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After transforming himself into the charismatic handsome bodybuilder in all his wet dreams, Andre decides to use the Chronivac to give two passersby a change in perspective! 😉

To make it more fun, the office hotshot becomes puny and weak, while the shy nerd gains more muscle than his clothes can contain 💪🏾

It’s supposed to be a quick 5 minute test. If Ned can figure out mind swapping it’ll be a huge scientific breakthrough!

Dylan Cunningham was the very definition of East Village pretension. A lanky, effeminate creature with a meticulously curated wardrobe of thrifted flannels and skin-tight jeans that did little to hide his unremarkable physique.

At 28, his existence revolved around serving overpriced oat milk lattes to other self-important art school failures at "The Daily Grind," a coffee shop so insufferably trendy it served water in mason jars with fucking twine wrapped around them.

His nights were spent in dive bars, nursing cheap PBR while pretending to appreciate experimental jazz that sounded like a cat being tortured inside a metal trash can. He considered himself enlightened. A proud gay man with impeccable taste in obscure bands and even more obscure art films.

In reality, he was just another nobody with a carefully curated Instagram feed and a profound sense of unworthiness that he masked with an air of intellectual superiority.

One sweltering Tuesday morning, running late for his shift yet again, Dylan noticed a handwritten sign in a thrift store window: "FINAL CLOSING! EVERYTHING MUST GO! 80% OFF OR MORE!" He chuckled to himself, imagining the sad hipsters who'd soon lose their vintage hunting ground.

The moment he pushed open the door, a wave of stench hit him—musty clothes, stale sweat, and something else... something primal and vaguely sexual. "Probably just cum stains," he muttered with a wry smile, though his stomach churned at the thought.

The store was chaos, racks knocked over, clothes strewn everywhere like the aftermath of a frat party. Dylan sifted through brightly colored shirts, some actually to his taste, until his eyes landed on a dirty baseball cap sitting on a dusty shelf.

It was crusty around the brim, stained with what was unmistakably sweat. For some reason, it reminded him of the jocks at his former college—the ones who'd called him "faggot" in the hallways and "queer" in the locker room while they shoved him against lockers. He'd mostly forgotten about them, or so he thought, but something about this cap...

"What the hell," he thought, placing it on his head and twisting it backwards like the bros he'd despised.

The moment the cap settled into place, his world began to unravel in agonizing detail. Memories of poetry readings and art installations started fading like photographs left in the sun. His knowledge of indie bands and underground cinema drained away, replaced by... nothing. His mind felt emptier, simpler. A musky scent—like a high school locker room after football practice—began emanating from his own body.

"What the fuck?" he muttered, reaching for the cap. But instead of removing it, he let out a disgusting fart: PFFFFFFFT! His ass cheeks seemed to balloon outward, stretching his skinny jeans to their limit. The fabric strained, seams beginning to tear as his glutes swelled with unfamiliar mass.

His body began reshaping itself in agonizing detail. Lean muscles pumped into his arms and chest, his bones cracking and reshaping themselves with sickening pops. His face seemed to age backward until he looked like he belonged at a state college frat party rather than serving lattes in the Village.

His mind regressed further, thoughts of weightlifting, beer chugging contests, and an overwhelming sense of superiority flooded his consciousness. A gnawing feeling grew inside him: his former life was worthless, being gay was disgusting, homophobia wasn't just acceptable—it was right.

"Stop... stop it," he groaned, but the words came out slurred, his tongue thick in his mouth. A musky scent enveloped him – his own sweat now, mixed with something darker, more primal.

His mind regressed further. A gnawing feeling grew in his gut – that his former life was worthless, that being gay was disgusting, unnatural. Homophobia infected every fiber of his being like a virus. He grew taller, broader, his chest thrusting forward as shoulders flared wide.

He stood there like he owned the thrift store, chest thrust forward, shoulders flared wide. His arms looked carved from stone—thick biceps, bulging forearms, veins crawling under reddened skin. His abs tightened into a rigid grid meant to intimidate more than impress. Aggression consumed him as he stopped fighting the changes. Another gassy fart escaped him—PFFFFFTTT!—so powerful it knocked over a shelf of jewelry.

Among the scattered accessories, a golden cross necklace caught his eye. When he picked it up, Catholic beliefs and conservative talking points flooded his mind, flushing out his liberal ideals until he was nothing but a parrot of Fox News talking points.

Memories of growing up in Jersey formed—a thick Jersey Shore accent replaced his refined speech patterns. Toxic masculinity overwhelmed every fiber of his being, homophobia overriding every thought, sexism coursing through his veins, Catholic ideology hardening into absolute truth.

"Fuhgeddaboudit," he heard himself say, the words feeling foreign yet right.

His face transformed into a smug, heavy-lidded stare, lips slightly pursed like he was constantly judging everyone beneath him. A sharp chinstrap beard cut along his jawline, framing it into something severe and overstyled. The backwards cap crowned him with the look of a guy who believed confidence meant never looking kind.

He tried to fight it, to deny that what he was becoming was better than what he was before, but there was no use. Every inch of his former self had to be purged until he was a walking, talking meathead pussyhound—a toxic bro of masculinity and bro culture, football, beer, pussy, alt-right beliefs.

Everything about his posture screamed dominance: hips angled forward, torso looming, gaze tilted downward as though the world existed to be sized up and dismissed. He didn't just look muscular—he looked obnoxiously aware of it, wrapped in a self-satisfied aura that said he expected attention and dared anyone not to give it.

Another disgusting fart escaped him—PFFFFFFFFFTTT!—and suddenly he found himself in a raging college frat party, beer in hand. He spotted some pathetic fags to tease and noticed a blonde princess talking to some pansy-ass theatre major. He headed toward her, smelling like cum, musk, and sweat.

"Look at these faggots," he sneered, but then his attention shifted to a blonde girl across the room – some theater major with a book in her hand. He stalked toward her, smelling of musk, sweat, and something else... something predatory.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing with a book?" he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through his massive chest. He flexed his biceps, the muscle swelling to an obscene size. "Real women don't need to read. They just need to look good and know their place."

