possess or transform

Chris drove onto the driveway and turned off the engine of his motorcycle as Steve already opened the front door.

"Really man?", Steve said. "First boys night in 3 years and you are driving? I wanted to drink with you..."

"I had to drive as I didnt want to walk all the way to you as my flatmate isnt home. Driving 4 hours to you with a motorcycle is already long, I dont even want to know how long walking would've took.", Chris answered, already taking off his helmet and gloves. After a short pause. "We can drink, but then I have to sleep somewhere in your house."

"Thats no problem. You can sleep on my couch.", Steve wanted to get back inside as he noticed something. "Oh, hey! Look at that. You got a new bike. Thats awesome!"

"Yeah, bought it two days ago. I love it.", Chris slapped the seat after hanging his gloves and helmet onto the handlebar. "You wanna drive it around for a little bit?"

Chris looked at Steve and saw that he was thinking about it.

"I'd love to, but...- "

"But what? I know you have the license to drive a bike.", Chris said.

"Yeah, I have it. But I wont drive without protective clothes. And I have none.", Steve said, looking down.

Chris took off his motorcycle leather jacket and threw it to Steve. Steve catched the jacket by surprise, he looked at Chris. Without his biker jacket, Steve was able to see Chris' muscles beneath a tight shirt. Chris had worked out more, Steve noticed.

"You can take mine for the short time.", Chris said, walking towards Steve. "Maybe a bit too big for you, but it should work."

Steve put on Chris' jacket and was surprised how damp and warm it was on the inside. He was definitely hot inside his clothes while driving, Steve thought, kinda turns me on.

"But the jacket isnt enough, if something happens. Isnt it?", Steve asked, hoping to get more from Chris.

"You need the helmet and gloves too.", Chris points towards the handlebar.

"And something for beneath the waist?"

Chris leaned down and opened his boots. He pulled them off and placed them in front of Steve.

Chris put his arms on his hips.

"Do you want to put on my pants too?"

"No, no. Thats it, thanks.", Steve said, trying not to stare at Chris' huge bulge that appeared in his leather pants after getting back up.

Chris walked next to Steve and sat down onto the step in front of the door. His white wool socks left wet footprints on the driveway.

Nice, wet and sweaty boots, Steve thought.

Steve kicked off his sneakers and took Chris' boots closer. A whiff of leather and sweat reached Steves nose, turning him on. He slipped his foot into the first boot and got goose bumps. He never felt this way towards Chris before. Or was it his biker attire? Steve wasnt sure. He slipped his other foot into the second boot and failed to close them.

"Let me help you.", Chris said, kneeling in front of Steve to close his motorcycle boots.

Steve stood up after Chris finished. The boots are incredibly comfy, Steve thought.

He got onto the motorcycle, put on gloves and helmet and drove for 20 minutes. Chris sat back down on the step again. He felt that Steve was kind of weird while putting his boots on. But Chris found weirder, that he kind of liked seeing someone walking around in his clothes. He layed down onto the step and waited for Steve to return.

Steve returned with a big smile on his face.

"This was incredible. I should get a bike too!", he said.

"It gives a sense of freedom, doesnt it?", Chris answered.

"Yeah, it really does."

He got off the bike and handed Chris the jacket back. Steve opened the front door again and Chris put the jacket back on.

"Lets go inside."

"I'm right behind you."

Chris entered the house and closed the door. He followed Steve through the house into the living room and sat down on the chair in front of Steve.

"You drink scotch,  right?", Steve asked.

Chris nodded and Steve poured him a drink and pushed it over to Chris.

"Cheers!"

Both started to drink.

After some hours, many drinks, games and smalltalk, Steve streched out his legs and placed them between Chris'. As Chris looked down, he saw that Steve was still wearing his motorcycle boots.

"I know they're comfy, but you're still wearing my boots.", Chris said.

"Oh, yeah. I really didnt notice them.", Steve answered, slightly sad that he has to take them off now.

Chris took Steve's legs and laid them onto his lap. He slowly opened the boots and removed them one by one from Steve's feet. The smell of Steve's sweaty feet coming out of his boots was stinging in Chris' nose, kind of turning him on as his dick got hard. Steve noticed it and wiggled with his toes.

"You like this?", he asked.

He gently pushed his smelly feet against Chris' crotch. He loved the feeling of the leather against his feet.

Chris tried to suppress a slight moan but failed.

"Steve, no. This is - ungh - this is wrong. Mmhhh - fuck... I'm so horny since I saw you in my clothes. Especially in my boots.", Chris said.

"Then why dont we go a step further and you'll let me wear everything.", Steve said, still massaging Chris' crotch with his feet.

Chris is torn.

"No, that wouldnt be right. I have a girlfriend."

"Hmm, okay.", Steve said removing his feet from Chris' crotch.

Chris put his boots back on and took a sip from his drink.

"I think I'll go to bed now. You can sleep here on the couch.", Steve said, getting up from the table. "I'll get you a blanket."

"Are you angry now, just because I didnt consent?"

"No, no. I'm just a bit tired."

Chris walked over to the couch and made himself comfortable. Steve handed him a blanket.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Chris listened to Steve walking up the stairs and closing the bedroom door. After that he pushed the blanket to the side and took off his jacket and shirt.

It's so hot, I dont know how I can fall asleep, Chris thought. Shortly after he fell asleep deeply.

Steve waited some hours and carefully walked down the stairs again. He tried to make as little noise as possible. He took out a rag drenched in chloroform and got closer to the sleeping Chris. He carefully placed his legs on each side of the couch and laid the rag onto Chris' face. At first he didnt react but after some seconds Chris started to wake up from the smell. Steve, completely naked, let himself fall onto Chris' chiseled stomach and now pressed his hands with the rag onto Chris' nose and mouth. Chris felt Steves dick against his abs and tried to fight him but was already weakened. They struggled some minutes until Chris went unconscious.

Steve left the rag on Chris' face but got off of his body. He went to the end of the couch and started to remove Chris boots. He loved to see Chris' white socks beneath. He removed them with his teeth and enjoyed every second of it. After that he opened Chris' pants and stripped them off of him. He threw them onto the rest of Chris clothes and admired both, the pile and Chris' muscular unconscious body.

He tied up Chris and waited till morning for him to be conscious again. It was already dawn as he woke up.

Chris noticed how he wasnt able to move and opened his eyes. In front of him was Steve putting on his biker attire.

"Good, you're awake. You like what you see? Do I turn you on?", Steve said.

"Steve, what the fuck? Untie me right now! I wont play this kinky shit.", Chris shouted angrily.

"Well, your member sees this differently."

Chris looked down at his erect dick and calmed down. Innerly he knew that this was turning him on, he just didnt want to admit it.

Steve was now wearing all of Chris' clothes but his underpants. He took out his phone and snapped a selfie.

"Damn, I look good in this.", Steve said, grabbing his erect dick beneath the tight leather pants. "You know, I could use a slight relief. But first, you'll gonna admire your boots on my feet."

Steve put his feet directly next to Chris' face.

"Lick it buddy."

Without any hesitation, Chris started to work on his boots. It turned Chris on, not to be the hunky alpha male he normally is. It was even more arousing for him that Steve was wearing his biker attire. He cleaned the soles completely and took the whole tip into his mouth to play around it with his tongue.

The look of his hunky best friend licking his own biker clothes while Steve is wearing it made his dick even harder, causing him to shoot a load into Chris' suit.

He opened the zipper of his pants and pulled out his hard dick. He put his foot back down, grabbed Chris by his ankles and pulled him closer. He placed Chris tied feet on his shoulders and tried to enter Chris' hole with his hard dick.

"Wait, no! I dont want to be fuuuu-. My god, that feels crazy!", Chris exclaimed as Steve pushed his throbbing dick inside him. It was a difficult fit, even though Steve's dick wasnt the biggest. What a firm ass, Steve thought.

"Looks like your body doesnt want to give up your virginity easily.", Steve said.

Chris could only let out a groan. Steve crammed his flesh deeper inside Chris and started grinding. The pace of Steves thrusts was picking up. Chris started to move uncomfortably, moaning and whining.

"Pleeeaase, stop! It hurts!", Chris exhaled, trying to untie himself.

"Oh shit! I'll gonna cum.", Steve said, awkwardly caressing Chris' pecks and abs down to his thick cock.

"Then please pull it out. Fuck! Dont cum in me, please!", Chris whimpered.

Steve further stroked Chris' dick, causing it to get hard.

"No! I'll shoot my load right into your tight, virgin ass. Now you'll feel what it is like to be a bottom like me!", Steve said feeling that he's coming.

Chris screamed in agony as his ass filled with Steve's semen. He whimpered.

"Now, you'll shoot your load!", Steve said in a low, lustful tone.

Steve pulled out his dick, still stroking Chris'. He leaned down and took Chris' fat dick into his mouth. He almost gagged because of it's size. Chris started to moan between his whimpering. He still tried to release himself from the ties and from Steve's grip.

