the same air and he just was accustomed to it now. As this thought crossed his mind, as if in response to it, he felt a rumbling in his stomach and then… PPPPFFFBBBTTTT a blundering fart shot out of his ass echoing off the bathroom walls. Trevor, not knowing what to do, tried to put his hand over his ass as the blast of rancid air forced its way out not caring that some hand was trying to stop it’s escape. Pulling his right hand back from his ass he instinctively covered his mouth out of shock and embarrassment with the same hand, if he wasn’t holding his phone with his left hand he would’ve covered his mouth with that one. With his hand that just caught the latter half of a funk filled fart right under his nostrils he accidentally breathed in the funk. Going straight to his brain, the funky fart smell started to affect his thinking. Normally he would have ripped his hand away from his face if it smelled like straight ass, but for reasons he couldn’t understand he started feeling pure bliss coming from the fact that he was huffing in his funk. For a second he thought to himself that “This is what real men should do, they should relish their own stink…I mean stink like this is natural and manly”. Realizing how gross that sounded Trevor wiped the thought from his head and thought to himself that “No no no this can't just be a coincidence, something is wrong with these underwear!”, finally removing his fart contaminated hand from over his mouth he reached down to try and strip off his pants and boxers. As if the pair of boxer briefs itself was attempting to stop this as Trevor grabbed the elastic of his sweatpants and briefs with both hands, he felt the need to squat a little. Now squatting he was about to pull down his briefs when a hissing noise began to escape out of his posterior. The smell of pure teenage fart funk filling up the bathroom made Trevor pull the boxers and sweatpants down only off of his inflating butt as the hissing stopped. Trevor, unable to think for himself without influence from his own farts, stuck his right hand inches away from his asshole and held up his pants with his left and then just like before, the rumble started and he let it rip,

PPPPPPPFFFFFFFFBBBBBBBTTTTTTTTT

His face contorted as he let out the longest fart he has ever heard, lifting his hand out of the blast zone he raised the tips of his fingers right below his nose. At this point there was no stopping it, Trevor was barely in control of his thoughts, he took a deep breath in and the worst scent he had ever smelt flooded up his nose and into his brain.” Trevor began to have his own thoughts mixed in with the fart influenced thoughts race across his mind in a matter of milliseconds. Thoughts like “What am I gonna do!? I’m turning into some dumb gassy imbecile!” “This is so gross…No this is normal all men should be like me…All men should smell like me.” “What is Brad gonna do when he sees me like this!?” and the last thought Trevor had was… “My gut feels weird…”.

PPPPPPPPFFFFFFFFFBBBBBBBBBTTTTTTTTTTTT

One last thunderous blast of fetid…no…one last blast of Trev’s delicious smelling ass air came roaring out, filling the bathroom with noxious fumes that could be considered a chemical weapon, but to Trev it smelled like heaven. Pulling up his pants and then inspecting his body in the mirror Trev thought to himself “I'm so lucky I found those underwear huhuhuh…” His thought trailed off as a little final toot squeaked out of his ass.

Trev opened the bathroom door and the young guy standing outside the door saw as Trev stepped out a green cloud of stupefying farts reached out towards him. The stranger tried covering his nose but to no avail, as the fart cloud infiltrated his nostrils he had the thought “I should go add to the funk in there” entering the bathroom the young stranger would become just like Trev. As Trev made his way back to the study room those who were in near proximity to Trev and caught a whiff of the fog surrounding him, their thoughts began to slow and they began to enjoy the stench lingering after Trev passed. As Trev reached the study room he looked back to see a room full of young college aged boys dumbing down and creating a hefty cloud of funky flatulence.

Proud that he unknowingly helped all these guys be one with their stink, Trev entered the room. Immediately upon entering Brad caught a whiff of Trevs contaminated gas and covered his nose “WHAT THE FUCK MAN YOU SMELL ABSOLUTELY RANCID!” Without saying a word the lithe gymnast somersaulted to Brad, pulled down his pants to reveal his ass, and helped Brad realize how good it feels to smell like a real man.

You were sitting at your desk well after most of your staff had gone home. Earlier today your assistant Max informed you that Noah, a new employee you just hired for social media marketing, has been not meeting deadlines and has been showing up to work late. Reassuring Max you told him to go find Noah and ask him to come into your office at eight thirty that night. As he walked out of your office you could hear him saying under his breath “I don’t want to go talk to that gassy oafs cubicle. Why couldn’t this just be a email” and so off Max went. Oddly Max came back with watery eyes and his hair looking like it had just been blown back with a leaf blower, groggily telling you that Noah will be in at eight thirty Max told you that he “wasn’t feeling very well” and proceeded to ask to go home. You granted permission for your twinky little assistant to have the rest of the day off and told him that you would just get someone else to go out to get your lunch later. Now, hours later, you were waiting for Noah to come in so you can have a chat about getting him back on the right track with the company.

(Your assistant Max)

Hearing your door open, you look up from your computer and see “Noah” standing in front of you. You were a little shocked because this isn’t who you remembered hiring, he was much beefier now than just a few weeks ago. “I heard you wanted to uhhhh like talk to me boss man” Noah said, his vernacular was dumber too than it was when you hired him. “Take a seat Noah, I don’t want to make you stand for too long”, you told him, “Uhhhh is this gonna take long bossman? I have to hit the gym in a bit, my bros are expecting me”, Noah dumbly said as he scratched his behind. “Oh, no this shouldn’t take long” you said obviously surprised that he was being a bit disrespectful. Noah sat down and leaned back, spreading his legs super wide. You began to talk to Noah about his failure to meet deadlines and his tardiness when it came to work. As you were going on and on about this you caught a whiff of something foul-smelling permeating the air, “Aughh that reeks! Do you smell that?!” you asked Noah. You watched as a devilishly grinned, “Smell what bossman? My fart fumes?” he chuckled as he let out a loud, echoing fart. Utterly shocked you covered your nose with your shirt collar, “Huhuhuh that cute assistant of yours tried the same exact thing when I butt blasted him!” Noah tauntingly said. “This is utterly disgusting and unacceptable behavior in the workplace Noah!” you yelled out, “Eh” he shrugged “you won't think like that soon” and then under his breath he said “if you’ll be able to think at all”. You began to cough and as you were coughing, you tried to fan the fumes away from your face. “Might as well get comfy” Noah said taking his shirt off. The first thing you thought was “I need to call HR immediately tomorrow” immediately followed up with “But I shouldn’t do that to someone who is this sexy”, shaking your head you knew you would never, in a million years, think that in a situation like this, he was being essentially a gross teenage boy, how was that hot? you got up and said “I think this talk is over Noah” and started heading for the door, “I think it is too” said Noah fiendishly. As you we’re walking around your desk towards the door, Noah let a massive fart rip, “Ahhhhhhh” he moaned, “That's been brewing since my burrito at lunch”. The fart was absolutely rancid, capable of knocking someone out, you felt your knees get weak and you collapsed. You picked yourself up onto your knees and as you looked up you saw Noah…

“Bombs away bossman” you heard from Noah as the most putrefying funk blasted out of his smelly ass and right up into your nose. You watched Noah lean into the long fart as his ass got less than an inch away from your nose. Feeling your strength completely drain out of you, you passed out on the floor. You woke up feeling groggy and weak but you got yourself to your feet. Noah was nowhere to be seen and you couldn’t exactly remember what just happened. Collecting your thoughts, you walked to the bathroom as a sudden urge to take a dump came over you. Bursting into a stall, you pulled your pants down and let out a boisterous cloud of flatulence into the toilet bowl. Feeling sudden relief you got up and walked to the mirror, relishing in your own funky fumes clouding the bathroom you looked into the mirror and made eye contact with your reflection as you let another fart blast out of your ass. Dumbly guffawing you heard a notification from your phone, pulling it out of your pocket you saw it was a photo from your assistant Max

The pic was followed with the text, “we should give noah a promotion or something bro i haven’t felt so good in forever i cant stop hotboxing my bedroom with my fartsss you should come like see bro”

Feeling hot and horny all of a sudden you stripped off your shirt and sent Max “broooo ill do whatever you want as long as you let me fuck your fart makerrrr”

It was the first day of summer and you would have been so excited to be away from school for the next few months except for the fact that you had to attend summer school. Math was never your strong suit and it ended up being the downfall of your summer plans. The worst part was that not a single one of your friends had to attend summer school alongside you, you were all on your own. On the first day of summer school you immediately got lost. The high schools in the area took turns to host summer school every summer and this year it was at your rival high school’s campus. Being unfamiliar with the school was proving to be a challenge, you found yourself wandering an empty hallway when you heard someone coming down the hall. Afraid it was going to be a teacher or principal who would end up scolding you for not being in class you quickly snuck yourself into the bathroom that lucky happened to be next to you.

As the door swung shut you slipped into a stall and hoped no one saw you. Less than a minute later the bathroom door swung open followed by the distinctive sound of dress shoes, this was definitely not a student, “Excuse me is anyone in here?” The man said with a semi-authoritative voice. You wanted to confess and admit your presence and hope that he understands that you just got lost on your way to class. Just as you were about to speak up, the door swung open again, this time the sound of flat rubber bottoms were heard advancing through the bathroom. “Excuse me young man but shouldn’t you be in class?” You heard the teacher say, “Oh relax teach, its fineeeeee” you hear in a relaxed tone coming from whoever just entered the bathroom. “Umm actually it isn’t you need to get back to…” “FART BOMB!” FFFRRRRRPPP, the teacher was cut off as a boisterous fart echoed in the room. You heard the teacher quickly fall silent, “Huhu good riddance” you heard the relaxed voice say. Covering your nose with your shirt you tried not to inhale the nasty fecal scented flatulence hanging in the bathroom. As you inevitably breathed in more you began to cough lightly “Huhuh…is the Tripp’s fart bomb tripping you out?” the boy in the bathroom said. You opened up the stall door and was met with a dude who looks like a surfer with a douchey look on his face.

“How are ya bro?” he said as the teacher stood next to him but was swaying around, it was like he was in a trance. “W…what did you do to him?” you stammered out, looking confused for a second the boy looked at the teacher and said “Oh, I just exposed him to a direct hit of the Tripp’s fart bomb” Tripp said it as if that was a totally normal thing to say. Waving the stink of “the Tripp’s fart bomb” away from your nose Tripp piped up again, “He’s fine huhuh he’ll come to in a couple minutes so we gotta get outta here” Walking towards the door, Tripp looked back at you as if to hurry you along. Getting exposed to fresh air again you followed Tripp down the hall, “Do you know where classroom 342 is by any chance” you asked trying to find a way to the class you were already late for. “Nah man the Tripp-ster don’t do classes and shit like that” he said nonchalantly, “But how do you pass any classes?” you asked, “Bro why do you think the Tripp is here? I gotta make up hella shit”. “Shouldn’t you be in class then?” you asked, given by the way he spoke and how he always referred to himself in the third person you were realizing that “the Tripp” was a self-assured moron. “Nah bro, like I said the Tripp don’t do school” Tripp’s tone was so relaxed as he told you that, “Take a walk with me bro, it’ll be nice to clear your head since you were whiffin’ my nasty fart bomb earlier”.

Giving up on finding your class you agreed and let Tripp take the lead. You two walked around for a while, just pursuing the school, Tripp disclosed that he goes to this school and that after 5 years they were just gonna let him get his diploma. He was a super senior and all he had to do to graduate was get through summer school. As the two of you eventually made your way down to the secluded baseball field you two went down into the dugout and just sat there and talked. After a while you said something that “the Tripp-ster” didn’t rock with, “Im shocked they are even gonna let you graduate if you have failed so many classes. I mean c'mon man you gotta be REALLY stupid to fail so many” you could see that Tripp didn’t appreciate that remark. “Psh you don’t know how smart I am mannn” Tripp said, doubling down for some reason you remarked that “Sure I know how smart you are man, you're as smart as a pile of rocks!” laughing to yourself you didn’t notice that Tripp had gotten up. Interrupting your laughter Tripp questioned “Well maybe you should know what it’s like being ‘as dumb as a pile of rocks’!” Tripp turned around and lifted his leg like a dog about to piss, “FART BOMBBBBB!” BBBBRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAP

Getting a face full of Tripp’s rancid fart bomb you turned your head and gagged “WHAT THE-…” your voice cut out as you suddenly found yourself incapable of speaking. Filled with thoughts about what you wanted to say next you simply couldn’t muster up the mental energy to say it. You could smell the stench of Tripp’s eggy fart filling your nose and feel it shooting itself into your brain. You felt oddly glad that he had farted in your face, your thoughts couldn’t help but revolve around the fact that his gas stunk so good. You heard him proclaim “Don’t worry dude, the Tripp-a-thon has more of that sweet sweet gas stored up and i'm ready to let er rip huhuhu”, feeling a battle in your head between disgust and excitement you tried with all your might to get yourself to turn your head away but unable to concentrate you failed and was looking straight down the barrel. You heard his stomach grumble and then it happened, PPPFFFFFFSSSssssssh, starting big and loud and ending with a squeaking toot, Tripp had just released a torrent of pungent aromas right into your face. Your mind began to slip, “This is so gross” you thought, but then your brain was invaded by the thought “Im so lucky to receive a fart bomb from Tripp” this transformation was occurring to everything stored in your head. Memories of nights studying turned into nights of you farting up a storm while hanging out with the boys and eating pizza, Knowledge of human anatomy became knowledge of what foods made you the gassiest, Memories of your childhood as a sweet, rule following kid were clouded over and erased by memories of being an idiotic rule breaker who always got his way. Knowledge of art and history was erased and replaced with knowledge of what movies had the funniest fart scenes.

