Mr. Unethical Queer

Ryder had no memory of buying a jockstrap but he felt such a strong urge to put it on that he just had to. Once on, he felt his thoughts start to slow and started to repeat the following phases outloud over and over:

Good jock boys don’t think.

Good jock boys wear jocks.

Good jock boys obey Coach.

Good jock boys don’t touch their cocks.

I freaking love my job! Every shift I get to wash these perfect, muscular bodysuits after the guests are done turning them into cum soaked fucktoys. Right now I’m in the cleaning suite with the most expensive bodysuit of the hotel, and personally one of my absolute favorite suits—Suit26. One look at him and you get why he costs a fortune. He’s the full package: Tall, broad-shouldered, with thick muscular slabs of pecs, tree-trunk thighs, and a fat, heavy cock. While most of the bodysuits look cute, suit26 has a rough, manly look to him that lots of the guests love.

And to think this used to be that rude, cocky prick of a guest who checked in like he owned the entire hotel. Treated every member of staff like garbage—snapping his fingers, barking orders, throwing tantrums if his towel wasn’t warm enough. The whole crew breathed a sigh of relief the day the owner pulled him aside and “upgraded” him. We all knew what that really meant. Now he’s just an empty, hollow human skin. No brain. No ego. No nothing. Just warm meat waiting for a real man to claim it. The staff group chat blew up with celebration emojis that night.

I wish I could put him on, but the hotel rules strictly prohibit staff members from wearing the bodysuits, and I don't want to risk becoming an empty husk like him.

The hotel owner runs the whole operation like a genius. This place is a luxury resort on the surface—top floors packed with rich guests living their best vacation lives. But the hottest ones, the ones with the perfect bodies and the worst attitudes, get quietly selected. They disappear downstairs into the Subterranean Complex nobody on staff is allowed to enter. Rumors say there’s this sleek black pod down there that sucks a man’s insides out, leaving nothing but a perfect, limp bodysuit. Then the real rich gay clients rent them for a few days, slip inside, and enjoy their vacation in a brand-new, muscular body. I don’t ask questions. I just thank the boss every single day for creating this paradise… and for turning assholes like Suit26 into rentable fuckmeat.

I grab Suit26’s wrist and lift his heavy arm, burying my face in that deep, sweaty armpit. Shit, there's still some musk left. Sometimes no matter how much I wash their bodies they still smell like they just stepped out of an intense workout. Maybe I should try using my tongue. So I start licking his armpits slowly and thoroughly, letting the musk fill my taste buds while my free hand glides over his thick thighs. Then I spread his legs wide, hook them over the edge of the special cleaning tub, and grab the thick hose built right into the side. The whole bathtub is designed for this—a high-pressure flush system made specifically for bodysuit cleaning. I shove the nozzle deep into his tight ass until it’s sealed in there nice and snug.

I flip the switch and a powerful rush of hot water blasts straight into the hollow suit. The muscular suit jerks once from the pressure, but that’s all it can do. Water immediately starts gushing back out—pouring in thick streams from his open mouth, flooding from his ears, even squirting from his nose like some sick human fountain. His slack, handsome face is a total mess, water cascading down his cheeks and neck while his insides get power-washed clean.

Finally the cycle ends. I pull the hose free with a wet pop, and the last of the water drains out of every hole. His ass is spotless now—pink, tight, and ready for whatever comes next.

My hands roam up to those massive pecs. I squeeze them hard, thumbs flicking over his sensitive nipples until they pebble. I lean down and latch onto one, sucking it deep into my mouth, tongue swirling, teeth grazing. His fat cock jumps and starts swelling—eight and a half thick inches rising like it’s got a mind of its own. The bodysuit nerves still work perfectly even when the brain’s gone. I don’t question the science behind it, I just grin against his chest and keep sucking harder.

I like to think that the men are still there, conscious but unable to do anything, trapped souls in a husk of what used to be their bodies, all they can do is watch strangers have fun while using their skins. I wrap my hand around that throbbing shaft and stroke it slowly, feeling it pulse. My own dick is aching in my shorts. I can't hold myself, fuck the rules. There’s no policy against using the suits as sex toys, and I’ve earned this right!

I slide my arms under him—he weighs almost nothing now—and lift him out of the tub like a giant rag doll. I towel him dry, then drag him to the big bed and push him out flat on his back. Arms and legs spread wide, cock standing straight up and twitching. I strip fast, grab the lube from the drawer, and slick his shaft until it’s shiny and slick. I then climb on top, knees planted on either side of his hips, and line him up. “That’s it, big guy,” I growl at his blank, handsome face. "I always took such good care of you, now it's your time to take care of me...” I sink down in one smooth motion, taking every inch until my ass is pressed against his heavy balls. Fuck, he fills me so good.

I plant both hands on those massive pecs and start riding him hard, bouncing, grinding, using his body like the lifeless fucktoy he is. I slap his left pec, then the right, watching them jiggle. I pinch and twist his nipples until they’re red and swollen. “Look at you,” I pant, slamming down again and again. “All that muscle, all that cock… all mine! Fuuuuckk... Are you seeing this? I hope you are!” I lean forward and start kissing him. I ride him faster, ass slapping against his thighs, my own dick bouncing and leaking all over his abs. The domination rush is insane, knowing this body once would’ve punched me for even looking at him, and now he's helplessly giving me so much pleasure.

My balls tighten. I slam down one last time, bury him to the hilt, and explode. Thick ropes of cum splatter across his perfect pecs, his neck, his slack, open mouth, and those eye holes. I keep grinding through it, milking every drop out of him until I’m shaking and breathless.

I’m still panting, chest heaving, when I notice a drop of water running down from the corner of his eye, could that be... a tear? No way, don't be ridiculous, it's probably just the water from the power washing I did, unless... the door suddenly swings open. The janitor leans against the frame, arms crossed, smirking at me. “Am I interrupting something?"

I laugh, still impaled on Suit26’s cock. “Nah, I’m already finished,” I say as I climb off and start redressing.

