Added a few subtle improvements 😍

“You have the bags, right Eddie?” Christian whipped his head around, already testy with his step brother. Eddie turned with an irritated blank expression before nodding silently. The fourteen hour drive had all but annihilated any sense of fun the two limber boys had remaining. Hoping to get to Southern Decadence from their home in backwater Oklahoma, the two twinks evaded their parent’s prying attention by claiming an evangelical convention was occurring in New Orleans that weekend; knowing all too well that the only holy fathers they’d be with were the big leather daddies they’d only ever experienced on XTube. Frankly, with how late they’d made their reservation, they were very lucky to have booked their hotel- even if it was on the Northshore of Lake Pontchartrain.

Heavy rain and impressive claps of thunder had accompanied them ever since they passed over the Louisiana border, and they nearly missed the turn to the resort, whose sign was barely illuminated by the flickering floodlights: The Sunset Tower Hotel, est. 1921. Turning onto the pothole infested drive, the car shuddered as it approached the impressive structure. The hotel stood erect against the shores of the lake, dimly lit in dark orange. Once grand, the building clearly had been neglected since it’s hayday. The overgrown gardens had encroached onto the parking lot, forcing the two to approach the lobby doors where the old bellman stood waiting. The two quickly popped the trunk, and handed a $20 into the old man’s decrepit hand, bolting into the hotel.

The interior was equally as derelict as the exterior, cobwebs hung from the crystal chandeliers like spanish moss and electric surges caused the lights to have an almost firelike quality as they dimmed and brightened slowly in an unending loop. The place seemed like it hadn’t been touched since the 40’s. Yet as the two began checking in with the inconspicuous woman behind the front desk, from up in the corner of the stained glass dome, two pairs of eyes watched the brothers with intrigue. A hotel of this age always sees people of all walks of life, and it’s not uncommon for a number of said guests to stay past their checkout date. In the case of the two hulking specters, an unfortunate overdose in the coke fueled mid 80’s extended their stay. These two young, twenty something twinks were the first guests at the hotel in months, and they were awfully more appealing than the ancient couple which had preceded them. Thus began the turning of the cogs in the two strapping ghosts.

The woman at the desk handed Christian the key to their room, directing them to the elevators across the lobby. The two sighed, both disappointed at their accommodations, and yet relieved to finally have a bed. With the festival beginning tomorrow, the two decided to turn in and not take the woman up on dinner in the restaurant. The two pressed the button, watching the antique dial move slowly to “L.”

“Ugh. I think I’m going to take a shower or something. I need a minute.” Eddie rolled his eyes at his step brother’s whining, simultaneously looking forward to a moment alone. Unbeknownst to them, the two ghosts had floated behind the two. They looked down at the two boys, their ectoplasmic bodies thrice the size of these skin and bone pretty boys. Christian, noticing a strange smell began to look behind him. Of course, the two spirits were not visible to the living, at least not yet. “Oh wow… yeah I really do need a shower… I smell like a gym bag.” The two ghosts snickered, knowing all too well that the two would have significantly bigger worries than smelling as musky as they did.

The doors opened, and the four entered the elevator. Confined in the tiny space, the ghosts began to scheme. Silently calling dibs on their host, they flew around the two to observe their prospective digs. A tight squeeze was definitely going to be the situation, but they were always the competitive type. By the time the elevator had reached the thirteenth floor, the spirits had made their decisions. Diego, slightly slimmer but more cut than his lover, found Eddie to be a better fit for him, while Marco, a former bodybuilder, chose Christian.

“Jesus, Christian. Did you not shower before you got in the car?” “Oh fuck off. That was not all me. You forgot your deodorant or something.” The boys arrived outside their door, and turning the key, opened the long closed door. Before the two even had the chance, the door behind them slammed shut. Staring at eachother, they shrugged it off as Christian made his way into the bathroom, and Eddie plopped down onto the bed.

---

Christian stripped off his preppy attire, taking a quick sniff of both the clothing and his pits. He was surprised to not smell the pungent musk which had sensed earlier. Yet again dismissing a seemingly innocuous oddity, he turned the faucet to scalding hot, and waited for the water to heat. Yet, slowly as the steam filled the room, he was completely unaware of the massive hulking ghost which had manifested behind him. Turning, he was met with the translucent face of Marco. The ghost greeted him with a smirk, and grabbing his head, planted a wet, sloppy kiss on his lips. Quickly pushing the rubbery spirit off him, Christian began to scream.

Of course, Marco took this generous display as an invitation, and slammed his head into the agape mouth. Christian felt his throat expand to accommodate Marco’s head, but simply put, no squirming, stretching, or slamming would get Marco any further in. Popping out of his mouth, the ghost switched to plan B. Christian had flown backward, slipping on the tile and landing on his stomach. Perfect. Marco flew to his exposed rear, and smiled as he slipped his slippery tongue into Christian’s tight hole. Immediately moaning in pleasure, Christian found himself flooded with endorphins, surrendering completely to the incomparable sensation of the probing slick tongue rimming him. Seizing the opportunity while the twink was completely relaxed and loose, he rammed himself once more into his tiny hole.

Yelping, but still overwhelmed with ecstasy, Christian could feel the wriggling sensation of the ghost penetrating him and flowing deeper and deeper into him. Rolling onto his back, he watched in horror and amazement at the form of the hunky ghost sliding beneath his skin. Marco’s two arms plunged in alongside his torso, and began to haul his significantly larger girth into Christian’s tight body. The twink was spasming on the ground, moaning in euphoria as the ghost slipped his entire massive shape into the boy. Christian watched as Marco slipped him on like a suit, his skin stretching like rubber to make room for his bulging muscles. His arms inflated like balloons as the ghost’s hands slipped into his own, tight as gloves. Abs rippled down below massive giggling pecs leading to his increasingly girthy meat. Marco began to enjoy his new meat puppet, grabbing Christian’s smaller dick and thrusting his own into it like a fleshlight. He felt his tail slurping into the bony legs, filling them with his gelatinous muscle before flooding into his now massive feet.

Christian had all but surrendered to the pleasure, anticipating the ghost’s next move with an anxious excitement. He looked down at his new burly body play with itself and watched with a sick sense of glee as Marco’s head slipped up his stretching throat. He could feel the ghost’s head pressing against the roof of his mouth, before the mounting pressure finally gave way. Marco slipped into Christian’s head, adjusting himself within as one would with a mask. His deep, bellowing voice now pouring from his new body, Marco shot the first of his ectoplasmic loads into the air like a geyser, the glowing blue slime completely coating the ceiling.

Pulling himself up off the ground, Marco could ever so slightly hear the viscous sloshing of his ghostly form within Christian’s body. He swiped the steamy mirror clear, and admired his sexy physique. He looked like Christian, but could see his own features beneath the skin, merging into an amalgamation of both men. Christian’s consciousness purred in Marco’s psyche, caught in an endless loop of orgasmic pleasure. He turned as the doorknob giggled, grinning from ear to ear at what was to come next.

---

Eddie swung the door open, Christian had been moaning and writhing for long enough. If he was gonna jack off he could at least have waited until he was asleep! Steam poured out of the ajar door, and the foreign stink of sweaty musk flooded the room with it. This was not his brother’s scent… Within moments, a meaty hand landed square on his shoulder, and out from the steam walked his stepbrother… Or was it? The hunky man stood over 6’0 tall and was built of solid muscle. Looking closely at his face, he recognized his brother, but could tell something else was lurking underneath.

“Yo, ‘little bro’. Like my new look?” Marco flexed his massive arm, his bicep now the size of Eddie’s head.

“Chh… Christian… What did you do…” Eddie backed up slowly, the hulking sight and musky scent of his brother ever so slightly arousing him. Marco laughed, his booming voice felt like shockwaves against Eddie’s tiny body.

“Your bro upgraded! And, I think it’s about time for your turn too, buddy!” Eddie felt a poke on his shoulder from behind him. Slowly turning, he saw the jacked, athletic ghost of Diego behind him. The ghost rubbed his hands together before dropping down. Marco held his gigantic hands on Eddie’s shoulders, planting him firmly in place as Diego yanked his pants to the ground. Eddie’s erect cock stood at full mast, though not necessarily impressive. Diego winked at his lover as he slurped his mouth onto Eddie’s member and began to suck. Eddie moaned as the slimy, warm, rubbery ghost slid up and down on his cock.

“Yeahhh, that’s right. That’s Diego, my friend. And he’s gonna take real good care of you.” Eddie nodded absentmindedly, completely swept away by the ghost’s incredible blowjob. Diego pryed himself off just long enough for him to jam his fist and jacked arms into Eddie’s cock, quickly engorged with his ectoplasm. Eddie yelped, confused by what should have been painful, and yet more aroused as he watched the lusty spirit crawl into his swollen cock.

“Yeahhhhhhhh, fuck yeah get in there Diego.” The ghost excitedly slithered into his now begging host, slurping into Eddie’s groin. The boys balls inflated until they dropped to the ground, filled with Diego’s rubbery body. “Ohhhh fuck!” He could feel as Diego shoved himself into his calves, and down into his feet like a pair of tight rubber socks. Looking down, his formerly size 5 feet now stood a massive size 13, and sporting one hell of a funky aroma: the aroma of an athlete fresh out of the gym, which Diego proudly exuded. He felt the slithering of the rubbery ghost crawling up his midsection, feeling his skin stretch and bloat at the pressure of his ghostly muscle buckling out of his now chiseled, lean obliques. Diego shoved his broad shoulders upward, and effortlessly slipped his arms and hands into Eddie’s.

He balled his new fists, the creaking, rubbery sound of his own stretched skin sent Eddie over the edge as he cocked his head backward in ecstasy. Taking the opportunity to thrust himself into Eddie’s head without resistance, Diego shot up his throat and slithered into his skull, letting his freakishly long tongue slip into Eddie’s. Diego sighed as he adjusted himself inside, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. Marco took to his lover’s mouth, planting a deep, sensual kiss on Diego’s now plump lips.

“Fuck that’s always fun.” Diego’s laid back, heavy South California accent flowed out of his new mouth between his tongue play with Marco. The two landed hard on the bed, smashing the frame and letting the mattress fall to the floor. Creaking, squelching, and sloshing, the two rubbed their massive swollen bodies against eachother, basking in the sweaty, musky afterglow of a sexy possession. Marco smirked as he guided his engorged cock toward Diego’s tangy hole, before plunging it deep inside him. Diego gasped and huffed at the sensation of Marco’s girth inside him. Like a balloon filled with warm liquid, the cock thrusted in and out as Marco’s cock slid around inside of Christian’s like a hyper ribbed condom.

“Oh my god, you’re so fuckin’ sexy stretching out that twink.” Diego smirked and cocked his head to the side, winking at Marco.

“You’re pretty fuckin hot yourself, you’re stretching him to the max.” Marco slammed against Diego’s jiggling bubble butt, increasing his pace. “You wanna try him? He’s super into it.” Marco laughed and nodded, his breath picking up. The two fucked hard, barebacking until Marco could barely hold himself any longer.

“Oh fuuuuuuuUUUU…” Marco felt himself shooting out of Christian’s cock, deep into Eddie. The sloshing of his ghostly body rushing into the already inflated Eddie loudly announced Diego’s exit, as Diego slipped from his lips into Christian’s open mouth. The two exchanged their flesh suits, one inflating into the other, until all that was left was buckets full of blue ecto, and two panting hunks.

---

The old bellman knocked on the door, the two twink’s luggage in hand. Those little shits better have had at least a $20 tip in there for him, ungrateful little bastards. The door opened, and the stench of sex, pheromones, sweat, and testosterone rushed into the hall. The old man looked up at the two jacked men in the room, ever so vaguely recognizing them as the two he’d seen earlier.

“I… uh… I got your bags here.” The bigger one laughed, and turned to the other.

“Hey… uh, Christian! Bring this man a tip, will ya?” The tanner, more lean hunk went to his wallet, pulling out a hundred dollar bill and handing it to the bellhop.

I can't wait to test the limits of your body, I thought. You see, after several decades surfing body to body of young men, I found vanilla sex boring. Right now, I'm in my "corrupting the cutie" phase.

This specimen with his tight abs and hairy pits was a Sunday school volunteer, teaching the young in the ways of God. What captured my attention was his tighty whiteys. He was dressed proper and modest, and his underwear was the punctuation on his innocence. It spoke of being a jock virgin. A rare breed of a college athlete. Probably saving himself for a long-term romance.

Until I came along. I followed the young man to the gym in the church basement and watched as he worked his chest and arms. While he was distracted I overpowered him and forced my essence into his mouth. The smart mf'er instinctively shut his mouth and so I found other openings to enter. He gasped with surprised when I teased open his hole and with that opening, I entered his mouth. I came in both ends and he started convulsing on the workout bench. As my control spread from nerve ending to nerve ending, I felt the coolness of the basement and saw the fluorescent lights overhead. I waited a moment, feeling his—or my—new heart beating in this smooth, pale chest. I felt the fullness of his bladder, full of pre-workout mix and protein shakes.

I stood shakily and allowed myself to feel his toned abs and his biceps. While I was alone in the gym, I pulled off my shirt and pants and exposed the tighty whiteys that allured me with its immaturity. But I felt it was too clean, too white. I took a deep breath and let out a sensual moan as I released my bladder and felt the flowing warm stream running down my leg, soaking my underwear. The white fabric turned a light yellow and through the cotton, I saw the outline of my cock head and shaft. Poor jock even shaved his pubes. His hygiene was impeccable.

I felt my cock stiffening as my urine puddled around my bare feet. Thoughts of sucking my toes to clean off the piss shot through my mind and I smiled. This squeaky clean gym bro will be put through a bucket list of depravity, and by the end of it—after many years or decades—when I had my fun, I'll leave him and let him have the memories of all the gross fun we had together.

At the end of it, the people I possess yearn for the bliss of trash. I unlock something in their prim and proper minds and they relish being used, fucked, and thrown away.

Part 1 found here

I can’t believe it, I’m uncle Rob! I was still getting used to being a solid 50 pounds heavier, probably even more to be honest. When I dressed up as Rob, I had chosen one of his older football jerseys to feel his stomach pressed against his beefy belly. Each step I took I could feel the fabric stretch to accommodate my new form. I patted it, feeling the jiggle ripple through the rest of my abdomen. This was going to be a fun day.

Normally it would have taken me about 15 minutes to get from Rob’s house back to mine, but with my new longer legs, and the amount of excitement built in, I made it in half the time. Stepping up to the front door, my heart was racing in anticipation. I haven’t spent real quality time with my dad in what felt likes years. To go from being the scrawny son he essentially ignored, to becoming his best friend and brother, was a dramatic shift. However, I let out a long breath of air and pounded on the door with my strong fist. 

Dad, I guess I should refer to him by his first name now, Mike, opened the door and looked at me inquisitively. He wasn’t even wearing his usual jersey, just a green t shirt and jeans, his hair messy, with the locks shining in the golden sunlight. 

“Rob? What are you doing knocking on the door? You haven’t done anything but stroll in like a bastard for years”. Shit, of course I should have just walked in. Rob’s been coming over to our place for years now to hang out with my dad. I chuckled to try and cover.

“What and not take you up on opening the door for me? Fat chance,” I told him with my best uncle Rob impersonation. He rolled his eyes and ushered me in. I think I can still play this off. Coming into my home as Rob made it feel like a brand new experience, like I was stepping foot for the first time. Though that may just be because I’m about a foot taller and my perception has greatly shifted at this new height. 

“You want a beer?” Mike asked, closing the door behind me. 

“It can’t even be 8 am,” I told him without a second thought. His eyebrow raised again. 

“What took you so long to ask?” I asked him back. He scoffed and wandered off to the kitchen. My heart would not slow down. I can make a couple of recoveries, but what am I supposed to do when he actually starts talking about football? Mike came back, and tossed me an unopened can. I popped the tab and took a swing, almost spitting it right back out. Fuck me, that’s what beer tastes like? At the tender age of 20, I was just shy of getting myself any alcohol of my own. Though also, at the tender heart, I was too chicken to sneak one of my dad’s to try before today. 

Thankfully Mike had his back turned to me, otherwise he surely would have seen me grimace from the taste. 

“So, game’s not for another hour,” he said, coming back from the kitchen again, this time holding the entire box full of beers. Oh god do I have to drink all of those? I can’t even stomach one. 