It only took a few minutes after the first expulsion of Tripp’s foul ass vapors but quickly you were reduced to just another idiot. To seal the deal and leave you this way was to make you fart out your past self, and thats what was about to happen. “Huhuh you like that dontcha you stink sniffer? So dumb and simple, just like me huhu” you could barely even process what he just said when you heard the command “Fart your brains out brooooo” BBRRAAPP and just like that, you were gone, all that remained sitting in that dug out were two morons gassing each other with their own potent smells. Tripp looked at you, “What’s your name bro?” thinking about it but unable to find it, you shrugged your shoulders and guffawed. “Hmmmmm I know!” Tripp said, “Ripp”. It sunk into your brain and settled in as the truth. Ripp was now your new self, more self-assured than you used to be, Ripp was constantly being egged on by his best bro Tripp and led through life by Tripp since he was the smarter of the two.

After the two months of farting around and not taking summer school seriously, Tripp and Ripp ended up completely flunking out of school. Too stupid to be truly affected by this, Tripp made a dumb joke to Ripp “I guess we got real Tripp-ed up this year huhuhu”. The boys, too stupid to work, spent their days hanging with their boys, playing video games 24/7, and turning every room they walked in into a fart infested trap.

Milan had hated having to live with his twin brother all these years, ever since they were kids Kingston used to torture Milan. He used to fart on his pillow, dangle his stinky socks over Milan’s nose while he slept, used to belch in his face constantly, etc. To put it mildly Kingston was Milan’s polar opposite, Milan was always fresh and clean, showering twice a day, changing his sheets twice a week while Kingston let his unmade sheets stew in his sweat and grime. Milan was so happy that now that the two of them had graduated that Kingston was going to be leaving home to go to Auburn in Alabama, it was a perfect school for him, he got in entirely based on his football prowess. Milan was going to be taking a gap year and saving up some extra money while he would still be living with his parents.

(Milan and Kingston)

It was a pretty normal day for Milan, he had gotten home from his job as a host and was walking into the kitchen to get something to eat. His parents were gone on a business trip and so the boys had been slowly whittling down the food in the kitchen for a few days now. Milan Kingston sitting on the couch in the living room from the kitchen eating something, opening the fridge Milan was met with a pretty sad sight, just some deli meat, condiments, and some beer. “Ughhh there is nothing to eat and Mom and Dad won't be back for two more days!” Milan groaned from the kitchen, between smacks of his lips Kingston said “Dude *smack* there is plenty *smack* of food! What are-uuuuUUUURRRP you talking about?” Walking over to the living room empty handed, Milan saw that Kingston was chowing down on his version of a charcuterie board, salami and prosciutto straight from the pack, mustard, and a beer. Grossed out by even the thought of the meal his brother was consuming, Milan lost his appetite a little. Sitting down next to his brother on the couch, Milan was asked “Where have you been all day bro?”, Milan replied with a condescending tone “I’ve been at work, something YOU can't relate to”. Milan had been forced to get a job as soon as he turned 16 “to build character” as his parents claimed but Kingston didn’t have to since apparently being the star quarterback was enough character building for his parents. “Yo bro you gotta chillax man” Kingston said in his usual moronic tone, peeved that there was no food in the house and now he had to deal with his lazy brother telling him to relax, Milan scoffed and rolled his eyes.

Smirking, Kingston said “Hey, I know a good way to let loose bro!” sticking out his finger and pointing it at his brother, Kingston droned on “Bro…pull my finger! Huhuhu”. Rolling his eyes again Milan refused, “That’s disgusting I'm not pulling your finger, besides it’s covered in meat residue and mustard” Wiping his hand on his shorts, Kingston stuck his finger back out and promised “If you pull my finger i’ll buy us a pizza”. Enticed by the deal, Milan reasoned that he could deal with his brother’s funk, he had been dealing with it for almost two decades now. “Fine…I’ll pull it, but you better buy us an extra large!” Milan grabbed his brother’s finger and gave it a tug, he heard a gurgling Kingston’s gut and then it shot out, BWOOOOOOMMMMPPPPFFFFFFFFF. Covering his nose Milan yelped “KINGSTON THAT IS FOUL WHAT DIED IN THERE?!” it stunk worse than anything his brother has produced before. As the fart trailed off and the grimace disappeared from his face Kingston responded with “Not much besides beer and meat today…”. “I’m getting away from you and your rotting gut!” Milan said as he stood up. Losing his balance Milan staggered and fell back onto the couch right from where he had gotten up. “WOAH! Bro are you okay?!” Kingston said as Milan crashed back down into the sofa. “I…ummm my head…it’s so…foggy…” Milan couldn’t figure out what was happening to him, it was so odd, he hadn’t gotten up too fast so it couldn’t be that. Milan put his hand to his forehead and closed his eyes tight, “I just…need a second…” he muttered softly. He heard more gurgling sounds coming from next to him and heard the sofa cushion move as his brother leaned away from him. Lifting his leg Kingston ripped out another noisome fart and let out a pleasure filled sigh “It’s gonna be nice to have a brother who I can get along with”. Smelling the amplified stench surrounding the two, Milan began to cough and cough “Please…stop…” he got out between coughs. Kingston heard his pleas but found no reason to stop so his gut just kept producing more and more meaty gas for him to rip, it was like pulling his finger flipped a switch in his gut. The smell brute would not stop farting especially once he could see his brother changing. Milan’s pleas for mercy ceased and he sat there next to his brother lifeless, the amount of gas that his brother produced invaded his brain and stopped Milan’s brain minus the integral functions. Milan was sitting slouched back onto the couch, eyes open and mouth hanging like a trout. Kingstop watched as his brother began to become more like him, he couldn’t help but chuckle with glee as Milan’s arms began to swell up with nice developed muscles to match his ever expanding legs. Milan’s limbs grew with muscle and just a little bit of fat. Milan couldn’t even begin to process what was happening, hell he couldn’t stop himself from drooling as it welled up behind his lip and eventually spilled over. Kingston looked on with joy and awe as his twin brother’s shirt began to rip at the seams and fall apart, his pants did the same but were just barely being held apart.

Kingston began to smell a buttery scent and his dumb mind began to wonder “Who is making popcorn?”, suddenly he realized the smell was coming from Milan’s feet, once petite and nimble, they had grown massive and klutzy but most importantly to Kingston they had grown awfully malodorous. Looking back up at his brother he realized that while his attention was focused on Milan’s rank feet, his body had changed more. Milan sat a little higher on the couch once his buttocks inflated with fat and muscle to become massive orbs that bounced as he walked. His stomach bloated into a tummy bigger than he ever had before, his chest turned into massive pecs, Milan’s neck widened into a huge thick log almost too big for his head.

Kingston caught a whiff of another unpleasant aroma, lifting his own arm he sniffed his hairy armpit, “Nope, I still stink the same” he thought. He realized that much like his brother’s feet, Milan’s pits might have matured into proper B.O. producers, not the flowery scented underarms Milan always shaved clean. Hastily lifting his brother’s arm, Kingston was met with an eye watering stench that actually surprised him. Dropping the growing boy’s arm, Kingston clenched his watering eyes and fanned his nose, “PEEEE-UUU!” Kingston exclaimed, “MANNNN YOU SMELL RIPE BRO!” he said proudly. Lifting up his arm again, Kingston wafted the stench from his brother’s rank forest of pit hair. Letting the sour stink cling in his nose, Kingston grinned and realized that he should have done this sooner.

Prouder than ever, Kingston patted his brother on the back. Once Kingston removed himself from Milan’s captivating armpit, Kingston looked at his brother’s face only to find that the cute boyish brother sitting before him was gone, a softer jawline appeared and stubble grew across his lip. His eyebrows grew thicker and untamed, and his eyes grew dull. The last noticeable changes were that his lips plumped up a slight bit more and his hair shortened on top and puffed out on the sides right above his ears. “How you feelin bro?” Kingston asked, Milan grunted, showing the first sign of intellect since Kingston gassed him. As soon as he grunted Kingston heard Milan’s gut begin to churn, and just like his revolting brother, Milan ripped the fattest and nastiest smelling fart the once dainty boy ever had. THBBTTTBBBTttbbbbsssssssst.

It flew out strong and loud and was a squeaking trumped by the end. Kingston took a deep breath of his brother’s intellect that was now nothing more that eggy vapors filling up the room. Looking at his newly minted brother he asked “Ready for that pizza bro?”, “HELL YEA BRO!” Milan shouted out “I gotta warn you tho, it’s gonna turn me into a gas machine”, “Dont worry bro I already did that for you!” Kingston joked. Furrowing his brow a confused look spread across Milan’s face “Huh?” he blurted out, “Forget about it bro just focus on being the stink-machine you always have been” Kingston told Milan. A dopey grin stretched across his face and Milan stuck out his tongue. He lifted a leg and leaned away from his brother, “You got it broooooo” and a revolting silent but deadly fart slipped out of his magnificent cheeks.

Ozzie was chilling at home alone in his living room after getting home from his local community college. He was bored and depressed and didn't want to think about what he was going to do after community college ended next semester because he had no clue what he wanted to do with his life. He didn’t want to go on some spiraling tangent about what was he supposed to do for the rest of his life so instead of doing that he was surfing through tv shows and movies trying to decide what to watch, he couldn’t find anything interesting on any streaming services so he just switched over to channel surfing through cable. Trashy reality tv, cartoons, straight to video movies, nothing was catching Ozzie’s interest. He finally had surfed his way to the sports channels, replays of NFL games, sports commentators talking endlessly about college basketball, channel after channel Ozzie was getting more and more restless and bored. That's when he suddenly flipped to a channel that was playing the strangest thing, it seemed like some cheesy advertisement for a gym he had never heard of. The odd thing was that the ad was absolutely silent as it kept showing footage of guys working out intercut with a black and green swirl taking up the entirety of the tv screen. Ozzie was about to keep on flipping through the channels when suddenly the ad had sound, “Come on down to Jacque’s Gym! Now through the end of the month we are offering a free month to any new guests! All you have to do is stop by and tour our state of the art gym!”. As the ad was playing the super scripted lines, Ozzie kept watching with eyes glued to the screen as the as just kept switching back and forth from images and panning wide shots of the gym to the green spiral. The ad began to conclude “Who wouldn’t wanna take advantage of this hypnotic deal?! So come on down to Jacque’s Gym located at…” Ozzie heard the sound fade away as he became more and more focused on just simply watching the hypnotic spiral. Just a few seconds later the channel resumed playing the baseball game that was on and Ozzie snapped out of his trance. He barely even remembered what he just watched, just that it left him with this odd feeling that he couldn’t place. He quickly forgot about it and hopped on his phone since channel surfing had proven to be incredibly boring.

Later that night as Ozzie got ready for bed he was just going about his routine when suddenly he remembered the ad for Jacque’s Gym that he had conveniently forgotten about. He was in the middle of brushing his teeth when he suddenly stopped as if he was frozen, his brother who was only a little younger than him noticed and waved his hand in front of Ozzie’s face and jokingly said “Hey? You in there? Earth to Ozzieeeee?” Upon hearing his name Ozzie snapped out of whatever trance he was just in and his brother, Austin, asked him “Yo where did you just go?” Ozzie replied “I..don’t know…” obviously confused himself.

Throughout the week Ozzie kept falling in and out of the trance, he never knew how long the trances lasted but by the end of the week he randomly fell into the trance when laying in bed around three in the afternoon and woke up from it around eight that evening wearing a tanktop, basketball shorts which were damp with sweat, and a beat up pair of converse all of which he hadn't worn since he used to workout a little for fun in high school. He only woke up that night to Austin coming into his room and loudly blurting out “EWWWWW OZ! Don’t you have any deodorant?!” Spurred out of the trance by his brother’s loud complaint, Ozzie sniffed the air and embarrassingly said “Uhhmmm…just uhh get out real quick!”. Ozzie had no recollection of the past 5 hours be he realized, via all the context clues, that somehow he was conscious enough to have dug up old clothes from deep in his closet that he didn’t even know he still had and had been actively working out to the point that him and his room now reeked of musty sweat and B.O. He knew that all of this had something to do with that weird ad he saw at the beginning of the week so he started doing some digging.

Ozzie took the next few days to find out what was going on with him. He scoured the cable channels looking and hoping that the weird ad would come back on so that he could try to understand what was causing this hypnotic affliction. He looked all over the internet and couldn't find anything. Then one night when searching he found this random reddit post he hadn’t found before, it was a post from someone talking about their friend. It stood out to Ozzie because the poster was talking about how he had a friend once who was a complete nerd, not a muscular bone in his body, then one day the friend started acting odd, like very spacey and kept disassociating for hours on end “almost like he was hypnotized” the redditor claimed. Then later on in the post Ozzie read something that made him feel like he was on the right path “He kept trying to get me to go to this new gym he was going to. It was something like Jake’s Gym or Jock Gym, something like that”. Ozzie knew that this had to be it and that the friend just must’ve misremembered the name of Jacque’s Gym. There was barely any traction on this week old post, but there was an update that the user posted it read “I haven’t heard from my friend in about a week despite me reaching out plenty of times. I'm a little worried but I remember that he sent me the location of the gym so that I could go with him if I wanted. I think I am gonna go and see if they have seen him at all.” The update was from just the other day. Ozzie sent the user a dm, asking about if he had found his friend and if his friend was doing any other weird trance-like things, and then he went to bed.