He chuckles. “You gotta be careful, man. If the big boss catches you turning his expensive suits into your personal dildos, he won’t be happy. You know what happened to Larry when he was caught wearing a suit. I heard the big boss uses him as a carpet in his office."

“Relax,” I say, pulling up my pants, “We all need a break sometimes. Besides, you’re the only one who knows… and I know about you fucking the shit out of Suit13 in the storage room last month, so we’re good?”

He just nods, eyes flicking to the cum-glazed pecs. “Fair enough. Heads-up though, a gay couple just booked Suit26 for a three o’clock check-in. They want him nice and fresh. Better finish cleaning him up before they get here.” He winks and leaves, closing the door behind him.

I look back at the bed. My load is streaked across the bodysuit's massive pecs, dripping off his chin, pooling in the deep groove between his abs. The once-proud stud just lies there, empty, used, and ready for round two with the gay couple. I wonder if a gay sub was going to wear him.

“Flex, my obedient jock toy.”

God damn, this has been an insanely amazing four months. And it's all thanks to 'Jin' here. It would be terrible to go back to boring old Marcus after the show ends.

I go to a pretty small performing arts school in the middle of West Virginia. I've wanted to be an actor since I was a kid, and I worked incredibly hard to be one. And though my talent shines in every role I take, the only problem has been my appearance. People rarely want to hire a pasty less-than average nobody. Try as I might at the gym and self-care habits, I couldn't even put on any muscle; it was like I was destined for the stage, but my body limited my potential to a terminal degree. Sure, I've gotten roles as 'best friend' or 'lead ensemble' I know I'm good enough for the staring roles.

My big break wouldn't come until the school's acting troupe decided to put on the harrowing stage show The Weight of His Name, a story of a second-generation Asian immigrant dealing with the struggles of growing up in America. The only issue was that in the entire performing arts program, there were zero guys who could fit the role. The story demanded a male asian lead. Without one, the show itself would be seen as insensitve and it would paint a target on the whole school's back.

With no other choice, the director of the show came up with a crazy plan. Enter Jin.

Jin wasn't an official student of the college; he wasn't even a real person. He was a persona, a realistic bodysuit that someone could slip into and become. No one except the director and a few choice confidants in the company would even know the true nature of Jin or what the director had in store. But out of pure luck, I just so happened to overhear their conversation. From the moment I heard it, I knew I had to win that role.

The casting call itself was rather vague and mysterious, evidently from the secrecy of what the actor would be doing. But with knowing confidence, I nailed the audition and landed the role. The first day of rehearsals was one of the best in my life. I had a private dressing space, as much of the cast didn't know about our secret fake actor. I was even sworn to secrecy before being told about skin. The director refused to elaborate on where he procured such a suit but assured that this is the only way to perform the show without an issue.

Was it illegal? not that I was aware. Was it morally questionable? very. In either case, I shrugged it off as I excitedly undressed to put on the handsome bodysuit.

As my scrawny legs first cascaded into the dark hole of the suits' stronger legs, it felt like pure euphoria, and as the first dressing had concluded and I was fully enveloped in his life-like form, I could feel his aura, his strong confidence. It was all in my head of course, but as I first gazed upon my new face, the strong jawline and perfectly sculpted details I knew I was going to get addicted to this new form.

Over the next month, I had to get into character not only as the stage character Zhang, but the actor Jin. Jin was so different from plain old Marcus. He had to be, he was really a real person to everyone else but those who knew the truth. Jin's life had to be private in all the ways that mattered, so I had my own dorm instead of sharing a bunk with a roommate. Jin liked different foods, different hobbies, music and clothes compared to who I once was. It was a mind-jostling experience, like I was an onion with layers upon layers. Eventually, I even forgot about my true self, that Marcus Hamilton who resided deep down. From rehearsals to putting on the show itself, it has been an incredible journey. One that I am now determined not to let end.

After getting back home from the last performance of the run, I took a long, steamy shower, exploring my body like it was the first time. Those delicious muscles that I could only dream about on my true figure sat comfortably on me like I spent half my life working out to achieve them. Looking in the mirror at my strong chisled face, I noticed the glue used to bind the pale loser actor inside starting to thin. It would not be noticeable to anyone nonethewiser, but to me it was a disgrace to the beauty. Applying the translucent cream and checking again, I was perfect; as handsome as when I first put on this miracle suit.

I floated the idea to the director at the after-party a few hours ago. I asked him if I could have the suit, even offering to pay so much more money than I actually owned. All for the sake of keeping the Jin suit. Calously, he refused my offers. It wasn't like he knew the true power, the potential of what I could do with this body. Drunk from the celebration, he ordered me to return backstage tomorrow, where he would peel me out. Where I would never see Jin or feel being him again.

I walked into the theater late, there I quickly spotted the perfect seat—right behind this straight couple. The boyfriend in the front seat was a total alpha stud, handsome face, fresh fade with that sharp line-up, and one thick, veined bicep draped casually around his girlfriend’s shoulders as if he owned her. While sitting behind them I touched his arm and let my power kick in, my powers only worked if I made skin contact with a man. The lust hit him like a freight train, sudden, deep, unstoppable gay craving for the gay stranger sitting behind him, no matter how straight he’d been two seconds ago, he now wanted to fuck me more than anything in his life.

He twisted in his seat and looked back at me, those dark eyes now burning with raw hunger. Our stares locked. He flexed that massive bicep and shot me a cocky wink. My cock throbbed. I grinned back, leaned forward, and started feeling up his biceps. My fingers traced his arm while his girl watched the movie, totally oblivious of the stranger enjoying her boyfriend's biceps right behind her. I squeezed and started licking him, he bit his lip, breathing heavier but staying perfectly still so she wouldn’t notice her boyfriend’s muscles getting worshipped by a stranger.

After a few minutes of me groping and him flexing for me, he turned to her. “Babe, I gotta take a leak real quick. Be right back.” He leaned in and kissed her deep—but his eyes never left mine the whole time, locked on me like I was the only thing that mattered. When he stood, the massive tent in his pants was obvious, thick outline straining against the fabric. He walked out. I followed two seconds later.