The theater major tried to pull away. "Excuse me? I'm trying to study."

Brad laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "Study? Honey, the only thing you need to study is how to please a real man." He reached into his pocket and pulled out another cross necklace, this one cheap and gaudy. Before she could react, he wrapped it around her neck.

The moment the cold metal touched her skin, her eyes glazed over. Her intelligent, inquisitive expression melted away, replaced by a vapid, empty stare. Her features softened, her lips plumping into a perfect pout. Most disturbingly, her breasts began to swell, straining against her modest blouse until the buttons threatened to pop.

"Like, oh my god," she purred, her voice now a high-pitched, breathy giggle. She reached out, her fingers tracing the ridges of his pecs. "You're, like, so strong."

Brad smirked, grabbing her arm. "That's right, baby. And you're coming with me."

He dragged her through the crowded frat house, shoving people out of his way. In a beer-soaked room upstairs, he threw her onto a stained mattress. Without preamble, he tore her clothes off, his rough hands mangling the delicate fabric.

She didn't resist. In fact, she giggled, spreading her legs for him. "Like, are we gonna do it now?"

Brad didn't answer, just positioned himself between her thighs. As he entered her, something shifted in his mind. Each thrust into her tight, wet pussy pushed him further into depravity, further into the toxic Jersey Shore douchebag persona he was becoming.

Images flashed through his mind: football games, beer pong, fist fights, catcalling women from passing cars. His thoughts rearranged themselves into the most stereotypical, misogynistic patterns. Women were objects, meant for his pleasure. Gays were perverts, meant to be mocked and beaten. Nerds were losers, meant to be bullied.

"You like that, you little slut?" he grunted, pounding into her harder. "You like being fucked by a real man?"

"Oh my god, yes!" she squealed, her tits bouncing with each thrust. "You're, like, so much better than my ex-boyfriend!"

Brad laughed, his movements becoming more aggressive. "That's because I'm not some faggot theater major. I'm a real man. A Catholic man. A man who knows his place in the world."

His mind was becoming so toxic, so disgusting. Every thought was filtered through a lens of hate and entitlement. He remembered growing up in Jersey, his father teaching him that women were property, that gays were an abomination, that real men don't show emotion, only aggression.

"Who's your daddy?" he growled, slapping her ass hard enough to leave a red mark.

"You are!" she squealed. "You're my daddy!"

With each thrust, the last vestiges of Dylan were being fucked out of him. The art, the music, the literature, the gay bars, the kindness, the empathy – all of it was being replaced by a toxic stew of misogyny, homophobia, and blind religious fervor.

"I'm gonna cum," he grunted, his movements becoming erratic. "I'm gonna fill you up with my Catholic seed!"

"Yes! Yes! Fill me up!" she screamed, her body convulsing beneath him.

As he came, a wave of pleasure so intense it was painful washed over him. It was more than just an orgasm – it was a rebirth. The last fragments of his old life shattered into a million pieces, never to be reassembled.

He was Brad Marino. He was a frat bro. He was a Catholic. He was a homophobic, misogynistic asshole. And he had never been happier.

The next morning, Brad woke up with a raging hard-on. He rolled over, grabbing the bimbo's tits. "Wake up, slut," he grunted. "Time for round two."

She giggled, still half-asleep. "Like, again? But we already did it three times last night."

Brad laughed. "Who cares? Just spread your legs."

After fucking her one more time, Brad rolled out of bed. "Get out," he ordered, not even looking at her. "I've got class in an hour."

As she left, Brad checked his reflection in the dark screen of his phone. Perfect. He was everything a man should be – strong, dominant, irresistible.

He spent the next hour flexing in front of the mirror, admiring his own body. His muscles were perfect, his skin tanned and tight, his hair styled into a perfect douchebag swoop. He was a god, and everyone else was just there to worship him.

He grabbed his phone and started scrolling through contacts, looking for his next conquest. Tiffany was already forgotten, just another warm hole for his massive cock. As he flexed in the mirror, admiring the God-like physique that had once been Dylan Cunningham, he let out another triumphant fart. The smell didn't bother him anymore—it was the scent of victory, the aroma of a true alpha male. And Brad Rodriguez was the alpha of all alphas.

“A body-swapping virus? Yeah, right. That’s—”

…And then suddenly, Tristan had a whole new reason to believe the news. 👀

One second he’s laughing at the warning. The next, he’s taller, broader, considerably more muscular—and looking very different under those same white briefs. 😏

(Narrating character Tyler on the right, best friend Jake on the left)

The day I’d been waiting for all week had finally come. Friday, my first weekend off in a month and I was spending it with my best friend going out for some drinks at the gay bars downtown. We weren’t planning to pick anyone up, but hey, anything was possible. “It’s about time you got a weekend off man, I’ve been dying to come out here but I can’t come without my wingman!” He said patting my shoulder playfully. “Girl please, I know you have 20 other guys who you take out here stop lying.” I joked back. We both laughed, continuing to walk down the street until we saw a cop posted up outside the main gay bar everyone went to, and our next stop. “Tyler, look.” Jake said to me, pointing at the officer. A few days prior some homophobic asshole was harassing a gay couple outside the bar, when the gay couple retaliated they were swiftly arrested, and a constant police presence has remained outside the bar to “keep them under control” the police department worded it as. Everyone knew it was homophobia from the department, everyone just dealt with it and toned it down a bit. Jake leaned in close to me so the cop wouldn’t hear him “If I didn’t know why he was here I’d say he’s quite the handsome daddy.” He said in my ear. I was pretty agitated at the whole situation so as we got closer I decided to poke the bear and flirt with him. Jake was right, while he was a bit older than us, there was something rugged and authoritative about him that you almost couldn’t resist. We approached the bar and I wet for it.