Steve sucked in a rhythmic manner and looked like he's enjoying it.

"I hope you are enjoying this as much as I do.", Steve mumbled, still having Chris' dick in his mouth.

Steve sucked further while running his hands over Chris' abs. Chris on the other hand started to notice that something changed in his body. He saw that it looked like something was getting sucked from his body through his dick.

"Steve. Please, stop! I feel weird! Just look.", Chris shouted. "Please!"

Steve didnt care to look, he was completely focused on getting Chris to cum. He wanted to swallow this thick seed of his hunky friend. Steve felt that he needed it to find to himself. He played with Chris' dick in his mouth with his tongue and felt how pre-cum started to drip from Chris' dick. One hard suck and Chris had a huge orgasm. Steve made sure to swallow every bit of it.

Chris saw in horror how his muscles started to disappear, his chest and belly were starting to grow hair. Grey hair! He felt how he started to grow a beard quickly and that he lost some of his hair. And as if losing his muscles wasnt enough he saw how his legs and belly started to grow. His skin became wrinkled and Chris felt that he got weaker every time Steve swallowed his cum.

At the same time, Chris saw how Steve started to fill out his biker attire more. Not in a fat way. In a muscular way.

He is stealing my muscles, my body, my features!, Chris thought.

Steve sucked Chris' dick dry and spat it out. It was nothing compared to what it was before, it has shrunken so much.

Steve licked his lips and looked up for the first time again. Steve and Chris looked each other terrified in the eye.

"Shit! What happened to you?!", Steve shouted.

"You happened! I told you that something was off when you started sucking. You fucker, stole my muscles even your face has now similarities to my old one!", Chris shouted in anger. He noticed that his voice cracked like an old man.

"Fuck, I didnt know this would happen. Sorry!", Steve exclaimed. He looked down at his body and was amazed. "Damn, this feels awesome! I feel so strong."

"Thats my body! Give it back!"

"I will find a way to reverse this Chris. I swear! But first I have to test this body out!"

Steve walked towards the door.

"You cant just leave me here!", Chris shouted.

"I'm coming back 'grandpa'. This is something I've dreamed off. I'll get every hunk into my bed with this body!", Steve said. "And after I've finished,  I'll find a way to give your muscles back."

"No! You can not do this to me!", Chris started to whimper. Tears ran down his cheeks. "Those are my muscles. My features. Stay and give them back. Please!"

Steve opened the door and left without saying another word. He could hear Chris scream and cry from the inside.

Steve sat down on Chris' motorcycle and admired his body again.

"This is amazing. I dont know if want to go back.", he said to himself. "These clothes also fit perfectly. I should take some more from Chris' home as my old ones wont fit until we know how this happened."

He put on the helmet and gloves and drove away.

_______________________

​I swear I worked day in and day out to achieve an accomplishment that he takes credit of. He gets the bigger paycheck and the nice glass office while I sit out here doing a majority of the work. He gets the nice fat paycheck, and I get the nice long hours.

​One night, I went into a club and ran into this very handsome man who heard everything I had to say; he seemed to have known my story before I told it. I didn't know I was selling my soul when I told him my wish. I wish I was him. I do the work, so why can't I be him?

​The next morning, I walked into the building just like any other day. I walked straight into my boss's office while he was standing by the window. It’s where everything happens, so the transformation took place there too. I am taking over his body and his life, because I do the work that gave him that body and life. It is time to collect on my efforts.

​As I step into my boss's body, the transformation happens. I am in the office taking over while the young, good-looking man from the club is there, watching. As I merge into my boss, he fades and transforms into the Devil right there in the room. No one else can see him; they just see the boss in his office. I see him because I made the deal with his man the night before, and that’s when I found out I sold my soul to become who I am.

​Since the boss didn't really do anything but take the credit, he is sent off to limbo, just floating. Now he might have to watch me be him until the time the Devil comes to collect and take my soul as payment. I get his body, I get his physique, and I get that corner glass office.

​Before the Devil leaves, he stands there and reminds me of what I said to him. He leans in and whispers that I wished to be him, and now I am him.

​The part of me that does all the work is now part of him. I might as well get what I worked for if I’m going to keep doing the work—I’m the man who finally got the body I dreamed of.

​The transformation is done. The young man gets to live his new life until it becomes time to be collected.

I've known that I was a Swapper since middle school, but I couldn't exactly use my power at all. Usually, people would have to agree to a swap for it to work- but I found a loophole. I found out that i could get them to pseudo agree if I agreed to do something on my end-- they didn't have to know about it.

"I'll do your homework" for 5 pounds of muscle.

So of course I made myself a target for the frats, and that didn't take much. All I had to do was offer to help out with homework once, the rest would funnel to me through word of mouth.

At 2 weeks I had gained 50 pounds of muscle, and nearly a foot in height. Seeing abs on my scrawny ass body for the first time was intoxicating. I felt unstoppable- like a god. If I wanted to I could just "trade" my services for a bigger amount- but I want it to be gradual. I want to feel my muscles pulse bigger with each guy. I want to see the frats losing life as they slowly become dweebs. It's more fun to drag out their torture.

You could tell the ones that would come to me more, Jackie– he would've killed me if i called him that a month ago- is now a 5'6" hyperfeminine twink. And boy can that boy take a dick.

Of course I'm the one who controls the transfer, so I started changing the way I stole. Some guys that were late to the party got lucky. I would let them keep their muscle, but I'd drain their dominance and an inch or so off their dick. This guy for example used to be an asshole, now he begs for my cock, just like the rest of my cumdumps.

I know that deep down they remembered their past selves. They remembered that they used to be taller, straight. -but that's the thing about us Swappers, once we've imprinted on you, there's no going back.

The days passed by and I admit, I got a little overzealous. Right now I'm 7 feet tall, 350 pounds of pure muscle, swinging around the biggest dick you've seen in your life. Most of the fags I drained just hangout around me now, I think they think of me as a god of some kind. A god that took away their suffering, giving them pleasure by fucking them with the dick i stole from them.

The room shook; the dull thud, thud, thud of the bass rumbled around the room and Steve's head.

It was a Saturday night and Ryan Doolan, was upstairs having a party – AGAIN! "Fucking college jocks" Steve groaned under his breath. Looking out the window it was no surprise to see fifteen or so cars parked down the street and on the grass outside.

Of course Ryan had told him this morning that he'd be having a party tonight. He stood there in his long shorts and vest; he was a big tall guy, built as well, perfect for the basketball team. He filled most of the door frame ad he looked down at Steve.

"Yeah, it will be kicking off about nine tonight. You're welcome to come of course and I promise to keep the noise down, I know it got a little out of hand last time." He yawned.

"Thanks." Steve replied in a tone wasted on the towering jock.

-----

It was now 1am and the noise hadn't dropped in fact it had gotten worse.

It's true he could have called the police again as he did before but it was pointless, he thought he'd sorted out the late night parties but Ryan had made him pay for snitching, for the following three weeks he'd made Steve's life a misery.

But tonight Steve had a plan to undermine and humiliate Ryan.

Steve only had to wait knowing that the addictive qualities of the drink would mean that they would be reluctant to share, and they needed to drink a lot for it to work.

The party was still going on at three, but Steve was waiting patiently by the window, waiting and watching.

Finally there was a commotion outside, and Steve watched as the two jocks he'd spoken to earlier stumbled out onto the grass outside and collapsed.

He walked outside and rolled one of the jocks over, he was still holding onto one of bottles, over half of the milky blue liquid was gone. Resting his foot on the guys stomach he pushed gently, the jock made no sound but a milky blue liquid escaped from his mouth and nose, running down his face. The other guy was much the same although he'd almost finished the whole bottle.

Grabbing a foot from each of the jocks Steve let out a grunt as he pulled them into his apartment. Dragging them into the bathroom he flopped each of them over the rim of the bath, and leaned on their backs as more and more of the liquid spewed out of their mouths. It wasn't long before the two of the them were completely empty lifeless skins.

Steve lifted up one of the heads of the jocks looking in the lifeless empty eyes, "Fuck the formula had worked perfectly, two down and many more to go."

With little effort Steve stripped the guys of their clothes, finding their ID's in their pockets, he mused for a moment "Ok, Todd Mickle, Jonah Hall who's going to be the lucky guy?" Todd was 21 whereas Jonah was 19, a good ten years younger than Steve but he reminded himself that these guys were just tools to connect with other more influential jocks.

Biting his lip a little, Steve looked at each of the deformed, drooping faces as he held them by the scruffs of the neck. A grin appeared on Steve's face as he dropped Todd, "It's your lucky day Jonah." Steve brushed back the thick black hair of the young jock and left the bathroom dragging Jonah behind him.