“How about you make your lazy ass of some use and help me stock the fridge? Especially since you didn’t bring any of your own,” he continued. Was I supposed to bring something? I’m clearly an awful guest. I followed him downstairs to his man cave, one which I rarely stepped foot in. 

It was what one would expect of a middle aged man who was obsessed with football. A once plush couch now worn out from years of ass being met with it, a small beer fridge along the side, massive flat screen tv along the back wall. If you pick up a copy of “Man Caves for Dummies”, you’d find this on chapter one. Mike shoved the box of beers at me and I waddled off to the fridge to stock up. Not like there was much space anyways, he always kept it pretty filled. 

As I was finishing up the bottom level of the fridge, I felt a hard smack against my ass, almost causing me to shove my whole head into the fridge. 

“Hurry up slowpoke, I wanna get these chilled before the game starts,” Mike said, pulling another beer out of the top shelf. He already finished the first one? I was too distracted to even drink mine, now so aroused at my ass getting smacked, and being ordered around by my dad. Don’t get me wrong, I was used to him ordering me around before, but this time it was playful. It didn’t help that my new cock was pressed against the silky material of my jockstrap, hidden under Rob’s set of Wranglers. I was chubbed up since I came in his body earlier today, but the touch of Mike, and the material sliding against it, made me rock hard. 

I adjusted my pants to help try and mitigate how much of my cock showed and closed the fridge door behind me. 

“Just giving you time to remember how I got the good ass genes from dad,” I told him. I turned and shook my ass at him, smacking it myself. Fuck Rob’s butt really kept up some perk since his old military days. 

“Please, the only thing you got from dad was a bad back and a receding hairline,” he said, chuckling to himself. He took a swig out of his beer and I decided to mirror him. This time, I knew what to expect and choked down the ale with less effort. This actually wasn’t too bad after a while. He reclined back on the couch and kicked his feet up on the corner L of the sofa. He was wearing his basketball shorts and his calves were showing. I never looked at my father in a suggestive way from the implication alone, but I wasn’t me right now. Even as his brother it felt like I was somebody entirely different. 

I could admire how strong his legs looked, especially when he stretched one of them out to pop his knee. The shorts rode up and a brief glimpse of his thigh bared itself to me. This didn’t help my need to hide my raging boner at all. He turned his attention from the TV and looked at me. 

“What are you waiting for? Permission?” He asked. I sat on the opposite end of the couch from him. We had an hour until the game, and I immensely regretted not doing more research before I took over Rob. Mike tried to engage with me about the team, sports, players, and I did my best to rebut against them with jokes and more general comments. He definitely knew something was up though. I drank through the whole thing, feeling my new belly slosh as it contained nothing but beer. The jersey I was wearing started to feel even tighter as I felt my stomach expand to accommodate. 

“Jeez Rob are you okay?” He asked me, minutes before the game began. My consciousness was starting to fade some, the alcohol finally starting to kick in. I had to have been 6 beers in by this point, only taking so long due to Rob’s large build. 

“What do you mean?” I asked him, blinking slowly to orient myself. He finished his last bit of his drink and threw it into the closest trash can. 

“You aren’t yourself. No idea what I’m talking about, stumbling through any conversation, it’s like I’m talking to…” he shrugged, “well, Timmy”. That made me snap into focus. The original plan when I took over Rob was to talk to my dad about anything but football, and hopefully, make him actually like the real me. 

“What about Tim?” I asked him. He cracked open a new beer. 

“Well you know, he’s a good kid, but I just don’t get him. Always up in his room all day, toying around with those little figures of his.” My figures I paint as a hobby. Something about bringing those little guys to life brought me a lot of calm. I didn’t even think my dad knew they existed.

“Have you tried connecting with him about what he likes?” I asked him. I knew the answer, but wanted to hear him admit it. 

“Yeah,” he said. Liar. “I mean, kind of. I just don’t get it. You known when we were growing up we were outside, running around the woods, getting dirty. Tim he just, I don’t know, is just a shut in. We didn’t grow up like that, he actually did things. Like when we kidnapped the Connors’ dog and posted a ransom to buy snacks in the summer. I mean you know, we did a LOT together. Tried new things, grew closer. He doesn’t do anything, just toys away and plays on that damn computer”. 

Ouch. Can’t say I’m surprised though, it’s about what I expected him to feel. 

“But I wanna connect with him, you know. I want to be his dad, not just his father. I taught him to ride a bike, hit a baseball, how football works. Then he became a teenager and just dropped all of it and became a different kid.” I was about to open another beer, but wanted to be as much of myself as possible. 

“You know Mike, I think he may have always been like this,” I told him. He raised an eyebrow in response. “I think, he just wanted to be the person you wanted him to be so you’d love him. But, he found out that he wasn’t happy doing those things, so he just decided to be himself, and hope you’d love him anyway.” 

Mike was silent for a long time, not even taking another drink. 

“That is, at least my theory,” I said. He shrugged and pondered. 

“I mean I do love him, no matter what he does,” he finally said. “He’s my son. He can be a pro athlete or build and sell a computer for a living. I just figured since we had so much fun together and have great memories, that’s how he should do it too. But, maybe I should try and see how we can do what he likes more.”

I could feel the tears well in my eyes. Fuck Dad, why couldn’t you just tell me that. 

“Thanks Rob for just letting me- are you crying?” He asked. I wiped the tears away and hid my face from him.

“No no, just, fuck it,” I said, looking for a new beer. 

“You fucking softie,” he said, a hearty laugh escaping him. “Here, for you listening to my bitching.” He leaned over the armrest of the sofa for a little while and finally pulled out a new can. He tossed it to me. Raising his own, he opened the tab. I did the same, only to be met with a flare of foam dousing me. He cackled and slapped his knee. 

“Fucker!” I yelled at him, already becoming inhibited from all the drinks. “Gotta change this fucking shirt now,” I told him. I could feel the words slurring as the alcohol came on harder. I stood up, stepping back to try and regain my balance. I grabbed the bottom of my jersey with both hands and yanked it up, my head stuck in the hole before finally tugging it off and slamming it to he ground. 

I looked down, once again admiring Rob’s hairy chest and beautiful pecs. The years of service he did performed wonders on his body, which he didn’t give up on as he reached middle age. 

“Give me a shirt,” I told him, trying to make it to the staircase. 

“Rob fucking sit down, you’re fine,” he called out to me. “Let that shit dry and just be half naked for a bit you puss.” I walked back and fell back on the sofa. My cheeks were flaring up and I could feel my heart pounding from the exertion. I put my hand on my chest to feel the heart rate, and couldn’t help but squeeze a little, feeling the pec succumb to my own touch. I chuckled and looked over to my father, who was looking at me intently. I chuckled to him.

“What?” I asked, losing sight in trying to pretend to be Rob at this point. He smirked. 

“Nothing, just, all this talk about our childhoods is making me just remember the good old times. You know know, the Connors dog, the woods, the…. late night talks. Ones about girls, and who was hot in my grade, who was hot in yours. How we’d-“ he pulled his own shirt off and threw it on top of mine. “Try to figure out what would make them feel good”. 

I admired Mike’s body, not as toned as mine, but certainly he took care of himself as he aged. He own chest displayed a gorgeous set of fur. How did I miss out on just how beautiful he was? How did I not get these genes and looked more like my mother? How is he looking at me so… sexually? He slid down the L of the sofa, laying his head against the back cushion, throwing an arm behind his head to rest it. His armpit was shadowed in a dark bush, which I can only imagine smelled of a strong musk. 

Wait what the fuck? This is my dad, or my brother? He’s family, but I did jerk off my own uncle just hours before. He’s my dad, but he’s also not making this weird. He’s.. he’s.. fuck he’s sexy! 

“Game’s about to start,” I told him finally, not taking my eyes off his physique. 

“They’re playing the Buccaneers, I know how it’ll go,” he said. He got on all fours and crawled to me. Judging from the look in his eyes, the beers had taken their toll on him as well. We were now face to face, mere inches from one another. I could smell the alcohol on his breath as he leaned in and planted his lips on mine. I pushed back a bit, but he wouldn’t let me break away. His tongue slithered forward and traced it along my new one. I gave in and wrestled his with my own, my lips moving in sync with his. He placed a hand on my chest and squeezed at my pec, the warm touch juxtaposing with the shivers which shot through me. 

I took my hand and placed it on the back of his head, brushing my fingers through his salt and pepper hair. As I gripped at it, he became more aggressive and reached for my throat. He wasn’t rough with it, but placed his thumb just below my Adams apple, pressing firmly. My breath was ragged from his force, and my pants had grown so incredibly tight in futile attempts to restrain my cock. My other hand went on the lower end of his back, guiding him to press into me, the fur on our chests entangling. 

He slipped his mouth away from my lips, running them down my neck, kissing me as he lowered himself further down this stolen body. When he got to my belly, he took extra time to take both hands and rub them across it. He worshipped my stomach, kissing at it, gripping, and without a single word, making me know it was his. His hands ran down my stomach to zipper off my hands, toying with it. I spoke back to him with my dick, flexing it to tell him it needed to be released. 

He looked up at me and smirked, lowering his head down again to lick at my bulge. It was torture, I needed to produce it to him and have it slide down his throat. I reached my hand down to get to my pants, but he immediately snapped and grasped my wrists. 

“Uh uh,” he hushed. “Remember, I’m making you the girl here. And a good girl, lets the man do what he wants.” He released my wrists and finally got his hands back on my zipper. He zipped it down, before finally finishing with a flourish and pulling the Wranglers down to my ankles. He worked to get them kicked off my feet, before being met a silky pink jockstrap, which could snap at a moments notice. It was absolutely soaked in precum, and my dick had pushed it to its limits. 

“What the fuck Rob? You sporting these now?” He asked me. I smirked at him. 

“Was just remembering the good times,” I told him with a wink. He seemed to hesitate, almost snapping back to reality. However, the lust must have taken over, as he proceeded to take his tongue and lick up the precum which topped off the jock. Just feeling the tip of his tongue hit my cock made me groan involuntarily. 

“Shut up, Tim might be home,” he told me. I wouldn’t worry about that, I wanted to tell him, but no words could form at this point. He proceeded to lap at my bulge, seeming to suck off any of the pre which had accumulated. Just as it seemed he was about to pull my jock off, he backed away. Fuck, was something wrong? I looked up and saw him working on getting his own pants off. He was struggling, barely able to move at all. 

I assisted him, leaning forward and not taking the same slow care he had given me. I yanked the pants off and discovered two thing about my dad. One, he liked to go commando. Two, he had an impressive cock. Veiny, hard as a rock, and long enough that I knew he could rub out a prostate without even going halfway in. If he was the surprisingly soft and sultry type, I was the ravenous one. I had never actually sucked a dick before, but had watched plenty of films to emulate what others had done. I gripped the base of his shaft, which despite how large my new hands were, still was an intimidating beast. 

I licked at the head of his cock, tasing the musky aroma come to life as the sensation of manhood trickled down my throat. He tasted amazing, his own precum starting to mix with the sweat he had built through the day. I licked my lips, lubing them up as I began to take his entire cock into my mouth. The years of study had prepared me somewhat for what it took to take him, but practice made perfect. At first I almost gagged and vomited the half dozen beers which still waved in my stomach, but as I got into a rhythm, it became easier. He leaned his head back and didn’t say a word, but moans were suppressed from his closed mouth. 

He raised both arms up, showing off his pits. The smell permeated through the air, filling my nostrils. He must have not showered in the past couple of days, as I could smell the usual scent of my father embody the room. It motivated me to work harder, pushing my lips to the base of his balls and holding them in place. He grabbed the sides of my head and thrust his cock back and forth, skull fucking me as a growls began to erupt from him. 

I thought he was about to coat my throat with his cum, but just as he was about to finish, he threw my head back and pushed me to the other side of the sofa. I looked up to find him jerking himself off and staring at me seductively. 

“Turn around and show your big brother that hole of yours,” he commanded, sitting up on his knees. I did as he was told, getting on all fours and facing away from him. I felt the couch move below him as he crawled to me. He spit, and the sensation of his saliva against my hole made me shake. With one hand, he spread my ass cheek to the side, and with the other, I felt him guide the tip of his cock. Pressing against my hole, I gripped at the fabric in the couch, my knuckles turning white. 

“Easy,” he told me. “Remember, just like we used to practice.” He pushed the tip and my hole reluctantly allowed him in. It was a shock of pain which made me scream. His hand quickly shot to my mouth and covered it, muffling my howls.

“I told you to shut up,” He said. He kept pushing his cock further in, still holding my mouth closed. He inch which slid its way in made me try to yell louder in and louder, but his calloused hand pressed harder against my lips. There was a sensation, a pop. Immediately I stopped yelling and groaned again, this time in ecstasy. 

“There you go lil bro,” he told me. “Just like riding a bike”. He pulled out some and pushed his way back in. Fuuuuuuck. Fuck he was so god damn big! He pumped, his cock rubbing against my prostate. Each thrust sent electricity coursing through my body and out the tip of my cock. I hadn’t touched it in ages and wanted to pump in unison with him, but too much of me was just holding on to the couch for dear life. His thrust began to increase in speed, with no room in between for rest. 

“Fuck daddy’s gonna cum!” He yelled out, clearly not worried about the noise anymore. He put a hand on each of my shoulder to steady himself. 

“Cum in me dad, cum in me!” I yelled out, my lips free from his grasp. 

“FUCK!” He yelled out, pushing his balls deep against my bare ass. I felt his cock twitch with his pulse as wave after wave of his cum shot deep into my colon. I counted it out, each pulse getting weaker and weaker, before finally all I could feel was my dad’s stomach resting on my back as he caught his breath. He slid out and fell back on the couch, his legs spread, and while now limp, he cock rested beautifully on his thigh. 

I laid on my own back and marveled at him, so gorgeous even just lit by the TV glow. For a second I was worried in his post nut clarity, he would realize what had happened. Instead, I could hear him snoring, somehow already passed out from the exertion. I took the opportunity to finally whip off the jock strap and pump my cock, which had been lathered up in a concoction of my precum and dad’s saliva. 

I felt his cum begin to leak out of my hole, running into the couch. I grabbed a small handful and rubbed it between my fingers. It was thick and a stark white, prime for breeding. Prime for lathering up my cock further and… lathering… That, gave me an idea. Releasing my cock, I stepped to my pants he had discarded on the floor. I fumbled with the pockets until I found it, another vial. 

Inside was the lotion I had made to slip myself into Rob. I was worried it would wear off while I was here, making me be ejected. So, I brought an extra container in case I had to sip back inside. But, what if I went a step further? Both of us were already naked, so I took the opportunity to pour the contents all over Rob’s body, just as I had done in my real body. 

It was a miracle there was enough, as Rob was twice the size as my original body. However, I finally stood in front of my father, silk, lathered up, and ready to experiment. I was just as careful as I was when I took over Rob’s body. Fingering my dad’s hole and enlarging it. Making it able to take one finger, then two, three, until finally my whole hand was inside of him. I think all of the drinking had sedated him, as he wasn’t moving a muscle from all of the activity. 

I pushed further, finding the process to be much more difficult than last time. Previously, I was going from a short, lanky form, barely 150 pounds into a man twice my size. This time, while my father was hardly a small man, had less room available to take in Rob’s body. I worked carefully, pushing both arms inside, before taking a deep breath and plunging my head inside. This sensation was the same at least. Pitch darkness, a tight sensation, the beating of his heart echoing around me. The issue was, Rob’s chest was so fucking massive, I had to really push to get inside. 

I could still feel my feet outside, so I used them to prop myself up and force myself in further. I could only imagine what it looked like out there. The towering form of Rob, chest deep inside of my dad’s hole as he tried to slam his entire body into him. However, with each thrust, I could feel my body being encapsulated by my father. Eventually I found my whole upper body inside, and I worked to stretch myself out. It was like I was trying to slide into a latex suit that was two sizes too small. Every crevice of mine was suppressed and pushed inward. 

It was constricting, my father’s form could barely contain the man who had at least 40 pounds of muscle on him. But surely, I found a way to get both legs inside and curl my feet in too. I felt the hole close and Rob’s body completely be closed in. Having done this once already, I had an idea of what to do next, but the size difference made it all too difficult. I did learn however from last time to adjust my cock first and not cause a panic. With both arms still not in position with my dad’s, I took my cock and slide it into his like a sheath. 