When Ozzie woke up in the morning he felt exhausted and quickly realized that he wasn’t in bed, he was wearing the same unwashed workout clothes he was wearing the other day and standing in the middle of his room with two 20lb. weights in his hands. Just like when Austin caught him like this, Ozzie’s natural musk hung heavy in the room. With his door and windows closed, who knows how long Ozzie was hypnotically working up a stench in the sealed room trapping all of his musk. Ozzie quickly put down the weights and stripped out of the sweat stained clothes, he ran to his windows and opened them all the way and turned on his ceiling fan in an attempt to air out his room. As soon as he did that he saw that he had a message from the user he reached out to, hoping to shed new light on the situation at hand Ozzie went to open it up when he realized that the message wasn't unread, it was sent to him at two in the morning and it had a read receipt showing that Ozzie opened it practically right after it was sent. Upon looking at what the user said, Ozzie read “Bro…you gotta come to Jacque’s its mind numbingly amazinnnnngggggg” and attached below it was a link that had already been clicked on. Ozzie, realizing that this is why he had a midnight workout sesh, weighed the risks and realized that he might get more answers if he could just sit through the video and not give in to the spiral.

He clicked on the link and it opened up the ad he saw. Ozzie made it through about thirty seconds of men working out interrupted by a green spiral when the script began “Come on down to Jacque’s Gym! Now through the end of the month we are offering a free month to any new guests! All you have to do is stop by and tour our state of the art gym!” Ozzie was keeping his mind occupied with thoughts so that he wouldn’t fall into another trance. “Who wouldn’t wanna take advantage of this hypnotic deal?! So come on down to Jacque’s Gym located at…” But just like the first time Ozzie couldn’t keep his mind together as it unraveled before he could find out where the gym was.

Ozzie came too sitting in his car in the parking lot of an old rundown strip mall, looking around he tried to orient himself. He looked down and saw that he was once again wearing the same dirty clothes infused with his sweat and B.O. that he kept waking up in, then once he looked up and in his rearview mirror he saw that perfectly framed in the mirror was a sign lit up a bright green that read, in huge block lettering, Jacque’s Gym. Ozzie rubbed his eyes and reopened them just to find that he wasn’t dreaming, he had wound up right where all the answers he was seeking were. Getting out of his car, just feet from the entrance he felt like this was a bad idea, he looked around and saw a small parking lot that could fit about fifty cars filled to the brim with every spot taken yet it seemed like every other store front around was completely abandoned. Ozzie composed himself and said “This ends now” as he began walking towards the building. With every step he took closer to the building he knew there was no going back, suddenly as if it appeared from thin air, a huge water bottle materialized out of thin air in his hand. He reached the doors and opened one, as he stepped in he felt his mind get fuzzy, a wave of stench engulfed the skinny twenty year old. It smelled as if a group of boys who have never showered a day in their lives hotboxed the gym with a barrage of farts and noxious gym socks. The wafting stench of feet, farts, B.O. and unwashed man ass was overwhelming for the tiny college student. He felt his knees go weak when suddenly he felt someone catch him, before he could react he was being carried away. Ozzie woke up in what appeared to be a dimly lit sauna room, it was about as big as a decently sized cubicle, he tried to move and realized it felt like his whole body was asleep. He heard a voice come out from what he assumed to be a speaker in the ceiling, “Looks like you found your way to your salvation boy” the deep voice from the ceiling said, “Are you ready to be the most disgusting version of yourself there is?”. Ozzie tried revolting, tried crying out for help, tried to command his body to escape but to no avail. The anonymous voice in the ceiling laughed and said “I love this part” as the sound of air slowly surged into the room. Ozzie made one last ditch effort to escape, knowing that it was in vain, as a mysterious green mist flooded into the tiny space. He caught a whiff of the green mist that was being pumped into the room, it somehow reeked worse than the stench when he walked into the gym. The green mist smelled like an eggy fart that lingers for eternity in your nose mixed with the reeking smell of a high school football team locker room on a hundred degree day. Ozzie felt something in him change almost as soon as the mist assaulted his nose, he felt that the smell he was experiencing wasn’t the revolting prison it was supposed to be but instead he felt like it smelled like…manhood. Ozzie’s brain was being taken over and rewired by the odor as more of the noxious aroma was pumped in the room, the stench of a bodybuilder’s smelly feet and the fumes from a brother’s musty unwashed pit became akin to smelling a little slice of heaven to Ozzie. He was pumped so full of the warm green mist that his body didn’t know how to handle it besides making him forever love the stenches that he was whiffing.

The green mist dissipated and Ozzie sat still exactly where he was as a door opened and a buff jock walked in wearing nothing more than a pair of electric blue shorts and Nike Air Force 1’s, he leaned down to Ozzie’s level, “You feel good lil bro? Feel the brostink flowing through you now?”. Ozzie just sat there, his mind too high on brostink to form words. The jock lifted Ozzie’s arm and stuck his head in it “PHEEEEEW OH YEAH! Bro you stink sooooooo good even if you dont have any meat on those lil bones lil brooooo!”. The jock kept Ozzie’s arm raised in the air and grabbed his head and forced Ozzie’s head into his own armpit, Ozzie was passively breathing in his own pit funk which would normally disgust him but now he just thought to himself “...me…stink…gooooood…”.

Ozzie left the sauna room and started working out for the next two hours, he left Jacque’s gym barely able to remember where he parked his car even though it was only ten steps away. He got in his car and headed home after his workout, stopping for a burrito on the way, “Gotta refuel after that…huhuh” he said to himself in his car. Getting home and throwing away the burrito wrapper he went up to his room to find his Austin rifling through Ozzie’s room, “...Bro whatcha…doin?” Ozzie dumbly questioned, “I am looking for that blue jacket I really like I think you have-” Austin stopped himself upon smelling the odor floating off of his scrawny older brother’s sweaty body, “Ozzie, when was the last time you showered?”. “Ion know…huhuhuh…you tell me…” Ozzie rushed Austin and grabbed his head, even with him being bigger Austin has a hard time fighting back as he kept getting whiffs of super potent brostink drawing the struggle. Eventually losing the grapple, Austin was held in the musty crevice of Ozzie’s armpit until he could barely breathe. Falling to the floor Austin couldn’t wrap his head around what happened to his normally clean and tidy older brother and why it felt like his mind was slowing down after being trapped in his brother’s pit prison. Crawling away Austin tried to escape before being flipped over onto his back by Ozzie, Austin helplessly cried out to his brother “...what…happened…Oz?” to which Ozzie responded simply by saying “Jacque’s happened lil broooo” before knocking out his brother with a massive butt blast.

Kevin Tran adjusted his tie for the fiftieth time, catching his reflection in the glass door of the Student Union. He looked the part: a charcoal slim-fit suit, polished oxfords, and a leather portfolio clutching five copies of a résumé that highlighted his GPA in English Literature and his editorial role on the campus literary review. Inside, the Annual Career Fair was a humid, chaotic hive of ambition.

He stepped inside, instantly assaulted by the noise of recruiters pitching futures. Kevin felt the familiar imposter syndrome of the humanities major in a sea of engineers and business students. He loved words. He loved the deconstruction of syntax and the rhythm of prose. But his father, a hard-nosed immigrant who had built a life from nothing, constantly reminded him of the practicality of labor. “Writing doesn’t pay the rent, Kevin. A trade does.”

Kevin pushed the thought away. He was going to be an editor, or perhaps go into technical writing. He walked the rows, shaking hands, smiling until his cheeks hurt. By 4:00 PM, the air inside was stale, recycled, and hot. His head throbbed. He needed fresh air.

He exited the back of the building, loosening his tie as the cool autumn air hit his face. The sun was dipping low, casting long, jagged shadows across the concrete.

"Kevin."

The voice was low, gravelly, and seemed to vibrate against the brick walls.

Kevin stopped, turning toward the sound. It came from the service alley adjacent to the Union, a narrow, dimly lit throat between two buildings where the dumpsters lived. Standing in the shadows, barely visible, was a man. He wore a heavy, stained grey hoodie and baggy cargo pants. He looked nothing like the recruiters inside.

"Excuse me?" Kevin asked, clutching his portfolio tighter. "Do I know you?"

"Come here, Kevin," the man said. It wasn't a question. "I have the position you’re looking for."

"I think you have the wrong person," Kevin said, his instincts flaring. He took a step back toward the main walkway. "I'm leaving now."

"No," the man said. He stepped out of the shadow. He was tall, unkempt, and radiated a palpable aura of grime. "Look."

The man raised his hand. In his palm sat a device, no larger than a smartphone, but on its screen, a crimson light pulsed. It wasn't just a light; it was a digital, jagged spiral, spinning inward with a nauseatingly perfect rhythm.

Whirrr. Whirrr. Whirrr.

Kevin meant to turn away. He meant to run. But the red light hooked into his optic nerve like a fishhook. His pupils dilated instantly. The logical part of his brain, the part that analyzed Chaucer and deconstructed post-modernism, stuttered.

"That’s it," the man grunted, stepping closer. "Focus."

Kevin’s mouth hung open slightly. The portfolio slipped from his fingers, hitting the pavement with a flat slap. The papers inside, his 3.9 GPA, his awards, spilled onto the dirty concrete.

The man was close now. Too close. A wave of scent hit Kevin, a thick, muscular wall of old sweat, unwashed fabric, and sharp, pungent body odor. Under normal circumstances, Kevin would have gagged. He was fastidious about hygiene. But as the red spiral spun, the smell didn't repulse him. It confused him. It overwhelmed his senses, acting as an anchor.

"Look at the red," the man commanded. His voice was thick. "Breathe in."

Kevin obeyed. He inhaled sharply through his nose. The stranger’s B.O. filled his lungs, a heavy, musky intoxicant that made his knees feel like water.

"Scared?" the man asked.

"I... I..." Kevin tried to formulate a sentence. I should go. This is dangerous. But the words dissolved before they reached his tongue.

"No words," the man said, moving the spiral closer to Kevin's face, filling his entire field of vision. "Smart boys talk. You aren't a smart boy anymore. You’re just a body. Come."

The man turned and walked deeper into the alley. Kevin’s legs moved on their own. He followed the scent. The smell of the man’s sweat was like a leash.

They stopped in the deepest recess of the alley, hidden behind a towering stack of crates. The man sat on a crate and spread his legs. "Kneel," he ordered.

Kevin’s knees hit the grime. He was terrified, a part of him screaming inside a locked room in his mind, but his eyes were glued to the device the man still held. The red spiral accelerated.

Spin. Spin. Spin.

"You think too much," the stranger said. He reached down and unlaced his heavy, worn-out boots. He kicked them off, then peeled off thick, crusty socks. The smell of his feet was immediate and violent, a sour, cheesy tang of fermentation and dirt.

"Smell," the stranger commanded, shoving a bare foot toward Kevin’s face.

The spiral flashed. Obey.

Kevin leaned forward. He didn't want to, but the red light rewired his desire. He took a shallow breath, then a deeper one. The stench was acrid, burning his nostrils, but it silenced the noise in his head. The complex anxieties about his career, the pressure of his grades, the analysis of literature, it all began to suffocate under the heavy blanket of the smell.

"Good," the man grunted. "Smart boys don't smell feet. Dumb boys do. Are you a smart boy?"

"I... I'm an English major," Kevin stammered, fighting for his identity. "I read... I read books."

The man laughed, a wet, guttural sound. He grabbed the back of Kevin’s neck, forcing his face right into the arch of his foot. "Books are heavy. Thinking is hard. Smelling is easy. Be dumb, Kevin. It’s better."

Kevin gagged, then inhaled. The sensory overload was shattering his higher cognitive functions. The red spiral, which the man held in his other hand, seemed to pulse in time with Kevin’s heartbeat.

Your name is Kevin. You are empty. You are simple.

"What is your major?" the man asked, wiggling his toes against Kevin’s cheek.

"Eng... English," Kevin whispered, though the word felt slippery, hard to hold onto.

"Wrong," the man said. He lifted his leg and rubbed his sole against Kevin’s nose. "Your major is nothing. You dropped out. School is too hard for a boy like you. You just want to work."

"School is... too hard," Kevin repeated. The sentence felt good. It felt relieving. The tension in his shoulders dropped. Why was he trying so hard to be smart? It was exhausting. Being here, kneeling in the dirt, smelling this man’s feet, it was simple. There were no exams here.

"You’re a Vietnamese boy," the man droned, his voice hypnotic. "You know what you’re supposed to do. You don't write books. You file nails. You scrub feet. Like this."

The racial stereotype, usually something Kevin fought against with every fiber of his being, suddenly felt like a warm coat. It was a role. A script. He didn't have to think if he just followed the script.

"I... I scrub feet," Kevin murmured. His eyes glazed over, the red reflection dancing in his dark irises.

"Deep breath," the man said, lifting his arm to expose a sweat-stained armpit. He pulled Kevin’s head from his feet to his underarm. "Inhale the truth."

Kevin buried his nose in the man’s pit. The B.O. was intense, onions and raw masculinity. It obliterated the last remnants of his critical thinking.

English Literature. Shakespeare. Milton. Post-colonial theory.

These concepts floated away like smoke. In their place, new data was hard-coded.

Acetone. Nail files. Pedicure chairs. Yes, Dad. No, Dad.

"You dropped out," the man reinforced, his voice becoming the only reality. "You were too dumb for college. You tried, but your head hurt. You just want to be a good son. You just want to work at the salon."

"Head... hurt," Kevin slurred. He looked up at the man, his expression slack. The intelligence that usually sharpened his features was melting away, leaving a vacant, docile look. "Too dumb."

"That's right. You’re a straight, dumb boy," the man said. "Look at me."

The red spiral spun faster, becoming a solid blur of crimson.

"You like the smell of feet. You like the smell of chemicals. You like the smell of farts. That’s your life. Gross things make you happy because you’re a simple, gross boy."