There was a lot of snapping noises like elastic and cussing coming from the bedroom, only a couple of minutes later a restored Jonah returned to the bathroom scratching the thick mop of hair on his head. Limping and hopping a bit he pulled on his dick, "Chafes a bit." He groaned. Jonah, admittedly with Steve on the inside threw Todd into the bathtub, and started pulling on Jonah's jeans and polo, Steve wriggled a bit pulling Jonah's jeans down to a familiar sag. Grabbing a bottle, Jonah filled it up with the milky blue fluid topping it up with vodka. Performing a final check in the mirror, he returned to the party.

Jonah worked his way around the jocks who were making most of the noise, getting them to try this new drink, they all loved it of course. They even used it in their game of beer-pong, and it wasn't long before they were looking for a quiet spot to rest.

Finding Ryan wasn't a big problem either, just had to look for the cocky jerk mouthing off about how great he was and how the team would most certainly fail without him.

Jonah filled up Ryan's plastic cup with the liquid and he sniffed it looking at Jonah suspiciously, but without hesitation Jonah took a big gulp knowing that he'd be safe with low quantities. Grinning Ryan chugged the lot down and held out his cup for more, of course Jonah kept filling it up.

It was only 20 minutes later when Ryan stumbled falling to the floor, his eyes were glazing over; Jonah put his arm around the heavy jock and like a good friend took him somewhere quiet, his bedroom. He reassured all his friends that he'd be back very soon, like a new man!

Strangely enough Ryan returned a while later and of course all his friends were pleased to see him, Jonah? nobody saw him for the rest of the party.

You know, with these new suits, I could have my friends have some fun in them. Hmm ...

I hate PE. I hate it so freaking much that I’d rather have history with Mr. Douglas every day than to run in front of Mr. Mills every day. He hates me, ever since I came out as gay at school I received mostly good feedback from others. Even my bullies were kinda nice about it. Thank God I live in the twenty first century. But one person didn’t really take It well.

I browsed through his instagram a few times. And while I looked for the perfect photo of him flexing his biceps, showing his abs or anything that would help me for my jerk off session, I found out that he was quite hardcore republican. How a person like this could get into education is beyond me.

As always I finished jerking off while looking at his regular bathroom gym photo. Man, what I would give to fuck him. Why do jerks always have the perfect body?

My phone buzzed. I snapped back into reality. Jack, my friend who is also gay, but not out yet, texted me.

“Hey, are we gonna ditch school tomorrow? I can’t hear any more of that Mills bullshit while we climb the rope”

“We’re gonna be rope climbing? Ah fuck me. He’s gonna be insufferable.”

“My thoughts exactly. So? Are we skipping school?”

“I can’t man. I gotta keep up my attendance after missing so many days thanks to Mr. Mills”

Next day, 2:29 PM

I stood next to the rope, waiting for Jake to finish his turn. Mr. Mills stood below him, screaming. Jake couldn’t get to the top. Mr. Mills told him to get down and screamed at him some more. What an asshole. It was my turn. The bell rang. “Fuck yeah. No more rope climbing for me.” My classmates, me included, turned to head to the lockers.

Mr. Mills: ”González? Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Me: ”Sir, the class is over and it’s Friday.”

Mr. Mills: ”The class is over when I say it is over. Get on the fucking rope and stop talking back at me. The rest of you can leave.”

I got close to the rope. I grabbed it and squeezed the rope between my feet. I started pulling myself up and immediately felt the pain of lifting myself. I knew I was weak, I didn’t really need some wannabe teacher slash gym freak to remind me and scream at me what a lazy piece of shit I am. I tried to ignore him. I gave myself a goal to just finish it and leave, but Mr. Mills stood directly below me to comment on my fat ass slowing me down.

I was almost at the top, a wave of happiness swept over me. “Shit, I’m gonna make it!”

And right then I slipped. And instead of locking my feet, I just let go off the rope.

THUD

“I survived. Fuck. I fell from the freaking rope. My head was hurting so hard. My head? But I thought that I fell on my back? Ahhh the pain.”

I opened my eyes. My vision was blurry from the fall. I tried blinking several times and my vision was slowly getting better. I lifted my arm to grab on my head, but as I did it didn’t feel right. I looked at my arm. It was bigger. As in full of muscles.

“What the hell?” I said out loud, but instead of my young squeaky almost too feminine voice a low baritone came out of my throat.

“How the fuck…?!” I looked to my left. There was my body getting up from the ground

Me: ”Mr. Mills?”

Mr. Mills: ”Ah you gotta be fucking kidding me?! Is that you González?”

Me: ”I… Yes. How… How did this happen?” Mr. Mills: ”Does it look like this happens to me a lot?”

Me: ”But… it’s scientifically impossible”

Mr. Mills: ”I bet this was caused by those covid vaccines to make you immigrant fags take over our lives.”

Me: ”Yeah… right. Cause everyone wants to be a stupid republican”

Mr. Mills: ”Shut your mouth or…” he was interrupted by the janitor telling us to leave so he can lock the school. Mr. Mills gave me his car keys and I gave him instructions how to find my locker. We decided to meet each other in his car and to figure out what to do after that.”

After many unsuccessful attempts I found his Chevrolet and entered the passenger’s seat. Few moments later, I realized that I’m gonna be the one driving so I switched seats and got behind the wheel for the first time in my life. His car was amazing, it smelt great and was clean. How should I even drive this thing? I don’t drive a car. I’ll get us into trouble.

I stopped overthinking about the car. “I am in my teachers body. The one who bullied me almost every day. I am an adult male.” I looked into the rearview mirror. “Fuck, I am in one of the hottest man’s body around. And I am wasting it just worrying here. I flexed and squeezed my new biceps. Fuuuck. It’s so huge. I checked if no one else was around and lifted up my shirt.

“Oh my gooood” I slammed my head into the seat. “This is so hot!”

My new abs and pecs now uncovered were the most perfect ones I have ever seen. The ones I jerk off to every night before sleep. And now it’s here. All for me.

I opened my eyes and saw Mr. Mills in my body approaching the car. And behind him ran Jake. They entered the car.

I tried to improvise: „Why is your friend here?”

Jake: „Holy shit. So it is true. Mr. Mills would never react so calm. Is that really you in there, Daniel?”

I turned at Mr. Mills who now had a very irritated face. “I didn’t say anything, he figured it out.”

Jake: „I didn’t believe it at first, but Daniel never swears like this. And your vocabulary isn’t exactly rich so I knew really quickly where I heard the phrases before. Damn, I’m good. So? What are we gonna do? We should test it out somehow. Shit, Daniel you should get drunk tonight!”

Mr. Mills: „No! There won’t be no drinking, touching or anything with my body. This is definitely temporary and we will be back by tomorrow morning.”

Me: „If you think so…”

I drove Jake and my body home. Mr. Mills had to give me a speed course of driving, but his muscle memory helped me out way more than I thought. We set up some ground rules. No drinking, no drugs, no permanent changes to our bodies, no photos and no sex. He left the car while saying something about a fag in his body, but I couldn’t care less anymore. I speeded to get to his house asap.

I didn’t really explore the house as much when I arrived. I went straight to where I thought was the bedroom and immediately started taking off my clothes. His black speedo was PACKING and getting tighter every minute, but I really wanted to make this first exploration as perfect as possible. I lifted up the shirt, touching my new hairless and fatless stomach. I flexed and sets of abs appeared. I touched every last one of them. My hand continued up to my new large pecs.

“God damn, Mr. Mills. These are some perfect man titties.” I squeezed them. They looked so tight in all the photos, but when I wasn’t flexing them, they were quite soft. Must be amazing to lay on these. I played with them some more before taking off my shirt and releasing my new hairy pits. I took a long whiff off them. “I smell like a proper MAN now!” I licked it as well, enjoying the salty taste of Mr. Mills’s pits. I looked at myself in the mirror. My new dick was hard as a rock and waited for me to take care of it.

I headed to the shower and turned on a hot water. “Your body is probably not used to a hot water, am I right, Mr. Mills? I bet you are one of those cold water freaks who bathe in the icy waters.” I hated his voice before, but right now as I was controlling it, I began to like it so much.

The water poured all over my large body, from the perfect face, over my massive pecs, hairless abs and right to my beautiful dick. “Nice dick, Mr. Mills!” I said and chuckled over the fact that I just said that.

I suddenly got a mischievous idea. I came out of the shower and texted Jake.

Jake: „I can’t believe I’m doing this. I am just squeezing Mr. Mills’s pecs and touching his abs. Can you believe it, Daniel?”

Me: „It’s wild, right? But I got an idea. Wanna make it more interesting?”

Jake: „Interesting how?”

Me: „Stop touching me you lazy fag” I said in an authoritative voice and Jake moved his hands away from me quickly.

Jake: „Why did you do that? I got scared.”

Me: „I bet you are scared, you little fag. I know you just came over so that you could jerk off you little dick and watch me enjoy myself.”

Jake: „Daniel?”

Me: „Daniel won’t save you right now. You will do as I say. Ok?”

Jake finally caught up to my roleplay scenario and started acting as well. And by the look of his face I knew that he was really into it.

Jake: „Yes, Mr. Mills. I will do whatever you say.”