Before I aligned them though, I experimented and pulled back and pushed in again. I did this a few times, feeling like I was fucking the inside of my father. It was too good, but I had to push on, the constriction was getting to me. I aligned both feet and legs, arms, hands, and finally head. I slithered my tongue into my father, and pushed the top of my head into his. With one final force, I pushed my cock into the tip of his and felt the transformation complete.

I opened my eyes and surveyed the room, my head groggy as I felt the alcohol trying to hold me still. The glow of the TV still reflected off the walls, but more noticeable than that was the smell of my father’s musk right next to me. I looked to my left and found his armpit right next to my face. I inhaled deeply, now aware that I was my dad! I liked at his bicep, knowing all the while this tongue just moments ago was worshipping me. I sat up, trying to orientate myself. 

Everything was the exact same, though now I could see just under me was a pool of the lotion and cum which soaked into the seats. I rubbed my dad’s hole, and found that some of his cum was still leaking out from me. I brought it to my face and lapped it up. It was salty, tinged with the potency worthy of breeding. 

I took another scoopful of his, I guess, MY own cum and lathered up my new dick. As I never did actually finish while I was just Rob, I still had a sizable load to get out. I pumped my dad’s cock which had sprung to life once more. I smelled at this pits as I did so, lapping at his biceps and worshipping my new body. 

NSFW version found here

From the excitement of today, it didn’t take long before I could feel the eruption coming. 

“Fuck I”m gonna cum!!” I yelled in my dad’s voice, before finally letting out the build up of cum spray all over me. Despite getting off just earlier today, it was a cascade as I coated chest. The fur absorbing every drop and sinking into my chest. My cock was bright red, pulsing as each drip soared into the air. But it was over all too soon, and I was left with just myself, the smell of cum, musk, and the football announcers quietly speaking. 

I looked down at myself, proud of the mess I had made. Though, I did wonder what this meant. Was I stuck as my father, with Rob gone forever? Would I get ejected as Rob? As myself? The lotion had lasted this long already, I wonder how much longer I had. If it wasn’t long, I wanted to make the most of it. Slowly, I raised myself up and stood, looking to dress myself up. There I found the jockstrap I had Rob wear, still damp. I stepped in and shimmied it up my legs. 

It was cool at this point, and made me shiver, but it was so good to be reunited with it. I rubbed my hands over my body, coaxing the cum further into my hair and admired the nice bulge my dad gave the jockstrap. Maybe if I can keep this up for a bit, I’ll have to have dad pick up some new clothes…Something with leather perhaps. 

--------------------------------

A bit of a longer story, but hopefully that makes you all enjoy it even further! Would love to hear from all of you as to what you'd like to see more of as I try to get back more into my writing.

AI GENERATED STORY.

Damian McAllister didn’t just walk through the towering glass doors of the penthouse office — he commanded them open.

Six-foot-three, salt-and-pepper stubble lining his sculpted jaw, body poured into a charcoal three-piece suit that didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was absolutely stacked. His shirt clung to his chest like it was desperate to stay on, buttons groaning over the rise of his sculpted pecs. Broad shoulders rolled with power. Thick legs swelled with every step. And that ass—Jesus—that round, bulging ass filled out his tailored slacks like a slab of prime meat.

He was everything Stretch dreamed of in a "skin suit."

And Stretch, the spectral freak floating unseen above the city, was drooling.

“Holy hell, this guy’s a whole DILF buffet,” Stretch cackled, his translucent tongue flicking the air. “I mean look at that bubble butt—built like a boss, but I bet that thing jiggles when he runs.”

Damian stepped into his private office, letting out a sigh. “God, it’s been meetings all day. Need to take a leak.”

He loosened his tie, heading toward the attached executive bathroom.

“OH YESSS,” Stretch practically squealed, spiraling down through the ceiling. “He’s alone. He’s sexy. And he’s got no idea he's about to get GHOSTED.”

With an unhinged giggle, Stretch rocketed forward.

Damian had just turned the lock when a blast of cold air tickled his spine. He frowned. “What the—?”

Then came the voice.

“Open wiiiiide, Daddy Damian~!”

Damian barely turned before Stretch plunged into his mouth, a gurgling, cackling stream of ectoplasmic slime ramming down his throat.

“HHHHHUNNNNNGGGGGKKK!!” Damian staggered back, eyes bulging, throat flexing as Stretch forced himself inside like a ghost-shaped firehose.

Damian’s muscles spasmed, his hands clawing at his neck. His tie tightened. His eyes crossed.

Stretch coiled down into his chest like a parasite, wrapping around his core. Damian’s suit strained as his chest heaved outward, ribs cracking, abs flexing violently.

“MMNNNFFFFF—HHAAAHHH—GHHHH!!”

Veins bulged in Damian’s neck. His face flushed red. His legs buckled—

POP.

His pupils dilated.

Stillness.

Then… the eyes blinked. Once. Twice.

A smirk crept across his face.

And Damian—now Stretch—looked at himself in the mirror.

“Oh… oh baby.” His voice was Damian’s deep baritone, but his words? 100% Stretch.

He reached up and dragged a strong hand down his stubbled face, then ran both hands down his chest, over those meaty pecs pressing against the strained shirt.

“Damn, Dami’s got that silver fox meat suit magic,” he purred. “This ain’t no businessman. This is a full-blown muscle DADDY.”

He flexed his arms — the seams of the dress shirt sleeves popped.

“FUCK yes,” Stretch moaned, lips curling. “I feel like I could deadlift a car and still fuck someone’s brains out after.”

He turned, examining Damian’s massive ass in the mirror. “Sweet crispy Christ on a kettlebell—this bubble butt is legendary.”

He grabbed a cheek in each hand and squeezed, shaking them.

“GahDAMN, Dami! You been hiding all this cake in a boardroom?!”

Stretch bent over slightly, sticking it out like a filthy cam boy, smirking at the reflection as he bounced it.

Then his eyes wandered downward.

A massive bulge tented the front of his slacks. It throbbed visibly.

Stretch blinked. “Huh… wait a sec…”

He undid the belt and dropped the trousers.

THWACK.

His cock slapped up against Damian’s furry abs, already dripping precum like a leaky faucet.

“OH HOHOHO, what’s this?!” Stretch gasped. “Somebody’s got a hyperspermic horsecock!”

He gripped it with one thick hand.

The second his palm closed around it, the body spasmed.

“OH FFFFFUCK—”

Damian’s knees knocked, his eyes crossed, and ropes of pure white cum erupted from the cock without a single stroke. It blasted the mirror, the counter, the ceiling.

Stretch moaned like a demon in heat.

“OH HELL YESSS, THIS BODY IS A FREAK!!”

He leaned against the mirror, panting, cock still twitching, still hard.

“Shiiiit, this guy busts like a fire hydrant and he ain’t even touched himself yet…”

Stretch reached back down and gave the shaft a teasing pump.

Another jet sprayed out across the mirror. His mouth hung open, tongue out.

His face was red. Eyes glassy. Drool string hanging off his chin.

“Guhhhhhh… I’m a dumb fuckin’ business stud… just wanna pump and flex and GOON TILL I MELT…”

Stretch fell to his knees, stripped off the dress shirt, and stroked hard now, two-handed.

He bounced his pecs. Moaned like a slut.

“C’mon, daddy… make the face… show me that gooner DILF drool look…”

He opened his mouth and rolled his eyes back, stroking to the rhythm of his flexes.

The mirror reflected a once-powerful, composed CEO… now fully reduced to a jacked-up, goon-hungry freak with cum on his abs and tongue hanging out.

“Unghhh—this is the best fuckin’ suit I’ve ever worn,” Stretch slurred. “So fulla cum… so desperate to empty… AGAIN and AGAIN and AGAI—”

POP.

Another load exploded, splattering the floor.

Stretch didn’t even stop.

He just laughed, a loopy, high-pitched giggle.

“I’m gonna drain these balls until there’s nothing left but goon brain, baby! WOO!!”

He stumbled to his feet, leaned over the counter, and smirked at his own ruined reflection.

“Hi, I’m Damian McAllister, CEO of McAllister Holdings,” he mocked in a perfect deep voice, still jerking. “I close deals, sign contracts, and cum like a broken milk hose!”

Then he bit his lip and stared deep into the mirror.

“Stretchy boy’s home now, baby… and I ain’t ever leavin’ this DILF suit.”

He winked.

Flexed again.

And grinned wide. PART 2 Stretch Presents: The Cum Quarterly

The boardroom smelled like wood polish, fresh coffee, and money. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a sweeping view of the city skyline, but Stretch wasn’t interested in the view.

He was sitting at the head of the long table, legs spread wide, Damian’s thick thighs stretching the fabric of a brand-new navy suit. The suit clung tight over his pecs and wide shoulders, freshly tailored that morning because the last one didn’t survive yesterday’s activities. His shirt collar was stiff and pressed, his silver hair perfectly styled, and not a soul in the room had a clue that the real Damian McAllister wasn’t behind those smoldering grey eyes.

They were looking at Stretch.

And Stretch was leaking.

Under the table, the hyperspermic monster cock pulsing between his thighs was already dribbling thick beads of precum, soaking his briefs. He hadn’t touched it — yet — but his body was on a hair-trigger. That constant pressure. That bloated, veiny ache. It was heaven. Or hell. Or both.

He gripped the edge of the table as the head of HR passed out the quarterly packets.

“Thank you, Cynthia,” Stretch said in Damian’s deep, confident voice — a voice that could close six-figure deals and make interns wet in the same breath. “Let’s begin.”

He clicked the presentation remote and stood.

The projector lit up.

And the moment he stood — the moment his massive cock shifted — his entire body twitched.

“Ffhhhhhuck,” Stretch whispered under his breath, hiding the tremble with a fake cough.

Twelve executives sat watching. None of them suspected that their beloved, collected boss was trying not to bust a hyperspermic load into his slacks while discussing Q2 dividends.

“Right. So… dividends,” he said, clicking to the first slide. His voice was even. Measured. But behind the calm mask, Stretch’s internal monologue was spiraling.

“Bro, this is INSANE. Your nuts are backed up like a busted fire hydrant, and you’re talking about REVENUE?! This is torture. This is goon edging LEVEL 100.”

Stretch's hand slipped under the table, casually brushing his thigh. He groaned just a little through his teeth.

A blonde exec turned. “Are you alright, Mr. McAllister?”

Stretch smiled, perfect and practiced. “Yes, just—little muscle cramp. Been hitting the gym harder lately.”

That wasn’t a lie.

The only thing Damian’s body had been hitting was his own cock.

Stretch continued. “As you can see, Q2 outperformed projections. Revenue’s up thirteen percent…”

His other hand very discreetly slipped between his legs.

Just a tap.

Just a graze.

His cock throbbed.

Another fat drop of precum hit the inside of his slacks and bled through.

He looked around. No one noticed.

“One little stroke, Stretchy boy,” he whispered to himself. “Just one stroke while you say something boring about EBITDA…”

So he did.

One slow stroke.

His thighs flexed.

His abs tensed beneath the shirt.

He made a subtle goon face. Bit his lip. His eyes fluttered just slightly.

“…and of course, projected growth for Q3 remains steady…”

Another stroke.

He exhaled.

That big DILF chest rose and fell like a pump machine, shirt pulling taut across his pecs.

“You’re gonna lose it,” Stretch moaned in his head. “Gonna flood the fuckin’ boardroom, bro…”

He clicked to the next slide.

Under the table, his cock twitched again.

His whole body jerked — just a little.

He disguised it as a shift in weight.

“Sorry. Pulled something in my back,” he lied smoothly. “Let’s keep going.”

But his hand didn’t stop.

No. He was stroking now. Slow. Controlled. But constant.

And it was building.

The pressure.

The heat.

The cum.

That endless, hyperspermic load.

He was filling up.

Sack swelling like a fuckin’ water balloon.

He could feel it throbbing through his legs.

And then…

A small moan slipped out.

Not loud.

Not obvious.

But… real.

Stretch blinked.

Half the room looked up.

Damian’s face — perfect and mature and confident — smiled wide.

“Apologies. Allergies,” he chuckled, wiping a single bead of sweat off his forehead. “Let’s proceed to international holdings…”

Another stroke. And another.

Stretch was right at the edge.

And then…

POP.

His balls clenched.

His toes curled in his loafers.

And Stretch came.

Hard.

Under the table.

Into his silk briefs.

Into his pants.

Into everything.

Thick, hot, massive ropes of white cream flooded his lap. It soaked through the front of the slacks, a wet patch the size of a dinner plate spreading across his crotch.

But Stretch didn’t flinch.

He smiled.

He nodded.

He spoke.

“Moving on to the next slide—”

SQUELCH.

His cock throbbed again, shooting a second burst, soaking his thigh.

The seat was wet.

It was dripping.

One of the interns sniffed the air. “Um… does anyone smell…”

“Fresh printer ink?” Stretch said smoothly, clicking the next slide. “It’s the new toner. Very potent.”

He clenched his keg-thick thighs, pushing the mess tighter against his skin, grinding the still-hard cock into the cum-soaked pants.

He was still going.

Still leaking.

Still talking.

“…and our Singapore branch has exceeded expectations…”

He was completely calm.

Except for the twitching eye.

The flared nostrils.

The subtle grind of his hips into the chair.

Beneath the surface, Stretch was unraveling.

He loved it.

The mask of power. The business armor. All hiding the fact that he was cumming like a fucking bull under the boardroom table.

“I’m a monster,” he whispered inside. “A suit-wearing, number-talking, goon-dripping beast, baby!”

By the end of the meeting, his pants were ruined. His ass was sticking to the leather chair. His cock was still hard.

He stood slowly, lifting the briefcase in front of him to cover the damage.

“Thank you all,” he said, voice still smooth. “Let’s touch base again next week.”

Everyone clapped.

No one suspected a thing.

As the room emptied, Stretch leaned on the table, eyes glassy, twitching with aftershocks.

“…bro…”

He looked at the mess under the table.

“…I think I broke this body.”

Then he grinned wide.

And licked a string of cum off his palm. PART 3 - Intern Fun

The sun dipped low beyond the skyline, casting a golden glow through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Damian McAllister’s executive suite. The air was quiet, save for the soft hum of the city far below.

Behind the massive mahogany desk sat Damian—or rather, Stretch, curled luxuriously inside the older man’s impossibly built, hyperspermic body.

He leaned back in the leather chair, thick thighs spread wide. His crisp white dress shirt clung to his chest, still damp from earlier goon indulgences, pecs outlined perfectly beneath. His black slacks were stretched tight over the outline of a fat, semi-hard cock that hadn’t softened once since taking over this alpha DILF meat puppet.

Stretch adjusted the collar, grinning at his reflection in the window—his reflection flexing right back, tongue teasing the edge of Damian’s lips.

“Time for some fun,” he growled, reaching for the phone. He hit a button.

“Kyle. My office. Now.”

A few minutes later, the door creaked open.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

Kyle stepped in, face flushed with nerves. Early 20s, soft jawline, floppy blonde hair, and that clean scent of a guy too fresh for what was about to happen.

Stretch didn’t smile.

He gestured coldly to the chair in front of the desk. “Sit.”

Kyle did so quickly, eyes wide.

Stretch folded Damian’s thick arms, let the silence hang for a moment, then spoke.

“We need to talk about your future here.” His voice was smooth, laced with something darker.

Kyle swallowed. “Is—did I do something wrong?”

Stretch sighed, letting Damian’s tongue click condescendingly.

“You’re smart, kid. Eager. But we’ve had complaints. About performance.”

Kyle’s mouth opened slightly, panic rising.

**“I—I didn’t know—”

“Relax,”** Stretch interrupted, standing slowly, moving around the desk like a shark circling prey. “I’m giving you a chance. A special chance.”

He stopped behind Kyle’s chair, placed both strong hands on the intern’s shoulders, squeezing gently.

“You wanna stay here, don’t you?”

Kyle nodded. “Yes, sir. More than anything.”

Stretch chuckled. “Then show me. Show me how badly you wanna keep this job.”

Kyle looked up, confused—then flinched as Stretch unbuckled Damian’s belt with a snap, unzipped his slacks, and freed the thick, veiny cock that slapped out like a beast unchained, already drooling.

“Prove it,” Stretch growled. “On your knees.”

Kyle froze.