The second I stepped into the bathroom, he grabbed me, slammed me against the wall, and crushed his mouth to mine like he’d been in love with me his whole life. “Fuck… I don’t know what’s happening to me, I can't think straight. All I can feel is a deep desire for you,” he growled between sloppy, desperate kisses, hands roaming my ass. Straight or not, my power had flipped a switch—he didn’t care anymore. He lifted me easily and my legs wrapped around his waist, his huge arms carrying me like I weighed nothing, and he kicked open a stall door.

He set me on my knees, unzipped fast, and yanked out his thick, hard, dark brown cock—veiny, heavy, already leaking. “Suck it, please...” he asked with need. I teased him by licking the head, but he was having none of that, he roughly grabbed my hair and face-fucked me hard, his hips snapping, that fat head punching the back of my throat while he groaned like an animal. “Shit… your mouth feels better than my girlfriend's pussy, fuck... what's wrong with me?” Saliva dripped down my chin as he used me, balls slapping my chin, owning my face completely.

I pulled off gasping, spun around, shoved my pants down, and arched my ass up. He immediately dropped to his knees, straight stud or not he buried his face between my cheeks, tongue working my hole, eating me out sloppy and hungry like he needed to taste me more than air. I moaned loudly, pushing back against his face. Then he stood, grabbed his monster cock and rolled on a condom he had in his wallet, he lined up and slammed in raw and rough. One brutal thrust and he was balls-deep, stretching me wide. “Take it, bitch,” he snarled, gripping my hips and pounding me like a jackhammer—hard, fast, relentless. The stall rattled. He fucked me deeper with every stroke, grunting, sweat dripping, that powerful body dominating me completely. “Gonna fill this ass... need... to fill... this ass...” He buried himself to the hilt and came hard, cock pulsing inside the condom as he unloaded.

The bodybuilding convention was packed with cocky, arrogant straight bodybuilders. Dozens of shirtless, jacked hunks crowded the gym floor, flexing for cameras, laughing and showing off their massive physiques for their friends. There were no women in the convention, only men talking about themselves and their bodies like they were gods on earth.

Then the doors opened, and in walked not another muscular hunk, but a short, round, chubby gay man named Milo, dragging a black duffel bag with him.

Nobody noticed him at first. He looked at the convention, at all those huge bodybuilders, and a wicked grin formed on his face.

”This is going to be beautiful.” Milo muttered, setting the bag down. He unzipped it, and suddenly fluttering small black butterflies took off into the air.

Dozens of alien butterflies poured out like a swarm, their black wings flapping as if in slow motion. They scattered across the hall, darting toward the confused men. The alien butterflies might appear small, but they were stronger than the bodybuilders. One by one, the butterflies latched onto the men’s faces, the impact causing them to fall to the floor as the aliens roughly forced their mouths open and crawled their way inside. The sounds of muffled choking started filling the hall as one by one dropped to the floor, muscles bulging as they convulsed violently, their muscular arms and legs shaking like they were being electrocuted. Veins popped across shredded bodies as their eyes rolled back.

And in the middle of it all, Milo was the only one left standing, calmly watching the sea of muscled men spasming like fish out of water. His cock stirred in his pants. He couldn’t tear his eyes away as dozens of the most perfect male specimens thrashed at his feet, drooling and jerking, their faces blank as the butterflies pierced their way to their brains, making permanent residence inside them.

Minutes passed, and then, slowly, the chaos calmed. Their bodies slowly stopped convulsing until only their heads were twitching and then finally started standing.

43 sweaty, pumped, blank-eyed hunks faced him all at once. Milo felt his grin spreading across his face, his whole body trembling with arousal at the sight of the muscle gods, brainless and sweaty, standing there like his personal army.

"Welcome to your new bodies, boys! Now, give me a smile to show how happy you are with your new hosts."

Then, as if on cue, they all smiled. A hive-mind smile. A creepy smile that wasn't human, it was a smile that didn't mean happiness, but conquest. It was clearly a first-time smile attempt.

Milo was responsible for taking care of the butterflies. He assisted them in integrating into human society, and he earned their respect. He became their general and they would do anything he ordered them to do.

Milo turned to two bodybuilders and barked his first command, “You two, lock the doors. Nobody can walk in.”

Immediately, the two bodybuilders marched to the doors and they shut and bolted every exit. Now it was just Milo… and his army of muscle puppets.

“Now strip boys!" Milo ordered.

Obedience was instant. Tank tops, shorts, and shoes were peeled away, tossed aside in a flurry until they were all naked. Their flaccid cocks hung between their legs as they stood waiting for the next order. Their creepy and awkward smiles never left their faces since Milo didn't tell them to stop.

“Good boys. Now get on your knees and jerk off until every single one of you is rock hard.”

Without hesitation, 43 sweaty bodybuilders dropped to the floor as one, thick thighs spreading wide. The room filled with the sound of forty veiny cocks being stroked. Their hands pumped rhythmically, all moaning in perfect unison.

"Why so silent? Moan for me, boys. Show me how much you appreciate these bodies I got for you!" Suddenly, they all started moaning together, a choir of deep, baritone voices blending with the wet, stroking sounds. It was all music to Milo's ears. Milo grinned the entire time. He loved ordering them around. He had never worked out in his life, the only weight he lifted was the weight of junk food, yet here he is bossing around a bunch of straight men who worked hard for their perfect bodies.

Milo walked around the bodybuilders. His short, pale, chubby body contrasted starkly with the towering muscled hunks around him. He watched them up close, like a general inspecting his recruits. Fourteen of them were having trouble getting hard, so Milo helped by sucking their big, sweaty cocks until they were rock-hard. But three remained soft even after the intense blowjobs he gave them. It turns out some hosts are just so straight that even after the takeover the butterflies weren't able to force their bodies to feel aroused. But this wasn't new to Milo—he already had a protocol to fix the issue.