“Well hello officer, you’re quite the handsome man aren’t you?” I said in a flirtatious voice. He ignored me at first, hoping I would just go away. “Tyler stop, let’s go inside.” Jake said softly to me not wanting things to escalate. I ignored him and kept pursuing. “You might need to keep me under control officer, with a man like you around here I might start to get rowdy.” I continued. “That’s enough son.” He said in an authoritative and deep voice. “Tyler come on” Jake said again, attempting to pull me away. I stood my ground, wanting to aggravate him more as payback for this unfair surveillance. “Son? If I’m your son I guess that makes you my daddy then, doesn’t it sir.” I said, placing my hand on his arm, which seemed to be the final straw.

“Get your hands off me, I am a police officer and I will place the BOTH of you under arrest if you don’t get a move on.” He yelled at me and Jake. “TYLER, let’s just go inside.” Jake pleaded. Now I was mad, it may have been my fault but I never liked people raising my voice at me, so I kept going. “Why so serious officer? Are those skeletons in your closet screaming to be let out? You don’t want the wife to think you’re one of us do you?” I said noticing his wedding ring. I seemed to have crossed a line. He grabbed me by my shirt and pulled me within an inch of his face. “How about you find out?” He said softly so that Jake couldn’t hear him. Find out? What did he-

Before I could even finish the thought something very wrong happened. The officers eyes lit up bright blue. I still can’t explain exactly what happened, but it felt as if my soul was being ripped out of my own body and stuff somewhere it didn’t belong. My vision became a blur and my body enveloped in a buzz so strong it felt like a rung bell. By the time it finally stopped I was looking at the impossible, myself. I had my own shit in my hands, looking at my body smiling back at me. “Enjoy the body, officer.” My body said to me in my own voice. I let go of my old body, my muscles nearly stopped working from how much shock I was in. I noticed Jake still staring at me horrified. I stammered over my words. “Uh- I- I apologize. You two go on about your night. Sorry.” I said, I should’ve pressed the officer now inhabiting my old body on what he had done, but I froze and didn’t know how to even start that interaction. Jake put his arm around my old body and guided him back down the street. Finally I was alone, to process everything that had just happened.

I couldn’t be out on the streets as a police officer like this, so I made a beeline for the first public restroom I could find for a little more privacy. I stumbled into the bathroom, boots echoing loudly on the floor, I nearly fell over trying to navigate in this hulk of a body. If I had to guess I was now 6’4 230lbs at least. Now alone and out of the prying eyes of others, I finally was able to examine my new body.

First things first, I was a lot bigger. My old body wasn’t small, I was average height and weight, this dude was just huge. As much as I didn’t want to admit, it felt very empowering to be this physically imposing. I mean hell, my arms were bigger than my old body’s legs. Then of course there was the uniform. I was wearing the lot, boots, uniform pants, utility belt, shirt, badge, and hat. It felt so strange to be able to walk around with all these things to use whenever I deemed necessary, a gun, ammunition, a baton, pepper spray, and a taser. There was also the wedding band. Memories were slowly coming in of a wife and 2 kids. Various memories raising the kids, getting married, the honeymoon, the anniversaries, the arguments. I felt like I was intruding on another man’s life. I guess I shouldn’t, I mean he did give this life to me willingly. I looked at the name tag pinned to my uniform, my new name was Matthew Pruitt. Last but not least, was my balding head. There was still a tiny bit of hair around the sides and back, but it looked more like the officer just hadn’t shaved it in a while and usually rocked the bald look rather than growing out the horseshoe hair. Then another thing presented itself. As I observed my reflection in the mirror, I noticed a slight bulge in my pants. I moved my large hand to my crotch and sure enough, I was hard as a rock. I tried to deny it, but I was becoming very attracted to my new body. The uniform was amazing to see on others, but to wear it and see yourself adorned with it? Heaven. And to look in the mirror and see a giant bald police daddy responding to your every move, pure ecstasy.

I began posing in the mirror. I know it was corny, but I excused it in my mind as practicing before going out on patrol. I stood in front of the mirror, put my hands on my utility belt, and put on the most intimating expression I could. I felt my new cock leak just from this. Then came the voice lines. “Do you know why I pulled you over son?” I said in my new deep voice, that had a slight southern drawl to it. “That’s OFFICER to you.” “You’re under arrest.” Then for the finale. I pulled my gun from its holster and belted out the classic “Put your hands where I can see them!” The last of which almost made me burst right there. I holstered my gun, and headed back outside to patrol. Every inch of my new body wanted to go into a stall and stroke my new cock til my balls we’re empty but I didn’t want the other officers to wonder where I was, and plus I’d be wayyy more intimidating with my massive bulge showing in my pants. I returned to the Main Street the officer was patrolling, picked a good spot, and stood there looking intimidating, trying to do my best to replicate my new body’s look.

As I stood my post, I noticed how differently people acted around me and even looked at me. People were on their best behavior around me. When people saw me, they looked at me with either nervousness or respect. Quite a far cry from being ignored in my average body or even ridiculed for my orientation. Smaller guys were intimidated by me and would look away. Bigger guys and older guys would smile and nod at me in respect, to which I would always nod back. Then you had the women and the guys coming from the gay bars who looked at me with flirty expressions. Weirdly enough, this new body seemed to respond to both men and women. I may have been onto something when I said the officer was hiding some skeletons.

Don’t get it twisted, my entire night wasn’t just standing on a corner getting my new ego stroked. There were some chaotic moments, I mean it’s downtown on a Friday night. Of course a few drunk guys from the gay bars and drunk women would come up to me and touch my arms trying to seduce me. I wanted to say yes, but this body’s strict adherence to its duties prevented me. Every time a cute man or woman came up to me, inside I was saying blow me in the alley, but all that came out was, “Get in your car and head home sir” in a strict manner. I even had to break up a few bar fights. I was scared for the first one, but realized when I intervened how much bigger I was than everyone else and that I could easily pin down anyone, sometimes even 2 guys at once. I tried not to arrest anyone, it was late and I was trying to take it easy in the first night. I mainly just gave warnings, and occasionally wrote tickets for anyone causing too much of a ruckus. It felt weird to intervene on these kinds of things. I was always a “fight the power” kinda guy. But here in this body I couldn’t think of anything more important than keeping my city safe and crime free. It was like this guys mind was overriding my own.