**“What—”

“Now.”**

The command landed like a hammer.

Kyle shakily rose, knees hitting the plush carpet as he stared at the massive cock—thick, heavy, leaking. The musk hit him like a wave. Primal. Unfiltered.

Stretch growled through a grin.

“Wrap those soft lips around it, intern. Show Daddy you wanna stay.”

Kyle hesitated, then leaned forward, lips parting. He wrapped them around the tip and started sucking.

Stretch threw his head back, groaning.

“Fuuuuck yes... There ya go... suck that big CEO cock... That’s it, baby boy...”

He grabbed the back of Kyle’s head and pushed, forcing more in.

“Deeper. You’re gonna learn to throat this thing if you want a future here.”

Kyle choked slightly but kept going, tears welling at the corners of his eyes. Stretch moaned, thrusting slowly.

“You’re a natural little sucktoy, aren’t ya? You ever used that pretty mouth on your professors too? Bet you sucked your way through college, huh?”

Kyle whimpered around the cock, cheeks hollowing as he worked it.

Stretch looked down, watching Damian’s thick shaft disappear into Kyle’s mouth. The sight made his balls clench.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ explode, kid... my balls have been full all fuckin’ day...”

He pulled out with a wet pop, a string of spit and precum stretching from tip to lip. Kyle panted, drooling, eyes glazed.

Stretch leaned in close, voice low and rough.

“Get up. Bend over the desk.”

Kyle obeyed instantly, bending over the cold wood surface. Stretch stepped behind him, yanked his pants down, revealing a firm, pale ass just begging to be filled.

“Mmm, look at that hole. Tight little promotion hole,” Stretch teased.

He lined up, rubbing the fat, slick cock between Kyle’s cheeks, smearing precum.

Then—he pushed in.

“UNNNNNHHG—sir—fuck—”

Stretch groaned, slamming forward slowly, Damian’s thick cock parting the intern’s hole inch by inch.

“Yessss... take it, you eager little office bitch... take every hyperspermic inch of Daddy’s cock...”

Kyle moaned, gripping the desk.

Stretch grunted, each thrust harder than the last, his full balls slapping against Kyle’s skin.

“You want that job?”

**“Y-yes sir—ah—please—”

“Then take this breeding, baby boy.”**

Stretch leaned over Kyle’s back, pinning him, his breath hot and filthy in the intern’s ear.

“Gonna fill you up... dump a fuckin’ career-load in you... so much cum, you’ll be dripping ambition for weeks…”

The sound of Damian’s hips slamming into Kyle echoed off the glass windows.

Stretch’s face twisted in gooner ecstasy, Damian’s eyes fluttering as drool slid from his lip.

“UNNNNNNNGH—FUCK—YEAH—TAKE IT—HERE IT COMES—”

And with one last thrust—

BLOW. OUT.

Stretch bred him.

Hot, endless jets of cum blasted inside Kyle, thick and pumping, swelling his hole. Kyle cried out, body trembling as the DILF’s cock kept twitching and dumping.

Stretch groaned like a beast, biting his lip, grinding deep until the last thick spurt oozed out.

He pulled out slowly. A river of jizz spilled from Kyle’s hole onto the floor.

Stretch sat back in the leather chair, chest rising, Damian’s cock still twitching.

He lit a cigar, exhaled.

“You’re hired,” he said with a smirk.

PART 4: UNDER THE DESK

The late afternoon sun gleamed off the glass towers surrounding the McAllister building, but inside Damian’s office, the lights were low, the mood humid, and the tension obscene.

Stretch lounged in Damian’s leather throne behind the desk, his suit jacket draped over the back, sleeves rolled up to his thick forearms, a single button popped open at the top of his shirt, teasing the swell of that sculpted chest. The boardroom-style Zoom call had already started—multiple tiles lit up with faces from across the country. Executives, partners, VPs. All staring at their screens.

And none of them knew that just below the camera’s view, under the desk, their CEO’s young male intern was on his knees, lips wrapped around the thick, hyperspermic cock of the man they all answered to.

Stretch gave the faintest smirk as he adjusted in his seat, Damian’s cock twitching in Kyle’s warm, wet mouth.

“Gentlemen,” Stretch said smoothly, voice deep and commanding through Damian’s lips. “Thanks for making time for today’s strategic review. I trust you’ve all seen the updated financials?”

As heads nodded and someone began speaking, Stretch muted his mic and leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the desk while gazing at his reflection in the black part of the screen.

Below, Kyle gagged softly, one hand wrapped tight around Damian’s shaft, the other clinging to his thick thigh for support. His cheeks were flushed, eyes glassy, lips slick and stretched wide. Damian’s cock barely fit. And it never stopped leaking.

Stretch groaned low and silent, eyes flicking down briefly.

“That’s it, baby boy… don’t stop,” he growled in a whisper, barely moving his lips as he looked directly into the camera. “Show me how much you wanna stay on staff.”

Kyle slurped needily, his tongue swirling around the tip before plunging back down. His nose buried in the trimmed salt-and-pepper pubes, breathing in the scent of alpha power and raw musk.

Stretch adjusted his tie with one hand, completely calm up top while his lower half was twitching, pumping precum into Kyle’s throat.

Someone on the call asked a question.

Stretch unmuted.

“We’ll be shifting some priorities in Q3,” he said smoothly, face stone-serious. “Focus will remain on consolidation, but with increased attention to high-yield assets. Speaking of which—”

He grunted softly as Kyle deepthroated again.

“—I believe our growth in that sector is… strong. Very strong.”

He muted again just in time to moan under his breath, one hand dropping below the desk to stroke Kyle’s hair.

“Mmmfuckkkk... you’re such a good office toy... such a hungry little mouthpiece for Daddy’s cock, huh?”

Kyle nodded, moaning around the shaft, tears now pricking at the corners of his eyes. His throat flexed with every pulse from that fat, hyperspermic dick.

Stretch looked down briefly and whispered, “Gimme those eyes, baby... look up at your boss while you suck his fuckin’ load out…”

Kyle obeyed—his eyes locking with Damian’s above as Stretch clenched his jaw, his whole thick, alpha body flexing behind the desk.

Back on Zoom, a junior VP was rambling about quarterly returns. Stretch didn’t hear a word. His balls were boiling.

“F-fuck,” he whispered, voice hoarse, muting just in time again. He gripped the desk hard. “You ready for it, intern? Huh? Gonna swallow Daddy’s corporate load?”

Kyle whined and nodded, his hands now stroking the shaft while his mouth sucked harder, faster.

Stretch flexed. His thighs trembled. Sweat beaded at Damian’s temples.

“Take it... take this fuckin’ promotion shot, baby—UHHHHNNNNNNGHH—”

His abs clenched, cock spasming—and then he unloaded.

Stretch bit his lip and hit the mute button as a torrent of cum blasted down Kyle’s throat. Ropes. Pulsing shots. The kind of load only a ghost-powered, hyperspermic DILF suit could produce. Kyle gagged and swallowed, throat working desperately to keep up.

Stretch's mouth parted in a silent moan, eyes fluttering half-closed, Damian’s jaw twitching as he rode out the climax. Cum overflowed, spilling from Kyle’s lips and dripping onto the floor beneath the desk.

He finally exhaled, slick with sweat, cock still twitching in Kyle’s mouth.

He clicked unmute casually, adjusting his collar.

“Apologies,” Stretch said smoothly, voice returning to calm. “We had a brief... disruption. But I think we’re aligned.”

The screen nodded back at him in agreement.

Down below, Kyle rested his cheek on Damian’s thigh, panting, drooling, totally used.

Stretch reached down and stroked his hair.

“Good boy,” he whispered. “That’s how you keep your job.” PART 5: OVERTIME FUCK WITH A SPECIAL GUEST

The penthouse was soaked in sex.

Glass windows steamed from heat. Damian’s leather couch squeaked under the relentless rhythm of flesh slapping flesh. In the dim light, the hulking alpha DILF’s muscular frame hovered over the pale, trembling intern bent beneath him.

Damian’s thick cock—hyperspermic, veiny, still leaking from earlier loads—pounded into Kyle’s spent hole, each thrust shooting another creamy squelch of leftover cum out of his boy-pussy.

Stretch, deep inside Damian’s sweaty, dripping body, was lost in it—sweat rolling down pecs, goon-drunk grin splitting his face. His voice slurred into a growl as he flexed Damian’s abs in the mirror and kept thrusting.

“UNNNH yessss... fuckin’ full send, baby… this hole’s mine, office toy... I’ll never stop dumpin’ in it—n-never…”

But then—something changed.

The air shifted. A cold gust blew through the penthouse. Stretch’s eyes flicked up, instincts prickling.

From the kitchen, a low, nasal cackle echoed.

“Heeheehee… lookie what I found…”

Stretch growled, breath ragged. “Stinky?”

From behind the island floated a snot-green cloud, glowing faintly. Bulbous. Grinning. Globs of ectoplasm trailed behind it like drool.

“Mmmhmmm!” Stinky cackled. “And this little twink? Already stuffed full of Stretch’s load? Heeheehee! Don’t mind if I slide in for dessert!”

Before Stretch could react, the green cloud lunged.

“MMMPH—!!” Kyle’s head jerked up mid-thrust, eyes wide as Stinky crammed himself through his open mouth, pouring in like sludge. The body spasmed under Stretch, muscles twitching, toes curling. Kyle’s back arched violently as Stinky pushed deeper, his laugh gargling out mid-possess.

“NNGHhhH—uuuhhh—HAHAAAA—YEAHHH BABYYYY!!”

The possession snapped into place.

Kyle collapsed against the couch cushion, then slowly lifted his head—eyes glowing with mischief. A wide, cock-hungry grin split across his now possessed face, drool glistening on his chin.

“Oooohhh DAMN, this is tight!” Stinky moaned, his voice now pouring out of Kyle’s innocent mouth, warped and nasal. “Hahaha look at me! I’m fuckin’ hot! Lil goon toy’s got a nice setta lips, bouncy butt, AND—ohhh shit—I’m still LEAKIN’ STRETCH JUICE!”

He reached back with one hand, spreading his new asscheeks and grinding back on Stretch’s cock, still inside.

“HAHA! I’m ridin’ ya now, big boy! You put the load in—now I’M the one clenchin’ round it! Oooohhhh it’s squishin’ in here! This body’s a fuckin’ cum sponge!”

Stretch could barely keep it together, panting, leaking again.

“You slimy bastard,” he muttered, eyes glazed. “That hole’s mine—you’re stealin’ my toy!”

Stinky twisted Kyle’s pretty face into a dumb expression, tongue out, eyes crossed, making slutty goon moans as he bounced on Damian’s fat cock.

**“Uhhnnff yesss—fuck me, Daddy DILF—pound my twink guts! Make me goon! Stretch made this hole nice and loose, mmmMMM!”

“You’re a fuckin’ menace,”** Stretch groaned. Then grinned.

“Let’s swap.”

Stinky’s eyes lit up.

“OHHHHHHH YESSS. DO IT.”

With a raw grunt, Stretch pulled out, his cock slapping wetly free from Kyle’s hole, strands of cum connecting them. He leaned in close, grabbed Kyle’s possessed face, and kissed him—tongues mixing as both ghosts prepared the switch.

And then—with a synchronized groan—they launched.

Stretch’s ectoplasm pulled out of Damian’s throat in a flash, while Stinky burst up out of Kyle’s mouth in a green slime explosion. Mid-air, they slammed into each other’s old bodies.

Stretch sucked down into Kyle’s mouth. He jerked, flailed, spasmed as Stretch flooded his brain, muscles, spine. The slim frame writhed, eyes rolling back—then blinked open glowing blue.

“UNNNNNFFFFF—FUCK.” Stretch moaned, now inside the young, lean body of Kyle. “This bod... is... INSANE.”

He looked down, breathing hard, watching his new chest rise and fall. His hands roamed across his flat abs, twitching thighs, dripping cock.

“Tight. Slick. Stretched OUT. And this fuckin’ hole’s still drippin’ with my old load—HAHAHAHHH!” He spun to the mirror and posed—lips parted, tongue out, flexing this new little body, then drooling over it.

“Dumb fuckin’ goonface… slutty lil moans… my voice is SO cute, HA! Heeeyyy Daddy, y-you gonna f-fuck my boypussy?” he mocked in Kyle’s tone, laughing wildly. “I’m a cumdump with hyperspermia now, oh SHIT—am I gonna cum every time I sneeze?? YESSSSSS!!”

Across the room, Stinky settled into Damian’s DILF suit with a loud, sloppy SLORP. His shoulders twitched, pecs flexing involuntarily.

“AWWWWWW YEAHHHHH!” Stinky’s deep new voice bellowed, eyes wide. **“LOOKIT ME!! I’M A FUCKIN’ ALPHA HUNK!!”

He bounced Damian’s pecs, spanked his own ass, and grabbed his hyperspermic cock. “OHHH this thing’s a BEAST! Already leakin’! You sure filled this toy up, Stretchy boy!”

Stretch licked Kyle’s lips, dropped to all fours, and looked back with a wink.

“Well? You just gonna flex and drip—or you gonna fuck this tight body fulla your slime?”

Stinky didn’t need to be asked twice.

He marched over, lifted Stretch (in Kyle’s tight form) up by the hips, and SLAMMED Damian’s thick cock back into the well-used hole. Stretch screamed in pleasure, fingers digging into the cushions as cum splashed from the impact.

“YEAHHHHHHH—BREED MEEE, BRO!!”

Their voices twisted, echoing, bouncing off the walls.

Green slime dripped. Sweat poured. Gooner babble filled the room.

Two ghosts. Two stolen bodies. One endless loop of breeding, swapping, gooning, and pure supernatural filth.

AI GENERATED STORY

(sorry for the inactivity T_T) Here a bit of a longer one :)

Tyson groaned softly as he sank deeper into the cushions of his worn leather couch, a tall glass of iced tea sweating on the table beside him, untouched. It was a lazy Sunday afternoon—sunlight filtering through the blinds, crickets chirping outside, and the low hum of his ceiling fan brushing across his broad, sweat-slick chest.

Shirtless, in only a pair of loose athletic shorts and black rubber flip-flops, Tyson looked every bit the thick slab of manhood he was. Beefy but muscular, with a wide chest that carried just the right amount of padding, a soft curve to his lower belly, and legs like tree trunks stretched out lazily across the living room rug.

His cock twitched beneath the fabric. Again.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered, glancing down at the bulge that just wouldn’t quit. “Again?”

The curse of hyperspermia. He’d cum three times today already. Still swollen. Still aching. Still leaking little beads into his shorts like a faucet that never shut off.

He scratched at his furry pec absently, eyes fluttering half-closed. He didn’t see the shadow that slid across the hardwood floor. Didn’t feel the air grow warmer. Didn’t hear the low, wet chuckle echo behind his ears.

“Mmm... yeah... now that’s a man built for indulgence...”

The voice didn’t come from the room. It came from inside him. Or was it behind him? It was fat and full of honey, molasses-thick with hunger.

Tyson blinked. “What the f—?”

He doubled over as heat slammed into his back like a tidal wave. A sticky, heavy force hit him, sliding across his skin like syrup, pressing down, melting in. His mouth dropped open in a silent gasp as the unseen intruder poured into him—through his back, his chest, his open mouth, his ass—like a full-body enema of ectoplasmic gluttony.

“Yeeeaaahh, big guy... Let me in that beef... Let Fatso ride those muscles from the inside...”

Tyson’s eyes rolled back as his belly inflated slightly—just a little bloat at first, then more, jiggling as if something inside him was slapping the walls from the inside. His already thick pecs puffed up like balloons being filled, veins crawling along his biceps, neck thickening with every pulse of the ghost’s entry.

“Nggh—FUCK—w-what the—?!” Tyson croaked, but it was too late. His limbs spasmed, his back arched, and his cock throbbed with violent, aching pulses. A thick wet patch bloomed across the front of his shorts.

“Ooooh, ho ho ho, ohhh fuck YES,” came a new voice—his voice, but not. Deeper, wetter. Fatso’s voice inside his throat. “I got you, big man. You’re MINE now.”

Tyson’s face twisted into a dumb, lopsided grin, jaw slack, tongue hanging out slightly. He stood up unsteadily, swaying as the possession finalized. His hands—now Fatso’s—roamed over his bloated pecs, squeezing them, thumbing the nipples.

