iatrogenic

What do ya mean bro?

“Bro”? I left you a second ago and you were like… well you were skinny… and your hair… that stubble… where did all the muscle come from?!

Huhu dude so many questions. You making my head all dizzy. I was here. Just watchin l the match bro. Come on. Look. Aren’t you gonna join me.

I don’t want to see some… some…

Just watch it bro.

Huh… looks like a good game… I mean… bro… what the fuck!

Huhu hot, you’re growing dude.

Huhu fuck yeah bro. Such a dumb jock.

Hot dumb jock huhu.

Now move over bro. Time for our own fun.

My brother and I have always been close. We were born just a couple of years apart, and even though I was his baby sister, we pretty much did everything together when we were kids. We played video games, we wrestled and played in the mud, we even played soccer together for a couple of years. We were best friends, really. Which is probably why now it feels so right for me to be in the body of his best friend, Jake.

Honestly, I didn’t mean for things to turn out this way. I just happened to be thinking about my brother one day, feeling a little nostalgic about the good times we had when we were kids. I kind of hated that as time had gone on, my brother had been able to slip so easily into high school life, joining the sports teams and becoming one of the popular kids, while I always felt like such a tomboy and struggled with fitting in with the other girls at school.

I made a wish to myself that I could spend time with him like we used to. I wished that I could be his best friend again. And the next morning, I woke up in Jake’s body.

It’s been weird being in a guy’s body, and Jake isn’t just your average guy. He’s 6′3″ with a super athletic body, and he’s pretty good-looking, too. He and my brother have been friends since high school, they went to college together, and now they live together as roommates.

At first, I tried to hide what had happened. I’ll admit it, I did a really terrible job of “pretending” to be Jake. I didn’t know a lot about the guy, to be honest, so I really had no idea what I was doing. My brother caught on right away, and I had no choice but to be fully honest with him. He didn’t believe it at first – hell, I didn’t believe it myself! But I was able to prove it to him by telling him stories from our childhood that only he and I would have known about.

Since then, my brother has been amazingly supportive of my change. He still thinks it’s a little weird that his baby sister is now inside the body of his best friend, but he’s helping me learn how to be Jake. My favorite thing so far has been when he takes me to the gym and shows me how to lift weights. It amazes me how strong I am now! After the gym, we’ll usually go home, drink some protein shakes, and play video games together. It’s not long before I’m asking if we can order a pizza or go out and get some beer and burgers. I feel like I can eat so freakin’ much now!

He’s taught me about all kinds of “boy” things, too, like how to shave my face, how to walk, how to talk, how to dress, and how to pee standing up. Having a dick is something else, I’ll tell ya. Sometimes it feels like that thing has a mind of its own.

All dumb, hot, and horny, drinking beer and working out, obeying coach , constantly cumming

The kit gets me feeling things, bet it would smell and feel great to try it on, those cleats must smell great

Would you help me imagine my fantasy?

You’re wanting a stereotype. That’s what I read. So why not. This world doesn’t have enough dumbass stereotypical jocks bros in this world. You going to be in the middle of your physics class when your teacher calls on you answer a question. You are the best student in this class and your teacher knows you can answer this. As you open your mouth to answer you tongue is instantly replaced with a new jock tongue. Now nothing intellectual will ever escape your mouth again “huhu bro why you fall on me I’m just a stupid fuck who cheats all the time” you’re eyes get wide as you realize what you just said. Students around you snicker while your hands cover your mouth in horror. “What was that you said ?!” You try to fight it. You try all you can but you are asked a question. “Bro why you are call on me. I’m just a stupid fuck and caint get no learnin!” This time the whole class bursts out laughing at you and you get you things together and run as your teacher kicks you out of the class. “Don’t come back on here unless you want to this class seriously!”

Running back to your down room your panicking. What is going on? You don’t even notice the muscle that is growing. Your legs becoming shredded from years at running on the field. Your abs and chest poking out further and becoming more defined from years in the gym. Your arms bulking up years of lifting weights. By the time you get back to your room your face is beginning to realign giving you the classic dumb jock look. Always giving you a vacant stupid expression that you can’t wipe away. Your shoes get bigger and turn to cleats as your bo kicks into high gear. It’ soon smells like it’s been weeks since you have showered even though you just took one this morning. Now every time you shower you will always smell like a stinking jock immediately after. You stomach grumbles wanting beer and a beer forms in your hand as you are compelled to drink it. You’re feet smell like fermunda cheese from being so filthy and nasty with all the gym sweat you are now cursed to have. A message from your coach pops up on your phone. “Get to the gym now ! Time to work out !” You take a quick flex as you are compelled to listen to your coach. You have no other choice anymore but to listen to his direction and get bigger and bigger for the field. And just the thought of that is enough to make you cum.