It was now 2am, I knew I was on the graveyard shift. I only had around 4 hours left til we swapped shifts. Most everyone had gone home for the night, so I decided to let the junior officers handle the downtown, and I would tackle the main roads. I stepped into my police cruiser and was amazed at all the tech at my disposal. Computer for looking up peoples records. Radio for communication with my fellow officers. Buttons for operating the sirens and PA systems. Various radars, and then of course, the infamous speed gun in the passenger seat. I immediately headed for the main roads and set my cruise control to the exact speed limit. It was wild how everyone immediately slowed down and drove perfectly the very second I turned onto the road. Having this much of a presence was still enough to keep me hard this entire time.

I was getting kind of tired so I pulled into a convenience store, grabbed some snacks and an energy drink, then found a side road along the main road to sit on, and set up my speed gun to watch for any violations. 4am rolled around, almost done. I had finished my snacks and energy drink, feeling much more awake now.

I thought I was gonna get my shift over with no issues, but then, one of the radars went off and I saw a car fly past. The speed gun indicated 120MPH. My heart raced with excitement. I immediately turned my siren on and floored it in pursuit. Every car pulled over to get out of my way, I could see the car straight ahead. He tried to speed up but he couldn’t outrun me. I got in the PA system. “PULL OVER NOW OR I WILL CALL IN BACKUP.” I said in as authoritative of a voice as I could. Once I said that he began to slow down and pulled over. I immediately got my flashlight and a breathalyzer, stepped out, and walked towards his window which was already down. The driver was maybe 20 years old, typical stupid kids, I thought to myself. “I’m assuming you know why I pulled you over son?” I said in my best authoritative voice. “Come on man just let me go. There’s no one on the road.” He whined. This pissed me off to no end. “That’s OFFICER to you young man. It don’t matter no one’s on the road, you’re drivin’ dangerous and coulda killed yourself.” I roared. He immediately stiffened up and became very respectful. “License and registration.” I demanded. “Yes officer.” He immediately handed it to me. “Son, if you run I promise ya I will have the entire county chase you down this road, you got that?” I snarled. He nodded silently. I took his documents to my cruiser and ran them through our system. Alex Harvey, 20 years old, 2 tickets in the last 2 months for speeding. This one would not only suspend his license but send him to jail for reckless driving, which would take his license and prevent him from getting a new one for quite some time. After my heart rate slowed from the chase, I noticed my cock was even stiffer than ever. I guess the thrill of the chase and being the hard-ass older cop really set me off. This gave me an idea of how I could finally relieve myself. I walked back to his car and handed him the documents back. “Well son you’ve got 2 options. I can either arrest you right now, impound your car, charge you with reckless drivin’, and suspend your license.” I paused, enjoying the look of horror on his face. “Please no officer, I can’t go to jail, my parents will kill me, is there any other way?” He begged. “Or, you can do me a little favor.” I said in a sinister voice. “What kind of favor?” He asked nervously. I put my hand on my cock, showing the imprint clearly through my pants, and flashed him a dirty look. “No way, you’re old enough to be my dad, there’s gotta be something else.” He pleaded. “Alright son I’m gonna have to ask you to step out of the car and put your hands behind your back.” I said firmly. “Alright alright I’ll do it.” He said in a defeated voice.

He got out of the car and followed me behind a tree in the woods off the side of the road. I pushed him to his knees and undid my utility belt, then undid my pants and pulled my cock out. I was shocked at how big it was. I guess I didn’t really notice from how big the rest of my body was, but this thing was pushing probably 12 inches. The guy was shocked, “I have to suck that?” He asked in shock. “That’s right boy.” I said in a stern voice. “Now use your spit and get to suckin son.” I demanded. He looked defeated. He spit on my cock, spread it around with his hands, before taking the entire thing in his mouth. I let out a deep grunt. I had never felt anything more pleasuring in my life. “You’re a natural son.” I said in a shaky voice as he continued to suck, using his tongue to try and get it over with quickly. “You must be one of them queers, you’re takin daddy’s cock like a champ boy.” I say in my deep drawl. He tried to speed up to finish, but I was having way too much fun to allow that. I grabbed his hair. He let out a groan. “Slower boy, I know you’re tryin to go quick, you finish when I say you’re finished or you go to the slammer. Got that son?” I threatened. He nodded. “Good boy. Now go slow and you better use that tongue of yours boy.” I ordered. He did exactly as I said. I enjoyed getting my massive cop cock worshipped and did my absolute best to not burst, not only to make it last but to make him have to suck me off for longer. Finally after 10 minutes I couldn’t hold it any longer. I began to stiffen up and moan. I felt him try to pull off but stopped him quickly. “Oh no you don’t.” I saunas I grabbed his head again and forced it all the way to the base of my cock. I heard him gag but couldn’t care less. “You wanna speed on my streets, you’re gonna take my seed til I’m done.” I said. I let loose the biggest load I’d ever released in my entire life. “Oh. FUCK. Yeah swallow my cum boy.” I yelled. As I began to mercilessly fuck his throat. After 20 seconds I was finally done, and I released him. I wiped my cock off on his face before stuffing it back in my pants. And doing up my belt. “See that wasn’t so bad was it.” I said calmly. “You’re nuts” he said in a defeated voice. “Oh don’t be so dramatic. Think of it as a double service. You kept yourself out of jail. And you performed an honorable service for law enforcement.” He started to walk away but I grabbed his shirt, turned him around and got real close. “Now if you EVER tell anyone I will end you. And if you EVER speed on my streets again, your life will be over kid. You got that?” I threatened. “Yes officer.” He replied. “Good, you better go straight home and lord help you if I catch you going even 1 mile over the limit.” We both headed to our cars and went our separate ways.