The man shifted his weight and let out a long, loud fart. It ripped through the silence of the alley.

"Smell it," the man commanded.

Kevin didn't hesitate. He didn't flinch. He leaned in, chasing the sulfurous odor. He inhaled it greedily, a grin spreading across his face. It wasn't just a smell; it was a confirmation of his new reality. He was a creature of base instincts now.

"Good boy," the man soothed. "Smart Kevin is gone. Dumb Kevin is here."

Kevin sat back on his heels. He felt light. His head was empty. No more essays. No more analyzing themes. Just a quiet, buzzing static. He looked at his hands. They weren't hands for typing or holding pens. They were for holding buffers and clippers.

"What do you do, Kevin?" the man asked, turning off the spiral.

Kevin blinked. The world didn't snap back to normal. The alley was just an alley. The man was just a man. But Kevin was different.

"I..." Kevin scratched his head. He spoke with a slightly thicker accent now, his vocabulary truncated. "I work. Salon. Dad's salon."

"Did you go to college?"

Kevin laughed, a vacant, hollow chuckle. "Me? No. College for smart people. I just... I just do nails. I dropped out. Too hard."

"Good."

A rumble came from the street. A white cargo van pulled up to the mouth of the alley. The side door slid open with a screech. The interior was dark, smelling faintly of acetone and acrylic liquid.

"Time to go to work," the man said, pointing to the van.

Kevin stood up. He didn't look back at his portfolio scattered on the ground. The résumé with the 3.9 GPA was trash. It belonged to a ghost. He brushed the dirt off his suit pants, not because he cared about the suit, but because he needed to look presentable for the customers.

"Yes. Work," Kevin said.

He walked to the van, his gait different. He didn't walk with the purposeful stride of a student anymore; he shuffled, head slightly bowed, pliable and ready to serve. He climbed into the back of the van. The door slammed shut, sealing him in darkness.

The ride was a blur. Kevin sat on the metal floor, rocking back and forth, humming a simple tune. He didn't wonder where he was going. He knew where he belonged.

The van stopped. The doors opened.

Kevin stepped out into the bright morning sun of a strip mall. He stood in front of "Kevin & Dad’s Nails." It was a small, unassuming shop with neon signs in the window.

He had the keys in his pocket. He didn't remember how he got them, but he knew which one opened the door. He unlocked the glass door and stepped inside.

The smell hit him instantly, the sharp, chemical bite of nail polish remover, the dusty scent of filed acrylics, and the stale air of the closed shop. To the old Kevin, this would have been the smell of failure. To the new Kevin, it smelled like home. It smelled like safety.

He walked over to his station, Table 4. He sat down in the little rolling chair. He looked at the rows of polish bottles on the wall. Red. Pink. Sparkles. Pretty colors for the dumb boy to paint with.

He felt a bubble of gas in his stomach. He lifted one cheek off the vinyl chair and let out a wet, heavy fart.

Kevin immediately leaned down, burying his nose toward the seat cushion, inhaling deeply. The stench was foul, heavy, and perfect.

He sat back up, looking at the empty salon. A wide, vacuous grin spread across his face. His eyes were empty of ambition, empty of literature, empty of the future. He was exactly where he was told to be.

"Open for business," he giggled to himself.

He began to organize the nail files, waiting for the first feet of the day, perfectly content in his small, smelly world.

The air inside the Student Union was recycled, cool, and smelled faintly of desperation and dry-cleaned wool. It was the University’s annual Spring Career Fair, an arena where dreams went to be judged by recruiters in polo shirts.

Raj smoothed the front of his charcoal suit jacket for the hundredth time. He was a junior, a Computer Science major with a 3.8 GPA, and he was sweating. Not the gross, heavy sweat of physical exertion, but the thin, cold sheen of high-stakes anxiety. He had a portfolio tucked under his arm containing his resume, printed on heavy cream stock, and a list of three target companies. He was going to be a software engineer. He was going to build systems that changed the world. He was going to make his parents proud.

He spent three hours in the gauntlet. He shook hands until his grip felt weak. He recited his elevator pitch until the words "synergy," "full-stack," and "motivated self-starter" lost all meaning. By the time 5:00 PM hit and the recruiters began packing up their banners, Raj felt drained, but accomplished. He had secured two interviews.

"You’re on your way, Raj," he whispered to himself, loosening his tie as he pushed through the heavy double doors and out into the cooling evening air.

The campus was bathed in the orange glow of twilight. Most students were heading to the dining halls, but Raj needed to get back to his dorm to send follow-up emails. He took a shortcut behind the Engineering building, a path that skirted the edge of the old maintenance district. It was quieter here, the shadows stretching long and thin across the pavement.

"Raj."

The voice didn't come from behind him, or in front of him. It seemed to come from the shadows of an alleyway tucked between the brick facade of the Engineering hall and the loading dock of the chemistry lab.

Raj stopped, his dress shoes clicking on the concrete. He turned. "Hello? Someone there?"

"Come here, Raj. I have an opportunity for you."

It was a man’s voice, smooth, deep, but laced with a strange, oily texture. Raj hesitated. His instincts, sharpened by city living, told him to keep walking. But the voice had used his name. It sounded authoritative, like a recruiter he might have missed.

"I... I really need to get back to my dorm," Raj called out, clutching his portfolio tighter.

"It will only take a moment. It’s about your future."

Curiosity, that fatal flaw of the intellectual, got the better of him. Raj took a step toward the alley. Standing just inside the gloom was a figure wearing a hooded sweatshirt, obscured by the lack of streetlights. As Raj got closer, the man stepped forward. He wasn't holding a pamphlet or a business card.

He was holding a small, circular device.

"I don't think I, " Raj started to say, intending to politely decline and leave.

The man clicked a button.

Instantly, a vivid, crimson light erupted from the device. It wasn't a beam, but a spiral. A spinning, churning helix of red light that seemed to occupy Raj’s entire field of vision. It pulsed with a rhythmic frequency that matched the beating of Raj’s heart.

Thump-thump. Whirrr. Thump-thump. Whirrr.

"Look at it, Raj," the man said. His voice was no longer oily; it was commanding, echoing inside Raj’s skull. "Look at the spiral."

Raj’s mouth opened to protest, to scream, but the signal from his brain to his jaw was intercepted. His eyes were locked on the red spin. It was beautiful. It was terrifying. It was the only thing that existed.

"You are so tired, aren't you, Raj?" the man whispered, stepping closer. "So tired of the suit. So tired of the shower. So tired of trying to be smart."

Raj felt a wave of exhaustion crash over him, heavier than any all-nighter he had ever pulled. His shoulders slumped. The portfolio, containing his resume and his dreams, slipped from his fingers and hit the dirty alley floor.

"That's it," the man soothed. "Drop the weight. Ambition is so heavy. Intelligence is a burden. You don't want to carry it anymore."

"I... I have... interviews," Raj mumbled. His voice sounded thick, slurred. He felt drunk, but without the euphoria. Just a heavy, warm fog rolling into his mind.

"No interviews," the man said, moving the spiral closer to Raj’s face. "No more pretending. You are a simple boy, Raj. You like simple things."

As the spiral spun, Raj felt a strange physical reaction. The anxiety that had kept his body tight and rigid all day began to unravel. The knot in his stomach loosened violently.

Gurgle.

A loud, wet sound erupted from Raj’s abdomen. He would have been mortified normally. He was a gentleman. He held things in. But the red light seemed to bypass his social conditioning.

"Let it go, Raj," the man commanded. "Civilized people hold it in. Smart people hold it in. You aren't smart. You're just a body. A worker."

Raj’s eyes rolled back slightly as his sphincter relaxed. A long, fluttering fart ripped through his dress pants. It was loud, echoing slightly in the narrow alley.

Prrrt-buh-buh-buh.

The smell hit him a second later, hot, sulfurous, and stale. The smell of nervousness and cafeteria food digesting poorly. Normally, Raj would have flushed red and apologized.

"Breathe it in," the man said. "Smells like you, doesn't it? Smells like your true self."

Raj inhaled. The stench filled his nose. Under the influence of the red spiral, the disgust didn't register. Instead, a wave of pleasure hit him. It felt good to be gross. It felt good to stop caring.

"Good," the man said. "Now, step deeper. Come into the dark."

Raj’s feet moved automatically. He shuffled forward, his expensive dress shoes scuffing against the grime of the alley. He stepped right over his fallen portfolio, crushing his resume under his heel.

The man kept the spiral fixed on Raj’s eyes. "You spend so much time showering, Raj. So much time on deodorant. Cologne. Why? Who are you trying to impress?"

"Recruiters..." Raj slurred, a line of drool escaping the corner of his lip. "Future... employers..."

"No," the man corrected. "You don't need to impress anyone. You are invisible. You are the guy behind the counter. The guy behind the counter doesn't need to smell nice. He just needs to stand there."

The hypnosis deepened. The stranger began to restructure Raj’s reality. He assaulted Raj’s memories of his coursework.

Data Structures and Algorithms. The spiral spun faster. The complex trees and graphs in Raj’s mind dissolved into static. They were replaced by images of rows of candy bars. Snickers. Twix. KitKat.

Linear Algebra. The equations blurred. They turned into prices. $1.99. $2.50. Buy two, get one free.

Raj’s body temperature began to rise. He was sweating profusely now, the heat trapped by his suit. He felt sticky, oily. He started to undo his tie, ripping it off and throwing it into a puddle. He unbuttoned his collar, exposing his neck.

"It’s hot," Raj moaned.

"Sweat is good," the man said. "Let the stink out. You’ve been holding that in too. The smell of a dropout. The smell of failure. It’s sweet, isn't it?"

Raj lifted his arms. Dark, wet patches had formed under the armpits of his expensive dress shirt. The sharp, acrid tang of severe body odor began to waft up. It was the smell of a man who had given up.

"I... I stink," Raj giggled. It was a vacuous, empty sound.

"You do," the man agreed. "And you love it. You don't want to be clean. Clean is for college boys. You're not a college boy anymore, are you?"

"No..." Raj shook his head, his eyes never leaving the red swirl. "Not... college boy."

"Who are you, Raj?"

"I'm..." Raj struggled. His brain was grasping for the identity the spiral was feeding him. "I'm... the clerk."

"That's right. You're the Indian clerk at the convenience store. That’s all you are. That’s all you can be. It’s what everyone expects, isn't it? Why fight it?"

"Why fight it..." Raj echoed.

Another bubble of gas built up in Raj’s gut. He didn't even try to hold it this time. He pushed. A loud, trumpet-like blast erupted from him, followed by a thick, musky cloud. He laughed, a low, throaty chuckle. He felt his intelligence draining away with the gas. Every time he broke a social rule, a piece of his ambition died.

The man moved closer, his voice dropping to a hypnotist's drone. "You don't know Java. You don't know Python. You know how to operate the Slurpee machine. You know how to change the syrup. It’s sticky. You like being sticky."

"Sticky..." Raj murmured. He ran a hand through his hair, messing up the carefully styled gel until it stood up in greasy tufts.

"You dropped out, Raj. Tell me you dropped out."

"I... dropped out," Raj said, the reality solidifying in his mind. The memories of his 3.8 GPA were being locked away, hidden behind a mental wall of concrete. In their place, false memories were planted. Failing classes. Skipping lectures to smoke cheap cigarettes. The shame of disappointment turning into the apathy of acceptance.

"You need a job," the man said. "You can't go back to the dorms. You don't belong there. You belong in the store."

"The store..." Raj swayed on his feet. The smell in the alley was overpowering now, a mix of rotting garbage and Raj’s own unchecked biological functions. He was marinating in it.

"Take off the jacket," the man ordered. "It’s too fancy for a clerk."

Raj fumbled with the jacket, peeling it off and dropping it into the muck next to his resume. He was just in his sweat-stained white shirt and dress pants now. He looked disheveled, unhinged.

"Un-tuck the shirt," the man commanded.

Raj obeyed. He pulled the shirt tails out. They were wrinkled and damp.

"You’re just a stereotype, Raj," the man said cruelly, but to Raj, it sounded like a lullaby. "A cliche. A straight-forward, simple stereotype. No more complexity. No more depth. Just a guy who asks 'Debit or Credit?' and smells like old onions. Does that feel easier?"

"So much easier," Raj sighed. His posture changed. He slouched. His jaw went slack. The bright, intelligent spark in his dark eyes was gone, replaced by a dull, glazed look of permanent boredom and subservience.

"You are going to serve customers. You are going to restock the coolers. You are going to mop the floor with dirty water. And you are never going to code again."

"Never code..." Raj whispered. The concept of coding felt alien to him now. Like magic he couldn't understand.

"What is your name?"

"Raj."

"What do you do?"

Raj paused. He looked down at his sweat-stained shirt. He felt the rumble of another fart brewing. He felt the sticky sweat on his neck. He felt the utter lack of ambition in his heart.

"I work... at the 7/11," Raj said firmly. "I work the night shift."

"Excellent."

The man snapped his fingers. The red spiral vanished.

Raj stood there, blinking. But the confusion didn't return. The fear didn't return. He just stood there, slouching, scratching his stomach through his shirt, feeling perfectly content in the dark, smelly alley.

Headlights swept across the brick wall. A white van pulled up to the curb at the end of the alley. The side door slid open.

"Your ride is here, Raj," the man said, gesturing toward the vehicle. "Time to go to work."

Raj didn't ask where the van was going. He didn't check for his phone or his wallet. He just nodded slowly. He shuffled toward the van, his gait lazy and shuffling, the walk of a man who had nowhere to be but behind a counter.

