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.

Part 2 can be found here!

I couldn’t take it anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The old freak just smirked with my stolen face,

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

The world flashed white.

When I regained consciousness, everything felt wrong.

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

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

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

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

“Holy shit” an unfamiliar voice escaped my lips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I met his eyes in the reflection… and smiled.

This was my life now.

Adam’s life.

Epilogue

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

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

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

He loved it.

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

Dates became routine.

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

I stopped fighting weeks ago.

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

Tom is almost gone.

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

And I’ve never been happier.

Acting Natural

Damn it, I really didn’t think this through.

Sure I was pissed at my DL hookup for never appreciating me and acting like I don’t exist, but my revenge is getting out of control and I don’t know how much more of his life I can take. Let me back up.

Some months ago I matched with this guy on Grindr and we hit it off, but when I met up it turned out to be Josh Foreman, star of our college’s wrestling team. He wasn’t out of the closet and even had a girlfriend but still wanted to hook up on the down low. Now I wasn’t complaining, getting his 10 inches with no real commitment was good for a while. But eventually I realized he saw me as nothing but a bootycall. My last straw was when he invited me to his fraternity’s big semester rager just to embarrass me and belittle me in front of his meathead friends. After that night I was done with him, but not before I came up with a devious plan.

I had heard of bodysuit technology. A small syringe filled with a solution to turn someone into a wearable skinsuit, with an accompanying one to turn them back. The plan was to prick Josh with the serum, wear him and parade him around like an idiot. Maybe record a video of him jacking off to some gay porn then leak it to the whole school. Then after, I would simply turn him back then and let him deal with the aftermath! It was perfect!

After spending a good 24 hours in his body making him look like a complete fool, I was ready to return him then dump him off at the front of his frat house. But when I opened the box, the reversion syringe was broken! The mysterious blue serum that would have changed him back to a regular person was spilled and dried on the sides of the cardboard package.

Now It’s been 2 weeks since, and I’ve been stuck living his life. I tried to order a replacement, but the stupid company that makes the serums is apparently backordered and I haven’t heard any word of getting a new order of the reversion syringe! Unfortunately for me, I know if one of the schools star athletes suddenly disappeared, there would be chaos, so I’ve had no choice but to continue the charade of being Josh since. All I can do is act natural and pretend to be him so no one is the wiser of what I did to him.

The only problem is though I outwardly present as him, I am nowhere as physically strong nor have the endurance as him, which is what is really being used.

“Foreman! Focus up, you are really struggling! 20 more reps then we start skirmishes” The head coach barks at me.

The Looker vs. The Normal Joe

I was thinking of purchasing a bodysuit for a while. So when I went on the website and saw a limited time offer I had to take the chance, money be damned. The discount, buy one suit get a second free, was just too good to not take! I was on the fence on who I wanted to be anyways. So that’s how I ended up with both ‘The Looker’ and ‘The Normal Joe.’ And I can happily say I do not regret my decision, because each suit has their own perks!

When I’m feeling hungry for attention or just want to show off, I simply slip on The Looker and take a stroll down the beach. Girls and guys alike can’t help but bask in my spectacular sweat-glistened muscles as I stroll down the sand. The body makes me feel powerful, makes me feel irresistible, and I love it. I’ve even started an onlyfans that have gotten so much traction, I’ve been able to pay off my original order! At first I thought it would be a bit scummy to sell pictures when in reality I wasn’t actually naked or showing my true body, but by surprise some people enjoy learning I’m wearing a skinsuit! My highest tier fans even purchase videos of me suiting up or going in public as I secretly pull on my face rejoining the illusion!

And then when I want to be more lowkey, I can slip into The Normal Joe. Arguably even with him not being as well-built or handsome, the bodysuit isn’t bad looking either. I’ve started to live more as him than my actual self. I even have a boyfriend now, Tony.

I've had my fair share of crappy work uniforms. When I worked at the corndog stand at the mall, they made me wear a lame striped shirt with a matching dorky hat. My last job as a server, they made everyone wear a giant sparkly name tag that lit up in bright letters. And the worst of them all was when I had to dress up as the giant dancing rat as a pizza place's mascot to entertain the customers. But unlike all of those, I very much enjoy my new job's uniform. Honestly its the best part of the job.

When I got hired at Alphalete, I didn't think I'd really fit into the culture. The gym was full of heavily muscled bros who looked like they work out for a living. Not only were the customers all jacked, but the employees themselves were an army of Spartan soldiers, looking ready for combat with their chiseled bodies. Honestly, while I was being interviewed, I had to put all my focus on the job ahead to not get distracted by the interviewer's massive set pecs poking from his collared shirt. So much more different than my more slender, untoned body. Compared to them, I was a stick with no muscles that could break with the slightest push. Even though I was sure I bombed it, the next day I got the call and the job was mine.