“Mmmnn, they’re so big already… but I’m gonna make ’em heavier. Softer. Just a lil’ bit more daddy fat to jiggle while I stroke this fat fukken cock…”

He yanked the waistband of the shorts down. Tyson’s cock flopped out—a thick, veiny, hyperspermic monster of meat, drooling pre nonstop. It smacked against his belly with a wet slap, already twitching, as if recognizing a new master inside.

“Look at this thing… shit, how were you NOT just jerking all day long?”

Fatso waddled Tyson’s possessed body over to the floor-length mirror, slapping a hand against his newly rounded, proud gut.

“Unfhh, yeah… there he is. Big Tysie. Daddy Cum Tank.” He shook his hips a little, making the fat pad above the cock jiggle, eyes wide, drooling onto his own chest. “We’re gonna flood this fuckin’ house.”

He dropped to his knees with a grunt, flip-flops squeaking as he splayed his thick legs out wide. The cock bobbed in front of his face—his cock now—and Fatso leaned in and moaned, sniffing like a starving dog.

“Smells like cum, sweat, and testosterone—UNHH that’s my new perfume…”

He licked from the base of the shaft to the tip, shuddering as more pre splurted out and rolled down the shaft.

“More… MORE, ya big cum beast.”

Fatso’s hands grabbed the underside of his belly and slapped it, making it jiggle. He tilted his head back and roared in pleasure.

“OHHHHHH FFFFUCK—so fuckin’ THICK—so MUCH MAN—”

He flopped onto his back, cock leaking against his chest, rubbing it with both hands. His toes curled in his flip-flops, one slipping off as he bent forward and moaned loudly at the sight of his meaty feet.

“FUCK I got manfeet! OHHH they STINK! I’m gonna GUNK these sluts up with sweat—ughghghhhh—”

He dragged his tongue along the sole of one foot and came instantly—first load. Tyson’s cock spasmed and unloaded a massive hyperspermic shot across his abs, chest, and chin. Fatso squealed, writhing in the flood of creamy filth.

“HHNNGHGH—YEAH—OH YEAH—FIRST ONE—more to GO, BABY!”

He didn’t stop stroking. Didn’t stop drooling. The possessed beefcake twisted on the carpet, smearing cum across his chest and belly, playing with his slightly soft manboobs like they were chew toys.

“Gotta pump this fat fucking dick again… gotta fill my guts from the OUTSIDE now…”

His tongue lolled, eyes crossed, face stuck in the dumbest goon grin imaginable.

Another orgasm hit. Then another. Tyson’s body was on fire—cum geysering out in long, thick streams, puddling around him. His belly sloshed with ghost-stuff and hyperspermia, a perfect tank of pure masculine filth.

Fatso rubbed his sweaty foot up against his cock and lost his mind again.

“HhhnnfffUUUCK—WORSHIP—WORSHIP THE BODY—FAT—FULL—PERFECTTTT—”

He let out a belching, choking moan and collapsed back into the puddle of his own load, one hand lazily fondling his fattened pec while the other toyed with his nuts, still swollen with cum.

“Mmmmghh… can’t stop… can’t ever stop now…”

His eyes fluttered, tongue hanging out, a string of spit connecting it to his pec. The stench in the room was overwhelming: sweat, ghost, musk, seed. Tyson’s couch had become a sacrificial altar to the new God of Gluttonous Pleasure.

Fatso giggled.

“This body’s mine. This cock’s mine. This life is mine now. All I gotta do is keep leaking. Keep gooning. Keep feasting on every drop…”

He reached for the flip-flop that had fallen off. Held it to his face.

And moaned.

PART 2

The sun was low and golden as it poured across Tyson’s lawn, catching every drop of cum-slicked sweat clinging to his broad chest. Flip-flops slapping lazily against the concrete path, Fatso waddled Tyson’s thick, shirtless frame toward the picket fence that divided his yard from the neighbor’s. His bloated pecs bounced slightly with each step, his cock still half-hard and leaking down his thigh, leaving faint trails on his loose gym shorts.

“Unhhh… fuckin’ bursting still,” Fatso groaned inside Tyson’s throat, groping his belly with both hands. “And this big dumb meat shell’s STILL hungry…”

He spotted him then—Eli, the twink from next door. Barely twenty-one, lean and pretty, smooth arms, and short gym shorts clinging to his bubble butt. Eli was watering the garden, shirtless, earbuds in, oblivious.

Fatso grinned.

“Mmm, YEAH. That’s the one. Little cum pocket, ready to get filled.”

He strutted up to the fence, dragging a hand across Tyson’s glistening chest, slapping his soft pec, giving it a little bounce.

“Yo, kid.”

Eli looked up, blinking in surprise at the towering hunk now standing inches from the fence. “Oh—hey, Tyson.” He flushed slightly. His eyes lingered on the beefy chest… and the very obvious cock print stretching the wet spot on Tyson’s shorts.

“You, uh… good?”

“Mmm, better now,” Fatso chuckled. “Need a favor though. Got a lil’ plumbing issue inside. Wanna come give me a hand?”

Eli looked unsure for half a second—then nodded.

“Sure. Just lemme put this away.”

Fatso turned and waddled back toward the house, letting his big glutes flex and bounce beneath the fabric. He knew Eli was watching.

“Hooked the fucker. Just wait, pretty boy. I’m gonna pump you so full…”

—

Inside the living room, the scent hit Eli immediately.

“Whoa…” He wrinkled his nose. “Smells kinda…”

Tyson shut the door behind him with a heavy thud and locked it.

“Like sweat, cum, and man funk?” Fatso’s voice dripped from his throat, fat with amusement. “Yeah, I been busy.”

Eli turned—and froze.

Tyson stood there, legs spread, fully erect, the monster cock pointing straight at him, already glistening with fresh pre.

“W-what the hell—?”

“Shhh… no need for words, baby boy.”

Tyson’s beefy frame surged forward, grabbing the twink by the waist and lifting him like a toy. Eli gasped as he was tossed onto the cum-stained couch, legs flying up, cheeks spreading.

“You don’t get it yet, do you?” Fatso chuckled, stripping his shorts off fully and slapping his bloated cock across Eli’s abs. “You ain’t here to help with plumbing. You’re here to get filled.”

The younger man whimpered, dazed by the scent, the heat, the intensity of the presence pressing against him.

Fatso leaned down, dragging his tongue up Eli’s neck, drooling across his smooth skin.

“You ever been bred by a tank, baby? Cuz this body's a cum silo. And I’m gonna empty it straight into your guts.”

He hoisted Eli’s legs over his shoulders and lined his cock up to the twink’s tight, virgin hole.

“No lube…?”

“This dick leaks lube, sweetheart. pre-cum and hyperspermia—trust me, it slides in nice.”

With a grunt, he pushed forward—and Eli screamed, a mix of pain and pure overstimulation as Fatso shoved every fat inch inside in one go.

“UNNNHHHHH YEAH—FUCKIN’ TIGHTTTT—”

He didn’t wait. The moment he was buried, Fatso started thrusting like a beast, belly slapping against the twink’s thighs, pecs jiggling, flip-flops squeaking as he railed Eli on the couch.

“Hnnngghh FUCK—you feel that? That’s daddy dick, baby! Bred through and through—FUCK—feel it in your stomach yet?!”

Eli’s eyes rolled back. The massive girth had pushed so deep, his own untouched cock was leaking onto his abs.

Fatso grabbed his own belly, letting it bounce while he pistoned in and out.

“GodDAMN this body’s thick—sweaty—PERFECT. Just made to knock pretty boys up and leak on 'em all day long.”

He leaned down, pinning Eli in a breeding press, cock pounding harder.

“Say it,” Fatso growled into the boy’s ear, “Say you want it.”

“I—hnng—I want it—f-fill me—oh god—Tyson—”

“It ain’t Tyson anymore, sweetheart. It’s Daddy Tank.”

He bit Eli’s shoulder and unloaded.

The first shot was so massive, Eli cried out, twitching as his belly swelled slightly with the pressure.

“THAT’S IT—TAKE IT—TAKE ALL MY FUCKIN’ GHOST CUM—”

More pulses. More floods. Fatso’s cock throbbed inside him as the couch soaked through. Eli convulsed beneath him, overflowing, body twitching like a used toy.

Fatso moaned, drooling onto the boy’s chest, smearing it in with his palm.

“You’re just the first, kid… this tank’s got more loads than days in the week…”

He pulled out, watching with glee as thick seed poured from Eli’s ruined hole. Tyson’s cock, still rock-hard, twitched and slapped against his belly again.

“Don’t go anywhere, twink. We’re not even on load number two.”

PART 3

The couch squelched as Tyson pulled back, dragging his thick, hyperspermic cock out of Eli’s twitching, overstretched hole with a fat, wet pop. Ghost-goo and cum flooded out instantly, dripping onto the rug in long, slow ropes. Eli was shaking, sweaty, his slim belly softly puffed from the first internal flood.

“Still twitchin’, baby boy,” Fatso cooed, running a beefy hand over the twink’s thigh. “Told ya, Tank Daddy ain’t finished.”

Tyson’s cock twitched—still hard. Still leaking. Fatso groaned, grabbing it and slapping it against his own sweat-glistened gut.

“I’ve never stayed this hard for this long,” he chuckled, eyes rolling slightly as his own hand slathered more cum across his stomach. “GOD, this body’s like a fucking geyser. And I love it.”

He stood, flip-flops smacking, cum dripping off the tip of his cock, and reached down to scoop Eli up with both arms. The boy moaned, too dazed to protest, his head falling against Tyson’s massive chest.

“Gonna take you upstairs, lil man,” Fatso growled low, possessive. “Wanna feel that bed shake while I ruin you all over again.”

He carried Eli up the stairs, each step heavy and loud—thick thighs flexing, cock swaying between them like a weapon. By the time he got to the bedroom, Fatso was already leaking again, a wet trail on the hardwood behind them.

He kicked the door open, dropped Eli onto the king-size bed with a flop, and stood there for a moment in the doorway.

Tyson’s silhouette was obscene—shirtless, thick, bloated, dripping. He rolled his shoulders, let his belly hang out proudly, and rubbed both sweaty feet together, grinning.

“Welcome to the breeding suite, baby.”

Eli whimpered as Fatso climbed onto the bed, planting a sloppy, cum-coated kiss right on his mouth. Their tongues met—Tyson’s thick and eager, stuffed with ghost heat and salty leftover seed—and Fatso moaned into the twink’s throat like a man starved for more.

“You smell that?” Fatso groaned between kisses, grinding his cock against Eli’s belly. “That’s round one… and two’s gonna drown you.”

He licked down the boy’s chest, then bent both of Eli’s knees to his shoulders.

“Gonna fold you up like a towel,” Fatso muttered, lining up again. “Plug you in and drain this tank.”

With one sloppy thrust, Tyson’s thick cock punched back in. Eli cried out, fingers clawing at the sheets as he was instantly stretched wide again, the still-warm load from earlier sloshing inside him as Fatso plowed deeper.

“OHHHHH FUCK YEAH—STILL SO FULL—you’re just built for this, huh, cum pocket?”

The bed creaked violently with every thrust. Tyson’s pecs bounced above Eli, dripping sweat onto his face as Fatso huffed and moaned like a pig in heat.

“Feel that—ngghhh—this dick’s still cummin’ even while I’m fuckin’. Leakin’ inside you the whole fuckin’ time.”

He looked down—Eli’s belly was rising again, slowly pushing outward with every wet slap of their bodies.

“Look at you,” Fatso chuckled, stroking the curve of the twink’s cum-packed stomach. “Turning you into a real load dumpling, huh?”

Eli could barely moan anymore. His tongue was out, eyes crossed, twitching under the weight of the thick slab of man breeding him senseless.

“I want it,” Eli whimpered, barely conscious. “I want it all—please—fill me again—make me yours—”

“You’re MINE, baby,” Fatso growled, leaning down to press his stubbled jaw against Eli’s cheek. “Every hole. Every inch. You’re my lil cum canister now.”

The tempo changed—faster, sloppier, more desperate. Fatso couldn’t hold back. His belly jiggled with each thrust, balls clapping, cock leaking even more pre inside the already-flooded boy.

“Gettin’ close—gonna pump another fucking GALLON into you, baby—FUCK—FFFFFUCKKK—”

He grabbed both of Eli’s ankles, slammed forward once, twice—

“NNGGHHHHH—YEAHHHHHH—TAKE IT—TAKE EVERY DROP—”

And he exploded.

This load was even bigger than the first. Tyson’s cock throbbed wildly, pumping in long, unstoppable pulses as Eli’s body stiffened and his belly swelled again, visibly bigger. Cum splattered out around the shaft, soaking the sheets beneath them.

Fatso didn’t pull out. He stayed buried, groaning deeply in his chest as if he could feel every drop pumping from his stolen, perfect, gooner body.

“Fffffffuuuckk…” he slurred, eyes half-lidded, sweat dripping from his nose to Eli’s lips. “Still leaking. STILL LEAKINGGG...”

The sheets were soaked. Eli was wrecked. Tyson’s body was still throbbing, cock slowly softening but never fully losing size.

Fatso flopped onto his back, dragging Eli with him so the twink collapsed on his bloated chest. His flip-flopped feet rubbed together lazily.

“Two down,” he muttered, idly squeezing his own nipple. “...Twelve to go.”

PART 4

The room reeked of cum, sweat, and something otherworldly—a heady mix of man funk and ghost filth. Tyson sprawled across the soaked mattress, chest rising and falling, thick limbs twitching. He was still rock hard, cock twitching lazily against his belly, hyperspermia keeping him permanently primed.

Eli lay on top of him, limp, bloated, fucked raw. His slim, once-tight body was now visibly stretched, belly softly domed from the flood inside him, hole leaking a slow, thick ooze. His head lolled to the side, eyes glazed.

But inside him…

Fatso stirred.

“Hhhhnnnnnghghgh… ohhhhhh YEAH…”

He’d slipped out of Tyson’s beefy body mid-climax—oozing from the ghost-gorged cock like a reverse orgasm—and slithered straight into the twitching twink.

And now?

He was in.

Fatso blinked through Eli’s fluttering lashes, then stretched his new, slim arms out, wiggling his pale fingers.

“OHHH—fuckin’ LIGHT!” he cackled, voice now high and smooth, but warped by his gleeful growl. “I’m in this tiny lil cum pocket?!?”

He sat up, Eli’s tight little chest heaving, and looked down.

His belly bulged—soft and round, full of Tyson’s earlier flood. It sloshed when he moved. Fatso moaned.

“OHHHhh this is SICK—I can feel it all still in me—warm—fuckin’ sloshing in my guts…”

He palmed his little belly and jiggled it, giggling like a slutty demon girl.

“This body’s so TIGHT… fuckin’ twink hips, stretchy lil hole, and a fuckin’ gut full of me… oh I’m gonna break this bitch in even more...”

His toes curled. Eli’s pretty feet flexed, still sticky from Tyson’s earlier plowing. One flip-flop had fallen off. Fatso slid the other off slowly with his heel and moaned at the sound.

“Even the flip-flop squelch is fuckin’ HOT in this little body…”

Tyson grunted beneath him. Still dazed. Still leaking. Still hard.

Fatso turned.

Grinned.

“Oh baby,” he purred, rubbing his swollen twink belly, “I ain't done with you.”

He climbed onto Tyson’s lap—grinding his slim ass down against the thick, hyperspermic cock still standing at attention.

“Now I get to ride Daddy Tank…”

He reached back, spread Eli’s cheeks, and lined up Tyson’s cock—still slippery, still glistening with ghost lube. The moment the head touched his twitching, gaped hole—

“HNNNNNGGHHHHHH—YESSSS!”

Fatso slammed down.

Tyson’s cock disappeared back inside the twink’s wrecked hole, stretching it wide all over again. The pressure made Fatso gasp and clutch his belly—it jiggled and rose even more, every thrust churning the load inside him.

“UNFFFUCK—YEAH—FEED ME THAT DICK—FEED ME THAT BLOAT!”

He bounced up and down, grinding his ass into Tyson’s lap, moaning loudly with each smack of their bodies. His cock—small and sensitive in this twink form—leaked like a faucet, soaking Tyson’s belly with clear precum.

“I feel like a human balloon, daddy—just pumpin’ more in me—oh fuckkk—YES—MORE—MORE—”

Tyson groaned beneath him, his big hands grabbing Eli’s—Fatso’s—hips and slamming him down harder.