He climbed into the back of the van. There were no seats, just crates of soda and boxes of chips. He sat down on a crate of Cheetos.

As the van pulled away, taking him away from the university, away from his degree, and away from his future, Raj leaned back against the cold metal wall. He felt a trickle of sweat roll down his ribs.

The stranger slammed the door shut.

Twenty minutes later, the van screeched to a halt in front of a brightly lit 7-Eleven on the edge of town. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sickly yellow glow on the pavement.

Raj hopped out of the van. He felt a rush of adrenaline. He was home.

He walked toward the glass doors. His reflection caught in the window. He didn't see a high-achieving student anymore. He saw a clerk. His hair was messy, his shirt was unbuttoned and stained, and he had a sheen of oily sweat on his face.

He pushed the door open. Ding-dong.

The sound was music to his ears. He walked behind the counter, naturally taking his place by the register. He looked at the rows of cigarettes, the lottery tickets, the spinning racks of hot dogs.

He felt a familiar itch under his arm. He lifted his arm, burying his nose deep into his own armpit. He inhaled the thick, spicy, heavy scent of his own body odor, the smell of a man who dropped out, who works long hours, who belongs here.

It was the best smell in the world.

Raj pulled his nose out of his pit, looked at the empty store, and grinned.

Tomás adjusted the collar of his button-down shirt for the tenth time, catching his reflection in the glass door of the Student Union building. He looked sharp. He looked professional. He looked like a graphic designer.

At twenty-one, Tomás was a junior at the university, carrying a pristine black leather portfolio case that held the sum total of his creative life. Inside were mock-ups for branding kits, sleek typography experiments, and UI/UX designs that he was sure would land him a summer internship at a top firm in San Francisco. He smelled of shower gel, deodorant, and a hint of expensive cologne he’d bought specifically for this day.

The Career Fair had been exhausting. For three hours, he had navigated crowds of anxious students, shaking hands, handing out resumes printed on heavy cardstock, and pitching his "personal brand." His brain was buzzing with buzzwords: synergy, minimalism, vector scalability, user retention.

"Great work, Tomás," a recruiter from a tech startup had told him. "You’re articulate. You’ve got a bright future."

Tomás smiled at the memory as he pushed through the doors and stepped out into the cool evening air. The sun had already set, and the campus streetlights were flickering to life. He was tired, but it was a good tired. The kind of fatigue that came from chasing a dream and catching up to it.

He began the walk back to his dorm, his dress shoes clicking rhythmically on the pavement. He loosened his tie, letting out a long sigh of relief. He was going to go back to his room, order a pizza, and play video games until 2:00 AM. He deserved it.

His path took him past the engineering annex, a brutalist concrete building that cast long, deep shadows. As he passed the mouth of a service alley, a narrow, unlit gap between the annex and the generator housing, a voice drifted out from the darkness.

"Tomás."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement, calm and authoritative.

Tomás stopped mid-stride. He clutched his portfolio tighter to his chest. He didn't know anyone who would be lurking in an alleyway, and the voice didn't sound like any of his professors.

"Hello?" Tomás called out, his voice wavering slightly. "Who's there?"

"Come here, Tomás," the voice said. It was smooth, deep, and oddly resonant. "I have an opportunity for you. Better than the ones inside."

Tomás frowned. "I’m good, thanks. I’m heading home."

He turned to leave, his instincts screaming at him to run. But then he heard the click of a shoe on pavement, and a figure stepped just to the edge of the light. It was a man, tall and broad, wearing a nondescript grey windbreaker. He looked unremarkable, except for the object in his hand.

"Just look," the man said.

He held up a device. It looked like a modified flashlight, but instead of a beam, the lens was a swirling, digital display.

Click.

A brilliant, pulsating red spiral erupted from the device. It wasn't just a light; it seemed to possess physical weight, slamming into Tomás’s retinas with the force of a physical blow.

Tomás gasped. His feet rooted to the spot. He wanted to look away, to run, to scream, but his optic nerves were locked onto the spinning crimson coil.

"No," Tomás whispered, but his voice sounded miles away.

"Come closer, boy," the man commanded.

Tomás’s legs moved on their own. He took one stiff step, then another, moving off the sidewalk and into the shadows of the alley. The sounds of the campus, the distant traffic, the laughing students, faded into a muffled hum, as if he were underwater. There was only the man, the dark, and the red spiral.

"That’s it," the man soothed, guiding Tomás deeper into the alley until they were hidden behind a dumpster. "Focus on the red. Deep red. Ripe red."

Tomás stood rigid, his eyes wide and unblinking. The spiral was mesmerizing. It spun counter-clockwise, dragging his consciousness down into its center.

"You are confused," the man said, his voice echoing in Tomás’s skull. "You are stressed. All that thinking. All those words. All that design. It’s heavy, isn't it?"

"Heavy..." Tomás mumbled. The word felt thick in his mouth.

"Drop it," the man said.

Tomás’s fingers went slack. The expensive leather portfolio, the sum of his collegiate career, slipped from his hand and hit the dirty alley floor with a dull thud.

"You don't need it," the man said. "Look at the spiral. Round and round. Like a berry on the vine. Round and round."

Tomás felt a wave of dizziness. His high-level thoughts were being scrambled. The concepts of vectors and pixels were dissolving, replaced by a thrumming red static.

"You are a clean boy," the man observed, stepping closer. He sniffed the air near Tomás. "Cologne. Soap. Ambition. It smells... artificial."

Tomás blinked sluggishly. "I... I study..."

"Shhh," the man cut him off. He moved the light closer, filling Tomás’s entire field of vision with the rotating red geometry. "You study nothing. You listen. You obey. Your brain is too full. We need to empty it. We need to make room for the truth."

The hypnosis began to take a physiological toll. As Tomás’s conscious mind retreated, his autonomic nervous system began to relax. The tension in his shoulders dropped. The tightness in his gut unspooled.

Gurgle.

Tomás’s stomach made a loud, wet noise. In his normal state, he would have been mortified. But under the red light, he just stared.

"Relax," the man crooned. "Let it all go. The manners. The social pressure. The holding in. You are not a college boy anymore. You are a creature of the earth."

Tomás felt a pressure build in his lower abdomen. The fear was evaporating, replaced by a heavy, dopey warmth. He didn't want to fight it. Fighting was hard. The spiral was easy.

Pffffft

A short, sharp fart escaped Tomás.

The man smiled in the dark. "Good. Let the gas out. Let the intelligence out. They are the same thing. Just hot air."

Tomás’s jaw went slack. A small line of drool escaped the corner of his mouth. "Hot... stinky... air..."

"That’s right. Look at the spiral. You are getting sleepy. You are getting heavy. You are getting stinky."

The session continued. The man kept the light steady, his voice a constant drone of commands that rewired the neural pathways of Tomás’s brain.

"What is your name?" the man asked.

"Tomás," he answered, though it took a second to remember.

"Tomás the student?"

"Yes... student. Graphic... design."

"No," the man corrected firmly. The spiral spun faster, flashing with a strobe effect that shattered Tomás’s concentration. "Look deeper. You are not a student. School is for smart boys. Are you a smart boy?"

Tomás tried to access the part of his brain that knew history and math, but he found only fog. He felt a sudden urge to scratch himself. He reached up and scratched his head messily, messing up his styled hair.

"I... I don't know."

"You are not a smart boy," the man confirmed. "You are a working boy. A physical boy. Smell yourself, Tomás."

The suggestion hit him. Tomás felt a sudden spike in body heat. The stress of the hypnosis was making him sweat profusely. The crisp dress shirt began to dampen at the armpits. The expensive cologne was rapidly being overpowered by the sour, pungent tang of fear-sweat and musk.

"You smell like work," the man said. "You smell like a long day in the sun. Do you like that smell?"

Tomás breathed in. The smell of his own body odor was rising, thick and oniony. Normally, he would run for a shower. Now, under the influence of the red spiral, the scent triggered a dopamine release. It smelled familiar. It smelled right.

"Smells... strong," Tomás grunted. His diction was slipping.

"Strong like a picker," the man said. "Relax your gut, Tomás. Empty out the college degree."

Tomás’s stomach churned violently. The hypnosis was loosening his sphincters, bypassing his social conditioning entirely.

BRRRRRAAAAAP

A long, wet, thunderous fart ripped through the alley, echoing off the brick walls. It smelled awful, like sulfur and rotten eggs, but Tomás didn't blush. He didn't apologize.

He giggled.

It was a low, empty-headed sound. "Heh. Oops."

"Don't say oops," the man commanded. "It’s natural. Pickers fart. Pickers sweat. Pickers work. You don't need words. You need to work."

The man reached down and picked up the portfolio. He opened it, revealing the beautiful designs.

"What is this?" the man asked, holding up a logo for a coffee shop.

Tomás squinted at it. The lines didn't make sense anymore. He couldn't remember what 'typography' meant.

"Paper," Tomás said simply.

"Trash," the man corrected. He tore the page in half.

Tomás watched the paper tear. He felt nothing. No regret. Just a blank, bovine acceptance.

"Trash," Tomás repeated.

"Your English is too fancy," the man said, spinning the light again. "Too many big words. We need to strip that down. You are a simple boy. You speak simple. You speak only what is needed for the field."

The man began to chant, his voice syncing with the pulsing light. "Forget the essay. Forget the lecture. Forget the syntax. You are a No-Sabo kid now, Tomás. Just basic needs. Basic work. Basic smells."

Tomás’s eyes rolled back slightly. His brain felt like it was being scrubbed with steel wool.

Computer... delete.

Phone... delete.

Resume... delete.

"What do you do, Tomás?"

Tomás swayed. He felt a bead of sweat roll down his nose. He lifted his arm, exposing a massive wet stain on his shirt. The smell of B.O. was intense now, a cloud of musk surrounding him.

"I... I pick," Tomás mumbled. The accent was changing. The sharp, collegiate diction was softening, broadening, becoming clumsy.

"Pick what?"

"Berries," Tomás said. A smile spread across his face, a vacuous, simple grin. "Red berries. Like the light."

Pfffft-put-put. Another series of farts bubbled out of him, vibrating against his dress slacks. He wiggled his hips, enjoying the sensation, completely unburdened by shame.

An hour passed. Or maybe a minute. Time had no meaning in the alley.

Tomás was no longer standing straight. He was hunched over, his posture loose and ape-like. His shirt was untucked, stained with sweat and grime from leaning against the dumpster. His tie was gone, the man had removed it, and Tomás hadn't even noticed.

He looked less like a graphic design student and more like someone who had been lost in the wilderness for weeks.

The man turned off the red spiral.

Tomás blinked, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. But the intelligence didn't return to them. They remained glassy, dilated, and dull.

"Hola, Tomás," the man said.

Tomás looked at the man. He scratched his butt openly, digging his hand into the fabric of his pants.

"Hola," Tomás grunted. "Where... where truck?"

"The truck is coming," the man said. "Are you ready to work?"

"Sí," Tomás nodded vigorously. "I work hard. I strong."

"And what about school?" the man pointed to the university building looming above them.

Tomás looked at the building. He squinted, as if trying to recall a dream. "School? No. School for... for rich boss. I no boss. I worker."

He lifted his arm and buried his nose deep into his armpit. He inhaled loudly, snorting up the stench of his own fermented sweat. It was powerful, spicy, and stale. To his rewired brain, it was the best smell in the world. It smelled like his destiny.

"Stinky," Tomás laughed, a deep, throaty chuckle. "I stinky boy."

"Very stinky," the man agreed. "And dirty."

"Dirty good," Tomás said. "Clean... bad. Clean for... sissies."

A pair of headlights swept into the alley entrance. A beat-up white van, mud-splattered and rusting around the wheel wells, rolled to a stop. The side door slid open with a screech of metal on metal.

Inside, the van was packed. There were six other boys, all around Tomás’s age. They were all Latinos, all wearing dirty clothes, and the smell wafting out of the van was incredible, a dense wall of body odor, unwashed hair, and flatulence.

They looked at Tomás with dull, happy eyes.

"Vámonos," the driver shouted. "Fresno. Strawberries waiting."

Tomás didn't hesitate. He didn't look back at his portfolio lying torn in the dirt. He didn't look back at the college.

"Fresno," Tomás repeated, the word tasting sweet like candy.

He clambered into the van, squeezing onto a bench seat between two other hypnotized boys. The boy to his left, who was wearing a soil-stained soccer jersey, leaned over and sniffed Tomás’s neck.

"Tu hueles bien," the boy grunted. You smell good.

"Gracias," Tomás beamed. He felt a pressure in his gut and leaned to the side, lifting one leg.

BRAAAAAP

The boys in the van cheered and laughed, clapping him on the back. It was a locker room of the mind-wiped, a brotherhood of the basic.

The door slammed shut. The van peeled out of the alley, leaving the graphic design portfolio behind to be soaked by the coming rain.

The drive was long, but Tomás didn't mind. He slept mostly, drooling on the shoulder of the boy next to him. When he wasn't sleeping, he was staring out the window at the passing telephone poles, his mind completely empty of thought. No deadlines. No rent. No emails. Just the hum of the tires.

When the van finally stopped, the sun was blazing high in the sky. The air was hot and dry, smelling of dust and fertilizer.

They were in the Central Valley. Miles of green rows stretched out to the horizon.

"Out! Out! Trabajar!" the driver yelled.

Tomás scrambled out of the van. He stumbled into the dirt, his expensive dress shoes, now scuffed and ruined, sinking into the soft earth.

He looked down at his clothes. The button-down shirt was shredded and yellowed with sweat. He ripped the rest of the buttons open, letting the hot sun bake his chest. He felt free.

A foreman handed him a plastic crate.