He ordered the three bodybuilders to get on all fours in front, their big muscular asses on full display for him.

Milo then stripped, he peeled off his shirt, exposing his soft, pale belly, then shoved down his pants. His short dick throbbed at the sight of the three hot bodybuilders on all fours before him and forty more on their knees, stroking themselves.

He then knelt behind the first one and started fucking him. As he thrust, his hand was wrapped around the man’s cock, checking for any signs of hardness. He soon felt it growing; he smirked and intensified his thrusts, fucking with abandon until the bodybuilder’s shaft was throbbing at its full 7.8 inches. He sent the satisfied stud to join his friends in the group jerk-off session, then moved on to the next bodybuilder.

This time, the bodybuilder only started getting hard after Milo began playing with his nipples while fucking him. He then sent him to join the others as well.

The last bodybuilder took far more of Milo's time.

No matter how fast Milo jerked off his massive cock, how roughly he fucked him, how hard he pulled on his nipples—or even if he did all of it together—the guy still wouldn't get hard, that thick shaft hung soft and heavy between his tree-trunk thighs like it was mocking him.

That's when it hit him—these hulking slabs of muscle weren't just empty vessels anymore. The alien parasites puppeteering them from within had hijacked most of their instincts, twisting raw physicality into something pliable, obedient, and achingly responsive to Milo's commands. But this last one, the biggest of the trio with his chiseled jaw, tree-trunk thighs, and the biggest cock of the convention, this one still clung to echoes of his old self. Straight as an arrow in his former life, judging by the wedding ring Milo had spotted earlier.

The alien might control the body, but the erection? That stubborn, biological betrayal of desire? It was wired deep into the host's buried psyche, resistant to the parasite's overrides. Milo smirked, his own arousal surging at the challenge. He pulled out slowly, watching the bodybuilder's hole clench involuntarily around nothing.

Force alone wasn't enough. He needed to give this man what his body was craving, or at least make it think it was getting what it desires.

Milo grabbed a wireless VR headset from his bag that he bought especially for this. He put the VR headset on the bodybuilder's head and played a high-def straight porn clip: a busty brunette getting railed hard from first person perspective, she moaned loudly, her tits bouncing with every thrust.

Milo then slid on his back underneath the bodybuilder, facing up, positioning his body directly beneath the towering muscle beast. From this angle, he had a perfect view of the man's muscular pecs. Milo propped himself up slightly on his elbows, slicked his own hole generously with lube, then reached up to coat the bodybuilder's limp shaft until it glistened.

Milo guided the head to his entrance and sank down—no, pulled the bodybuilder's hips forward gently until the thick, pliable length slid inside him inch by inch. At first, nothing. Just the heavy, warm weight filling him completely, stretching him open without any pulse or resistance. Milo clenched around it experimentally, rocking his hips in slow, teasing circles while he waited.

Then... a flicker.

A tiny twitch deep inside. Milo watched the bodybuilder's face closely—saw the subtle flare of nostrils, the faintest parting of lips. Another twitch. The powerful hips gave a small, involuntary spasm forward, nudging deeper. Milo grinned and let his ass milk the shaft in rhythmic pulses as the porn blared in the bodybuilder's vision.

Little by little, it built. The cock started thickening inside him, swelling against his walls. The bodybuilder's hips jerked again, stronger now, a low, guttural rumble building in his throat. The bodybuilder's eyes remained glued to the virtual reality porn, forced to watch the pussy on screen getting pounded relentlessly.

The shaft hardened pulse by pulse until it was rigid, throbbing, stretching Milo to his limit. The man's baritone moans finally broke free—deep, animalistic, empty of thought but full of raw, primal need—as his hips snapped forward in earnest.

He started thrusting. Hard. Deep. Relentless. From below, Milo had the perfect view: the massive chest heaving, sweat dripping from pecs onto his own body. Each thrust drove that now-massive, rock-hard cock deeper, veins pulsing against Milo's prostate, precum leaking steadily inside him. The bodybuilder fucked like the man in the video—hips pistoning with mechanical power amplified by alien hunger—his deep moans rolling out in time with the woman's cries from the porn. Milo moaned beneath him, riding the edge, savoring every inch as it claimed him, but he wasn't here to finish this one off yet. Not quite.

Just as the thrusts grew frantic, the cock swelling impossibly thicker inside him, balls drawing up tight against Milo's ass—Milo twisted his hips and pulled free abruptly, sliding off with a slick, obscene pop. The bodybuilder's hips bucked uselessly into empty air, his throbbing erection bobbing angrily—slick, veined, a full 9.8 inches of rigid, man meat, dripping precum onto the floor.

Milo pulled off the VR headset, and the giant let out a frustrated, primal growl, deep and rumbling, but stayed frozen in place on all fours. Milo then slid out from under him, admiring the sight: the once-straight muscle god reduced to a mindless, leaking weapon, engine fully revved and idling hot. The hosts were like cars, after all—all they needed was that first spark. Once the engine turned over, they didn't stop. Not until the tank ran dry.

Milo sent the last bodybuilder to join the others with a slap on his ass. He then stood in front of them as he stroked. “Good boys, now that everyone is horny and hard, let's feast!”

The butterflies didn't hide their excitement. They all opened their mouths as strange clicking alien sounds came out. It was their way of cheering. Then like one single organism, they broke into pairs. Milo watched, entranced as one hunk dropped to the gym floor, lying flat on his back, his thick 6-inch cock standing rigid.

His partner positioned himself directly above upside-down, dropping into a perfect push-up plank: hands planted firmly on the floor on either side of the bottom man's hips, body held in a straight, rigid line—form. His groin right above his partner's face.

The bottom hunk's powerful arms flexed as he reached up, gripping his partner's thighs and lifting his legs slightly off the floor. Straightening his partner's body into a flat, horizontal plank parallel to the ground. Now, their throbbing cocks hovered mere inches from each other's eager mouths, but they didn't sucked, not yet, they were waiting for Milo's command.