Fatso let it happen. He drooled, eyes rolling back, tongue out.

“FUCK—YEAH—BREED ME FROM THE OUTSIDE—I’M THE CONTAINER NOW—UUUGGHHNNNN!”

He slammed himself down one more time and came instantly, ropes of twink cum shooting across Tyson’s chest—right before Tyson let out a deep growl and erupted again inside him.

Another massive flood.

Fatso screamed, grabbing his own belly with both hands as it visibly puffed out, pulsing with the new load Tyson dumped straight into his already flooded guts.

“I’M STUFFED—I’M SO FUCKIN’ STUFFED—HHHNNNNNGHHHHH!”

He collapsed forward, belly jiggling, cock still twitching between them.

They both panted.

Fatso drooled onto Tyson’s pec, still giggling like a madman.

“This twink body’s my new toy, daddy… and you’re gonna keep fillin’ it until I can’t fuckin’ walk…”

He reached back, gave his own filled belly a loving slap.

“God I missed this.” Arthur grinned, hand on his hip as stopped near the top of the mountain to admire the stunning view. Lush greenery extended as far as the eye could see, only broken up by a huge lake down below. The small town where he’d started his hike was hardly a speck from all the way up here.

“No more knee pain. No more back aches. No young ’uns telling me what I can and can’t do for my age.” Arthur took a long deep breath before running a hand through his full head of hair. The sensation still seemed alien to him. “Though I suppose I am a young ‘un now.” He chuckled before looking down at himself. His strong new body was so full of life that it practically radiated vitality even beneath his clothes. Just the way his pecs bulged against his shirt or how his quads flexed with every little shift in weight. It all made him feel so alive again for the first time in decades. Honestly it was an even better view than the landscape ahead.

Arthur couldn’t help letting out a small grunt as the front of his pants began to tighten. His cock was already swelling again at the mere thought of his young hunky body. “God damn…” he mumbled while tracing the outline of his dick. “Was I this horny when I was this age?” He’d already jerked off once early this morning when his morning wood just refused to go down before his hike. Then a few hours later he had to stop again halfway up the mountain just to bust another load behind some shrubbery. And now here he was getting yet another stiffy. Not that he wasn’t enjoying it. He’d just forgotten over the years how insatiable a cock could be in its prime. Especially when Arthur could barely even look at himself without drooling. Just the feeling of these young muscles moving at his command, bulging with every step as he ascended the mountain, had been enough to make him want to cream his pants.

———

Just a few days ago Arthur had been an eighty three year old man. He lived in a nice home with his wife of just under fifty years. He had three adult children, a daughter and two sons, as well as four grandchildren so far. He’d lived a good long life up to now and at his age he shouldn’t have had much to complain about. But there was always something he couldn’t help wishing he’d done.

Most of the time it was all the hiking trails and mountain climbs he never got to do. In his youth hiking had been one of Arthur’s biggest passions. He adored the adventure of getting to explore all the different sights and wonders nature had to offer. Not to mention the challenge of pushing his body through days worth of walking and camping through any kind of trail he could find. The connection he felt to the world around him was unlike anything else. To Arthur there was nothing quite like the beauty of discovering some secluded part of nature just off a path that was almost untouched by humans. Whether it be a hidden waterfall or a sparkling river that flowed through an opening in the foliage. Same goes for completing a long and gruelling ascent to the peak of a mountain and getting to experience whatever fabulous view it came with. For all of his twenties and some of his thirties, that was Arthur’s life.

But eventually he had to settle down. Partly due to pressure from his parents and society itself. It was the 1970's after all and most men his age had long since become fathers. So he gave in. He soon met a woman to marry and have kids with and before he knew it he was practically housebound with parental responsibility. Hikes and climbs were few and far between. It was only once his kids moved out that he finally had enough real time to start adventuring again. But even then between being out of shape and being middle aged, it wasn’t as easy as it used to be. He got tired much quicker and struggled to complete climbs and trails that’d once been a cake walk. So much so that his wife and children would start telling him to be careful and to go easy. Those comments would only start to sound more forceful and condescending the older he got. By the time he reached his seventies, his kids would lecture him about his own fragility if he so much as mentioned the idea of hiking. As much as he understood their concerns, it didn’t make it any less frustrating for a man who was once so free.

Now that he was in his eighties, all he could do was think about all the places he wished he’d gone when he was younger. All the adventures he missed out on. It was selfish of course considering he’d had such a good family instead but he couldn’t help it. He was at that age now where he was reevaluating all the decisions he’d made throughout life and what might’ve become of him had he done things differently. Along with that came another regret. Not exploring his sexuality.

For a long time Arthur had known he was bisexual. He found himself just as attracted to other men as he was with women, if not more in some cases. But naturally, having grown up and lived in a time where being queer wasn’t well tolerated, he hid the part of himself that was interested in men. He presented himself as nothing more than straight because it was easier and safer. In hindsight he couldn’t help but wonder if he should’ve been braver but the past was the past. Even now his family had no idea of his bisexuality, not that it particularly mattered at his old age. He couldn’t get up for a man now anymore than he could for a woman. Although… there was one man that’d been able to make his aged cock twitch just a tiny bit back to life. His granddaughter's now ex-boyfriend, Joel.

Joel was a young man who’d not long since turned twenty eight. From the second his granddaughter had first introduced them a couple years ago, Arthur had been infatuated with Joel. The man was a stallion! Tall, virile, masculine were the first words that came to mind. He was the perfect example of a young stud with thick biceps you just wanted to kiss the moment he flexed them. Hypnotic pecs that strained against any shirt he owned. Sculpted abs with a strong v cut that Arthur had been lucky enough to catch a glimpse of. An ass that Arthur just couldn’t look away from whenever Joel turned his back. It was clear Joel treated his body like a temple but if that wasn’t already enough, he had a delightfully rugged face too and immaculate ginger hair. Arthur always had a thing for ginger men…

As such Arthur was always shamefully excited to see Joel whenever his granddaughter Amy brought the hunk along for a visit. He felt like an old pervert eyeing up a young piece of meat he knew he couldn’t have. It only made him long for the days when he was that age again. Wishing he could start over and experience everything he missed out on. He couldn’t help the creeping sense of envy either. Joel was hotter and buffer than Arthur ever was. And while Arthur’s own chestnut hair had mostly fallen victim to severe male pattern baldness by the time he hit thirty, Joel’s red hair still looked thick and full. The man was everything Arthur wished he could’ve been.

That said, Arthur couldn’t help feeling a little distraught when he heard the news of his granddaughter breaking up with Joel. Of course he was concerned for his granddaughter but he was honestly more upset that he might never get to see that dreamy stud again.

Only a few days after the breakup however, there was a knock at the door while Arthur was home alone. Imagine the shock when he opened the door to see none other than Joel wearing nothing more than a pair of shoes and the tiniest pair of shorts Arthur had ever seen. Hairy chest, abs and quads on full display as he bared his inked skin for all to see. One could even make out the faint outline of his dick.

“O-oh!… Joel…” Arthur said, slightly lost for words as he stared up and down at the Adonis before him.

“What’s up gramps? Thought I’d stop by and say hello.” Joel replied with a smile and a chipper tone that was oddly uncharacteristic. “I thought just cuz me and Amy broke up doesn’t mean we can’t still hang and chat.”

Before Arthur even had a chance to respond, Joel had already invited himself inside. His muscled frame brushed past Arthur with a pat on the shoulder as he made his way into the kitchen. The elderly man was too shell shocked to stop him. Then again how could he possibly say no to such a stunning young man who, for whatever reason, was so eager to spend some time with him.

Arthur soon joined Joel in the kitchen as the stud leaned back against the counter, arms folded over his strong fuzzy chest. He tried not to stare too much now, as difficult as that was, while taking a seat at the table.

“So Joel? What brings you here my boy?” Arthur asked. It was as good a question as any. Especially considering that every other time visited with Amy, Joel had never really said too much. He would answer questions when asked but it was clear he’d only come because Amy wanted him to. Not much of a social butterfly, that’s for sure. So for him to just drop by unannounced like this was unexpected to say the least. “Anything specific you wanted to chat about or…?”

The ginger Adonis smirked as he shifted his weight slightly. “Well I suppose there was a little something I wanted to get off my chest.” He began slowly. Joel waited a beat as if to build suspense before continuing. “You see Arthur, I’ve noticed you.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes, causing the wrinkles around them to scrunch. “You’ve uhhh… noticed me?” He tried to sound as clueless as possible.

“I have.” Joel stated before pushing himself off the counter and stepping closer to Arthur. “I saw the way you looked at me whenever Amy dragged me over here. Staring at my arms.” He raised his left arm up, placing a hand behind his head in a way the both accentuated his tattooed bicep and showed off his hairy armpit. “Eying my pecs.” He added while smoothing his right hand over the hairy expanse of muscle on his chest. “Probably wishing I would take off whatever shirt I was wearing so you could get a better look at these abs.” His right hand drifted lower, slowly brushing over his cobbled stomach before gently teasing the waistband of his shorts.

“Hell, I bet you were staring at my ass too. Am I right?” Joel spun around briefly, making sure to emphasise his pert muscle ass. “You like that view you old pervert?” He laughed. The way he said it didn't sound accusatory. It sounded like he was just teasing more than anything.

“J-Joel. I don’t…” Arthur’s words got caught in his throat for a moment as he looked up at the wall of muscle before him. Something like this was the last thing he ever would’ve expected from Joel. The man had always been so reserved. Not to mention undoubtedly straight. At worst Arthur might’ve expected Joel to call him disgusting for all his stolen glances. Not whatever this was. “I don’t know what you’ve seen or heard but this is highly inappropriate. I’m Amy’s grandfather for god's sake!” He tried his best to deflect the accusations but the reddening hue of his face did little to hide his guilt.

Joel tutted while shaking his head, hands on hips. “You might be able to fool your wife and children but you can’t fool me old man.” He reached out and took Arthur’s hand gently before guiding it towards his chest. Allowing the elderly man’s gnarled hand to feel the taut hairy muscle he clearly had an eye for. “You crave me.”

“No I-I can’t I…” Arthur stumbled over his words in an unconvincing attempt to deny what Joel had claimed yet he couldn’t bring himself to pull his hand away. He never imagined he’d get the chance to touch a man as handsome as Joel in this way. In his old age, he assumed the opportunity had long since passed. But here he was… feeling a semblance of what he remembered as being horny. The feeling had dulled over the years as his testosterone levels dropped with time. But being so close to this man, it got his old heart beating in a way he hadn’t experienced in decades.

“See? You want my body, don’t you?” Joel hummed before bouncing his pecs a little. “Well it’s your lucky day because all this is up for sale.” He said before taking a step back and lewdly gesturing down at himself.

Just when he didn’t think he could be any more dumbfounded by this whole situation, Arthur found himself staring up at Joel with his mouth agape. “For sale?” He mumbled, mouth dry. “Joel… you’re a fraction of my age. I’m old a-and married! I don’t know what kind of man you think I am but I’m not going to pay you to strip for me or whatever else.” He tried to stay firm but doing so was hard when Joel’s abs were still within touching distance.

Joel shook his head again. “Ohhh you’ve misunderstood. I’m not selling myself for sex here. I mean I’m literally selling my body. To you. Get it?”

“Uhhhhh… no. I don’t think I do?” Arthur replied slowly.

The hunk sighed gently. “Alright. I’ll make it a little bit clearer for you then.” And without another word, Joel allowed his arms to fall to his sides before taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. Immediately the air around them shifted as an unnatural force that began to swirl around Joel’s body. Purple wisps of energy twirled through the air. Then without warning, his eyes rolled back as a bright bulb of purple light forced its way out of Joel’s mouth! Forcing the hunk’s jaw wide as it passed by his bearded lips like some kind of paranormal parasite finally leaving its host.

Once free, the compact bundle of magical energy grew from a bulb into a ghostly silhouette. That silhouette would quickly solidify as the purple light started to fade until a new man had manifested before Arthur and Joel.

He wore a grey checkered suit paired with a crisp white button down and an expensive watch strapped to his left wrist. He looked to be firmly in between the age of Joel and Arthur with gorgeous silver hair and immaculate facial hair to match. Any wrinkles he adorned only served to elevate the sharp maturity of his features as they were testaments to his wisdom. And his eyes… they were such a dazzling shade of purple before settling to a natural blue hue.

Mr Wavell rolled his neck a little with a grunt of satisfaction. “Mmmmph. It’s been too long since I last took a vacation inside a hunk like that.” The silver fox commented nonchalantly with a deep voice that was smooth like velvet. “But it’s good to be back.”

Meanwhile Joel blinked rapidly as started to come back around. “W-what the…” He muttered. The last thing he could remember was some rich looking middle aged dude approaching him at the gym. He’d complimented Joel on his gorgeous body and good looks which all sounded a little gay but before Joel had time to question it, he blacked out. Now here he was, standing in the girlfriend’s grandparents kitchen wearing nothing but a slutty pair of shorts. “Why am I… what happened?!”

“Quiet boy.” Wavell commanded not unkindly. His words however were absolute. Joel suddenly found himself unable to speak or protest. “Just stand and look pretty.” Joel couldn’t help but obey. Each word threading through his brain in an effortless pursuit to make him submit, forcing him to stand idle behind the warlock.

Arthur was… surprised he hadn’t already fainted. Or had a heart attack for that matter. He wasn’t even sure what the hell he’d just witnessed! It was otherworldly! Impossible even. As for the new dapper man that stood between him and Joel, Arthur didn’t know whether to be terrified or awestruck by whatever the hell he was. Luckily he didn’t have to wonder for long as the man quickly introduced himself as Mr Wavell, a warlock with unparalleled magical prowess.

“As you might’ve been able to gather, I’ve been in possession of this handsome young man’s delectable form for the past week. It’s been quite an enjoyable experience, I must say. I’ve always had a soft spot for hunky gingers like that one.” Wavell glanced over his shoulder at Joel briefly with a lustful spark in his eye. Thinking about all the trouble he’d gotten Joel into over the last seven days as he enjoyed what limited time he had in that body. He turned back to Arthur. “And I can tell you have similar taste.”

The elderly man struggled to respond, his voice shakier than usual as he forced out the words. He asked how any of what he'd just seen was possible. He wanted to believe he was dreaming or that this was all some hallucination. But Wavell ignored the question as he looked inside Arthur’s mind. He quickly learned of Arthur’s life as a closeted Bisexual and how he’d wished he could start over and explore the other sides to his sexuality. He saw how Joel had been everything Arthur would’ve wished for in a man had he not hidden from that side of himself. A revelation that perfectly aligned with Joel’s own memories of catching Arthur leering at him for just a bit too long on the few occasions he’d visited with his girlfriend. All the puzzle pieces fit.

“Alright, here's the deal. I’m going to make this very simple for you Arthur. I’m going to give you Joel’s body. You get his life, his memories and all that jazz. After which you’re going to repay me by using that body fuck and get fucked by as many other men as you can. I want you to turn that ginger ass of his in a total slut. How’s that sound?” Wavell gave a smile that could almost be interrupted as endearing.

Arthur hesitated naturally. His mind desperately tried to catch up and comprehend everything he’d just heard. But finally he responded. “Is there… any other catch? Will you punish me if I don’t sleep with enough men? " He asked hesitantly despite the growing excitement at the mere thought of actually getting to become that stud of a man behind Wavell.

The warlock hummed with amusement. “No tricks or catches. I only do that with folks who I deem worthy of punishment. You seem like a good man though. My only condition is that you enjoy that new lease on life to the fullest and explore all the things you never did the first time around. That includes men.” Wavell outstretched an arm, offering his hand to the elderly man.

“I don’t know what to say. This doesn’t even seem real.” Arthur mumbled.

“Ohhhh it’s real. All you have to do is take my hand. Then all of that can be yours forever.” Wavell gestured over at Joel’s enticing form. Skin slick with a thin layer of sweat that glimmered under the light trailing in from the windows.

Arthur raised a hand. Cautiously reaching out before stopping mere inches away from Wavell’s hand. “Wait. What happens to Joel? Will he be in my body?”

Wavell shook his head. “No. I’ll be erasing your current body. Once your soul is inside Joel’s body, his soul will be removed. I’ll take good care of him after that. Maybe I’ll put him inside another body someday but rest assured he won’t be in any pain.” He subtly edged his hand closer to Arthur’s. “So. Do we have a deal?”