I sat down on the couch watching. “I want you to admire my body and say how hot I am and how horny it makes you.”

Jake got his hands on MY body and got a bit nervous: „You have sexy abs, Mr. Mills.”

Me: „You think that’s enough? That they are just sexy?”

Jake: „I think they’re the hottest abs I have ever seen”

Me: „How about my biceps. You like them?”

Jake: „They are SO big. I want you to squeeze my head in them. I want to lick your armpit hair. I want to kiss you.”

Me: „That’s a good boy. How about you show me how good you are, you fag?”

I moved his hands over to my new hard crotch.

Jake smiled and licked his lips

I fucking love being in this body.

And I bet Jake’s ass is gonna love this body even more.

I was almost afraid to go to sleep after fucking Jake last night. He went off back home with a sore ass. No wonder when Mr. Mills’s dick is so huge, he’s extremely hung! I am now, hehe.

The mid-morning sun blazed over the Springfield college campus on a Sunday morning. Just off the main road, on a winding side street stood the well worn home of the Omega X Phi boys. A towering construction with multiple towers hanging on a wraparound porch. Three stories tall, whitewashed wood covering every wall. Multiple 20 something men were passed out on the front lawn from last night's rager.

A sharp knocking sound rang as a hand rapped the brass Greek letter knocker. The sound grew louder and more incessant when no one came to the door. Finally a hunky freshman by the name of Terence roused himself from his spot on the foyer. He stumbled upstairs, opening and closing the doors till he found the fraternity president. Johnathan or JB was sound asleep, sandwiched between a busty blonde girl and a bodybuilder type guy. Terence shook him awake.

“Yo, like, someone’s at the door. Think it’s some kinda narcs, bro.”

JB blinked awake, trying to calm his jittery brother. “Hey it’s fine, let’s go see what this about.”

He carefully climbed out of bed and gestured for Terence to follow him. As they climbed down the stairs JB kicked two other frat members awake. Chad and Kip, both recent additions to Omega X Phi. They opened the door, squinting in the bright light that helped their hangovers very little. 

Standing on the chipped wood of the porch, from left to right stood a varied and disgruntled group. First was the young athletic coach of the girls sports team, none of the hungover males could recall what sport. But who really cared about women’s sports anyway?  Besides her looking like the total opposite of the coach was a middle aged southern woman. Her hair clearly dyed to keep away the gray and her yellow blouse cut perfectly to her figure. Three more people stood huddled together, two willowly young men, a little too young to be on a college campus. They had both been dragged by the older girl in front of them, she was clearly in charge of them by the way they looked at her, a mixture of fear and respect. She had a fierce expression on her face, at odds with her nerd girl outfit. The skinny dude on the end looked very uncomfortable to be around the others. He didn’t seem to have such an obvious dislike of the frat. All of them had come, however for the same reason, the rumors of the frat's “unorthodox” approach to recruiting, especially after it had been linked to several missing people. 

Now let me clear something up: Omega X Phi had a long slightly magical history. Since the founding in the late 80s the frat had been linked to numerous missing persons cases. But those people were never harmed, all of them turned out happier in the end. Not that anyone ever figured out the truth, to be a member was to be sworn to secrecy but to be given powers beyond comprehension. Not very creative thinkers, they just used these abilities to create more frat brothers. JB, the newest president had immediately hit the ground running, but it seemed the frats' activities hadn’t been as discreet as he would have liked. 

“Yo can I help you guys,” JB said as jovially as he could through his hangover. 

“Help! Help! You turned half of my team into guys, I barely have enough left to field a team!” Yelled the coach.

The mom next to her broke in “And my daughter was the captain, set to be on the national team. Now he’s chugging effing beers all night.”

“Ugh, who cares about dumb sports,” broke in the nerd girl. “I just want my genius boyfriend back.” 

She kicked the boys next to her in the shins till they squeaked out similar sentiments. “Yeah, give us back our big bro.” “Give him back, give him back” 

The guy on the left shuffled his feet, “I’m not with them, I just want… um, ya know.”

JB looked at the guys around him, his gaze loaded with words only his fellow bros understood. And simultaneously the bros picked a target and lunched forward, way too fast for a hangover.

“God, I’m way too drunk for this!”

JB grabbed a football off of one of the sagging chairs and tossed it to the coach. She caught it with one hand. 

“What the hell is this!” She snapped annoyed

But suddenly a surge of energy shot up her arm, her veins thickening. Muscles becoming massive and dense, and her frame broadening. Her height shot up, legs becoming long and thick, covered in a scattering of light hair. Her skin darkened and became a dark tan, as if she was outside daily. 

“W-what’s happe-ning tooo me,” she yelled through clenched teeth. Her voice deeper as her neck grew a sizable Adam’s Apple.

Her body continued to grow as she desperately tried to stop the changes. Her breast pushed back into her chest, leaving a smooth hard pectoral shelf. A small treasure trail grows on top of her already defined abs. Her hair began to ripple, sifting into a short spiked style. Her face broadened, becoming something distinctly male. She felt a strange feeling in her pants, reaching a hand unconsciously in. She freaked out upon feeling a small still-growing male prostrate. 

“What- is this a…?” She trailed off

“A dick, yep,” JB chuckled. “Every football star needs one, how else are you supposed to fuck the cheerleaders.” 

“Football star?” She now sputtered as his changing hormones fueled a growing hornyness. 

He couldn’t help but touch his new dick as it grew erect, filling him with an unfamiliar pleasure. His school branded polo vanished as his shorts reformed into an old pair of blue sweatpants, long enough to benefit her new size. His feet grow to massive proportions, breaking free of his tennis shoes. 

A sharp pain rang through his head, as if a dozen hangovers had all hit at once. The pain so great he wasn’t aware as his mind was rewritten. Memories of growing up in a home of girls, advocating for female representation, and getting her dream coaching position replaced with flashes of growing up with a single dad who taught him how to throw his first football, playing varsity all through high school, and being accepted as the starting quarterback for Springfield College. His hormones changed as new desires coursed through his brain, the urge to run off the last nights partying, the scattered feeling of screwing the guy cheerleaders in the locker room. 

JB looked to his right to see Chad in a huge argument with his mother. 

“I’m a dude, mom. This is what I want, why can’t you just fucking accept that!”

“No, sweetie. They changed you, this isn’t what you want, you loved being a girl. Don’t you remember…” she said, her voice raising in high pitched panic. 

“No, I remember you dragging me along on shopping trips I didn’t want to go on, I remember you forcing me into sports. I don’t care what you think, this is what I want to be.”

Chad finished his winded speech with finality refusing to listen to the rest of his moms desperate pleas. 

“You’ll get it soon, ma,” He muttered.

Suddenly she stopped ranting and fell silent as she felt  a strange bout of nausea. And she too began to change.

Her transformation was quite different from the coach’s. She didn’t regress down at all, in fact she stayed the same middle age. Yet she seemed to become older due to her desperate attempts at staying young reversing. That couldn’t have been more clear as wrinkles began to come into existence on her face. Making her look older and more distinguished. Her hair began to darken, not graying dispite her age just turning her original brown. Her delicate manicured hands not escaping the change, they thickened into massive meaty mits. Years of labor making them broad and tough, her pink nails cracking off revealing bitten down nails at the end of stubby fingers. 

Her thin body began to grow at a rapid rate, her while body becoming enlarged with a both fat and dormant muscle. Her arms, legs, chest, and back growing to fit a lengthening bone structure. She could feel the change in strangth in her body, she rarely worked out and so the new found muscle was disorienting. She could feel the power with each muscle that grew, as she began to wobble with unfamiliar height.

Finally looking her middle age and feeling more comfortable in her skin then she had for years. Her body had become nearly double the size, packing on even more as time went on. Breasts already traded for hard earned chest muscles. Thighs touching from the thickness of both muscle and fat. His ass now far more soild, but still the same large size she had prided herself on. 

“Son.. stop this. Ugh.” She ground out, not even noticing the causal change of pronoun reference.

Chad just watched the transformation continue. A thick layer of body hair began to sprout in every visible place, which was quite a lot as her body had outgrown her former clothing. It spread down her legs and over her forearms. Coating her ass and rippled  abdomen. But her chest had the densest forest of manly fur growing out of it. As it happened her fomor nips become smaller and smaller, growing ever so slightly erect. Meanwhile the perfectly styled hair she’d kept since high school began receded all the way back into a tight crew cut followed by her nonexistent faical hairmbecoming a sparse mature beard. 

Finally the headache subsided, bringing forth the mental shift. The changes flooded her mind just as it had with the former coach and everything unnecessary vanished from existence. Detaching her from her former life completely before installing new wants, needs and goals into her brain. Forcing him to think like a man and think of herself as a man. As this new thought popped into his mind, a thick girthy manhood grew under a newly formed jockstarp. His brain forged newfound obsessions with drinking and american football that he couldn’t wait to indulge in. Filling his memory bank with endless amounts of dad jokes. Implanting an irresistible urge to work out enough to keep him thick and hot. And of course we can’t forget an insatiable desire for sex.