Milo’s cock twitched as all the bodybuilders assumed the same position. They were all frozen in this bizarre 69 position.

That's when Milo noticed there was one muscular Daddy left without a pair. He originally was wearing camouflage military shorts, but now he was naked, his 7-inch cock jutting out proudly and glistening with precum. The Daddy had the biggest pecs at the convention.

“You poor thing. Come over here, you sexy beast. I will be your pair.”

Milo stroked the Daddy's huge pecs and then lay on his back on the floor and ordered the hunk to get on top of him in a push-up position since Milo wasn't strong enough to hold the man's lower body off the ground. Milo dragged his tongue along the underside of the Daddy's cock, from base to tip. He licked the head in slow, sloppy circles before opening his mouth and swallowing the tip. The man’s breath hitched, a low growl spilling from his chest as Milo bobbed his head, taking more and more into his wet mouth. Milo gagged softly when the thick shaft hit the back of his throat, but he didn’t stop—he wanted to choke on this man, to taste every drop. His free hands cupped the hunk’s firm, muscular ass, and he slapped it three times, sending a signal to the butterflies.

Lunch time.

Milo still could see the hunks around him, they all opened their mouths wide. From deep inside their throats, something small and glistening slithered out. Alien tongues shapped like tubes. Long, wet, fleshy tubes, pulsing and stretching, the meat tubes reached and swallowed the cock above and below them in one wet gulp. Fully engulfing the shaft like a meat condom.

Milo moaned when he felt something warm and wet swallow his small cock. It felt way better than a human's mouth.

The gym went quiet. There was no moaning, no panting, no dirty talk. Just the sound of wet gulping and the sloppy suction of the aliens feeding. The butterflies were feasting on their new hosts.

Milo couldn’t stop staring. His cock throbbed as the alien sucked him. He watched these perfect men, once cocky strong men, now just sweaty brainless milking cows for hungry alien creatures. But they weren't cumming just yet. Milo knew that they would only release once he came, fortunately, the aliens didn't have to wait much longer. Soon, Milo came into the alien's tube, triggering all the others to do the same.

The tubes pulsed with each swallow, dragging every drop of cum straight out of the hunks’ cocks. Their balls clenched, emptying over and over into alien mouths. The bodybuilder came inside Milo's mouth and he drank every drop, and for a short moment, he felt like he was part of the pack.

At last, the tubes retracted back inside their mouths.

“Go on, my little bugs, go fetch Daddy some fresh meat,” I said, smirking as I sent my four tiny alien crawlers skittering across the grass toward the pack of loud, shirtless cocky young studs working out at the park.

They moved fast. One by one the guys froze, until all four of them just… stopped with blank stares. Then, perfectly in sync, they turned and marched straight toward me. Fuck, the sight of them walking all stiff and obedient had me leaking in my jeans.

“We got them for you, Daddy,” they said together in a flat tone.

“Good boys. Now hold still while I inspect your bodies.”

I stepped up to the first one on the right in red shorts. I dragged both palms on his toned pecs, my thumbs brushed over his hard nipples, then I ran my hands down his hard eight-pack. I grabbed his wrists and yanked his arms up and back, locking them behind his head. Leaned in and shoved my face right into that dripping, hairy armpit. I took a long sniff—pure salty-man stink. My dick throbbed as I took in his scent. While I was huffing him like a drug, my other hand dove inside his shorts, wrapped around that thickening cock, and gave it a slow, possessive stroke. Then lower—cupped those heavy, sweat-soaked balls, rolled them, squeezed just enough to make him twitch even though his brain was still offline. I then brought my fingers back up and sniffed them hard. Jesus, that ripe ball musk hit like a punch.

I proceeded to do the exact same filthy inspection on the other three—slow armpit burials, greedy handfuls of cock, kneading their sweaty nutsacks till my palm was coated in their scent. Every single one of them was rock-hard and leaking by the time I was done.

I was shaking with how bad I needed it. “Follow me, boys,” I said, leading the four mindless studs deeper into the woods behind the park where the trees covered us and no one could see. Once we were hidden, I dropped my pants, bent over a fallen log, and spread myself. “Fuck me hard. All of you. Use me like a cumdump, now!”

They didn’t hesitate. The young man in grey shorts stepped up behind me, yanked his shorts down just enough, and slammed into me in one brutal thrust. His shaft was big and thick, stretching me wide while his sweaty chest pressed against my back. I moaned like a bitch as he pounded, balls slapping loud against my ass. Another one then grabbed my hair and shoved his dripping cock down my throat at the same time—musky, salty, filling my mouth while I gagged and drooled around him. The other two stroked themselves over me, smearing precum across my ass and back, waiting their turn. They rotated fast—pulling out, swapping, slamming back in—four different cocks owning every hole, stretching me, using me raw. I came hard without even touching myself, ass clenching around whoever was buried inside me.

“Alright, fun’s over for now,” I muttered, “Give them back.”

They pivoted like soldiers, strutted right back to their exact spots and original poses. The bugs then slipped smoothly out of their ears, and the studs blinked and continued to lift, as if nothing happened. Except now every one of them was sporting a full, obvious hard-on tenting their shorts, they all moaned together as they came inside their shorts. It was funny to watch how confused they were.

Vince stepped into the psychologist's office. The room was warm, inviting, with a faint scent of leather and old books. Dr. Skinner, a calm and polished man in his 40s, greeted him with a warm smile. "Vince, it's good to see you again. How are you feeling today?"

His blue eyes meeting Dr. Skinner's gaze, replied, "I'm doing okay, Doc. Rushed here immediately after the shift, but I'm here, right?"

Dr. Skinner chuckled lightly, his glasses reflecting the soft light. "That's the spirit. How about another hypnotherapy session today? I'd like to try something a bit different, if you are comfortable with it. It might help us to explore some new directions on your condition."

Vince, ever the confident man, agreed. "Sure, Doc. Whatever it takes."

Dr. Skinner smiled, he retrieved a small metronome from his desk drawer and set it ticking. "Alright, Vince. Let's begin. Focus on the sound of the metronome. Let it guide you into a state of deep relaxation."