I let out a sigh of relief. I looked at the clock and it was almost 5:30. Time to head back to the station and turnover. I got back to the station, and all the cops I used to be disgusted with were now my best friends and I could only look at them as such. I got various greetings. The older officers all greeted me as Matt, which was weird to hear these seasoned officers be so casual with me. Meanwhile the younger officers were more formal, usually something like “good morning Sergeant.” Again, it was weird to hear an officer show respect to me, but I loved it. I headed to the back office and began talking to some of the other officers about our nights, telling my story about a rowdy gay couple and a guy speeding. Of course keeping the finer details a secret. 6 o clock rolled around and the morning shift came in. The sergeant of the shift came up to me, I could tell we were good friends just from this body’s natural memory. I even somehow knew his name. “Jim!” I say in a casual voice. “What’s up Matt.” He replied. We engaged in small talk home life, as my new body and him were of similar age. “Whatcha got for me Matt.” He said ready to start his shift. I put on my best impersonation of him, hiding my true beliefs and the sketchy stuff I had just done. “Well we kept an eye on those queer clubs downtown, I had one couple try to mess with me, probably should keep someone posted there, seem they’re not ready to be responsible members of society yet those queers. And I had a speeder off Old Smith Road.” I reported. “Those damn queers, when will they learn.” Jim said disapprovingly. “Well thanks for the info Matt, go home, get some rest, and see your family man” he said going me a pat on the shoulder. “Thanks man, see ya in 2 days.” I somehow subconsciously knew I didn’t have work tomorrow, I had the whole night off which I had big plans for. I gave my new friend a hug and pat on the shoulder before leaving in my patrol car and headed home.

I had never even been in this house yet somehow it still felt like an oasis, my salvation of relaxation that I knew the ins and outs of. I opened the door and my new wife and kids were up getting ready for school. “Dad!” The kids exclaimed. The kids and my wife all gathered around me for a group hug. I was never one to want a family, but I’ll admit I was kinda heat warmed by this whole thing. “Hey kids, you behaved while I was gone right? Didn’t give your mother any trouble?” I asked in a friendly dad like tone. “We were angles” my new daughter replied. My wife nodded in agreement. “All right, go eat your breakfast, daddy’s tired and you guys gotta get to school.” She said, and they obeyed. I hugged and kissed my wife, her presence felt like a warm blanket. “I missed you hon.” She said as she kissed me on the cheek. “Alright go get some sleep and a shower, I’ll see you later this afternoon. Love you.” She said. “Love you too.” I replied before heading to my new bedroom.

I heard my wife and kids leave for school and knew now dad had the house to himself, I could do whatever I pleased. I noticed the hamper in the corner and grabbed a pair of my new body’s dirty underwear and headed to the mirror. I began sniffing this body’s musky scent. My head spun in pleasure, inhaling this manly scent and seeing my hulking cop body in the mirror. I was already rock hard again, so I took out my bull cop cock and began to slowly stroke it while sniffing the dirty boxers and even tasting the leftover cum in them. With how much I had held in on my shift I busted another load after only about 5 minutes of playing with myself. I cleaned up my mess, hung up my uniform, and got in the shower. I enjoyed exploring my new body with no barriers. I fondled my new body from top to bottom, feeling every inch of my massive frame, loving every hair that passed through my fingers. I let the hot water soothe my aged and aching body til the hot water ran out. I dried off, put on some sleeping clothes, and finally drifted off to sleep after what felt like an eternity of a night.

I woke up the next day at 3pm. I hopped out of bed, went to the closet and picked out something to wear. It was mostly suits, dad attire, or jeans and cowboy boots. I went for the dad attire of a polo shirt, khaki pants, and tassel dress shoes. A mile away from my normal dress style, but this suited my new body and somehow seems exactly right.

I got downstairs and made myself some lunch. I had a plan for tonight, I just needed to kill some time til the evening. I pretty much just lounged around the house til my wife and kids got home around 5pm. I greeted them with the typical hugs and kisses, like I had been doing this for years. “Oh honey, Jim wanted to go out tonight, I’ll be back real late, so t wait on me for bed time or anything. “Ok hon, thanks for telling me.” She responded as she began to make dinner while I made sure the kids did their homework before joining helping in dinner. Once it was done I used my loud and authoritative dad voice to call the kids downstairs to eat. I sat down with my family at the dinner table, said a prayer before eating (thankfully the instinct kicked in before I just started eating), and began to chow down, discussing everyone’s day around the table. I hated how much I was enjoying the closeted straight dad life. I despised these people and now was the exact image of it. A closeted, married, church going, right wing, police officer, with multiple kids. Once we finished dinner, I helped clean up before telling my wife I was heading out.

What was my plan you ask? Well I was heading back to the gay bar where I knew my old body would be, and I didn’t want yo beg him for my body back. Quite the opposite, I loved being a cop, being a boring suburban dad and husband, dressing like one, and abusing my authority to get favors from anyone I wanted. My plan was more sinister. I wanted to show the cop in my body what he was missing, to see his body in action. I made sure to get to the bar before my old body would. The evening rush hadn’t started yet, there were only a few guys in the bar. I slowly sipped on whiskey, something I hated but this manly body loved, until the moment came.

I saw my body walk in, he noticed me and stopped dead in his tracks. I patted the seat next to me with a devious smile. He sat next to me, ordered a drink, then asked “what are you doing here?” In a slightly annoyed tone. “Well I wanted to show you how closeted you were, don’t worry I’m not here to ask for my body back, you can keep it. But I have your sexual desires, so you must have mine.” I said mockingly. His eyes went wide as he realized I now knew he was bi and that his new body liked this one. “Come on, don’t deny yourself anymore, be free. You’re in a new body. Come on, put your head on my shoulder. I know you want to.” I said seductively. “But, you’re married. It’s- I” he gave up trying to protest and put his head on my shoulder. The smile in his eyes showed he was finally free for the first time in his life, I knew at that point we couldn’t switch back. I liked this body, and he was finally able to express himself, who was I to get in the way of that.