Chadwick sir blinked groggily, Chad grinned up at his dad.

“Told ya not to drink that much, you just can’t keep up with us young blood anymore.”

Terence on the other hand was being barraded by his former girlfriend and brothers.

“Baby, this isn’t you, please come back.” She begged through tears, the brothers echoed her sentiments.

“Just be smart again, big bro.”

“Yeah, we miss our bro.”

Terence rubbed his hands through his messy brown curls. “Look, I don’t need a girlfriend anymore, ya know. And you bros are always welcome in my life, you know that.”

“No!!! You will not fag out on ME!” Terence’s ex screamed, making him lose any sense of regret for what he had to do. His brothers saw the change in his face and tried to shut her up to no anvil. 

They all felt a sudden drop in their stomachs and smelled something gross. It smelled like a mixture of old socks and moldy cheese. They wrinkled their noses as the stink invaded their minds. They recoiled but couldn’t help but sniff more, as if to discover the source of such a disgusting smell.

The transformation hit them like a lightning. First all of their bodies shot up, becoming the indentical height of exactly 6”. Next thing they felt was their chest shifting, her breasts vanished in favor of wide man nipples. Hard pectorals began to develop and punched their way unto place on chests. Beneath their clothing soild sets of washboard abs formed out of fat layers. Under said abs, the girls transformation took on a slightly different form then the boys, as her vingia reformed into a average sized disk weighed down by usually large testicles. 

Their legs also began to change, making them steadier in thier changing bodies. One of the boys made a slight gasping noise as his quads began to tense into solid muscle, perfect for the running they’d be doing every day. As soon as their thighs were done blowing up, their calves followed. Expanding with solid muscle on top of more muscle. She felt her butt flatten slightly to match the other two’s smaller asses. Their arm’s transformation mirrored the rest of their bodies. Years worth of muscle work pumped into thier arms, their biceps and triceps expanding to melon like proportions. Their hands expanding to become a natural size for gripping a beer or dabbing up. 

Once their hands had reached full size their feet’s changes kicked into high gear.  They could feel them expanding, toes becoming little meaty sausages, until their shoes collapsed form the pressure. Revealing massive stompers, thick with vain and muscle. 

“Ya know, maybe it’d be, like, cool to join the frat.” One of Terence’s brothers remarked. 

The others two tried to speak but couldn’t through the thickness in their expanding throut. All of them moaning deeply and sniffing desperately at this point, trying to inhale as much of that glorious stink as possible. By the time their necks reach maximum thickness they sounded like the deep tones of masculine jocks. Till this point thier transformations had been almost identical, now’s as the changes spread to their necks they began to diverge in appearance. 

The girlfriend’s head began to stretch longer and thicker. Her hair began to turn blond, her tight bun just vanishing completely. Her remaining hair fluffing out the sides and growing out on top. As soon as it stopped growing, a hat plopped unto her head. One of the boys felt his cheekbones move up and his chin pushing down, causing his cheeks to suck themselves in. The remaining brother’s nose shrank a slightly and both of thier lips grew a little wider. Both of the boys kept their hair colors of blonde and brown respectively, but it was now styled in a more jockish style. All of thier eyes took on a dull glare, making thier resemblance to Terence even more apparent.

Their sniffing become even more intense as the origins of the smell slowly became apparent. They began to feel slightly itchy, looking down they realized a faint dusting of hair was coming in across their body. Heavily covering everything, arms, legs, chest, even in thier butts. The thickest places was the dense bushes on their gargantuan feet and the dense forest of armpit hair. Once the hair had stopped growing thier bodies began to produce the powerful musk. The small but mighty scatterings of body hair were currently stink factories working overtime. 

Terence laughed as he watched the now three boys desperately huffed each other. Tearing of each others clothing that reformed as quickly as it went. Their pants becomibg shirts in varying colors, black, green, and white. One gained a worn gray t-shirt, the fomor girl a sleeveless hoddie, giving the last, adorned in a mesh jersey, full access to his musky pits. Worn sneakers grow over thier massive feet and two gained a pair of sunglasses that made them look like the dochebags they had become. 

The more they greedily laped up each other scent, the more thier minds began to dull. Blankness becaming their default mood, Memories of family and high school began to disappear and respawn as memories of tons of friends, girlfriends, and secret relationships with other bros all perfect copies of each other. The fomor girlfriend’s memories of late night studying were now replaced with drunken homecoming bashes and late night bangs identical to his new brothers. All thier intellectual thoughts and ideas began to flow out of them, becoming a physical thing in the form of hypnotic musk. 4.0’s slowly became B’s, which dragged into C’s, and in turn dragged into barely even graduating. They remembered that dispite thier academic difficulties they where eagerly accepted on lacrosse scholarship. Making them able to enter collage at the same time as their big bro. Dispite the year difference, Terence had gotten held back twice and the triplets only once. 

The slim guy watched all this happen with excitement, and trembled with anticipation when Kip approached him, the gentle giant seaside nothing, instead raising his fist for the man to bump. 

Once there first touched, an explosion of color flooded the man’s vision. His body spasmed as his frame shot up to the sky, broad shoulders and long legs making him a massive 6,3”. muscle flooded into his new body. Rippling muscle twisted on his arms, in which plump vains swelled. Biceps and triceps gaining a powerful new roundness, ending in long fingered hands, also swelled thick with vains. Thick pectorals grew like balloons  his chest. Defined muscluler abs appearing out of thin air, leading teasingly down below. 

Speaking of down below, his formerly small member swelled to easily 8”. Hair growing over a heavy balls sack, the tests filling with testosterone and sperm. The growth continued down his legs. His thighs swelling as large as beer kegs, so large they rubbed against each other.  Spreading down, his calves bulked with soild muscle. And his feet expanding, becoming massive and sweaty. Filling with vein too, his feet stopped growing around a size 16. 

“Yessss, bye bye skinny boo.” He yelled as his transformation continued. 

His face began to change, gaining classically handsome features. A sharp jawline, proud nose, puffy lips, and natural bedroom eyes. His buzz cut grew out into effortlessly messy fringe, making him look like a tic-tok wanna be. Covered quickly by a backwards baseball cap. His black hoddie and sweats reshaped, becoming a tight fitting gray tank top and black shorts showing off the slight hair on his muscular legs. To complete the physical change, he flelt a slight weight on his neck in the form of a thick silver chain and a matching bracelet. 

He felt his brain fog over, years of low self esteem and social isolation replaced by partying all night and fucking long into the morning. He felt his strangth of mind replaced by strangth of body. As if all his smarts and awareness had been transmuted into physical form. Details filled in the blanks, growing up in an athletic family, coming out as gay at a young age, and fulfilling his life long dream of becoming a frat boy freshmen year. Once the final changes clicked in place, a hysterical smile grew on his lips. 

“Hello, big dick frat boi bf!”

JB looked around at the new frat brothers around him. The quarterback started to talk excitedly to him.

“I’m going to need way more bros for the team. Got, like, lots of ideas bro.” He said. 

Chad was trying to get his hungover father into the frat house. Muttering curses under his breath for not making his mom into a younger brother like Terence. Terence stood, however, dealing with his own issues.

“We’re so fuckin hot now, bros,” one of the triplets remarked.

“I’m obviously the hotest tho’,” another muttered.

“Hey,” yelled the last, “it’s me,”.

“You dudes are hopeless. Legit, y’all are identical.” Terence said, exasperated beyond belief.

As the day went on the new bros began to fade into the rhythm of the fraternity. That night they huddled on the roof, drunk, watching the sun set over the collage campus. Sending a clear message into the ether, Omega X Phi would never go fucking down, bro.

Jayden, or Reggie back at that night, never expected that a drop-dead gorgeous woman like Nina would even look at his way, let alone decided to gave him a blowjob, and more. But the fact that it was probably one of the least surprising development he experienced within 24 hours clearly tilted his perspective of the world and where he's placed inside of it. He always believed that he's probably a meaningless character in the grand scheme of things, but his first encounter with his transformed self shattered that perception.

By noon, the seeds planted in his mind on how far the potential he possessed now to be highly influential.

And by the end of the first night, he believed he could be an architect of a completely different future for many, and a single touch from him is the only thing needed.

Unfortunately for him, that influence comes with a cost and yet he wouldn't know the full-picture of it until his very last day, when the creeping sensation in his head becomes unbearable. But before that, a look back into the series of life of men that he termed as "blessed" by him would give an overview of the extent of his exploits.

Way before Alexander (or Armstrong as his later identity), his MO was not always been discreetly leaving after "blessing" his selection just like what Nina did to him. He would linger around in the morning, calm them down when they realized the transformation that occured before teasing their fucked up metabolism and conflicted self in their new, highly-charged body which always led to extended/continued fucking he never resisted.