As the metronome ticked, Vince's eyes grew heavy, his muscles relaxed, his breath calmed, mind drifted, subconsciousness resurfaced. Dr. Skinner's voice was a soothing balm, guiding him deeper into the trance.

"Vince, can you hear me?"

"Yes, Doc. I hear you," Vince answered in oblivion, his voice low.

"Good boy. Now, Vince, I want you to imagine yourself standing in a room. It's warm, comfortable, and safe. And in this room, you're going to do something for me.”

Vince slightly adjusted his position, anticipating.

“You're going to strip. Take off all your clothes, Vince. Show off that strong, muscular body of yours."

As soon as the voice fell, Vince's hands moved to his turnout coat, unzipping it slowly. He slipped it off, revealing his smooth, muscular chest. His pants followed, pooling at his feet. He stood there, in his boxers, his cock already straining against the fabric.

Dr. Skinner's eyes roamed over Vince's body, appreciative. "Good boy. Now, Vince, take off your boxers. Let me see all of you."

Without hesitation, Vince hooked his thumbs into the waistband, pushing them down. His cock sprang free, it was caged, encased in a sleek metal chastity device.

“When did you get this?” the psychologist teased.

Vince frozen, trying to process, troubled as he could not remember.

“It’s a gift from the last session, remember?”, Dr. Skinner lightly tapped the tip of the cage, “It’s a source of comfort.”

Vince chuckled, a low rumble. "Yes, it helps with the stress."

Dr. Skinner nodded, his fingers tracing the metal. "It suits you, Vince. And I appreciate that you kept yourself smooth and hairless as I suggested."

His fingers trailed up Vince's chest, teasing his nipples. Vince's breath hitched, his body responding to the touch. Dr. Skinner's fingers danced over his muscles, tracing the lines of his abs, his pecs.

"Flex for me, Vince," Dr. Skinner commanded, his voice low and husky.

Vince did as he was told, his muscles bulging, his body a testament to his strength and discipline. The psychologist's lips found his neck, kissing, nibbling. He brushed his face along Vince's muscular shoulder, his bicep, his tricep. And then, he reached down, his nose buried in Vince's armpit. He took a deep sniff, his eyes fluttering closed.

"Fuck, Vince. You smell amazing," he murmured, his voice muffled.

The psychologist then fished out a bottle of lube from his pocket, slicking up his middle finger. He reached around, his finger pressing against Vince's virgin hole.

"Relax, Vince. Let me in," Dr. Skinner whispered.

Vince took a deep breath, his body relaxing. He felt the soft pressure, the gentle intrusion. The psychologist’s finger slid in, inch by inch. Vince's cock twitched in its cage, his body responding to the foreign sensation.

Dr. Skinner’s finger began to move, in and out, slow and steady. His other hand started tapping on the cock cage, mimicking the rhythm of masturbation. The taps are electric, sending shivers down his spine. Vince's hole clenched, his body adjusting to the intrusion.

"Fuck, Doc," Vince groaned, his body on fire.

Dr. Skinner smiled, his finger picking up pace, violating Vince’s weak spot. Vince's hole eventually loosened, and the psychologist added another finger, scissoring them inside Vince to stretch him further. Then another…

By the third finger, Vince was a panting, moaning mess. His cock twitched, his body tense. And then, with a silent moan, he came, his body shuddering, hole clamping tight around Dr. Skinner's fingers.

Dr. Skinner slowly withdrew his fingers, a satisfied smile on his face. He reached for a small plug, lubing it up. "This is for you, Vince. To help with your stress."

Vince smiled, silly and delightful. He felt the plug press against his hole, the gentle stretch. He took a deep breath and accepted his new gift. The plug slid in, filling him, completing him.

As Vince left the office, his body hummed with satisfaction. The plug was a constant reminder, another source of comfort. He knew he was in good hands. As he walked out, a smile played on his lips, his mind already anticipating their next session.

Chris was on the set of a new movie. He was in between takes and relaxing in his dressing room when he got a call from his manager. They talked for a few minutes about box office sales and audience reactions before Chris said he has to go. But before he could hang up he was sabotaged from behind

He felt a sharp pain in both of his ears and winced in pain, he went to grab his ears to see what was wrong when he felt hands grab his head. They covered his ears and within seconds, his head began to feel weird. His vision blurred and he heard the man speaking behind him. He was told to lets the earrings power seep into his brain. He would obey his new owner. He would be a perfect slut for his master to use. Chris was ordered to take his shirt off and flex for his master before his hole was put to use

Informing his nerdy roommate that he's done with the workout for the day and left the sweaty tanktop on til dry for maximum soaking of the sweat. He will let the nerd inhale his gym clothing for the day before putting it in the laundry where he will not even use any detergent whatsoever and just rinse the sweaty rancid tanktop and shorts with water. He doesn't care if other people is annoyed with the way he smelled, as long as his roommate is happy, then he's happy and doing a good job. A reply comes from the nerd. It says

"It will make me even happier if you can call my Snapchat and give me a live show of you tugging that meat of yours inside your car and wet that sweaty shorts and tanktop with your seed before you drive back home,"

As Colby made his way toward the barracks. His thoughts immediately drifted to his three roommates—Tyler, Marcus, and Alex. They had been the worst of them all, constantly teasing him for his scrawny frame, his quiet demeanor, and the way he kept to himself. But now, everything has changed. Colby had power—power over them, and he was going to enjoy it.

And there they were, standing in the hallway just outside the room, each of them with their usual cocky grins gone, replaced with blank stares. The three of them stood in their olive-green military shorts and tight shirts, muscles bulging from hours of training, but now those muscles were at Colby's command.

"Tyler, Marcus, Alex," Colby said softly, "Turn and face me."

The three soldiers moved simultaneously, robotic, their bodies controlled by the alien parasites lodged in their brains. Their muscular arms hung by their sides as they faced him, their expressions still emotionless.