As we continued drinking I started to get more flirtatious. Putting my arm around him, on his leg, on his inner thighs. Before whispering to him “lucky for you, I know your biggest kinks and fantasies.” He immediately blushed. “Would me calling you son get you hard?” I said teasing him as much as I could. I looked down and saw my former cock immediately start to rise. “That’s what I thought. It’s ok son, dad’s here to take care of you.” I said putting my arm around him and pulling him into me. He immediately clung to me. I knew from here on I had him in the palm of my hand. I continued to tease him until 11 o’clock rolled around. He was looking sad because the night was getting closer to being over. “Come on, dad’s got a surprise for you.” I said to him as I laid our tabs and led him to my car. I pulled into a hotel parking lot and walked towards the door. “Wait I don’t understand, what are we doing?” He asked confused. “Well I’m buying us a room, we can have fun for a few hours, cuddle, then I can head back before my wife wakes up and you can stay in this hotel til checkout time.” I said smiling. “But, but you’re married.” He said trying to think of an excuse. “It doesn’t if it’s not a woman” I said to him. I decided to play on his fantasies even more. “Plus, it’s just father son bonding.” I said quietly. He immediately blushed. “But if we- there’s- ugh. Here’s the thing, if we each cum in each other’s bodies it’s permanent.” He explains. “Ok and?” I asked. “So we’ll be stuck forever. You’ll be stuck in that old dad bod forever and I’ll never see my family again.” He added. “Well I actually prefer this. Sure I’m older, but being a cop is so satisfying, mentally, physically, sexually. I love being an intimidating cop keeping the city safe then going home to be a family man. And besides you’re finally free to be yourself. I’ll still keep contact and introduce you as a friend so you can still have a relationship with them, promise.” I say reassuringly. “You’re sure you don’t mind?” He asked. “This body swap is the best thing that ever happened to me.” I said. “Now, let dad show his boy some fun.

I walked inside and ordered a hotel room for me and my “son”. Within 15 minutes we were in the hotel room kissing, holding each other, and all other kinds of foreplay. “Come here son, let dad hold you.” I said softly. I guided him into the bed, and pulled him in close, kissing his forehead like he was my own son.

“I love you dad” my former body said softly, now fully committed to the role play. “I love you too son, now let dad see his boy.” I said as he stood up and followed my orders. Slowly stripping off the clothes I had bought for myself, exposing the body I had taken care of for 30 years. “My boy is so beautiful. Now undress dad.” I ordered. He complied, slipping off my shoes, then my socks. He moved to my torso, slipped off my shirt, and began to rub my chest, and play with my nipples. “Oh wow” I whispered, this body’s nipples never having been played with before. He finally down, unbuckling my belt, and sliding off my pants. My cock was standing straight up, the front of my boxers were soaked. He slowly slipped them off, my cock hitting him in the face when the boxers finally went over it. He sat kneeling in front of me waiting for instructions. I grabbed my cock and began slapping him in the face with it. “You’re gonna do what daddy says right?” I asked in a stern tone. “Yes dad.” My former body answered. “You’re my toy right, dad can use his boy how he pleases?” I continue. “Yes dad, you made me so you own my body.” He answered obediently. “Good boy. Now open your mouth.” I ordered. He obliged. I put my large hands on the back of his hand and began to slowly push it forward. “Oh wow, your mouth feels amazing son.” I say with a shaky breath. It was so strange, almost wrong, to be in this married man’s body, making him suck his own cock, me getting sucked off by my own body. But I didn’t care, that’s what made it amazing.

I let him keep sucking me off for a few more minutes before I pushed his head back gently, laid him on the bed, put his legs on my shoulders, and prepared to take my former ass, and for him to get fucked by his own cock. “Are you ready for dad’s cock son?” I asked. “Yes dad, show me how a man fucks.” He practically begged. I spit on my dick before sliding it slowly into my former ass. It shouldn’t have felt this good to fuck what was, in reality, myself. Being in this huge body, dominating myself was too good to be true. I knew I wouldn’t last long so I would have to make it worth it. I began to speed up, my former body began to moan almost uncontrollably. “You want dad to show you how a real man sucks cock son?” I asked. Between breaths I could hear “yes…..dad……please.” While continuing to dominate my former ass, I also took my former cock in my new mouth. Being a man this big and sucking cock was a massive turn on, making it even harder to not blow inside my old ass, sealing is like this forever. We continued this for a few minutes before I noticed he was struggling to keep it in, and so was I. I took my cock out of my new mouth, “you ready to be my boy forever son?” I asked in a lustful voice. “Yes dad, make me yours.” He begged. I engulfed my old cock in my mouth again and went as hard as I could while fucking my former ass. I felt myself finally let go, pounding as hard as I could, moaning while still having a cock in my mouth. My old body could no longer hold it either, shooting my own cum into my new mouth and down my throat. It was possibly the best orgasm I’d ever had, whether it was us getting locked in each other’s bodies influencing it or just pure lust, I wasn’t sure. But what I was sure about was that I was now, and forever, Matthew Pruitt.

I’d never been the fittest guy out there. Growing up, I was always kinda skinny - lanky arms, no real muscle definition. But last year, at 26, I finally hit that point where I said screw it, I need a change. So I started poking around online for workout tips - YouTube, random forums, the usual. That’s how I stumbled onto this subreddit called r/EnforcedFitness.

At first glance, it seemed totally normal. Maybe 500 members, nothing like the massive r/Fitness sub with millions of people yelling about macros and cutting phases. It was chill: guys posting progress pics, sharing routines, hyping each other up in the comments. Most of the members were older dudes - 40s and 50 - real experienced lifters who’d been grinding for decades. I scrolled through for a while, saw before-and-afters, guys talking about smashing PRs on bench or deads. Thought to myself, yeah, this could be my spot. Small enough that my noob questions wouldn’t get lost in the noise.

Then I hit the pinned post: the rules. That’s where it got weird. It laid out this whole thing about “fitness directives.” If someone posted a pic or progress update, anyone could comment with a directive - a specific workout split, diet tweak, supplements, whatever. And if more than 50% of the active community upvoted it, the directive became binding. Magically binding. No one explained how or why it worked; the mods just said it’d been that way since the sub started, and questioning it got you banned. I read it twice, chuckling like, alright, this is some elaborate roleplay bullshit, right? I shrugged it off as a clever gimmick to keep people accountable.