Some of the subjects even went as far as blocking him to go away until he explained to them how on Earth he made the changes possible. He usually got away with it with half-ass explanation as the changed men usually too focused on their new self anyway and their desire to "explore further", but not everything always went smoothly

One case got pretty bad, it was his first "threesome blessing" and apparently, they were both Secret Agents for the United Kingdom on a mission to track and monitor Russian expats that has British nationality in Bali. The two agents cornered him, they went as far as putting the gun right at his forehead and that's when he realized that from past memories, people usually complied to whatever he said as long as he put that command during physical contact. He remembered vividly how that DILF managed to not shoot his load despite pummeling his hole for 10 minutes straight and already saying he's close all that damn time. Or how the nerdy and stingy Mexican sales manager that turned into a bonafide young papi maintained the perfect composure throughout his call with the bank when Jayden made him transferred all his life savings to Jayden's account. People indeed were listening to his command as long as he touched them, and that's what he did as he managed to touch both agent's calves while he kneeled on the floor, telling them to calm down and toss the gun away. Lucky he did it fast, so the agents haven't had the chance to pull the trigger and instantly calmed down and simply stared at Jayden with wonder.

He maintained physical contact with both men as he then said that both agents would fall asleep as soon as he let go and then the agents would wake up a couple hours later forgetting the past 24 hours and simply found themselves confused with their new physique. That plan seemed to worked wonder and ever since then, to not complicate things, he would always leave the transformed men before they wake up, including Alexander.

To note though, Alexander was also a slightly anomalous case for him until that point. Yeah he transformed all those men before Alexander, but really, only with that sloppy accountant he sensed an other-worldly headache that almost caused him to violently scream in pain. He was pounding Alex relentlessly when that happened so his roar of pain masked as some sort of delightful euphoria as he dumped load after load into Alex. When that accountant fell asleep, he noticed something illuminated from deep within his transformed body, wait.....was that....power? He not only changed the man, but he also empowered him? Afraid of the unclear possibilities and the risk posed by the unknown, he simply dashed out from the villa before he could confirm whatever the fuck happened.

But, once again, it's not real world if everything always go in accordance to your plan. Around one and a half week after his life-changing sex to Alexander, Jayden found himself in the company of several American chuds desperate to have the bachelor party of their life as a pair of those men actually would held their marriage in Bali by next week alongside incoming friends and family. None of them looked impressive, their corporate jobs took the time away for them to properly cared about their form. But that's the kind of targeting he actually preferred as he made his way through the crowd to visit them after seeing them repeatedly fumbled their approach to all the other men. Jayden ensured that it was all natural, the way he just danced but slowly approached their table, the repeated eye contact as he swayed his body sensually to the music, then one of the guy started to try to made his approach and Jayden seductively agreed to play along with them as he managed to convince them to leave the club and spent the night with him.

Everything went according to plan until their arrival to the villa, all the men were putty under his touch and influence and within hours, a mass transformation would occur and then he would just left before all that. But, the same thing that happened with Alexander happened once more as Jayden's head throbbed rather violently mid-way through the whole ordeal. He was on his knees sensually contorting his body like some kind of Magic Mike dancer on top of a massive teakwood table while getting worshipped from all sides by 5 men that craved him. The men thought their kisses and groping elicited such response from Jayden that sounded like he's highly aroused, when in fact he was desperate to hang on to his dear life. As he grabbed one of the guy's head and impaled that guy on his cock, he roared as gallons of cum sprayed out to fill the throat of the guy to the brim.

The guy is the next week groom by that time, so he shared his cum-filled mouth to his fiance that also swallowed Jayden's. The unintended cock then licked by the other two guys and the one that was busy kissing Jayden's back moved to the front, swiped the droplets on the table right below Jayden's raging hard cock and gave it a taste. All 5 men practically would be altered in less than 24 hours upon consumption, heck, even by the next morning, these men would be transformed into someone else entirely and clearly would also have the same illumination as Alexander since the throbbing headache happened around the same timeframe. Curiosity convinced him to stick around this time and witnessed what would happen to these men as they soon passed out one by one like dominos.

He witnessed how their fat melted or their body mass thickened and then rippled into cuts of muscle. He also witnessed all the glowing lights lit up their whole body, illuminated exactly in their spine before giving a one-last glow that slightly coming in a hue of orange from what he believed to be their medulla oblongata. Yet after that, he fell asleep and only woken up because a loud groan coming out from the balcony on the second floor of the villa

He quickly ran to the second floor and that's when his eyes lit up upon looking at the fine specimen in front of him. That shorts......it's Anthony, and he really looked stunning in this younger, way fitter form of his. But then, Jayden found himself surprised beyond belief when he heard a sound from inside his brain

"What a gorgeous offspring of mine,"

Wait......what the fuck was that? A sound, from his mind? Offspring? What the hell is that?? That's clearly not his voice! He thought to himself in a mixture of awe, confusion and dread because he's never having these sensations beforehand. Much to his surprise too, the reformed Anthony then ordered him to kneel and Jayden's body complied as being told with no resistance whatsoever despite his mental rejection. Without even his control, the voice in his head started speaking and took control of his mouth and tongue to then convey on how a good father should taught his sons a thing or two about the human world from lived experience. The voice clearly meant to be an exact copy of his, and boy how similar was that??!!! The situation put Jayden on a spin as he started thinking, there's something in me all this time? Watching all my activities, my work, my sex, everything??

Much to Jayden's surprise, and seemingly responding to his question so clearly whatever it is also reading his mind, the voice said internally

"Well yes, absolutely. Do you think you can do all your "blessing" without me fully awake and in control of your internal system? Of course not. My essence made all those changes possible. My eggs.....oh....if only you ate healthier, I would hatch bigger amount and in shorter time than this. But 6 will suffice, for now......

Meanwhile, in the real world, he's hanging on for dear life as his perverted mouth greedily suck on Tony's cock "while the rest of the guys still sleeping"......

-----

Diego never imagined he'd actually set foot on a private jet, yet here he was, sprawled across a butter-soft leather seat that probably cost more than his last three months' rent combined. The cabin smelled like old money: crisp, expensive, laced with the faint, lingering sweetness of champagne. A half-full glass sat sweating on the table beside him, untouched. He kept his phone in hand, thumb-scrolling through nothing in particular, just to look occupied.

Mateo had begged for this. Weeks of escalating messages—from polite “I’d love to host you” to desperate “Please, Sir, let me fly you down. Everything on me.” Diego had dragged it out, made him wait, demanded proof of the jet booking first. When he finally replied, it was curt: Fine. But don’t get any ideas. I’m not fucking you.

The flight attendant—young, male, unfairly attractive—approached with a crisp white towel folded over his arm.

“Anything for you, sir?”

Diego shook his head once, face neutral. Inside, he was buzzing. Buenos Aires. A full week at Mateo’s compound. He told himself it was just business: good content, easy money. But lower down, the truth throbbed—he’d jerked off more than once to the memory of Mateo’s sharp cheekbones, that stupid-perfect jaw, the way his eyes turned soft and glassy when he begged on video.

The landing was glass-smooth. A black SUV waited on the tarmac, engine idling. Mateo wasn’t there to greet him. Smart, Diego thought. He’d explicitly told him not to grovel at the airport like some desperate puppy.

The drive wound out of the city for forty minutes, climbing into greener hills. When the gates finally swung open, Diego let out a low, involuntary whistle. The compound was obscene: stark white modern walls, floor-to-ceiling glass, an infinity pool that seemed to spill straight into the horizon. Palm trees swayed lazily; an outdoor kitchen gleamed under string lights.

Mateo waited at the front door, barefoot in loose white linen pants and a no shirt. He looked even better in person—taller than the videos suggested, sun-golden skin, hair artfully messy in that rich-boy way. He didn’t rush forward. Just stood there, hands in pockets, offering a small, careful smile.

“Welcome, Sir,” he said, voice low and steady.

Diego stepped out, duffel slung over one shoulder. He didn’t return the smile.

“Show me where I’m staying.”

Mateo led him through open, airy spaces—marble underfoot, six-figure art on the walls. In the master suite, Diego dropped his bag beside the enormous bed, turned, and met Mateo’s eyes.

“Strip.”

Mateo obeyed without hesitation. Shirt, pants, briefs—gone. He stood naked, already half-hard. Diego circled him slowly, taking his time.

“You bought the cage like I told you?”

“Yes, Sir.” Mateo nodded toward a small black box on the dresser.

Diego opened it. Heavy stainless steel, custom-made. Perfect.

“Kneel.”

Mateo dropped to his knees on the thick rug. Diego took his time fitting the ring, sliding the cage over, locking it with a sharp click that echoed in the quiet room. Mateo exhaled, shaky.

“Key stays with me,” Diego said, threading it onto the chain beside his own keys. “You touch it, you try anything, this week ends. Understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

The next morning Diego woke to the smell of fresh coffee. He stretched in the tangled king-size sheets and grinned at the ceiling.