"Fill it," the foreman barked. "Fast."

"Sí, patrón," Tomás said automatically. The English words for "graphic design" were gone, but the Spanish words for "yes, boss" were hardwired into his new psyche.

He walked into the row of strawberries. The plants were low to the ground. He squatted down, his knees popping. He saw a red berry.

Red. Like the spiral.

Tomás grabbed the berry. He didn't crush it. His hands, once trained for the delicate movements of a mouse and stylus, now moved with the repetitive, mechanical efficiency of a harvester. Pluck, box. Pluck, box. Pluck, box.

The sun beat down on him. Sweat poured down his face, stinging his eyes. He could feel the dirt caking under his fingernails. He could smell the guy next to him, who smelled like onions and old cheese. He could smell himself, a sour, rotting tang rising from his open shirt.

He stood up to stretch his back. He was covered in dust. He was exhausted. He was mindless.

Tomás lifted his arm high, exposing the dark, hairy hollow of his armpit. He shoved his face into it and took a deep, greedy whiff. It smelled of labor. It smelled of a man who had forgotten how to read.

He pulled his head back and grinned, a wide, toothy smile that reached his empty eyes.

"Fresas," he whispered happily.

He squatted back down, let out a loud, contented fart that kicked up a puff of dust behind him, and continued to pick

CONTENT WARNING: This story includes themes of transformation and body control with a suggestive approach. If this type of narrative is not to your liking or you do not meet the recommended age, we suggest you do not continue. All images used (if any) belong to their respective owners. I claim no authorship over them and they are only used for illustrative purposes. If you decide to go ahead, welcome to Possessed Desires, where mind and body are never completely under your control.

CORPUS, Inc - Pride

CORPUS, Inc. was basically the most important (and only) company in its niche. Every program involving possession, body swapping, renting skinsuits, or anything else you could imagine, was guided by them. From small businesses to government initiatives, everything was infused with their technology, contracts, workers, and more.

And why? Well, because CORPUS, Inc. basically never let a single opportunity pass them by, ever. Any gap in the market was detected by them – growth opportunities, everything. Did the elderly hate going to nursing homes where they were abandoned? Give them new bodies. Was crime on the rise and prisons overcrowded? Select the best bodies and put them back to serve society. Was the medical system rusting? New bodies!

So when June arrived, coinciding with the start of the World Cup festivities, the answer was simple: allow tourists to inhabit the bodies of locals in Mexico and other FIFA host cities, enabling them to attend matches without spending a fortune on lodging, flights, and more (or at least, if they were going to spend a lot of money, it was best to do so with them).

But June's significance wasn't solely due to the World Cup; it was a peak month for LGBT+ Pride celebrations, marches, parades – a massive economic boost that CORPUS, Inc. couldn't afford to miss out on. So… what could they do amidst the celebrations of all those football fans, especially after having already raffled off some of their bodies to other foreign fans? Simple.

Give them those same bodies.

Who wouldn't want to be in the body of a muscular fan wearing a tight-fitting tricolor jersey that left nothing to the imagination? The body-swap company should thank the fashion industry for providing the perfect trap for anyone interested in enjoying Pride Month in Mexico.

Oliver (24, UK)

I used to be somewhat… thin, not really a social person, always encapsulated in my own little bubble. Celebrations and that kind of thing weren't my thing, but something in the advertising for CORPUS, Inc. tempted me to sign up for one of their packages. I hoped that the atmosphere of the parade, the clubs, and the whole party vibe of the city would make me "come out of my shell". Although I wasn't expecting a body… like this.

Literally, my head is the size of just one of my new legs! My arms, my hands, everything is gigantic! I feel like my clothes don't fit, this shirt is XL! And even then, I feel like it's constantly riding up.

Anyone would be happy with their new appearance, but not me! I feel gigantic and clumsy! I drop everything as soon as I take a step, and I think I feel even more self-conscious than before, which is ridiculous! I must be almost 6'6" and even then, I get stuck just walking to the corner store for a single bottle of water.

I thought this would be a great idea, but I just want to go home… The problem is, I booked a whole month in this body, and I don't want to anymore…

Lars (40, Sweden)

Mexico always seemed like an interesting destination to me. It was affordable, warm (unlike here, where you can make a popsicle after a few minutes outside in the freezing cold), and I'd been wanting to visit for a long time. I wanted to take a break from work, escape the monotony. I'm a firefighter in my original body. I might sound a bit arrogant, but my physique is definitely big, strong, and tall. I was hoping to end up in a body more… similar to mine.

But I ended up in this guy's body, he must be half my age, I lost almost 20cm, and everything feels… bigger, which I didn't like at first. I felt like my arms were too skinny, my waist too thin like a Barbie doll's, there's no hair except on my legs! Even "down there" is shaved and smooth as velvet.

But I have to admit I'm starting to like it. After almost insulting my travel agent at CORPUS, Inc., I thought: Hey, these legs aren't so bad. I love how fleshy they feel! The sound is a fucking cacophony to me, my hand against my thighs, against themselves, or shit, even my newfound masculinity against the area!

Besides, a garment this tight and small would have looked ridiculous on my old body, but here, it's a fucking marvel. Just look at that ass! It seems to fill the whole garment without any problem.

Diego (19, Argentina)

In my real body I am… Um… Well, I'm a trans guy. I haven't had the opportunity or the financial means to start my transition treatment properly, so I just cut my hair, wrap my chest, and try to dress as masculine as possible, although that doesn't stop some people from still calling me "she". I thought coming to Pride here in Mexico City would be fantastic, with a great body, confidence…

And dude, I wasn’t wrong, damn it! You see these muscles? THEY'RE MINE! And this voice? Nobody's going to call me "miss" even by mistake! I feel like the floor vibrates almost every time I take a simple step, and the beard! It itches like hell, but I'm truly loving every single second of it. I have the body I always dreamed of! No more wasting time wrapping a bandage around my torso, or trying to act more masculine. I am fucking masculinity personified!

I love sitting on public transport and spreading my legs, feeling my tool drop next to my fat balls, mfhhh! Am I a pervert? Maybe. But this is a fucking dream come true!

The only downside I'd mention is maybe the smell; these feet reek of cheese and vinegar like you wouldn't believe, haha! But I'm even starting to like it. I feel fabulous, incredible like never before. I have more confidence, more power, I've had more encounters than you can imagine… Lucky I booked a three-month stay.

I wasn't that interested in the World Cup in my old body, but this body has a tendency to enjoy football, and well, I think I could enjoy it too. It's not like there aren't plenty of guys hungry for a strong man like me who also enjoy watching football, heh.

Felix (32, Germany)

I've always felt out of place, and no, I'm not talking about my sexual orientation. Fortunately, I've always had the space to be myself without being judged. Men like me, I've had tons of dates, and I'm successful with them, but… I'm not comfortable with my body. Why?

I've always felt it's too… big.

My build has always been stocky, strong, very, very masculine. This always causes confusion when it comes to… getting intimate with someone. They always assume I'm a "top" when I'm not, and all I get is ridicule and difficulty in getting people to see me as I am. Nobody can believe I'm… sensitive, or that I'm feminine. They always expect me to be extremely masculine, brutish, to exude power wherever I go.

I was worried about the body they'd put me in, in Mexico. I'd always associated it with sweaty, strong guys with dark skin and the smell of tequila, but what I found myself in when I opened my eyes was… surreal.

Fair skin, black hair, glasses, no more than 1.80 meters tall, light as a feather, I had a good build but I wasn't a behemoth, it was like my dream body!

I ended up in the body of a total skinny geek with great muscles. I'm so flexible now! The guy did gymnastics, and it really feels like my body has an elegance that mine could never achieve. I can do the splits, lift my leg 180 degrees, spin on my own axis, I can even do a somersault! God, the more I'm here, the more I love this.

Jin (22, South Korea)

This is… disgusting.

I thought coming to Mexico would be fun – the party atmosphere, noisemakers, fireworks, Jarritos soda, even Dr. Simi was there! Believe it or not, Mexico is quite popular in South Korea, and I wanted to experience it without having to spend a fortune on travel and accommodation. I'd always been slim, like an… Idol, so to speak. I loved skincare, cleanliness, fashion, and all that stuff. I thought the Mexican body they were going to put me in wouldn't be too bad.

I was wrong. The guy stinks! Seriously, no matter how many times I shower, the smell of sweat keeps emanating from his armpits like a damn endless river! And his closet? It was even worse, full of sports jerseys, shorts, and smelly, muddy shoes. The guy was literally a soccer fanatic who went way into debt betting on the World Cup and now he'd rented out his body to earn the money to pay it off.

Where are the decent clothes? The creams? I don't have any! The area where she lives isn't exactly the most... well... well-kept. I'm not getting any better this week. I thought this would be more fun, but I have no idea where to go. All I've managed is getting his friends to invite me to watch games. I have to sit, spread my legs like a caveman, pretend I'm interested in sweaty men running after a ball, and go crazy when there's a goal. I haven't even been able to try a single Jarritos soda from here! Ugh!

Elena (26, Greece)

I was about to sue CORPUS, Inc. the moment I opened my eyes to a clearly male, gigantic body. 

Latin America had always intrigued me, and I thought it would be a good option for sightseeing during Pride Month. I've always been very proud of my identity, but… I wasn't very good at picking up women. My physique wasn't particularly impressive either, plus I'm very shy. I had chosen a female body from their catalog: nice features, tall, with slightly tanned skin and brown hair. I thought that would make me stand out and that I could finally talk to a gurl without stumbling over my words.

But CORPUS, Inc. had other plans for me. A guy with broad shoulders, gigantic pecs, even bigger thighs, a tool of about 18 cm, sculpted buttocks, and a deep voice. I really wanted to go crazy, but if I was a man now, it meant I could use that to pick up as many straight girls as I wanted! Tell me, who could resist this? With these delicious biceps, I love how sensitive my areolas are now; just a touch of my shirt against my pecs and they're hard as rocks, haha!

I'm loving the festive atmosphere of the World Cup. I've always been a bit of a "tough girl", so I feel like a fish in water, and this body also has a tremendous tolerance for drinks! I can have like 15 in a row and stay perfectly fine.

I'm even curious to experiment a little with other men… I mean, this damn gorgeous body can't be just for women, right? I think it's partly due to its former owner. When I woke up, I saw some pictures of him with other men, gay dating apps, an X account that… I wasn't very willing to open, but as the days go by, why not? You only live once.

Bastian (28, Belgium)

I always felt insecure about my body, too chubby, t-shirts looked awful on me, everything was always visible, and I felt like a badly packaged ham! I thought the bullying would stop when I finished university, but it only evolved into my coworkers secretly making fun of my weight and how bad I always looked to my boss.

I just wanted something different. I didn't care about the country or the era; I just needed to be someone other than myself. And well, here we are. And… I like it. I mean, look at this face, isn't it cute? It feels so soft, and the hair too! Golden like the sun, I've become so damn addicted to taking pictures of myself nonstop. If there's a mirror, a reflection, or even the front camera of my phone, it'll end up with me taking a selfie.

Maybe I don't have huge biceps, or big legs, or even prominent pecs, but you know what I don't have? My gigantic belly. And that's all that matters to me.

Priya (25, India)

I had read so many bad reviews of CORPUS, Inc., complaints about people ending up in the wrong bodies, some transfers back that could never be completed, and the list goes on and on. But even so, I hired them, and in fact… I expected them to fail.

Call it a social experiment, just for pleasure, or whatever you want, but I'm loving being a man! The power, the security, all the advantages and privileges they have! Not only can I go to the bathroom in a flash and avoid long lines, but it was also so much easier to get ready. I just had to put on a t-shirt and jeans, and I was ready to go. I didn't have to put up with harassment or worry about walking around at night. Really, with these muscles…

The only problem I find is my hunger. The guy I swapped bodies with loves going to the gym, hence his massive pecs and the fact that his apartment smells so bad (but I'm not complaining). He was bulking, which basically made his cravings through the roof. I've eaten like 30 burgers in just one week! It's like a bottomless pit; I can eat and eat and eat and still never feel satisfied.

But I have to admit, I love it. I've never enjoyed food so much! I can eat pizza, sushi, tacos, ice cream, chocolate, burgers, and fries all in one sitting. It makes me burp all the time, but it's starting to feel so much fun. The power it makes me feel... And it seems like other guys like it too. 

I don't know why some people are so obsessed with humiliating themselves, surrendering to others, and letting them do whatever they want. But if they want it, who am I to say no?

Leo (CEO, CORPUS, Inc.)

What's the biggest advantage of being able to run a body-swap company around the world? That I don't have to pay anything to use its services, much less worry about which bodies "are or aren't" suitable for this.

If I want, I can select the damn president's body and become him to smell his feet for a while in the Oval Office.

But, it would be a waste of time. So… World Cup season was undoubtedly the best of all: Chaos in the streets, celebrations, the excitement, sweaty, shirtless, sculpted bodies so lost in their own euphoria (and a few too many drinks) that they couldn't care less about the “little” things going on around them.

So many guys kissing each other in the street, groping each other, euphoric for more – anyone would think they're just drunk fans – but wouldn’t you “waste” your time kissing every guy you see in a body that isn't yours? With a great physique, no worries about work, no ties to romantic relationships, no physical limitations, just the carnal and lustful drive for more.

Perhaps that's what drove me to found CORPUS, Inc., and I must admit I don't regret it for a single second. Do we have flaws? Like any company, of course. Am I going to fix them? Of course not!

All that chaos of botched body swaps, possessions that last longer than expected, skinsuits that close without letting the user out – it's all on purpose! Who wouldn't love to be in a stinky body, with big muscles and a huge ass? To see some worried, devoted family man suddenly become a guy eager for another man to put him on all fours and make him gasp all night?