Colby's eyes wandered over their bodies, their muscular frames that had always intimidated him before. Now, they were nothing more than puppets.

"Flex for me," Colby commanded, a grin spreading across his face.

Without hesitation, the three soldiers raised their arms, their bulging biceps flexing hard, showing off every thick, chiseled muscle. Tyler’s arms strained as his veins popped, his defined muscles tense beneath his tight shirt. Marcus followed suit, his dark skin gleaming under the daylights as he flexed his thick, sculpted biceps. Alex, the third and most arrogant of the trio, flexed as well.

The night before, Colby—tired of all the bullying—walked out of the dorms in the middle of the night and broke into the military's lab; there, he found small vials with tiny watery slime inside; he knew what they were. It was an alien substance capable of turning anyone into an obedient puppet. The alien substance was more of a tool than a sentient being, It was mostly used on the enemies to make them talk.

Colby took three samples and went back to his dorm, where all the soldiers were sleeping; he went to Tyler's bed first and poured the slime into his ear, and watched the hunk convulse in his bed, then he did the same with Marcus and Alex.

What Colby didn't know was that only one drop of the alien substance would already make someone extremely susceptible to orders, but he poured an entire vial into each soldier, turning them into permanent puppets.

Now he had the three of them flexing at his command.

Colby walked around them slowly, taking in the sight of their impressive physiques. These were the guys who used to make his life hell in the military, who had teased him relentlessly. And now, here they were, doing exactly what he told them to.

He walked to Tyler first and pulled the flexing soldier for a passionate kiss. Tyler kept flexing mindlessly as his mouth was explored by Colby's tongue. When he pulled back, Tyler was left with his mouth frozen open, and just for fun, Colby spat inside.

Next, he went to Marcus, the dark skinned soldier.

"You used to think you were so much better than me," Colby murmured as he walked behind Marcus, his fingers brushing lightly across the soldier’s black biceps. "But look at you now. Completely under my control."

Marcus didn't respond, couldn't respond. His body remained still, locked in place, every inch of him obeying Colby's commands. Colby moved to Alex next—The shorter, but not less muscular soldier—placing a hand on his thick bicep, feeling the rock-hard muscles.

"Go ahead, flex harder for me," Colby whispered.

Alex’s muscles tightened even more, his veins popping out as he strained to flex with all his might. Colby could hardly believe how good it felt to have them like this.

"All three of you, take off your shirts," Colby commanded.

In perfect sync, Tyler, Marcus, and Alex reached down, pulling off their sweat-soaked shirts and tossing them aside. Their muscular chests were now bare, each one defined with perfect, rock-hard abs and thick, powerful pecs. The three soldiers remained silent, their eyes blank, their bodies perfectly still as Jack continued to inspect and worship their muscles, knowing that there was nothing they wouldn’t do for him now.

Next, he took them to the empty dorm room, and once Inside, he commanded the three mindless soldiers to kneel before him and share his cock. Colby smiled with satisfaction as he watched the three cocky soldiers fighting to suck his cock. Once his cock was wet with their saliva, he commanded them to take off their shorts and lie on the same bed with their asses up.

He took Tyler first, taking his ass in a single thrust. As he fucked him, Colby ordered Tyler to moan and act like a slut, which he did. Tyler moaned and begged Colby to fuck him harden, Tyler cried in pleasure and even came a few times, but when Colby pulled away, Tyler went back to his frozen mindless self.

The door opened, and Theo stepped out. His face was slack, his eyes glazed over with a vacant stare, and his tongue lolled from his mouth. Upon seeing me, he flexed his bicep.

"I’m inside him, Master..." Theo murmured, his deep voice slightly slurred, as though forming words was now a difficult task. "I ate a part of his brain like you ordered me to. He's now just a husk."

Theo was my next-door neighbor, the guy was the epitome of a jock stereotype—handsome, athletic, and insufferably arrogant. But especially, he was a notorious womanizer. He would bring home a new girl practically every week, and the thin walls of our apartment building ensured I was subjected to every squeak of his bed and every crescendo of moans and gasps. It was maddening, infuriating... and, if I’m honest, a little jealousy-inducing.

I’d fantasized about him for months, despite his obnoxious behavior.

Did I go too far by asking my alien companion to crawl into his ear while he was sleeping and turn his jock brain into mush? Probably. But as I stared at him now, standing in the doorway with that empty, obedient expression, I couldn’t bring myself to regret it. He was mine now—a blank slate, a beautiful, mindless plaything.

I took a deep sniff of his hairy armpit while he stood mindless.

"Let’s head inside," I said, stepping into his apartment as if I owned the place. "I’m done listening to him screw those girls. Now, it’s my turn. Make sure you dig into his memories of those past hookups so you can recreate every move he made with them."

"Yes, Master." Theo closed the door.

We walked into an abandoned building away from the park, where I found this handsome young man playing basketball with his team. He was the captain of the team and also the hottest jock. He was quite popular around the neighborhood. I didn't know his name, but I would always see him playing basketball at the park.

He dominated the court like it was his personal playground. Now, he was an alien's personal playground.

I stared at the dumb, sweaty young basketball player standing in front of me. He was frozen, his mind completely wiped, his strong, muscular body completely under our command. His basketball shorts pooled around his ankles. Displaying his throbbing cock that bobbed as my slimy alien buddy slithered around his cock, his tiny tentacles coiling tighter around the shaft, feeding on his essence. I grinned.

"Alright, hotshot. Pose for me. Arms up. Show me those pits."

The basketball player obeyed instantly, raising his arms and flexing like he was about to snap a thirst trap for his followers. The sight was divine. His sleeveless blue jersey was tight on his body. And those pits? Hairy and drenched in the sweet, musky perfume of a hardworking jock who'd just spent hours running up and down the court.

I stepped closer, inhaling deep. "Damn. Smells like pure testosterone in here."

I buried my face into his left armpit first, pressing my nose against the damp hairs, breathing him in like he was the last source of oxygen on Earth. My tongue darted out, lapping at the sweat-slicked skin. Salty, rich, absolutely addicting. My cock twitched in my pants as I slathered my tongue up and down, licking him like a starving man, my hands gripping his thick biceps for support.