He fucked the pool boy that afternoon—twenty-two, gym-carved abs, dick with the perfect upward curve. Diego bent him over a lounge chair at the pool’s edge, windows wide open upstairs where Mateo was surely pacing. He didn’t bother keeping quiet.

“Fuck, yeah—take it,” he groaned, loud and deliberate. The kid came twice before Diego finished. Afterward, a playful slap on the ass and a casual “Good job,” then the boy was gone.

Mateo was in the kitchen when Diego came down for lunch, shirtless in those same linen pants, eyes fixed on the floor. The cage strained visibly against the fabric. He said nothing about the noise from the pool.

The staff, though—that started to grate. They were polite to Diego—drinks, towels, whatever he wanted—but they still deferred to Mateo. One morning he told the housekeeper to bring fresh towels; she glanced at Mateo first, waiting for the nod. Only then did she move. Diego held the key to Mateo’s cock, made him sleep on the guest-room floor like a dog, yet in this house Mateo was still king.

By day four, the luxury felt almost normal, but it wasn’t enough. After breakfast Diego cornered Mateo by the pool, sun already brutal.

“Listen,” he said, arms crossed. “I want control of the house. The staff, the whole compound. For the rest of the week. I’m done with everyone looking at you like you’re the boss. They answer to me now. Got it?”

Mateo shifted, the cage no doubt biting. He looked up, eyes softening again.

“Sir, that’s… not how it works. The staff are loyal to me. Most of them have been with my family for years.”

Diego raised an eyebrow. “Then make it work.”

Mateo paused, thinking hard. Then he stepped closer, voice dropping.

“If you really want to be in charge… if you like this life that much… we could swap."

Diego blinked. “Swap what?”

“Bodies.” Mateo said it fast, quiet, like he was afraid the palm trees might overhear. “There’s a place in the hills—an elite spa. They do real body swaps. Some of the old-money crowd go there to trade with younger guys, just to feel it for a weekend. It’s completely private. Discreet. Safe.”

Diego barked a single, sharp laugh. But his pulse kicked hard. Him in that lean, golden frame. The entire household snapping to attention for him. The power. The automatic respect. It was perfect.

Mateo pressed on, eyes locked to Diego’s.

“We’d stay at the spa a couple days after to make sure the swap settles—no side effects, nothing weird. Then we could go into town. You’d see how people treat me here. I’m not just some rich kid. I’m connected. Doors open. Everyone knows the name. And when we come back to the compound… the staff would listen to you. No questions. You’d be the one giving orders. The ultimate dom in my skin. We swap back right before you fly out.”

Diego let the silence stretch. He scratched his jaw, pretending to consider. Inside he was electric. Finally he smirked, reached out, and tilted Mateo’s chin up with one finger.

“You’ve been a good boy this week. Alright. I’ll show you how a real man wears your body.”

The next morning Diego didn’t waste time. He told Mateo to ready the car; by noon they pulled up to a sleek building tucked into the hills. It looked more like a five-star resort than a medical facility—white stone, fountains, robed guests drifting across manicured lawns. But inside, the weirdness hit immediately: elderly men in their sixties and seventies looking faintly disoriented while lithe twenty-somethings flexed abs and let hard cocks swing under thin shorts. Rich fucks paying obscene money to feel young again. Diego smirked to himself—he already had a rich fuck who was hot as hell, practically begging to hand it all over.

They checked in, signed waivers, and were led to a private suite with two beds and banks of monitors. Calm professionals in scrubs hooked them up. Mateo looked nervous but eager. Diego just leaned back and let it happen. A low hum, flashing lights, then blackout.

When awareness returned, everything felt… shifted. He sat up, looked down at golden skin, carved abs, the caged cock already stirring. Across the room, Mateo—in Diego’s body—blinked slowly, fingers tracing his own unfamiliar jaw.

The staff finished, disconnected the last wires, and left. The door clicked shut. Diego stood immediately, testing the longer legs. Strong. Powerful. He crossed the room in two strides and gripped Mateo by the jaw—his jaw, surreal and filthy-hot.

“Still me in charge,” he said, voice deeper, smoother, pure Mateo. “This body doesn’t change shit. I’m the dom. You’re the bitch. Got it?”

Mateo nodded fast, eyes wide in Diego’s face. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Now take the cage off my cock.”

Mateo dropped to his knees, hands trembling slightly as he worked the lock. Click. He slid the cage free, set it aside, and looked up.

“Put it on you,” Diego ordered.

Mateo didn’t hesitate. He fitted the ring around the base of Diego’s old cock—now his—locked the tube in place. Another loud click. He held up the key, eyes down.

Diego took it, slipped it onto the chain around his new neck.

“Same rules. You don’t fuck anyone while we’re here. Not one person. You stay locked. You stay mine. Understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” Mateo rasped in Diego’s rougher voice.

Diego patted his cheek. “Good boy.”

That night, after dinner in the spa’s private lounge, the new body wouldn’t settle. Energy thrummed through it, horny and restless. Diego spotted two swapped guests at the bar—one in a lean runner’s build (probably an octogenarian banker inside), the other bulkier, surfer vibes. They were laughing too loud, hands roaming. Diego walked over, flashed Mateo’s effortless smile, and minutes later had them both back in his suite.

He fucked the runner first, bent over the balcony railing, while the other watched and stroked himself. Then he switched. The bodies were tight, eager; he made them moan loud enough to carry down the hall. He came twice, hard, reveling in every inch of Mateo’s cock. When he finished, he dismissed them and collapsed, sated.

The next day he hit the gym to test the body further. Mid-bench set, he spotted Mateo across the room—chatting up two trainers, laughing, touching arms, leaning in too close. Diego narrowed his eyes. Then he saw it: the unmistakable outline in Mateo’s shorts. A thick, partial erection—way too obvious to be caged. What the fuck? Diego still wore the key around his neck.

He let it pass for the moment, finished his workout, but stayed watchful. Later, in the steam room, the same thing: Mateo cozying up to another swapped guest, whispering, hands brushing thighs. The bulge was back. But Diego was too distracted by his new very sexy body to care that much in the moment, so he let is pass.

Still, later that night Diego couldn’t let it go. After midnight he padded down the hall and pushed Mateo’s door open without knocking.

Mateo—in Diego’s body—was on his knees on the bed, back arched, ass high, getting railed hard by one of the spa’s personal trainers. The trainer—ripped, thirties, sweat-glistening—gripped Mateo’s hips with bruising force, hips snapping forward in short, punishing strokes. Mateo’s face was buried in the sheets, muffled moans turning raw and desperate. One of the trainer’s hands was wrapped around Diego’s old cock—now Mateo’s—stroking fast, slick with lube and pre-cum.

The cage lay discarded on the nightstand, lock popped open, key nowhere in sight.

Diego stood frozen in the doorway as the rhythm peaked.

Mateo’s whole body seized—back bowing, thighs trembling. A choked, broken sound tore out of him as he came, spurting hard across the sheets in thick, white ropes. At the same instant the trainer groaned low, buried himself to the hilt, and started unloading deep inside. Mateo shuddered through every pulse, hips jerking back instinctively like he was trying to take it deeper, milking it, ass clenching visibly around the thick shaft as he was bred full.

Only then did the trainer notice the figure in the doorway. He froze mid-thrust, still buried balls-deep, chest heaving. Mateo—still riding the aftershocks, cock twitching, hole leaking—lifted his head slowly. His eyes (Diego’s eyes) widened in glassy, post-orgasm shock.

Silence stretched, thick and electric, broken only by the wet sound of the trainer slowly pulling out. A thick trickle of cum followed, sliding down Mateo’s thigh.

Diego stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft, deliberate click. “This,” he said, voice low and venomous in Mateo’s smooth, cultured tenor, “is fucking unacceptable.”

He crossed the space in three strides, grabbed Mateo by the hair—his own hair—and yanked his head back so their faces were inches apart.

The next morning Diego woke up in the king-size bed, the sheets cool against his new skin. Sunlight cut through the half-open blinds and landed across his chest, highlighting the smooth, even tan. His cock was already hard, thick and heavy against his thigh, the kind of morning wood that came from sleeping like a king.

On the floor beside the bed, Mateo lay curled on the hardwood, no blanket, no pillow, just the thin rug under him. Goose bumps covered every inch of what used to be Diego’s body. The skin looked wrong now—pale, a little gray under the eyes, the kind of pallor that came from a night of shivering and zero sleep. Mateo’s eyes were open, staring at the ceiling, but he didn’t move when Diego sat up.

Diego swung his legs over the edge of the bed and planted his feet on the floor, right next to Mateo’s head. He reached down, grabbed a fistful of his own old hair, and yanked Mateo’s face up to look at him. “Morning, bitch,” he said, voice still carrying that smooth, rich-boy lilt.

“Sleep well?”

Mateo swallowed, throat working. “No, Sir.”