It's even somewhat perverted and sadistic, but… What does it matter? I can have as many attractive bodies as I want, as if I were going to put on clothes to go out, and the world can enjoy that too.

Want to be a muscular, goofy Himbo? Done. Prefer an athlete with stinky feet and armpits? Go for it. Want to become that neighbor you've secretly fancied for so, so many years? Take it!

There's a reason we have coverage in almost 190 countries. Any body, no matter who it is or where it's from, we can use it and bring it in for whatever you want. Even at these massive events. It would be a fucking missed opportunity to just let them go, with so many bodies that are perfect for anything!

Honestly, there are no limits to what can or can't be done at this company.

— Sir, your photoshoot is waiting. Are you ready?

Oops, my photographer arrived. Well, I guess I should leave you for a bit. I just swapped bodies with an athlete, and I'm really enjoying inhabiting his body. I thought soccer players were just dumb, brainless guys, which is partly true, but damn, they have great muscles! These legs could split a tree in two with a single kick, and his sweaty feet… I'm loving it.

I couldn't pass up the opportunity to borrow him, take some pictures, and have some fun. It's not like his original owner is going to find out or know. I'll return his body soon so he can continue playing in the World Cup and scoring goals, but until then… His body is all mine.

« CORPUS, Inc. The number one body swap and possessions company worldwide. Where dreams are born »

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Hey everyone!

I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you liked it, don't forget to follow it and share it so more people can discover it.

In the coming months, I'll mostly be posting summer-themed stories. Other series you enjoy, like Haunted, Slipped, and others, will still be available, but I'll try to give them a more summery feel. I hope you're enjoying it!

Remember that you can also go to my X: @possessedesires to participate in the giveaway for a completely free personalized story. The last day to register is this Sunday, July 5th, so don't miss it!

I'm always open to suggestions and ideas, so if you have any fantasy or scenario in mind, let me know in the comments or in messages. See you in the next story... Who knows what body you will occupy this time?

CONTENT WARNING: This story includes themes of transformation and body control with a suggestive approach. If this type of narrative is not to your liking or you do not meet the recommended age, we suggest you do not continue. All images used (if any) belong to their respective owners. I claim no authorship over them and they are only used for illustrative purposes. If you decide to go ahead, welcome to Possessed Desires, where mind and body are never completely under your control.

XIX. The Sun

Cain's gaze was fixed on the celebration unfolding around his home: balloons, people running around the pool splashing each other, loud music, the smell of hamburgers and hot dogs wafting into his nostrils as he sat curled up with his legs drawn up, feeling as alone as if he were on the moon.

This was his usual routine, feeling isolated from his own family. He had always been different, like an oddball who, no matter how hard he tried, never quite fit in, always too sensitive, too feminine, not masculine enough. The "buts" piled up like unread mail until finally, he'd had enough. And he stopped expecting to be understood, without his parents' pride or the admiration they showed for what he did, no matter how much he excelled in his fields.

Unlike his older brother, Abel, who was… Well, the sunshine.

He was everything Cain wanted to be someday: tall, handsome, with golden hair, a charming smile, and any silly thing he did deserved applause. Did he want a new car? Of course. A beach vacation? Whatever the king commanded. In fact, that very day, that same festive atmosphere was for him. Why? He'd almost forgotten; it must have been something ridiculous how he managed to close a deal at the company (where, of course, he got his position thanks to his father). The atmosphere irritated poor Cain even more, as he just watched them showering someone with flowers and glitter while he barely did the same to stand out. 

Why didn't he have a party like that when he finished university? When did he get his first job? Oh, yes, of course: "You can't make a good living from art".

Not to mention all the endless speeches about his sexual orientation, "why he had chosen such a hard life", his mother's desire to become a grandmother and see him get married (as if a gay person couldn't do that), the awkward Christmas dinners, and when relatives from other sides would ask the typical question: "So, when are you getting a girlfriend?" Always the damn "disgrace" to the family.

— What's wrong? Don't you like the party? – Abel sat down next to him, a glass of lemonade in his hand and a slight smile on his face. Maybe he wasn't such a bad brother, maybe he was... attentive. But that same "bright" presence overwhelmed him, as if it always highlighted his own flaws. Abel was the sun, while he was the moon, always in the dark, always just reflecting the brilliance of the sun that eclipsed him.

— I don't like the theme – he lied reluctantly.

Everything was decorated with an atmosphere somewhat... similar to a festival or a village fair: tents with games of skill, colored lights, streamers. His parents were practically hiring a whole circus and a Ferris wheel; it was what their "favorite son" deserved, that and more. They had also hired a magician and a... Witch? Or something like that; he hadn't paid much attention.

— Well, and... Have you thought about that yet? – Cain gripped the glass tightly in his hand, pursing his lips and shaking his head, trying to inhale to keep from exploding.

— No, I haven't thought about Dad's proposal.

— And why not? It's a good opportunity. You'd have your own office, a serious job.

— My job is serious.

— I mean something... formal. I know you love to write and lock yourself in your room to do your own thing, but don't you think it's time you made something of your life that you can be proud of? – He just rolled his eyes and stood up. He wasn't in the mood to go back to the same old never-ending argument: "What would he do with his life? What would happen when writing stopped working?" 

All the buts, cons, and little hope his family had for him, the black sheep, the one who could never survive on his own.

— Cain.

— I'm not in the mood, Abel – The guy, a bit shorter and thinner than his older brother, started moving between the game tents and other attractions, trying to escape as best he could, always feeling the other guy hot on his heels. He made a hasty turn in one of the tents, then another, and another, until he had no choice but to go inside, hoping his brother would finally leave him alone. Mistake.

— Why do you always have to run away like this?

— Because I don't want your advice, understand? You don't know what it's like to be like me. For you, everything is perfect. You're perfect. What do you know about making mistakes?

— I just want what's best for you.

— And how do you know what's best for me? You don't know anything-

— Shh…

— Don't tell me to shut up!

— Listen! Can't you hear it?

Cain was confused as Abel tried to navigate by a sound inaudible to his brother. The older brother slowly made his way into the tent, which had a mystical feel. Golden stars hung from the ceiling, the tent seemed to be made of red silk with golden tassels, and the floor was covered with a carpet. It was time to leave; he could leave Abel there – after all, it was his party. But a strange feeling ran down his spine as he watched him move almost in a trance. Cain just grunted to himself before following closely behind. Only a few steps later, the interior was finally revealed.

It was a kind of room covered by the same tent. A star-shaped lamp hung from the ceiling, bathing the space in light in the form of small, five-pointed figures that wandered around. There was a sofa, some gadgets, a low table, and some… Cushions? And a young woman was on the other side, her hair was blonde with curls, her makeup was somewhat soft and discreet, but she undoubtedly exuded beauty.

— Oh, hello. Welcome, come in, come in – her voice was melodious, pleasant, with a cheerful and playful vibe. Abel nodded and sat down at the front of the table, and Cain had no choice but to follow him – Are you interested in having your fortune told? I don't usually have couples who come together.

— We're siblings.

— All the more reason! That's interesting. Would you like that? The first reading is always free, with a satisfaction guarantee – Abel's gaze remained distant, somewhat glazed. Anyone would have noticed by now that something strange was going on, but Cain kept looking at the cards on the table with… Intrigue. He had always been drawn to magic, the occult, and things like that. Life always finds a way to give signs; What if this was one of them? To finally show his brother that he could be himself without following anyone else's path, without the... Backward customs of his family; or on the other hand, for him to realize he was on the wrong track before he ran aground.

— We'd be interested.

Cirse smiled gently and began to shuffle the cards, carefully moving the deck. Abel's gaze returned to the normality he was beginning to notice around him, somewhat confused, though it only took him a couple of blinks before he wanted to bring up the subject again.

— I don't want you to waste your life.

— And that's none of your business.

— But I'm your brother, I want you to understand, that…

— No, I want you to understand this. I've always been in your shadow, always under the "perfect son". You can talk and say whatever you want because Mom and Dad adore you, because you get everything you want, because if you make a mistake, they never say a word. You're the favorite, you're the prodigal son. Not me, so shut up because you don't understand anything about my fucking life and-

— The sun.

Cain turned his gaze to the tarot reader who had finally set the deck aside, leaving a single card in front of the three of them. It had a sun in the center, illustrated with warm colors that reminded him of summer itself; it seemed… comforting. Although, in Abel's eyes, it seemed the card had other intentions.

— What does that mean?

— The sun speaks of positive changes, the first ray of light that appears after the darkest night… Vitality, success, and fulfillment. It reveals the truth in any situation, what can finally bear fruit after being in the shadows.

Cain was fascinated by the card, unable to stop staring at it with a wide smile.

— Brother, I think it's time to go, I think-

The sentence was snatched from his lips at the last moment as both brothers violently rolled their eyes back, falling into a catatonic state, almost trance-like. Only their grunts and other guttural sounds could be heard. Their bodies were slightly twisted, palms facing the sky, their breaths ragged, erratic, and out of control before a kind of halo of light appeared from each of their mouths, one golden from Abel and one blue from Cain. 

Both energies seemed to drift in the air until finally, they curved into each other's mouths, forcefully seeping through their lips as a bit of saliva trickled from the corners.

The energy continued to flow as fast as it could until it finally stopped, both brothers fell to the ground, exhausted, bathed only in the star-shaped light that filled the place.

— Damn it… My head – Abel was the first to wake up. He felt like everything was spinning, as if someone had just drilled into his brain. Everything hurt, and at the same time, he felt numb, as if he'd been suspended in mid-air for too long – Cain? – he murmured, patting around without fully opening his eyes yet, trying to find his brother. His hand searched for a while until it finally touched something.

— Ugh… – He heard a grunt, but… The voice sounded different from his brother's usual high-pitched tone. He ran his hand over that outline again, receiving the same groans. He felt the figure; it was taller, more muscular. What the hell was going on?

Abel forced his eyes open at last. He still felt dizzy, but they were still in the same tent. Although there was no sign or trace of the tarot reader, the only thing left was the Sun card on the table. The older brother tried to get up, though something about his center of gravity didn't feel quite right. Was he… lighter? He only managed to lie back down on the elegant rug. That's when he noticed his hands.

— What the hell is this?! – He'd always been used to having strong hands, long, agile fingers, firm palms with almost no hair (or hair that was barely noticeable because of its golden color). His arms were also firm, not too muscular but not thin either, and what he had in front of him now were practically noodles stuck to his shoulders – Shit! 

The hair had changed too, maybe not increased, but he could see the brown color. His gaze became frantic, scanning the room until he noticed someone lying next to him. Wearing the same shirt he'd chosen to wear that day, the same… hair. Abel swallowed hard, only to approach and turn the "stranger" over, revealing his old body before him.

He couldn't suppress a terrified scream when he came face to face with his clone, which also made his eyes widen, screaming just as scared. They both crawled backward until they were at opposite ends of the room.

— Who the hell are you?!

— Who are you?! Why are you in my body?!

Abel rummaged around again until he found a mirror on one of the nearby shelves. He pulled it towards him so he could see himself in it. His heart almost stopped when he saw his brother's reflection. His dark hair, his thinner and somewhat delicate features, his surprised face. He swallowed hard, unable to believe what was happening. He slowly raised his gaze, still trying to figure out who his brother could be, but he was still too confused to notice the change.

— Cain?...

— How do you know my name?!

— Because it's me, Abel. Calm down, look. 

He carefully handed him the mirror. The other brother cautiously took it in his hands to observe the reflection of his older brother, the one that now belonged to him. Silky, perfect honey-toned hair, defined cheekbones, a pert nose, eyes that seemed to steal the light around them, perfect teeth – Everything was perfect. He stared at his reflection for a while longer, making silly faces and gestures.

— We have to fix this – Abel stood up carefully, still not entirely comfortable with the difference in weight and height. He had shrunk by at least 10 cm. He felt somewhat… clumsy, which he didn't understand since he was supposed to be lighter, but it wasn't his body. He felt so damn strange – We have to find that gurl, tell her to switch our bodies again, and… and…

— I'm not going to do that.

Abel turned away, completely stunned to hear his own voice say something like that. — What?

— I already told you. I don't want to go back – His old body stood up, an arrogant smile playing on his lips.

— But, you and I…

— Why would I want to be the black sheep of the family again, huh? When I can keep all this? – Cain raised his arms and flexed them forcefully. The fabric of his shirt creaked slightly under the strain. He flexed them again and again, trying to tear the sleeve, but when that didn't work, he moved his hands around his chest, caressing it as if he were rubbing a magic lamp. He loved the sensation that coursed through his skin, a comforting tingle that simultaneously sent shivers down his spine. His new areolas pressed against the fabric, much to his brother's horror at the sight of such an outrage.

— Get your hands off my body! – Abel tried to approach, but only managed to elicit a punch from the new Abel right in the chest, sending him stumbling backward, breathless.

— Your body? Ha, you wish. This is my fucking body now, and I'm going to do what I want with it – He chuckled, lifting the lower part of his clothing to reveal his well-defined abs – I've always envied you, you know? – The guy smiled again, raising his arm once more and cupping his nose against his armpit, taking a slow, fascinated drag – The perfect son, the one who gets everything, without a single flaw, just you and you, with this magnificent body. You got all the good genes, didn't you? 

Cain continued to admire his new appearance, his hands constantly running over his entire body: His new thighs encased in those tight jeans, his slightly large feet wrapped in his damp sneakers, his firm shoulders, his pecs, his biceps. He loved how his throat resonated every time he spoke, how tall and strong he felt. Now he wasn't a "fag" was he? Hahaha!