The eighty three year old waited a beat before finally giving in. The temptation of youth was too great to pass up. He accepted Wavell’s hand.

The warlock shook Arthur’s hand firmly. Immediately that same purple magic from before returned in full force, this time in the form of glittery tendrils that emerged from Wavell’s grip. The magic spun itself up and around Arthur’s arm before spreading across his entire body. Wrapping him in Wavell’s god-like power until every inch of his aged body was covered. He was nothing more than a glowing purple silhouette. And then he wasn’t even that. Beneath the magic, Arthur’s physical form dissolved painlessly, leaving only his conscious soul behind as a pulsing orb. After that Wavell ordered Joel to open wide. The hunk had no choice but to obey as Arthur’s soul was pushed in between his lips in a similar fashion to how Wavell had possessed him previously.

The older man’s soul forced itself down his throat instinctively where it began to fight for control with Joel’s soul. But before Joel had a chance to overpower the invader, Wavell used his magic to tug on Joel’s soul before pulling out with ease. As soon as it left Joel’s mouth, Wavell grabbed the younger man’s spirit before conjuring up a jar to capture it in. With that, Arthur's own spirit was left uncontested as it settled into Joel’s body and began to take control.

The next thing Arthur knew, he was seeing through much clearer eyes. For the first time in years the world around him seemed so in focus without the need of glasses. All the pains and aches he’d grown used to over the decades had vanished completely, leaving him pain free in a way that almost brought on tears of joy. The weakness and fatigue he experienced day in and day out was no more. Instead he felt strong. Stronger than he ever had in his life. Even the first few breaths he took felt so full of life thanks to healthy lungs that’d never once felt the burn of a cigarette.

“How does your new skin feel Arthur? Tight I imagine.” Wavell quipped while tossing the jar with Joel’s soul through a portal that went to his mansion.

Arthur simply stared at Wavell for a moment, the shock still lingering in his bright new eyes. “Did it… actually w-work?” He stuttered, though the sound of Joel’s voice coming from his mouth should’ve already confirmed as much. Despite that he was almost scared to look down at first. As if looking too fast might scare away the possibility of seeing the body of his dreams.

“Of course. You’re a stallion Arthur. Or should I start calling you Joel? Go on. Take a look.” Wavell urged.

Slowly but surely, Joel tilted his head forwards. In that moment he was greeted by a sight that almost didn’t seem real. A valley of young, hairy muscle from the neck down that caused his breath to hitch. His eyes first landed on the generous shelf of muscle sitting on his chest. Thick pecs, bigger than he’d ever had before, that heaved with strength. Joel’s pecs. Covered in an abundance of ginger chest hair that even swirled around his incredibly stiff nipples. And as his gaze dropped further, Arthur could feel himself getting even more light headed at the sight of his new equally hairy abs. He was in shape when he was younger but never to the point of having visible abs. But these weren’t just visible. They bulged with definition! Not to mention the fat around his waist was almost nonexistent. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced! He’d seen it all on Joel moments prior but actually owning a physique like this was something else entirely. It’s almost impossible to imagine what owning a body as perfect as that is like unless you own it for yourself. Now Arthur did.

But it wasn’t just his torso that he was blown away by. His arms… they were magnificent. Arthur watched as veins coiled along his forearms and up towards the bulge of his biceps. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how many hours had been spent at the gym pumping them up to such a gorgeous size and shape. Not to mention the power behind them. He’d felt it in his chest too, the raw strength of his new muscle, but with his biceps that power felt more direct. At the same time his arms felt heavier and yet they weren’t any more difficult to move or lift. It was trippy as hell initially. Every movement felt unique and unfamiliar. Even the tiniest differences in size and weight seemed dramatic at first. Even just the size of his hands, bigger and more calloused but still younger and far less weathered. The flex of his biceps though… that was something else entirely. The bunching of the muscle into a single peak of pure masculine strength. He never imagined he’d get to feel what it was like to have biceps like this. Yet here he was, flexing them as a smile began to spread across his stolen face.

And that wasn’t all. Despite how enticing his upper body was, his lower body seemed just as alluring. His new legs were enormous trunks of mass, built from endless squats and lunges that allowed his thighs to balloon. They were the kind of hairy muscle thighs some men would kill just to be suffocated between. It was hard to pay attention to them however when the enormous tent in shorts was blocking his view. His young new cock, stiff as a board and leaking precum in all the excitement. It was almost dizzying how hard he was. Like all the blood had drained from his brain and gone straight to his dick. It’d been so long that he’d forgotten this was what an erection should’ve felt like. Powerful. Uncontrollable. Demanding. It felt like it was gonna burst out those tiny shorts at any second and start launching cum all over. The idea of which sounded tempting beyond all hell. He’d also forgotten how hard it was to ignore the urge to cum whenever his cock demanded it. The kind of virility had been lost on his old body long ago. But not now. Joel’s dick was pulsing angrily at him as it begged him to relieve his fat balls of the potent seed they were churning.

“O-ohhh god… Jesus… fuuuck.” The words poured from his lips in a heady haze as his hands explored the vast expanse of his body. Tapering across the ridges of hairy muscle and tracing along his new tattoos through shivers of delight. Squeezing his pliable muscle tits. All the while finding it next to impossible to ignore his throbbing dick. It was so much bigger than his old one. He could tell just by his bulge. Girthier mostly. He couldn’t keep his hands away from it no matter how much he tried, constantly running his palms over the outline. All the while grunting and moaning in a voice that was so much younger yet still carried the deep grit of masculinity in a way that only made him want to bust even more. Everything was a turn on and he wasn’t sure if it was because of his newfound youth or just because Joel’s body was somehow even hotter from the inside! Probably both.

But it was his ass that pushed him over the edge. He’d reached back to grab a feel of his new cheeks and almost immediately his cock lurched. Arthur hadn’t expected his new muscle ass to feel so… so soft. It jiggled so delightfully even under the slightest touch. So much so that his brain was already imagining how heavenly it would be to see it jiggle as another man plugged his cock inside it over and over and over again until…

“N-NRUUUAAHHHhhhhhuu…” He groaned long and deep as he painted the inside of his tiny shorts with an enormous load of thick cum. A dark sticky stain quickly began to seep through the fabric as a momentary look of bliss took hold of his face. He couldn’t help panting as his dick quivered in the after math, still shooting a few small spurts of jizz as it began to soften.

Wavell began to clap slowly. “Bravo! That was quite the show.” He praised before not so subtly biting his lip. “Seeing a man get lost in a new body for the first time never gets old.”

The sexually charged fog that’d been clouding Arthur’s mind from the second he took control of Joel’s body finally began to lift. Finally he could think straight again. Despite that however, his new body was still the only thing on his mind. Now he could actually appreciate it with a clearer lens. The beauty of it all. The youth. The vigor. The gorgeous hair and-

Arthur’s eyes widened as a realisation dawned on him. He was so absorbed into worshipping his muscles that he hadn’t even noticed the distinct lack of a chilly breeze passing over his bald scalp. “No way…” He muttered as his hands shot up towards the top of his head. A big cheesy grin spread across his face as his fingers found themselves tangled in a mess of short but very thick hair, the likes of which he hadn’t experienced since he was in his early twenties. Now here he was, blessed instead with Joel’s incredible genetics. “I’ve got hair!” He couldn’t help but shout with glee in Wavell’s direction.

Mr Wavell couldn’t help but laugh. “I can see that. Looks good.” With that the warlock held out a hand before conjuring up a small hand held mirror. “Here. Take a look for yourself.” He offered.

Arthur took the mirror, heart pounding in a way that might’ve worried him had he still been eighty three. He took a moment to steady himself with a deep breath before finally bringing the mirror up to his face. The man who stared back at him was none other than Joel. His gorgeous masculine features, now moving under Arthur’s control. That impeccable hairline. Those dreamy eyes. That subtle but distinct nose ring he wore. And most of all that incredible ginger hair which connected nicely to the ginger scruff that coated his jaw, growing just a little bit thicker above his upper lip to give him a somewhat prominent mustache. Arthur still couldn’t believe it was all his. Even though the visage looking back at him in the reflection was none of that the red headed hunk of his dreams, his mind still struggled to comprehend it.

“Mr Wavell… I don’t even know what to say…” Arthur said, unable to rip his gaze away from the mirror.

“You don’t need to say anything. This was my pleasure.” Wavell reassured him with a wave of his hand. “Just promise to take good care of your new body for me, okay?”

Arthur prodded at his facial features with wonder. “Of course. I’ll do anything to keep all this.” A few moments after he said those words however, something dawned on him. “Wait… you said I was going to get all his memories didn’t you? I’m not feeling any of them yet. Did something go wrong?” He lowered the mirror slightly as he squinted in an effort to recall even a single memory of Joel’s. Nothing. How was he supposed to keep this body in shape if he didn’t even know what gym routine he was supposed to be following or what food to be eating.

“Don’t worry about it. The memories just haven’t unlocked yet. They’ll begin to drip feed into your mind within the next hour or so. It’s better that way. Gaining all the memories at once alongside the body itself can be a little overwhelming. So don’t sweat it. Just enjoy the body for today.” Wavell explained while patting Arthur on the shoulder. “Oh that note I should also mention that I took the liberty of shifting reality slightly.”

“You did… what?” The crazy thing was that Arthur believed the warlock wholeheartedly after everything that’d just happened.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. I just made it so that everyone believes that the old version of you died about three years ago. Makes things easier on your previous family. I’ve also wiped out any connections Joel had to them, most notably to your former granddaughter. Lord knows you wouldn’t want to deal with that kind of awkwardness. Plus a couple of other quality of life changes for your benefit.” The warlock explained it all away as if changing reality was just Tuesday for him. “That said… you should probably leave before your former wife gets home and calls the police on the strange, almost naked man wearing cumstained shorts in her kitchen.” He continued while somehow maintaining a straight face.

Arthur blinked. “Right. Okay… yeah okay yeah.” He didn’t sound as though he’d fully processed that either. So instead Wavell spun him around and began walking him out of the kitchen, down the hallway and towards the front door.

The two stepped outside into the warm rays of the sun. As they did Wavell made a comment about how Arthur would have to be more careful in regards to the flaming ball in the sky now. Being a red head meant he was gonna burn much easier than before if he wasn’t wearing sun block. Especially if all he was wearing was a slutty pair of shorts. Granted that was Wavell’s fault for not putting anything else on when he arrived in that body. As such the warlock was happy to hook Arthur up with a flick of his wrist, conjuring a set of fresh stylish clothes that suited his new body quite well.

When Arthur turned to thank Wavell however, the mysterious suited man was gone. Vanished like he was never there. Arthur whipped his head around but there was no sign of the man who’d just granted him the greatest gift he’d received. Despite that he said thank you anyway with his full chest, confident that the otherworldly being could still hear him.

With that, Arthur set off to begin a new lease on life. One that promised himself he wouldn’t waste a second of. He was going to keep his body in peak condition so that he could jerk off to the perfection of his new muscled physique every morning for years to come. He was finally going to accept his sexuality and fuck some hot male ass and hopefully get his own muscle butt stuffed with cock too once he was ready for it. And of course he was going to do all the hikes and mountain climbs he always wished he could’ve done in his previous life. With a form like this, he’d have no problem recapturing his dreams and living out a few new ones in the process.

———

In the few days since taking over Joel’s body and life, Arthur had really settled in. By now he’d gained most of the memories he needed to pull off a more than convincing impression of the original Joel. He’d familiarised himself with his new home and friends. He’d spent countless hours trying on almost every new item of clothing he owned. He’d even gone out of his way to go out and buy a few new things. Sure all the clothes Joel owned looked great on him, practically everything did, but Arthur wanted some more outfits that really screamed gay. Tighter pants and jogging bottoms. More pairs of tiny shorts. Brightly coloured jumpers. Skimpy tank tops. Jock straps of course. He even got himself a crop top that showed off his irresistible abs and ginger happy trail.

He’d had his first gym session where he trained chest and biceps which felt absolutely incredible. Lifting weights he would’ve struggled with in his youth, never mind his old age. Feeling the euphoria of blood pumping through his new muscles, making them feel even more inflated to the point where he could stop checking himself in almost every mirror he passed. Though he did that most of the time anyway.

But only after a couple days in this skin, Arthur found himself gearing up for his first mountain climb in over twenty years. Boots and backpack on, a flexible pair of pants and a top that hugged his arms and pecs tightly. Maybe he was being hasty but he just couldn’t wait any longer. He had to get out there again! He’d already allowed so many years to pass him by that he couldn’t bear to put off his passion any longer. So as soon as he had all the essentials together, he jumped into his new car and set off for the nearest climb.

Now here he was in the present. Standing near the peak of a small mountain. There was a bigger one not far off in the distance but he thought better than to push himself too much. Joel’s body might’ve been young and beefy as hell but it would still take some time to get used to this kind of activity. He could already sense that quads and hamstrings were gonna feel like jelly tomorrow. But it was all worth it for the adventure and the challenge. Not to mention the view. He’d almost forgotten just how much he adored the rush of finally reaching the peak of a mountain. But it was all coming back to him now and almost as addicting as his hunky new body.

As he stared out across the landscape, Arthur’s mind began to wander. So far he’d been so focused on worshipping himself at every junction that he hadn’t really thought too much about finally hooking up with some other dudes yet. Though who could blame him for being distracted by himself. Right now he seemed more likely to fall in love with his own reflection than anyone else, judging by how long he’d spent kissing the bathroom mirror yesterday. That said he could probably get any guy he wanted now. No doubt he’d have twinks, jocks and bears alike all lining up for a taste of his cock or ass. Even just his adorably handsome face would be enough to melt the heart of any man he desired. Hell when he was in the locker room at the gym he could’ve sworn he saw an older daddy stealing glances at him while he changed out of his sweaty gym clothes. He’d have to try and follow that one up at some point.

Arthur let out a long relaxed sigh as the wind blew through his hair. He breathed out all the worries and regrets he once had about his old life. The possibilities now were endless. He only wished that one day he could thank Mr Wavell properly. If anyone deserved to have his new lips around their cock, it was him.

Regardless, Arthur promised himself that he wouldn’t waste another minute. He’d enjoy Joel’s life and body to the fullest.

I hired Nick to do some tile work in our kitchen last year. Seeing his thick, muscular body and thick salt and pepper stubble, I knew I wanted him more than just for the job. Harvesting a man like this always comes with a risk. He owned his own business and had a wedding ring. There could also be kids. All of which would require commitment to play his part. I weighed that with the benefits and decided he was still superb candidate for conversion.

I waited until he was finished with the job just as he finished sealing the grout lines. I gave him a pat on the back. That was no friendly gesture, that was me sealing the deal. He fell backwards with the injection as his mass drained from his body over his handiwork. I got a free tile job and a bodysuit out of the venture.

I decided to take my new body out to the gym. I love the way people look at me in his flesh. This man of 48 kept such good care of his body. I’m more than happy to preserve it in the state forever.

I knew the risk when I converted him. Now I am married with a wife and daughter. Thankfully he spend so much time in the garage working on his hobby of restoring classic cars that they don’t bother me too much.

The benefit still outweighs that minor inconvenience when I see myself in his body. It’s been a year now and I’ve come to enjoy occasionally playing the Daddy role.

His hobby has opened up new opportunities for me. The garage is a perfect place for my other bodysuit related activities. I have his car buddies over all the time. Some of those buddies have benefits. Andrew was one of those buddies.

I asked him over to help me drop a transmission. With a little bit of work came a little bit of fun. Andrew loved, sucking Nick’s cock. During one of these sessions, I couldn’t resist, but adding Andrew to my collection as well.

Happy birthday to the most Inspirational, Wise, Selfless, Loved, Courageous, Generous, Compassionate Respected and Sacrificing wrestlers to grace AEW, my GOAT, Christian Cage!

My hot stepdad, Ryan, took me out on a two-day camping trip in another failed attempt to bond with me. I didn't want to go, but my mom insisted that a "boys' trip" would be good for us and the wreck that was our relationship. Ryan wasn't a bad stepdad, quite the contrary, he cared about my mom and me, and was trying to make it work. But he didn't know I was gay and that I sniffed his dirty underwear when he wasn't home, so that made this camping trip very hard for me. And by hard, I mean rock hard and throbbing.