“Come on, Dad. Can’t we swap back now?”

“No can do, old man. You’re just gonna have to stick with it for a little while longer.”

“But I already cancelled once with Hayley, she’ll get suspicious if I cancel again.”

“Yeahh about that. I never sent that message last night. I took her out in my car and we did it on the backseat. Can’t believe you guys had never done anything together before!”

“WHAT? You took my girlfriend’s v…? But how? She always was giving me excuses”

“Let’s just say, your goofy, boy-next-door charm is not her type. She likes a bad boy at heart. And what can I say, I know my way around a woman’s body. Fuck, it takes very little for me to get hard these days. No more blue pills for me! But I guess you might need them now ha. You’ll find them in the top drawer.”

“Can I at least use my phone to text her and see how she’s doing?”

“Ha, she’s my girl now, old man. An old guy like you texting a college girl like her would just be creepy. It’s this that she wants, not you.”

That's not English that's written there. You hardly understand a word. Besides, it's all written in an unspeakable pig's claw. And suddenly the lines on the paper start to dance. The writing somehow liquefies. And then the writing flows towards your hands. You want to drop the book. But you can't. And starting at your hands, your skin changes colour. Lines appear. And suddenly you also begin to understand the disappearing texts in the book. These are your songs! The songs of the band of which you are the front man.

Damn, you're getting dizzy. You have to sit down. When you come to, you are lying in the couch of the tattoo artist you trust. And your manager is yelling at you that you have to be on stage in half an hour to explain how you got the stupid idea to get a tattoo now.

Shu' up, ma'e. Da genie 'old me 'o ge' a 'a''oo befawe every concer, you say.

da genie. Ov course. Are you caned again, your manager replies.

You know what kind of stories I like :)

You are a lucky man! There's a new plane ticket right inside the sports bag. Off to St. Louis. It's a shame that the bag only has dirty laundry in it. But you have to wear something. Everything looks a little tight. Smells like a locker room after a football game. And for a fella in his early 30s, somehow not really appropriate.

Your seatmate holds his nose in annoyance. Yes, you stink. And maybe you shouldn't have eaten those burritos at the airport either. Lad, you've got gas. Out of consideration for your seatmate, you at least go to the airplane restroom to fart. And man! That's a real fart. Even you have to admit that it stinks. But what an effect: with the fart you lose your body fat. But also a few kilos of your hard-earned muscles. And a good ten years.

That's a nice sports bag you've chosen. And when I look at you, a bit of sports can't hurt either. You've got a bit of a paunch there, lad! But why don't you try it out and see if anything in the bag fits you?

Okay, everything looks like it was made for you. Old-fashioned, no longer brand new sportswear. But it fits you in XXL. You are a bit disappointed, you expected something more exciting… Anyway, now you feel like you have to run a lap. You start a bit awkwardly. You've never run before. Apart from a few pensioners with walkers, you don't overtake anyone at the beginning. But it gets better. You find your rhythm. And somehow you want to keep running. Your smartwatch, which you always wear when you exercise, shows perfectly normal values after an hour. Average speed 21 km/h. Pulse just under the maximum value. Optimal.

At the end of your workout, you do a few pull-ups in your backyard. You have already taken off your yellow tank top. You hear someone whistling. It's the old lady from the ground floor. You smile at her. One of your biggest fans. But not the only one here. In the Balkans you are one of the most important fitness influencers.

How will LAX: 3 turn out for me?

The suitcase is delivered to your office. The lady at the reception is a bit irritated that the suitcase covered all over with stickers is actually supposed to be delivered to you. That's why she knocks in the conference room and asks your assistant if this is correct. And your assistant asks you. Whereupon you have one of your dreaded tantrums and ask if this is really a reason to interrupt the board meeting. Take a deep breath. And then you ask your CIO to explain the figures on the current slide to you again. For you, this is not plausible.

When the meeting is over, your assistant accompanies you to your impressive office. There is a whole series of signatures to be made. And after that, you want to freshen up briefly and then go to lunch with the CEO of the company you would like to take over. On the suitcase standing in the corner hangs a tag with your name on it. An expensive, slightly dented RIMOWA suitcase. Who the hell messed it up with the stickers? Never mind, you'll take care of that later.