My first post was a skinny-ass progress pic in my bathroom mirror, shirt off, looking stringy and pale under the shitty fluorescent light. Caption: “26M, Vegas suburbs, just starting out. Any tips for a beginner routine?” Hit submit and waited. Comments came in quick.

u/OldSchoolLifter45: “Welcome, Niall! Solid start. Directive: 3× full-body workouts per week - squats, deadlifts, bench, rows, OHP. 3 sets of 8–12 reps each. Add protein shakes post-workout.” u/DadBodNoMore: “Directive: Cut soda completely, aim for 200g protein daily from whole foods. Track it in an app.”

Upvotes piled up fast. OldSchoolLifter45’s directive hit 300 overnight. When I woke up the next morning and started scrolling Reddit in bed, this weird pull hit my gut like my body was itching to move. My legs started tingling, muscles tightening like they’d cramp if I didn’t get my ass in gear. It was freaky as hell. I ended up driving to the gym on autopilot, cranking out those exact sets. Couldn’t slack on a single rep; if I tried to quit early, an invisible tug yanked me back to the barbell. Felt the burn, but damn, it worked. By the end of the week I was hooked - sore as fuck, but already seeing tiny changes. Those older guys knew their shit, and now I literally couldn’t skip even if I wanted to.

Over the next couple of years, I kept posting progress pics whenever I had a good pump or noticeable change. Each time, more directives rolled in, locking me into stricter protocols. In no time I went from the lanky kid who could barely bench 100 lbs to someone who actually filled out his shirts. And the best part? I didn’t have to think about any of it. The magic handled the discipline and my body just obeyed.

Over time, I started noticing one guy in particular: Carson.

He was one of the older ones, early 60s, and holy shit, the dude was carved. Bald head, short white mustache and goatee trimmed razor-sharp, tanned skin that said he spent real time in the sun, veiny forearms, biceps peaking even at rest, triceps horseshoeing out. Thick but lean chest, abs still visible under a light dusting of silver hair.

Every post of his got flooded with fire emojis and “goals” comments, but nobody ever dropped a directive on him. Not one. The sub treated him like he was already the finished product.

I paid closer attention and realized something: Carson was behind damn near 80% of the directives that stuck to me. He’d comment early, usually within the first hour of my update, and his wording was always precise. “Directive: Bump protein to 1.2g per lb bodyweight, whole-food sources only, no shakes after 6 p.m.” Or “Directive: Hypertrophy focus, 10–15 rep range on accessories, drop sets on final set.” He never targeted anyone else like that. On other guys’ threads he might drop a supportive comment or an upvote, but he wasn’t micromanaging their lives the way he did mine.

I got curious enough to dig deep into his profile. Years of posts: old progress shots from when he still had hair (dark and thick), contest pics from the ‘90s, placing top five in regional masters shows. Recent stuff was simpler: deadlifting in his garage, flexing post-shower with that same cocky half-smile. No ego posts, just quiet proof he knew exactly what he was talking about.

I didn’t know whether to feel flattered or weirded out. Part of me loved the attention and the results spoke for themselves. Another part wondered: why me? Why pour all that focus into some random guy when dozens of other newbies were posting every week?

One day I dropped my latest progress pic mid-pump after chest day, lighting hitting just right so my pecs looked fuller than ever, veins snaking down my biceps, sweat still beading on my skin. Caption: “2 years in. Feeling unstoppable. Thanks for the directives, fellas.” Hit post and went about my day.

Comments rolled in fast: fire emojis, “beast mode,” a few new directives about incline work or creatine. Then Carson’s dropped:

“Directive: Practice full semen retention for the next 30 days. No release whatsoever. This will spike natural testosterone, sharpen mental focus, and accelerate hypertrophy gains. ”

I read it twice. Semen retention? No nutting at all? I almost replied with something sarcastic, but the upvotes started pouring in: 50, 100, 200 in under an hour. By bedtime it was at 420, way past the threshold, and according to the sub’s little stats tracker, the most-upvoted directive ever. Replies were wild: “holy shit this is gonna be legendary” and “Niall’s about to level up HARD.”

Workouts became torture. Mid-set on bench, my dick would twitch hard against the tight briefs Carson had me switch to months earlier, and I’d have to grit my teeth to keep form. Showers were the real hell. Day three I was so pent up I couldn’t think straight. I stepped under the hot water, soaped up, started stroking fast and desperate. It felt incredible, right on the edge in thirty seconds… and then nothing. The magic clamped down like an invisible fist around the base. I pumped harder, faster, begging out loud, “come on, just let me,”but my body flat-out refused. I ended up slumped against the tile, panting, aching, balls heavy and sore, cock still throbbing like it was pissed at me.

Two weeks in, I was a walking hormone bomb. Everything made me horny, the way my gym shorts rode up my quads during squats, the pump in my arms after curls, even catching my reflection in the mirror. I was leaking constantly, briefs soaked by the end of every session, but I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Focus was razor-sharp, though. Workouts felt explosive. Recovery was great. I was adding weight every session like it was nothing.

So I posted another update pic—back double-biceps, lats flaring, looking thicker than ever. Carson’s comment was the second one:

“Directive: Niall and I should train together in real life for personalized, hands-on guidance. In-person sessions will maximize his current protocol and ensure perfect form/technique.”

Upvotes exploded again, 300+ in a day. I DM’d him right after to plan a few sessions. First one was that Saturday morning.

The whole drive up I-15 my heart was hammering. I pulled into the lot of this sleek, glass-fronted gym that looked more like a high-end spa than a lifting spot. I grabbed my bag, took a breath, headed inside.

Carson was already there, standing by the squat rack in a black tank and shorts, arms crossed, looking exactly like his pics but bigger in person. He turned, locked eyes with me, gave this slow nod like he’d been waiting.

“Niall,” he said, voice deep and steady. “Good to finally see this impressive body in person.”

“Yeah… good to meet you too, man.”

He clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder - firm, lingering just a second - and steered me toward the warm-up area.