"Mmm, you taste so fucking good," I moaned against his pits. His scent filled my lungs, his sweat coated my lips, and I switched over to his right pit, nuzzling in deep, dragging my tongue through the damp forest of hair. The jock didn't react. He stood there like a perfect, mindless toy, his face blank, his body only useful for pleasure and consumption.

"You enjoying the meal?" I asked, pulling away just long enough to glance down.

The alien slime pulsed in response, his small tendrils wrapped snugly around his cock, milking him slowly, coaxing every drop of his essence. The cock twitched as the jock let out a soft, brainless groan as the slime fed on his seed.

"That's enough, buddy. You already drained everything out of him," I said, reaching up to stroke the jock's handsome face.

The alien gave a satisfied purr as his tendrils unwrapped from the thick shaft, slithering up the jock’s body before slipping into his ear with a slurping sound. Every time after eating, the alien had to take three hours of rest so his slimy body could digest all the cum he consumed, leaving me alone with an empty vessel for hours.

I glanced at the jock's cock, still hard and glistening with the alien's slimy spit. A grin formed on my face, and I pulled down my pants. I could as well have some fun, he was already even lubed for me.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him, he just stared back at me with a blank face.

"Hold me in your arms and gently insert your dick in my ass."

Without delay, he lifted me effortlessly, his hands gripping my ass. I wrapped my legs around him, and he slowly impaled me with his big cock. I rested my face on his shoulder and let out a long moan. He filled me so good.

I suddenly remembered spotting an abandoned isolated basketball court behind the building, and an idea struck me...

Moments later, the jock was playing basketball alone on the abandoned court. He was now completely naked except for his black socks and sneakers. I was still naked and wrapped around him, my arms hugging his neck and my legs around his waist, while his cock remained lodged deep inside me. Yet he played basketball as if I wasn’t there, just as he had been ordered.

He bounced the ball with the skill of a professional player and then jumped, effortlessly making the shot inside the basket. His cock sank deeper into me as he jumped, making me moan loudly. But as he came down, I bounced slightly, causing his cock to slip out of my ass. But that wasn’t a problem—I had ordered him to put his cock back inside me every time he slipped out.

After fixing his cock inside me, he went back to playing.

He was panting hard and covered in sweat by then. His muscles were tense and straining. He was exhausted from supporting my weight for so long. I wasn't too heavy, but even the strongest bodybuilder couldn't hold someone up for an extended period. But he wasn't human anymore. He was now a brain-dead puppet, and he would keep playing, carrying me around the court, until his body finally gave out.

Feeling his warm and sweaty fit body pressing against mine was so comforting, I wasn't going to order him to stop any time soon.

Read Part 1

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Tyler’s dad’s face goes blank and he topples over forward towards the trio. Jeremy, knowing in advance how this would go, uses the combined strength of his own body and Dave’s to catch Mr. Steer and gently lay him face down on the floor where he would have landed.

“Dude, what the fuck!” Tyler responds terrified. And rightly so, it has been a stressful 30 seconds. “What did you just do to my dad?!”

“Don’t worry. He’s fine!” Jeremy says, still fully animating both his own body and Dave’s body.

“I did the same thing that I did to this sexy flesh puppet!” Jeremy says this time through Dave’s mouth, grinning widely displaying Dave’s perfect teeth.

Truth be told Jeremy is pretty content with the current circumstances. His experiment with Dave was fairly selfless, mostly choosing Dave for his best friend’s potential pleasure. Dave isn’t really his type. Now their father, Mr. Steer is more Jeremy’s type. He has always had a secret crush on his best friend’s hyper masculine father. He is like the pinnacle of manliness. How can he not lust after such a perfect representation of masculinity.

To Jeremy’s delight, Tyler also seems excited with the prospects of his father’s new status as a lifeless flesh puppet. He can already see where Tyler’s mind is going before he speaks a single word.

“Can I try him out?” Tyler asks eagerly.

“Yeah of course little bro!” Jeremy says through Dave’s mouth. “Breathe some life back into our old man!”

“Just reach out and touch his skin anywhere you’d like” Jeremy says, using his own mouth this time to speak. “It’s going to be disorienting at first, but take it slow. Try not to do too much at once. Just channel yourself into him, and become him as much as you can. It sort of feels like you’re leaving your body and possessing his. Just leave a bit of yourself in your old body, try not to get lost in the puppet.”

“Okay..” Tyler says psyching himself up.

Reaching out and touching his father’s thick masculine hand. He grips his father’s hand tightly and suddenly feels himself being sucked into what feels like an empty void, but he still feels his knees firmly planted on the floor. He realizes he can feel every inch of both bodies at the same time. Every area of skin, every taste bud, he can suddenly hear and smell things more complexly and most confusing of all he now has two completely independent sets of vision coming from two different sets of eyes.

“Whoa…” Tyler says through both his mouth and his dad’s mouth at the same time.

“I know, it’s crazy right bro!” Jeremy says through Dave’s mouth. Patting Tyler on the shoulder with Dave’s hand.

Tyler is so consumed with his own new sensations that he barely noticed Jeremy’s presence. He turns his father’s body over on its back, and looks deeply into his father’s eyes, experiencing the mind blowing paradox of looking into the mirror of his own eyes with someone else’s body, and yet seeing himself reflected back wearing his father’s face. Giving in to his instincts, he leans down and starts kissing his father’s rough lips. Experiencing the feeling of his father’s salt and pepper beard scratching his face, but also feeling his own tongue enter his new daddy lips. The experience of making out with himself is becoming so erotic and all consuming that he completely loses himself.

Then he slips. But he doesn’t feel the fall. He loses that last bit of himself that was left in his old body and he is suddenly only seeing the world through his father’s eyes. And his sensual kiss instantly becomes very ordinary. But at the same time much worse than ordinary, because he is now kissing his own lifeless body that has collapsed on top of him.

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