When you come out of the executive restroom, you take a quick look to see if anyone sees you. Even as the boss's son, you're not really allowed to use the restroom. But of course you have the code to do it. You have an appointment with the other department heads from Risk Controlling for the lunch break. It took you long enough to make friends here. Son from the boss is always difficult, of course. But you really don't enjoy any privileges (apart from the code for the restroom). You work just as hard as everyone else. And when it comes to promotions, you're even more likely to be ignored than others who are less deserving. At lunch time, you have your fun, gossiping about superiors and subordinates. Down at the entrance you say goodbye, you feel the urgent need to smoke a cigarette and bum one of the colleagues smoking there.

Back in your open-plan office, your group leader takes out his anger on you. Apparently, your old man yelled at the CIO in the board meeting, who then yelled at his division manager, who yelled at the department manager, who then yelled at the group manager. As a rookie, you're now getting it all, and you're now allowed to revise the documents for the CIO in such a way that your father is satisfied. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to join your father's company after all. When you have finished the documents to your satisfaction and that of your group leader, you take a smoke break.

Fuck, you really are a dumbass. When you pick up your suitcase from your father's office, he will immediately smell that you have just smoked. And if you're lucky, he'll check your suitcase right away. And there are things in there that he would not be very happy about. The weed is probably not that bad. But explaining the dildo might be really hard for you. So you call your father's assistant and ask her to bring the suitcase down to the reception. And maybe she can also organize a car from the transport service to take you and the suitcase home. She will do anything for you anyway. She probably still secretly hopes that you will come together with her daughter. If she knew that her son fucks you occasionally….

... Oh here you are, well thanks I'm off to SYD airport, thanks man! Meeting my personal trainer to start my new routine.

You slavishly followed your trainer's instructions for packing the bag. But it seems very silly to you to travel to Australia for two months with only a small piece of hand luggage. Allowed were a pair of boarders, a pair of daisy dukes and a pair of workout shorts, two tank tops, two jockstraps, two pairs of white socks, a pair of flip flops. One pair of boxer shorts to sleep in. Razor, shaving cream, toothbrush, toothpaste. And for the flight, shorts no longer than a hand's width above the knee, tank top and desert boots. And that silly bandana. But you put it back in your pocket. You look a little silly.

After the flight, you feel surprisingly fit. Somehow it's as if you've had a few really challenging workouts. Good thing you decided to wear the really short shorts. Your legs need air. And the muscles are coming out really well.

The bloody immigration fawrmalities drag on. But since ya only av a little 'and luggage, it goes relatively fast. 'n luckily ya speak the language of the customs staff. Root, the bloody 'air is annoyin'. Weah is the fuckin' bandana? The bloke at the bloody customs control can't believe that ya ahah not from heah. Ya take that as a compliment.

'n behind the bloody baggage claim, wich ya can just walk past, yah personal trayynah is waitin'. The bloody pictures didn't porkie. A mixtah of natah boy 'n surfah cobber. Ya shake 'ands liyyke fahkin' old buddies. But yah trayynah awrders ya ta take off yah tank top 'n gives ya a chayyn instead. Now ya could be brothers.

Hey! Is DEL still available?

Sorry, but the only other thing I can offer you is a case from ATL. Far less exotic. But also completely impractical for you. What the hell are you supposed to do with fishing equipment. In your whole life you have never fished. And you're certainly not going to sit down on the Hudson River. You don't want to eat what's swimming in there anyway. Well, the chain is cool. You can wear it sometime… But now you should worry less about the suitcase and more about the presentation for your next appointment.

Your colleagues and also your customers are a bit irritated that you constantly include any comparisons in your presentation, in which it is about fish, hunting or the like. But otherwise it was a good appointment, the customer has concluded the contract. A reason to celebrate. The first thing you do when you enter the bar is to take off your tie. Man, you really can't breathe with that stuff on. And while the others toast with sissy stuff like Negronis and gin and tonics, you order yourself a big beer. You drink it all in one go. And order a second one. The burp was world class. You grin broadly. Your colleagues ask if you've still got it all together. Sure thing, you answer, but now you have to piss first.