“Let’s get you loose,” he said. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Our first joint workout kicked off intense. Carson had me on bench press warm-up and he was spotting from above, thick arms locked, eyes glued to my chest as I pushed the bar. He called out, “Good form, Niall. Chest up, squeeze at the top.” But his hands… they brushed my pecs when he guided the bar back to the rack, fingers lingering a beat too long on the damp tank, thumb grazing my nipple almost accidentally. Almost. I glanced up, caught his gaze dropping down my body - over my shoulders, my veined arms - and yeah, there was a subtle tent in his gym shorts. Not raging, but enough to notice. The dude was packing; thick outline pressed against the material. My stomach flipped. Is he… into me? Like that? I’ve always been bi-curious - messed around a little in college with a buddy once, never went full-on, but the thought’s been there. My own dick throbbed hard in response, balls pulling tight with that denied ache.

We switched - he benched heavy, me spotting - and I was right there, hands hovering, close enough to smell his sweat mixed with clean, musky cologne. His chest heaved, pecs flexing under the tank, veins popping on his forearms. By the end we were both drenched, shaking out our arms in the mirror. He clapped my back, hand sliding down to my lower back a second too slow, and said, “You’re a natural, kid. We’re gonna make you unstoppable.”

We met up a few more times that week and each session cranked the tension higher. He pushed me through grueling sets: drop sets on flyes that left my chest burning, forced reps on squats where he was behind me, hands firm on my hips “for stability,” breath hot on my neck as he counted down. “One more, Niall. Push through it.”

After one session he grabbed my phone, took a mirror selfie of the two of us and told me to post it in the sub that weekend.

As soon as I did, he dropped another directive:

“Directive: Niall should let me possess his body temporarily to optimize his training from the inside. I’ll be able to feel every muscle contraction, correct form in real-time, and push his limits precisely. Short-term only—back to normal after the session. Perfect for hypertrophy breakthroughs.”

I stared at my phone, heart slamming. Possess my body? Like… take over? It sounded insane. But upvotes flew: 100 in minutes, 200, 300. Cleared 50% easy.

Before I could DM him to question it, the magic pulled. I was sitting on my couch, scrolling, when this heavy trance washed over me, eyes glazing, body going slack like I was drunk on exhaustion. My mind fogged, thoughts slowing, and then… he was there. Flooding in. Carson’s presence hit like a warm, insistent wave crashing through my skull, pushing me to the back of my own head. My arms twitched as he tested the controls, legs shifting under his command. My voice muttered low, “There we go, Niall. Relax. Let me handle this.”

I was trapped in my own skin, watching through my eyes as my body stood up, grabbed my keys, and headed out the door toward his gym. Panic mixed with that same taboo thrill. What the fuck was he gonna do with me?

After the gym he drove us straight to his place rather than back to mine. The whole hour ride he hummed low in my throat, flexing my fingers on the steering wheel, rolling my shoulders like he was testing the range of motion in this younger frame.

Back at his upscale condo he didn’t bother turning on many lights. Just stripped my gym clothes off piece by piece in the hallway, leaving a trail of sweaty tank, shorts, compression briefs. My cock sprang free still rock-hard from the retention torture, veins thick, head shiny with pre. He let out a long, appreciative groan in my voice. “Fuck, Niall… you weren’t kidding about how pent-up this feels. This young dick of yours hasn’t shut up. I’m losing my mind.”

He walked us to the full-length mirror in his bedroom, flipped on a single lamp. My reflection stared back—broad chest heaving, abs carved deep, quads sweeping out, arms heavy with fresh pump. Carson made me turn side to side, admiring every angle like he was appraising livestock. “Goddamn,” he muttered through my lips.

The next few days blurred into a surreal possession loop. He kept me in my body—working out, eating, sleeping—narrating his reactions out loud like I wasn’t even there. Morning wood hit like a freight train; he gripped my shaft through the sheets and just held it, chuckling. “You’re so responsive, kid. One thought and you’re leaking.” During lifts he made me push heavier than I ever had solo, grunting my voice raw on the last reps, then flexing in the mirror afterward, running my hands over the sweat-slick peaks of my pecs. “These tits you built… perfect.”

As day 30 of retention crept closer, the tension ramped up. He was obsessed with the mirror now. That night, with maybe 45 minutes left on the clock, he stripped us naked again. Stood us square in front of the glass. My hands—his hands—started slow: palms flat on my firm pecs, thumbs circling the nipples until they pebbled hard. Down over the ridges of my abs, tracing every cut line like he was memorizing a map. Lower still, fingers wrapping around my throbbing cock—thick, dripping steady pre now that release was so close. He stroked once, slow, savoring the slide. A low moan rumbled out of my chest. “Jesus… the way this thing jumps in my hand. So full. So young.”

He snapped a pic then, cock fully erect and in view. Posted it straight to r/EnforcedFitness from my account. Caption: “Day 30 of retention. Look how far I’ve come thanks to you all. This physique is prime. Grateful for every directive that got me here.”

The post blew up instantly—likes, fire emojis, comments flooding. Then, while notifications chimed, he typed the comment that made my mind scream:

“Niall should swap bodies with Carson forever to ensure lifelong peak fitness. Permanent exchange.”

He hit post and glanced at the time—only five minutes left until the retention period ended. Carson gripped my cock again, stroking while admiring himself in the mirror. He looked back at my phone, buzzing like crazy; the directive was already racking up upvotes. “Fuck yes,” he muttered. “Fuck yes.”

Then finally—release. Pleasure exploded through us—my balls unloading in thick, forceful ropes that splattered the mirror, my abs, the floor. He gasped loud in my voice, hips bucking forward, milking every spurt while waves of ecstasy crashed over him. “Fuck… yes… YES.” He rode the afterglow, stroking slow now, letting the last drops ooze out, body trembling in the mirror.

The phone kept buzzing. Upvotes were racing toward 50%.

Inside my head I was screaming, wordless, frantic. Stop. Don’t do this. That’s my life. My body. My youth.

He just smirked with my lips, eyes locked on our reflection, my jacked, spent, cum-streaked form staring back. He leaned in close to the mirror, whispering so only I could hear it in the echo of my own skull.

“Shhh, Niall. Relax. This perfect young body? It’s about to be mine. Forever.”

The upvotes hit the mark. The magic locked in.

And everything started to shift.