Going in on my first day, I had no idea what was in store. They told me to wear 'casual clothing' cause a uniform would be provided. When I arrived, a man similar to my physiche was there waiting for me. His messy brown hair and the way it looked like the shirt he was wearing was two sizes too large gave me a breath of relief; not everyone who worked here was some muscled adonis. He greeted me like we had met, but I had never seen his face before. Still, he asked me to follow him to the back, where he would show me my uniform.

"Today, we have you on a probationary period as you get used to the training and services we offer. Your job is to give simple guidance to the folks here, offer spotting, and familiarize yourself with the facilities." As he led me through the area accessible only to employees, I pondered how I would be able to help anyone lifting weights that were probably heavier than me. We finally arrived at a door labeled uniforms, and as I followed him inside, I was shocked to find walls of racks, hang upon them were what looked like naked heavy-set muscled bodies.

I was about to run away in terror when the guy next to me smiled, "No need to fret, they are not real people or anything! These are just the company-issued uniforms." It took me a moment to calm down and hear him out. Apparently, the secret of this gym is that not all the trainers and instructors who work here are strong in the traditional sense. As a motivator for the customers to reach their goals, all the employees wore these high-tech silicone bodysuits built with strength enhancers. That way, the gym can hire anyone regardless of body limitations, and the customers are more motivated to return. As he was saying that, the person demonstrated slipping on the suit and accompanying handsome mask, turning into the buff interviewer I had met before! His shirt now fit his new body, hugging the chest with his pepperoni-nipples poking through the fabric.

He pointed towards someone sitting passively on a chair. From his blank stare at the wall and lack of movement, I concluded that this was another uniform. "Here, this suit has just come in, just like you! Standard issue trainer body. Should allow you to perform all the tasks you need for your first day."

As I stared at the handsome man waiting for me to arrive, the red 'Alphalete' shirt and Under Armour compression pants barely containing the shredded muscles underneath, I couldn't help but smile hungrily. This, for sure, would be the Best Work Uniform I've ever gotten to wear.

One summer, he often noticed a young man jogging along the shore. The runner seemed to possess a natural self-confidence, with an athletic physique and a radiant smile. Rather than envy, this sight awakened in him a deep desire: to become a better version of himself and finally feel comfortable in his own skin.

One evening, while checking his phone, he came across an advertisement for a futuristic biotechnology company. The product was experimental and controversial: a box containing a syringe capable of reshaping the body of the person injected and transforming them into a human suit.Unlike traditional cosmetic procedures, it could completely alter a person's appearance, albeit for a limited time.

After weeks of hesitation, he bought it. He approached the runner, befriending him, and contacted him to arrange a meeting at the lake. To his surprise, the young runner agreed to come. They met at the lakeside and spent hours talking. The overweight man discovered that the runner was friendly, attentive, and far more approachable than he had imagined.

For a while, the runner gazed at the lake, closing his eyes and enjoying nature with his new friend. Suddenly, the man in the shirt lunged at the shirtless man, injecting him with the drug while holding him down and covering his mouth to prevent the man's scream from reaching the surrounding area.

When the process was complete, he carefully repositioned his face, perfectly smoothing the skin. He stared at a reflective surface and barely recognized himself.

He now resembled the athletic young man he had so long admired.For a brief moment, he felt a sense of triumph. He finally had the body he had always dreamed of.

Yet, as the days passed, he realized something unexpected. The transformation had altered his appearance, but not automatically who he was. Self-confidence still needed to be built. Relationships still needed to be earned. Happiness still required self-acceptance.

This experience, however, gave him the courage to explore aspects of his personality he had always kept hidden. He became more sociable, more adventurous, and more open to meeting new people. In time, he understood that the most significant transformation had not been physical, but had affected how he saw himself.

And when the effect of his temporary biological suit wore off, he found that he no longer hated the person staring at him in the mirror.

Stefano Belotti by Bruno Staub for Dust Magazine

It's summer again.

My day is usually spent in the confinement of my home, in front of the computer, headphones covering my ears. The distinction between workdays and weekend is blurry, and is only maintained by the fact that twice a week I go out for groceries. Life is not very different from that of a monastic, and change of season rarely affects the nature of my work, nor the fluctuation in my mood.

But summer is a special season.

I'm not a big fan of summer. The heat, which has become more insufferable each year, always makes me want to stay indoors, in the comfort of my well-ventilated studio, where I have not long ago installed an AC. Days are longer, food spoils faster, and once in a while strange creatures with spindly legs would make themselves at home in my humble abode.

It's the people that make summer special, though not in the way you would think. I'm not talking about people who you invite to a barbecue, to gobble up spicy grilled ribs or guzzle up ice-chilled cans of beer with. I'm not talking about the people who ride with you to a crowded but fancy beach, play water sports with and get tanned or sunburnt together.