On the toilet you take your cock out of your lucky jockstrap. You've always worn it to important football games in college. The piece is completely filthy. Huhuhu, that's me too, you think. How long ago was college, anyway? A year? You shake it off and stow your dick again, buttoning your not-quite-clean jeans and fastening your belt with the monstrous belt buckle representing a Southern flag. Scratching your three-day beard, you wonder where in the middle of Manhattan your boots always get so dusty. Never mind, you need another beer. Your colleagues keep their distance from you. They never understood why you, the hick, got the internship. Hey, you didn't want the job and you didn't want to go to New York. You just don't belong here. So you leave the would-be masters of the universe alone and go to the river. That's where you feel most comfortable in this jungle. You snot your chewing tobacco into the river and go back to your guesthouse. The sooner you are in bed, the better.

Before you start your job at da bank, you have to help your yo pops feed da animals. Your ma haz already prepared uh gud breakfast for you. But now da corduroy jacket over your lumberjack shirt n off to da office. Some of your neighbors need uh loan for new farm machinery. You're glad you let your grandma convince you to go to college. But you're even happier that you came home afterwards. Running da local branch of da bank is all you can ask for. Here, folks don't care if your hair is uh little longer in da back. Old steve haz been cutting your hair all his life, so as long as he lives, let him keep doing it.

Frat parties weren't usually your scene, but after a brother had invited you, and your friends encouraged you, you eventually decided to go. The party was standard at first, and you played beer pong for what seemed like an eternity, just to pass the time. You would make it down to the dance floor, where it seemed everyone congregated as the DJ was playing Miley Cyrus. As you were dancing alone on the floor, you notice from the corner of your eye, a group of frat bros looking and pointing at you. Once you met their gaze, they started to approach you. Even though the party didn't have a theme, it was pledge week, and you identified the three new ones by the nicknames on their chests.

The pledges had walked up to you, "Are you supposed to be here?" You nodded and said you had been invited, to which they asked which brother invited you. Never having got his name, you scrambled to look for him, but he was nowhere to be found. You replied, "I don't know where he is, but I wouldn't be here if I wasn't invited."

They didn't seem to like your answer. One of the pledges said, "You expect us to believe you when you can't even find the guy who invited you?" You got nervous as it seemed they were angry at you. You noticed the drinks in their hands, and not wanting something bad to happen, you blurted, "Feel free to kick me out, I just don't wanna cause any problems." They all looked at each other, and one replied, "Follow us." They led you upstairs, past the game room, and into another set of stairs. You realized they were taking you to one of the rooms upstairs. As they led you into a side room, one of the brothers locked the door behind him. You asked, "If you guys wanted me out, why am I in a random bedroom?" one of the pledges responds, "We gotta investigate you, it's standard," Suddenly, one of them started kissing you. You were confused, but went along with it, hoping you would just be able to go.

They had different plans for you. The "investigation" soon resulted in each of them pulling down their pants, cocks throbbing as they looked down on you. As you gazed up at them, you understood what they wanted from you, and so you pulled down their underwear and began sucking.

Never in your life had you seen dicks as big as theirs, and you wondered how much longer you could go. "FUckKKkk" one of the pledges would grunt, as he grabbed your head, and began face-fucking you. He thrust his cock into you, causing you to choke on it as it hit the back of your throat. As he was fucking your throat, the pledges as a whole started hollering, clearly happy with themselves that they have you in this position. The first would try to comfort you by giving you "breaks" which in all actuality was him pulling you from his cock to his lips, catching you breathless as he kissed you, and then placing your lips right back on his dick to resume.

"You suck it like a champ," he said, chuckling. The other two started smacking your ass and put their massive cocks in their hands and began jerking off. They looked at you hungrily, as the second put two fingers in you, and started pressing into you. "His ass can barely handle two fingers!" He exclaimed. He continued inside of you but started to grow impatient as the first was still using your face as his personal fleshtoy.

"Lemme have my fun with him," the second one said. The first replied, "He has two holes for a reason, right?" The second got the hint and got on the other side of you. A mix of horror and desire pulsed through you as you imagined getting fucked on both sides. As you tilted your head to look, the first would take both hands around your head and start thrusting again, pulling your attention away. He said smugly, "Focus on me, he's nothing." The second one replied, "Oh, is that right?" As if you were the target of his anger, he began pounding into you, his cock stretching you out. You could only let out stifled moans as the first still had his cock in your throat. It was a feeling unlike any other, but you only found yourself wanting more of it.

They were admiring themselves and what seemed to be their great work, as you felt the pressure build inside you from their joint effort. You started to push against the second one's cock, moving your ass back and forth. "Now he's getting it!" He said, grabbing your ass to aid you. The combined pleasure was too much for you, and you came on the bed. "I guess we're just that good," the second said to the first. He replied, "We can definitely say we're learning about teamwork." They laughed and continued on, sending waves of pleasure through you as they kept going.