— Y-You can't do th-that – Abel stammered. On any other day, he would have been defensive. How could he possibly endure something of that magnitude? But now, he just felt his legs trembling, unable to do anything. He watched the scene with even more horror as he saw Cain's curious hands slide down his waist to the button of his jeans, undo it, and then lower the zipper. He slid down his boxers, revealing his newfound masculinity: Thick, long, and throbbing. The new big brother gasped with pleasure, biting his lower lip in fascination.

— Ha, does this also make you feel entitled to everything?

— L-leave that there.

— Nah, it seems you're enjoying all this, aren't you?

Abel glanced down at his own pants to see a bulge. The poor guy covered himself in embarrassment, his face burning red, shaking his head.

— N-no.

— There's nothing wrong with that. After all, you like men, don't you, “Cain”?

— T-That's not my name.

— Oops, I think it is now.

He gripped his "rod of power" tightly, arrogance oozing from every pore of his body, tugging between gasps and moans, his eyes wandering uncontrollably with each throbbing of satisfaction. Sweat began to trickle down the rest of his skin, carrying a heavy, musky scent that, to him, felt almost like ambrosia. The new Abel flexed his arm again, rubbing his face against his malodorous armpit, sticking out his tongue to taste a bit of his new flavor.

His brother, on the other hand, still lay at the opposite end, horrified but in a "tight" position between his thighs. He could feel his new tool slipping slightly. He wanted to look away, but the harder he tried, the more he watched. The outline of his old muscles, the strength of his arms, how the veins tensed each time he pulled on his new obelisk – all the arrogant power emanating from him.

— Do you like what you see? That someone finally owns this perfect body with pride?

He licked his lips, clicking his tongue to tilt his head back, letting that perfect hair follow its own path. Pleasure was rising like foam. Cain let out uncontrollable gasps before a torrent of whitish fluid finally spilled everywhere – between his fingers, on the carpet. The force and volume were so great that some even hit his brother's cheek, horrified, but with a wet stain in the middle of his pants.

Cain smiled, more than delighted by the power.

Will and James had been best friends since high school. They were both good-looking, but James had always been the more rugged, adventurous one. So when James suggested they swap bodies for the big lake house party that night “just for fun,” Will, curious and a little tipsy already, agreed. They used the strange antique ring James had found. One flash later, Will was staring out of James’s taller, broader body, while James grinned with Will’s leaner, prettier face.

“Fuck, dude. You feel good,” James said in Will’s voice, running his new hands over his chest. “Let’s go fuck shit up.”

The party was wild. They agreed to swap back at midnight.

But James got drunk. Really drunk.

Will spent the first few hours enjoying himself, getting attention from girls and guys alike. But as the night went on, James stopped replying to his texts. Will started to panic. He spent the rest of the night tracking down his own body. He finally found it at 3 a.m., sitting on the back porch, looking dazed.

Will’s slim, athletic, curly-haired body looked completely out of place. He was shirtless, sweat glistening on the lean muscle, but his posture was slouched, one hand resting on his flat stomach like he couldn’t believe what he was feeling. His eyes were glassy and confused as he stared down at the tight abs and smooth chest that definitely didn’t belong to him.

Will, still in James’s bod, froze. “James… what’s goin on? It’s been hours and I hadn’t heard from you! We were supposed to swap back at midnight! Where have you been?”

Will’s handsome face looked up at him and slurred, “Kid… what the fuck is this? I was just at the bar down the street drinkin with the boys… now I’m… Jesus, this body is so young… so…tight.” Will’s body ran its hands slowly over the lean chest, squeezing the pecs, then down the abs, clearly mesmerized. His new cock was half-hard in Will’s shorts, twitching visibly.

Will’s stomach dropped.

“I got no clue who James is,” he continued with a filthy chuckle. The old man in Will’s body just laughed drunkenly, still groping himself. “Some blonde kid ran up to me at the bar talkin about “swappin”… said it was a game. Then he actually swapped again and left me like this. Ran off with my 57 year old construction worker bod and left me… well… left me in this!” He chuckled again.

He flexed one of Will’s arms experimentally, then bounced the pecs, letting out a low, filthy groan at how responsive the athletic frame was.

Will stood there in horror as the old stranger continued exploring his stolen body, touching, squeezing, and shamelessly adjusting the growing bulge in his shorts right there on the porch. His perfect, lean, hard-earned body was now occupied by some random old fat man.

Will stepped closer, a desperation to his tone that sounds weird coming from James’s usually cocky voice. “Well you see uh… that’s actually my body… James here-” He motions to his current body, “He’s my best mate and we thought it’d be fun to swap bodies for the night and now well.. we’re here!”

The old man, now in Will’s drunken form, stared blankly at Will, almost as if he wasn’t listening.

“So uh… can we swap? I want my body back…”

The old man stood up, his sweaty torso glistening in the moonlight, “Hell no, kid. This body is fucking incredible.”

He stood up, still shirtless, and ran his hands down Will’s torso again, squeezing the pecs, tracing every ridge of the abs, then sliding lower to grope the front of the shorts where a clear bulge was forming.

“I was a fat old bastard drinking at the bar… and now I’m this? Tight, young, and hung? Nah. I’m keeping it.”

Will’s heart sank. “We can swap back. The ring-”

“The blond kid who put me in here took the ring with him when he swapped with me,” the old man interrupted, still shamelessly touching and exploring Will’s body. He flexed one arm, then bounced the pecs, letting out a low moan at how good it felt. “Even if we had it, I wouldn’t use it. This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

There was no way back. Will was permanently stuck in his best friend’s body.

And the random old stranger was keeping his.

The old man smirked with Will’s charming smile, adjusted the growing bulge in the shorts, and patted his new flat stomach.

“Better get used to it, kid. I plan on putting this tight little body to very good use.”

With that, he walked back into the party with a swagger that looked unfamiliar on Will’s usually more timid body.

———

A few days later, Will’s phone buzzed while he was still trying to adjust to life in James’s bigger body.

It was a text from his old phone number.

Attached were several new photos: his own lean, curly-haired body on the tennis court at dusk, shirtless, sweaty, and smiling. In one shot he was flexing with the racket in hand. The other, a cute little pose, clearly trying to look good for whoever was behind the camera.. Will didn’t want to know who it was.

The message read:

“Bro you would not believe how much fun I’m having in this body 😂 I figure you used to be gay but man, these tennis girls keep checking me out. Thanks for the upgrade man, I’m keeping this one.”

Will stared at the photos of his former self, now permanently occupied by that random old man who clearly had no intention of giving it back, and felt a deep, sinking humiliation settle in his chest.

His perfect body was gone forever.

Llege ala casa de Emilio para ponerme el uniforme cuándo al abrir la puerta me ataca su hermano

-Hoy estas mas raro de lo normal (hermano)

No sabía que contestar que su hermano cambio de papeles con su maestro 😔?! Pero sabía que contestar

-Miraaa hoy he estado así por la pubertad

-Pubertad?? (hermano)

-Si cómo adolecente tenemos diferentes emociones como hoy estoy confundido otro día feliz,triste, depresión, enojado

-Ah yo pensé que estabas en una posesión demoníaca (hermano)

-Bueno tampoco no me voy ala práctica

-Si adios (hermano)

Me fui otra vez alas canchas de la escuela para entrenar al llegar vi de lejos a George saliendo que me reí empezamos el entrenamiento la verdad no soy bueno en el baloncesto pero lo domine que me llamo la atención el coach Rubén que me llamo la atención

-Hoy andas muy raro Osorio (Rubén)

-Si profesor hoy ando raro

-Bien espero que para el próximo martes no reacciones así he se que eres el capitán del equipo más bien andas como principiantes (Rubén)

-Si mejorare

Acabo el entrenamiento que tuve que irme al deportivo de natación al llegar me metí alas regaderas que vi a un chico me llamaba la atención era yo o me hacía gay?!

Salí para ir a nadar que en el carril de alado estaba ese chico lo había reconocido era un alumno mío de 3 bachillerato que se llamaba Joaquín Jiménez :v se acabó la práctica que me deriji al baño para cambiarme que otra vez vi a ese chico le iba hablar pero no lo hize me vestí

Cuando salí me encuentro con George me jala me lleva Asia su auto

-Creo que ya es hora de volver a nuestros cuerpos (George)

-Que por que?! Chingadoo

-Por que lo digo(George)

No soportaba volver ami ex vida que derrepente abri la puerta del carro y me salí corriendo

-Hijo de puta a donde vas (George)

👆levante el dedo que

-DISFRUTAR esto😃

Soy el...?!

No lo podía creer soy el =Emilio por que estoy en su cuerpo???? Ahora había retrocedido era un chavo de 16 años de preparatoria estaba impresionado por esto tenía juventud otra vez :-) otra vez esa voz grito

-Emilio ven el desayuno ya está listo baja

Abro la puerta y grito

-Voy mama ahora bajo

Supongo que la gritaba era su madre 👌 estaba contento de esta travesía que enfrentaría que me veo al espejo y veo que Emilio está muy mamey con estos 16 años de edad que tiene me quede por un rato mirándome al espejo viendo su adomen juvenil que se me había pasado vestirme para irme ala prepa solo me visti rápido ya que en la tarde si no encargan tarea claro 😝voy a analizar mi nuevo cuerpo solo agarre lo necesario un pantalón de mezclilla y una playera roja me puse una medalla ya que era algo característico que usaba

Baje por las escaleras que Llege al comedor solo veo en la mesa a un adulto, un niño, una niña y su mamá preparando el desayuno

-Hay hasta que por fin bajas (hermana)

-Lo siento si me tarde estuve organizando mi mochila

-Pero emi si tu mochila está acá (madre)

-Hoy andas muy raro (hermano)

Solo sonreí Me diriji ala mesa y me senté su madre sirvió el desayuno eran un parde tostadas con nutella con un licuado de plátano

-Emilio estudiaste?! Verdad (padre)

Yo solo le conteste con mi nueva voz juvenil

-Claro papa

-Está bien por qué no quiero que al final te vallas a extraordinario como el año pasado (padre)

-Bueno chicos vayan por la mochila que es hora de ir ala escuela (madre)

Me pare y fui al fregadero al lavar el traste me miró raro su hermano quien es el que sospecha de algo solo sonreí y me diriji para su habitación observe si no le faltaba algún libro y no sólo me mire al espejo y sonreí me mencione todo saldrá bien hoy 😙 nos pusimos en camino me subí a su lujosa camioneta primero me dejaron ami en la preparatoria ya que entraba alas 7:30 solo me despedí y me dieron dinero para el almuerzo me diriji Asia el salón salude y me senté la primera clase fue física fui el primero en acabar los ejercicios pero después tocaron más materias las cuales se me complicaron como español, ingles bueno no tanto, historia, formación que se llegó la hora de recreo entonces estuve observando si no estaba el profesor George osea yo :v no aparecía tocó el timbre y me metí al salon tocó química algo que me agradaba y nuevamente fui el primero me dio tiempo para estudiar para el examen jaja bueno ya sabía cómo era llegó la última hora y nos tocaba mate mi materia favorita el profesor llegó y mencionó -jovenes aquí tengo sus exámenes repartanselo solo tienen 50 minutos para contestarlo me reí en la mente esto es pan comido 😳

Que cuando me entregaron el examen lo vi y no era el mismo que había hecho podría ser que los había cambiado pero era fácil respondí el examen rápido ya que eran temas que nominada obiamente 😅así que me pare y se lo entrege era raro mirarme a mi mismo cuando se le entrege el dijo

-Excelente Osorio nesesito hablar contigo al final de la clase (George)

-Si profesor me quedo hablar

Era raro que quería háblar conmigo ala mejor era otra persona pero no creía que vi que estaba revisando el examen bueno en lo que acaba la clase me pondré estudiar para el examen de español de mañana acaabo la clase cuando todos se fueron me puse en marcha a para el escritorio solo solté 😒

-Que pasa profesor?!

-Emilio!!! Me puede exentar (George)

-Espera Emilio eres tú

-Si Osorio que creías que alguien más ocupaba tu cuerpo(George)

-No bueno si pero como paso esto

-vez no captaste mi mensaje ya verá como le va(George)

-Oh claro pero como lo lograste

-Es un secreto (George)

-Si bueno me voy a casa

-Alto?!!! (George)

-Mande

-Me ayudas q calificar los exámenes (George)

-Está bien ahh

-Alto hoy tengo práctica de baloncesto (George)

-Oh que???

-Si tienes que ir son de aquí de la escuela y luego vas a natación (George)

-Asu madre

-Ves ya tienes que ir por que la práctica es alas 3:00 (George)

Ahora veo por qué para los alumnos se les hace difícil la escuela ya que soy uno de ellos, era un profesor de matemáticas con 53 años de edad todo este semestre cuando un alumno mío queria exentar en mi materia yo al principio no acepte siendo el primer parcial solo le mencione que no se debe de esforzar el solo río y dijo así están las cosas bueno verá como le va el solo se retiró...

Solo le dije que estudiará para su examen de mañana el se fue sin decir una palabra en la tarde preparaba los exámenes que presentaría mañana cuando ya en la nochecer me sentía mariado términe exasausto y acabe en la cama

Ala mañana siguiente me desperté pero esta vez no de lo habitual todo eataba cambiado mi habitación que tenía más lujo me sentía más ligero de la costumbre que incluso tenía más energía cuando note que alguien me grito -Emilio el desayuno Emilio?! Yo no soy Emilio además yo no vivo con nadie más soy soltero voy aver en el espejo me veo y observó el reflejo del chico que quería que lo exentara