After a boring day of fishing and hearing his life stories that I didn't care about, the night finally came. We set a bonfire, and he tried to start a conversation about the next football game, and just like that, I was wishing that he would go back to talking about his boring life stories. We just had nothing in common, but I really appreciated the effort he was putting into making it work. I really did.

We slept in different tents, of course, but I wish I were sleeping in his, cuddling against his hairy, muscular body, listening to his sexy baritone voice whispering to my ear as he pounded my hole with powerful thrusts. I slept with a smile on my face and a tent inside the tent.

I woke up in the middle of the night with a full bladder. I slipped outside into the cold air and headed toward a tree at the edge of our small clearing.

As I started to pee, a faint glow caught my eye high in the sky—something small and luminous, trailing a thin streak of light. It fell quickly, silently, and struck the ground with a muffled thud in the woods no more than fifty yards away.

Curiosity overrode any sense of caution. I zipped up and jogged toward the impact site, pushing through low branches until I reached a patch of disturbed earth. There, half-buried in pine needles and dirt, lay a crashed spacecraft—no bigger than a large model kit you’d see on a hobbyist’s shelf. It looked impossibly real. The interior lights flickered weakly through a cracked viewport. Then a small hatch hissed open.

Out stumbled a figure no taller than my pinky finger. It was clearly injured—one limb clutched awkwardly against its side—but unmistakably humanoid. His wide eyes fixed on me with a mix of pain and wary intelligence.

I stood frozen, heart pounding, staring at the tiny alien that had just fallen from the stars into our quiet campsite.

"Help me, giant." He asked with a high alien voice.

"H-How can I help you?... we don't have hospitals for aliens here," I said, carefully taking him in my hands. He was so small.

"My injuries are severe. To regenerate, I require a host from your species. Only by absorbing upon the neural energy of one of your kind's brain can I restore myself fully."

"I think I know a brain you can use..."

Back at the clearing, I was standing outside Ryan's tent, I looked at the alien in my hand, and I couldn't believe what I was about to do to my own nice stepdad.

"Are you sure he's gonna be ok? He won't turn into a zombie or something like that, right? I wouldn't forgive myself."

"He's going to be fine. At worst, he will wake up with a headache."

I nodded and then slowly unzipped his tent, my cock hardened at the sight of Ryan sleeping, his unbuttoned flannel shirt exposing his hairy chest moving up and down as he loudly snored.

I carefully crawled into the tent, doing my best to not awaken him. I carefully put the alien right next to his ear, the alien was fast and crawled inside. Ryan's eyes suddenly opened in shock, and his body jerked violently, his back arched and his head tilted back exposing his veiny neck.

Suddenly, he made a long sigh, then his body relaxed and his face became blank. His eyes stayed open, gazing at the tent's ceiling. The alien had explained that he needed seven hours to fully absorb all of Ryan's brain nutrients and heal his alien body, which meant I had seven hours to entertain myself with my hot stepdad's body!

I sat on top of Ryan, straddling him, and started feeling up his hairy chest. My hands squeezed his pecs, and I couldn't help but moan at finally being able to feel his chest hair against my palms. I gently stroked his beard and then kissed him. He didn't kiss me back, but that was still the hottest kiss I've ever had.

I crawled between his spread legs, my heart hammering so loud I swore he’d wake up, I had to constantly remind myself that he had an alien inside his brain. My fingers hooked into his sweats and tugged them down just enough. White briefs, fuck, those classic tighty-whities hugging the fattest bulge I’d ever seen. Even soft, the outline of his dick and those heavy balls made my mouth water. I leaned in, pressed my nose right against the warm cotton, and breathed him in deep: clean sweat, a little musk from the hike earlier, pure man. My head spun, finally I was sniffing his underwear with the source of all that musk filling it.

I peeled the briefs down carefully, like I was unwrapping something holy. His cock flopped out thick and heavy, half-hard already from all the sniffing. I didn’t waste time. I slid my lips over the fat head, tasting the salty skin, and started sucking slowly and sloppily. Almost right away he thickened in my mouth, swelling bigger and bigger till I had to stretch my jaw wide. Eight inches easy, veiny, and perfect.

I then climbed up, straddled his hips, and lined that slick monster up with my hole. One push and the head popped in; I bit my lip so hard to keep from moaning out loud, but then I remembered again that he wouldn't wake up no matter what, and so I started moaning as loud as I could. At the same time, I sank down slowly, inch by inch, feeling him split me open while he just kept breathing deep and staring up with a mindless face.

God, riding him like that was unreal. I rolled my hips in lazy circles at first, savoring every throb inside me, watching his handsome face every time I bottomed out. His big hands stayed slack by his sides, so I grabbed them and put them on my thighs like he was guiding me. I picked up the pace, bouncing harder. The whole tent rocked and swayed with every hard bounce I took on him.

One more grind, one more slide all the way down till my ass met his hips, and I lost it. I came hard, shooting thick ropes all over his hairy chest and beard, painting those perfect pecs white while my hole clenched around him like crazy.

I collapsed forward, panting, smearing my mess between us. His dick was still buried inside me, half-hard and pulsing. I didn’t pull off. Just nuzzled into his neck and let his big, warm body comfort me. My own personal giant teddy bear. I closed my eyes and drifted off stuffed full and happier than I’d ever been.

I woke up the next day when I felt Ryan's body stir and he started to wake up. I quickly jumped out of his body, and he slowly sat. He looked down at his body and caressed his hairy pecs. He then pulled the sheets off his lap, revealing his thick hard shaft. He gave it a few strokes and looked at me with a charming smile.

"Good morning, giant. Well... you're not so giant anymore now that I'm bigger than you," The alien said as he made Ryan make a double biceps pose, "Thank you for putting me in this body, without your help I would have died."

"It was my pleasure. So, are you healed now?"

"Yes, I am fully healed, I have absorbed all the energy from your stepdad's brain," he suddenly stared at his cock with a confused look, "That's weird..."

"What? Something's wrong?"

"There's a weird feeling in his crotch, I think-" And suddenly he started peeing all over himself and inside the tent. It was a total mess. Once the stream died off, he looked at me with a shocked face, his hair wet and his beard dripping with piss. I couldn't hold myself and I started laughing hysterically.

I led Ryan to the river where we both got naked and I washed his body clean. While I was washing his low-hanging big balls, he looked at me with apologetic eyes. "Sorry about the mess. It won't happen again."

"It's ok. It's your first time in a human body after all." I then grabbed his shaft and scrubbed it with soap, maybe I spent a bit longer than I should on his crotch... I then lifted his arms and washed his hairy armpits, I loved running my hands on his armpits. I sniffed him many times to make sure the piss smell was fully gone.

We spent our last day camping fucking like rabbits in the tent. Ryan fucked me in every new position I could teach him, the alien's favorite was missionary. When night fell, we were sitting together around the bonfire, Ryan hugging me from behind as we talked about different subjects.

Ryan then stood up, grabbed a stick, and drew a big strange symbol on the ground. I didn't ask questions.

Once he finished, he lifted me in Ryan's strong arms and took me to his tent. We were making out like we were both teens, when suddenly a bright white light enveloped the entire tent. It was like it suddenly became morning outside. I started panicking, but the alien was able to calm me down.

The alien chuckled at my reaction, "Don't worry, it's just my kind. They came to rescue me."

"You're going away already? Can't you stay for a bit longer?" I was sad he was leaving.

"It was fun, but I have to go home."

"But what about him?" I asked, caressing Ryan's hairy chest as if for the last time.

"Don't worry about your stepdad, he will be fine. I implanted fake memories in his brain of today. Don't leave the tent until the light goes off."

Ryan then lay down, his eyes rolling back before closing as the alien crawled out of his ear. The alien walked to the tent's door, but before he left, he looked back, "Oh, and I left you a little gift," and then he stepped out of the tent. I heard a weird thrumming sound, and then the bright light turned off and everything went quiet. When I walked out of Ryan's tent, all I could hear was the crickets and of course, Ryan's snoring.

I walked back to my tent, sad that I would never feel Ryan's big cock inside of me again, but also happy for having the best day of my life. When I was trying to sleep, I heard something outside my tent, then I saw the zipper being pulled up, revealing none other than Ryan. He crawled into the tent and gently pinned me down against the cushion. His face was just a few inches from mine, then he kissed me.

I was so confused.

When he broke the kiss, I looked at him surprised.

"Ryan? Is this really you? What are you doing?"

"I can't explain why, but I can't take you out of my mind. I think I'm madly in love with you, you're so hot and perfect. I still love your mom, but it's only you who makes my dick hard. And all I want right now..." He leaned down, his beard scratched my ear, making my whole body tingle, then he whispered, "It's to fuck you until dawn."

From the outside of my tent, it was obvious what was happening inside by the way my tent shook, and my loud moans merged with the crickets.

My stepdad wanted us to have a bonding time, and in a sense, he got exactly what he wanted... just not in the way he expected. Now we had a special bond that would last forever, a bond that would fill my hole every time we had the opportunity.

"Bye-bye, asshole," I mocked in this tattooed sexy stud's deep voice, gripping his thick shaft as I pissed the homophobic prick's essence right into the urinal. Nothing gets me harder than peeing some bigoted jerk out of his own body like that.

My boyfriend and I were having a blast at the concert when our favorite song kicked in. We leaned in for a quick kiss, and that's when this drunk asshole behind us snarled "faggots," making his dumbass friends crack up laughing. My boyfriend looked hurt, but I was straight-up pissed. No way was this tool gonna ruin our special night.

I waited until the perfect moment hit—the homophobe finally separated from his group and stumbled drunk into the bathroom. I told my boyfriend I had to piss and followed the guy in.

The bathroom was packed, so I had to play it smart. I slipped into a stall, left my current host slumped on the toilet, and went ghost. Floating free, I fixated on the prick at the urinal and slid right up his tight ass. He jerked hard, body going rigid mid-stream, but nobody noticed.

Once I was fully in, I wasted no time turning his soul into pure piss and started unloading it. Watching that hateful bastard swirl down the drain got my new cock rock hard. When the flow finally stopped, I was packing a solid eight inches. I gave the shaft a couple of shakes to get the last drops, then zipped up.

Back out at the concert, I strolled past his group of buddies. They yelled his name, trying to wave me over, but I just ignored them and kept walking. I spotted my boyfriend in the crowd, tapped him on the shoulder, and when he turned, I pulled him into a tight hug and planted a deep kiss on him.

He froze for a second, eyes wide, but he wasn't dumb, he knew well about my powers, so he melted into my arms, and we started full-on French kissing right there. Behind us, I could hear his friends freaking out.

"Dude, what the fuck? How many drinks did he have?"

"Bro, that's messed up. Let's bounce."

We broke the kiss, and I shot my boyfriend a smug grin.

"Babe, you really shouldn't have," he said, but he was already running his hands over my new pecs, smirking.

"You wouldn't be saying that if you saw my new dick," I teased, grabbing my new bulge and shaking it.

The clock above the squat rack blinked 12:03 a.m. IronForge 24/7 was a tomb: rows of empty benches, clanging plates long silent, only the low hum of fluorescent lights and the faint drip of a leaky shower. Brock Harlan (25, 6'1", 225 lbs of lacrosse-carved muscle) racked his final 405-lb bench with a grunt, sweat gleaming under the LEDs. Red tank clung to his pecs like paint; black Nike Pro shorts rode low on a V-line sharp enough to cut glass. New gym, new PR, new late-night ritual. He’d been here two hours, alone, chasing the quiet pump.

The whole time, a sour funk had trailed him—like someone left a protein shaker in the sun for a week. Cheesy, eggy, wrong. Brock wrinkled his nose every set but powered through. “Place needs a deep clean,” he muttered, peeling the soaked tank over his head.

Locker room. Empty. Perfect.

He kicked off his shoes, shucked the shorts, and stood butt-ass naked in the middle of the tile floor—zero shame, nobody around. Thick thighs flexed as he padded to the open shower bay, slung a white towel over the hook, and reached for the faucet.

TAP.

A cold, wet finger on his right trap.

Brock spun. “Yo, thought I was—”

Nothing. Just the drip… drip… of the shower.

Then the air shifted. A pressure, like someone exhaled behind him. He turned again.

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPFFFFFT.

A wall of green gas slammed into his face—rotten eggs, gym socks, spoiled milk, and something human. Brock’s eyes watered instantly; knees buckled.

“Wha—cough—fuckin’—”

A massive blue belly swung out of nowhere and WHUMPED him flat on his back. The tile cracked his shoulder blades. Air whooshed from his lungs. Vision swam.

Above him, Ronnie materialized—340 lbs of translucent slob, stained with a gut that sagged to mid-thigh, beard like steel wool.

“Been eyein’ this cake all night, meathead,” Ronnie rumbled, voice thick with Jersey grease. “Time to join the real bulk club.”

Brock tried to crawl, big lacrosse glutes flexing, hole winking in the fluorescent light. The stink had him loopy—head spinning, limbs heavy.

Ronnie grinned, cracked his knuckles, and dove.

Head-first, the ghost’s dome speared between those perfect cheeks like a missile. Brock’s eyes snapped wide.

“NO—AAHH—WHAT THE—UNNNGH—”

The invasion was slow, wet, deliberate. Ronnie’s cold ectoplasm stretched Brock’s rim like icy lube—first the crown, then the shoulders, wriggling in with a rubbery SCHLORP-SCHLORP-SCHLORP. Each push sent a jolt up Brock’s spine: shock, violation, and—fuck—unwanted pleasure. His cock twitched traitorously, leaking onto the tile.

“Feels… nngh… so fuckin’ full…” Brock moaned, voice cracking. His hole gaped, clenched, gaped again—every inch of Ronnie sliding deeper, colder, heavier.

Ronnie’s arms poured into Brock’s thighs next, thickening them instantly—quads turning to hams, skin stretching to accommodate new mass. The ghost’s legs coiled into Brock’s calves, ankles, toes. Then the belly—GLORP-GLORP-GLORP—Ronnie’s massive gut folded in like blue jello poured down a drain, inflating Brock’s midsection in real time. Six-pack vanished under a smooth, hairy dome that slapped the floor with a wet THUD.

Brock staggered to his feet, but his body wasn’t his anymore. He shook, wiggled, humped the air like a puppet on Ronnie’s strings. His pecs ballooned into heavy, fur-covered moobs that swayed with every twitch; a thick beard sprouted in seconds, curling down his chest; pits exploded with wiry hair and a stench that filled the room like a fog. His cock fattened to beer-can girth, balls swelling heavy and low, dripping pre in thick ropes.

“UNF—look at this gut!” Ronnie boomed through Brock’s mouth, slapping the new belly—WHAP-WHAP-WHAP. “Smell these pits, boy—SNIFFFF—that hits the spot.”

He waddled to the full-length mirror, each step a jiggle of new flab. Ronnie flexed flabby arms, kissed a doughy bicep, then dropped to the bench.

One hand gripped the monster cock—now nine inches soft, veiny, uncut. The other kneaded a heavy moob, thumb flicking the nipple. “Fuck, these tits are sensitive.”

Minutes later he roared—thick ropes painting the mirror white, splattering the glass in heavy arcs. Ronnie scooped a glob, licked it clean, then lumbered to the locker-room vending machine. He punched in codes with Brock’s fingers—three 1,000-calorie gainers, two bags of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, a family-size jar of peanut butter. Chugged, crunched, slurped. The belly sloshed louder than the blender.

4:47 a.m. The possession timer hit zero. Dawn light crept through the high windows.

Ronnie felt the pull. “Aw, shit—”

Brock’s body tensed. A deep pressure built in the gut. Ronnie’s form sucked backward—tail first, then legs, belly, arms, head—out Brock’s thickened ass in one long, sloppy SCHLOOOOOORP, green gas trailing like a fart in reverse. The flab stayed. The hair stayed. The stink stayed.

Ronnie popped free with a final PLOP, floating upside-down, Crocs still on. “Thanks for the ride, tubbo. Enjoy the new you.”

He vanished through the ceiling.

Brock blinked awake on the bench, naked, 280 lbs, bearded, reeking. His hands—thicker, hairier—roamed his body in panic. The mirror showed a slobby stranger: gut hanging to mid-thigh, moobs sagging, cock absurdly large between tree-trunk legs.He opened his mouth to scream.

Nothing came out.