Y’all are fucking hogging him, the third pledge said, who had still been jacking off as the other two were hitting you on both sides. You couldn't even process what was going on, as the first brother pushed your head against his hairy crotch, as he started to cum. He kept thrusting as cum filled your mouth, and you swallowed. "Kinky," the third pledge said, now taking the place that was left by the first. He started right back up, pushing your throat against his hard cock. The first was jacking off his still-hard cock and had come again on your back. In between thrusts, the second said, "This is the best pledge week gift I could've asked for!" He had been pounding into you until you were numb, but as hot cum filled you, you began to connect the dots. Just as that happened, the third pledge tilted his head back, overcome with pleasure. Before you knew it, cum had once again filled your mouth. The three had ravaged you and got off the bed to admire their work. "I bet $20 he'll never forget how my cock was inside him," the second pledge said. The third exclaimed, "He still has my cum in his mouth!" The first pledge shook his head and then said, "Either way, he's gonna keep coming back, isn't that right, cumdump?" You were still recovering from them, but you nodded. "Good, good," they all agreed.

But when a heavy storm hit, our tent split and we were forced to spend all night with no shelter, I aged him up by 10 years so he’d find it easier to cope.

The next morning he was swaggering around the campsite no idea he’d been a small seven-year-old boy just hours before.

When Dalton downloaded the app he didn’t know what it was supposed to be. It was just supposed to let him talk to people all over the world. Several of his friends had downloaded it to use for gaming and staying in contact. They’d bragged about all kinds of features that other apps didn’t give them. It was supposed to be one of the best things on the market despite some of the mass media pundits saying otherwise. Dalton downloaded it regardless and added all his friends.

However there was one day he was home from college and no one seemed to be on. He figured this might be a good time to try out some of those features he’d heard were so much fun to use. It was something that allowed him to talk to a random stranger. His friends liked making people feel uncomfortable and tried to think of as many ways to embarrass other as they could. It would oftentimes lead them to doing embarrassing things but they were too busy laughing at the dumbfounded faces to care.

Dalton opened it up and was almost instantly connected to someone. ‘Hey.’ He started out.

‘Hey there bud. How’s it going?’

‘Pretty good. Nothing too exciting right now,’ Dalton wasn’t as good as his friends at doing this. They could always think of something funny or awkward to say while he just sat back and laughed.

‘Really? Big guy like you doesn’t have a date?’

‘Lol not today.’

‘Aww… That’s too bad. A big sexy jock like yourself should always have someone hanging under their shoulder.’

“What the…” Dalton felt like he wasn’t in the correct body anymore. He reread the last statement but couldn’t quite understand what it meant. He wasn’t some jock. And he barely knew anything about sports but right now it was all he could think about. His body was rapidly putting on more muscular weight but it was starting to get harder to think. All his thoughts blurred with watching football and wrestling.

Dalton jumped up from the desk. “Holy…” he couldn’t believe his new size. “This is…? This is real?!” His hands were running over his new body. Just feeling the dense muscle was getting him hard. He couldn’t keep his hands off himself. “I can’t believe this! Did he do this?”

‘lol looks like you really like showing off.’

“I mean yeah,” he was talking to himself showing off his new body. “Who wouldn’t?” His hands couldn’t keep themselves from running up and down his muscled pecs. Just the thought of what he was now was getting him a little hard.

‘Not many people lol. Bet you wanna show off to me. Why don’t you?’

Dalton felt a little strange. He didn’t know this guy or even how he’d see him. He paused wondering if his computer had been hacked or something. “I’m not sure that’s…”

‘C’mon handsome. You love it when people give you complements. Especially men. It’s like they’re telling you how much inferior to you they are.’

“Hehe,” Dalton laughed stupidly. “I guess… So you wanna see this?” He ran his hands over his thick abs as he flexed them. His muscles were tight and defined. Running his hands over his smooth muscles kind of turned him on. Seeing the kissy and heart eyed emojis fill his screen just goaded him even more. He pulled out another flex and gave the computer a bit of a wink. “I’ll get all the guys after me now,” he grinned.

‘Guys? You only date girls.’

“But you said…”

‘That you like men giving you complements? Yeah you love it. But you only date girls. But that doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy the company of men from time to time. With a body like yours you’d make so much more showing it off to guys that dating them. Make them feel like total bitches.’

Turning Tables, Part One