“Good.” Diego let go and stood, naked, letting Mateo’s cock—now his—bob in the air. He felt fucking fantastic. Rested. In control. The decision he’d made sometime after midnight, while Mateo whimpered through the last round of punishment, sat solid in his gut. He wasn’t swapping back. Ever.

He looked down at the pathetic shape on the floor. “I’m keeping this body. For good.”

Mateo’s breath hitched. His eyes flicked down, then back up, and Diego saw it—the twitch in his old cock, the slow swell starting at the base. The fucker was getting hard.

Diego laughed once, low. “Look at that. You like the idea, don’t you? Staying swapped.”

He reached for the cage on the nightstand, the same heavy steel one from before. Mateo’s hands shook as he held still, but he didn’t fight when Diego knelt, fitted the ring around the thickening shaft, and locked the tube in place with a sharp click.

“Oh, you like the idea of staying swapped,” Diego said, snapping the lock shut. “Well, no. I’m keeping your body. But you’re not keeping mine.”

He stood again, key dangling from the chain around his neck, and walked over to the desk where his phone—Mateo’s phone, really—sat charging. He picked it up, opened the Twitter app, and logged into his original account.

Diego hit record, propped the phone against a lamp, and stood in front of the full-length mirror. He flexed once, slow, letting the golden skin catch the light. The abs popped.

“Got myself a new life from the prettiest cash fag I’ve ever broken,” he said, voice dripping with satisfaction. “Giving my old body away permanently.”

He paused, let that sink in, then kept going.

“Contest starts now. One week. I’m handing over my old body—the one you’ve all been drooling over—to the most pitiful, old, flabby, fat, pathetic, desperate loser I can find. The winner gets to be Diego Morales. For good.”

“Rules are simple. Send the plenty of money. Post videos wearing my worn, sweaty clothes. You had to buy them already, so only those of you that have been following me have a chance. In every video, you beg for my body. Tell me exactly why you deserve it. Post at least three times a day. All of it on your public accounts. I want your boss, your family, your fucking neighbors to see you groveling. And when you win, you get your ass on a plane to Argentina to pick it up. No exceptions. If you can’t come get it, I pick someone else.”

Diego leaned closer to the camera, eyes hard.

“I’m serious. I want the saddest sack of shit out there. The one who knows he’ll never be anything on his own. The one who’ll worship his new body every day and thank me for it.” He ended the video, hit post, and watched the likes and comments start flooding in almost immediately.

Mateo was still on the floor, cage locked tight, staring up at him with wide eyes.

Diego tossed the phone onto the bed and smiled down at him. The notifications started the second the video dropped and didn’t stop. Diego’s phone—Mateo’s phone—vibrated nonstop on the nightstand while he lounged by the pool, feet up, scrolling through the replies with a lazy grin. Mateo stayed inside, locked in the room with the blinds drawn, probably still sore from the night before.

The subs came out of the woodwork fast. A 55-year-old retired realtor in Miami wired $15k within the first hour, then posted a shaky montage of himself stroking in front of a full-length mirror, Diego’s black compression shorts pulled down around his thighs, muttering “thank you Sir thank you Sir” every time he edged closer. Another one, some 60-year-old accountant from Manchester, filmed himself in a cramped hotel bathroom wearing the jock Diego had sold him two years back—faded gray, stretched out, the pouch still carrying the ghost of old sweat. The Brit held up a bank transfer receipt for $8,200, then turned around, bent over the sink, and spread his hairy cheeks for the camera while he begged in a thick accent.

Diego laughed out loud at that one, thumbed through the comments, and pinned the Manchester video to the top of his replies. But none of them hit like Javier, his uncle.

Diego almost dropped the phone when the notification came through. The username was just “J_Rivera87”. The post loaded slow because it was a long video, and when it finally played, Diego froze.

Javier was in Diego’s old bedroom back in the house in Queens. Same peeling paint on the walls, same twin bed with the sagging mattress, same faded wrestling posters tacked above the headboard. The window was open; traffic noise drifted in from the street below. Javier stood in the middle of the room wearing nothing but Diego’s high-school wrestling singlet—the red-and-black one from senior year, the one Diego had outgrown by graduation. The fabric looked ready to split. Javier’s dad gut pushed the material out in a wide, soft dome; the straps dug into his shoulders, leaving red marks; the legs rode high on thick, pale thighs dusted with black hair. His cock was already out, thick and uncut, foreskin halfway back, leaking steadily onto the carpet. Javier’s face was wet. Tears tracked down his cheeks, mixing with sweat. He was jerking himself with one meaty hand—slow, deliberate pulls—while he stared straight into the camera.

“I’ve wanted this body since you were 18, mijo,” he said, voice cracking. “I used to steal your cum-rags that you hid in your closet. The ones you thought nobody knew about. I’d take them to the bathroom, smell them, wrap them around my dick while I thought about you coming home from practice all sweaty and tired. I used to jerk off in your bed wearing your dirty football jersey while you were at practice. I’d press my face into your pillow and imagine it was you. I still do it sometimes when I visit your mom. I want to wake up every morning and see this cock in the mirror. Please, sobrino… let me be you. Let me fuck with your cock. I’ll never waste it. I swear on everything. I’ll take care of it. I’ll use it right.”

He kept stroking the whole time he talked, faster toward the end, breath hitching. When he came it was sudden and messy—thick ropes hitting the carpet between his feet, splattering the singlet’s already-stained crotch. He kept pumping through it, whimpering, until the last spurt dripped down his knuckles. Then he dropped to his knees, right there in the middle of the childhood bedroom, and pressed his forehead to the floor like he was praying.

The video cut.

Diego sat there for a long minute, phone in his lap, cock half-hard against his thigh just from the sheer fucked-up rush of it. He hadn’t spoken to Javier in years. He never would’ve guessed the man even knew about the account, let alone that he’d been buying the gear, lurking in the shadows, waiting.

He opened the transfer app. Javier had already sent $42,000. The biggest single donation so far.

Diego typed out a quick reply under the video, public for everyone to see:

“Damn, Tío. Didn’t know you had it in you. Keep going. You’re in the lead.”

He hit send, then leaned back in the lounge chair and closed his eyes, letting the sun warm Mateo’s perfect skin while the notifications kept rolling in.

The week dragged on with more videos, more wires, more desperate begging, but nobody came close. Javier kept posting—three, four, five times a day like clockwork. Shirtless in the singlet again, on his knees in the living room, in the shower with Diego’s old jock draped over his face while he sobbed out another plea. The money kept climbing: $68k, then $92k, then $115k by day seven. Every cent he had. He sold his car. Cashed out his 401k early. Maxed credit cards. The comments under his posts were brutal—people calling him disgusting, pathetic, a family disgrace—but he didn’t stop. He just kept thanking Diego in the captions. “Anything for you, sobrino. Anything.”

On the morning of day eight Diego posted the announcement. “Contest over. Winner: @J_Rivera87. Get your ass to Buenos Aires. Bring proof you’ve got nothing left to go back to.”

Javier arrived at the clinic two days later. The staff didn’t blink. They were taken to the same private suite—two beds, monitors, calm professionals in scrubs. Mateo fought when they strapped him down—kicking, cursing in Spanish, tears streaming—but the restraints held. Javier just stood there, docile, letting them hook him up without a word.

The procedure was the same low hum, flashing lights, blackout. When they came back online, everything had shifted again. Javier sat up first in Diego’s young body—smooth skin, carved abs, heavy cock already stirring between his thighs. The cage was still locked on it. He looked down, hands trembling, and let out a soft, broken sound.

Across the room, Mateo—in Javier’s 52-year-old frame—curled on his side. Soft gut spilling over the waistband of the loose scrub pants they’d given him. Thick salt-and-pepper hair covering his chest, arms, trailing down to a groin that hung heavy and low. The skin sagged in places it never had before. He stared at his own hands like they belonged to someone else, then down at the gut, the thick thighs, the cock that looked nothing like the one he’d spent his life jerking to in secret.

Diego—in Mateo’s body—stood between the beds, arms crossed, watching it all settle.

Diego took out the key to the cage and stepped to Javier. He knelt, unlocked the cage slowly, deliberately, letting the steel slide free inch by inch. Javier’s new cock sprang up, thick and veined, already leaking at the tip. He stared at it in stunned silence, then wrapped a hand around it—gentle, reverent, like he was afraid it might disappear if he gripped too hard. He stroked once, twice, eyes wide, breath catching. Diego didn’t wait. He turned to Mateo, grabbed the base of the soft, heavy cock now attached to him, and snapped the cage on. The ring went around first, cold against the loose skin, then the tube slid over, locking with a sharp click. Mateo whimpered, low and broken, hips jerking once before he went still.

They left the clinic in a black SUV. Mateo sat in the back between them, caged cock straining uselessly against the steel, gut pressing against his thighs. Javier kept touching his new arms, his chest, his face—fingers tracing the jawline, the tattoos, the smooth pecs—like he couldn’t believe they were real.

Back at the compound the gates opened automatically. The staff lined up at the entrance—housekeeper, groundskeepers, the pool boy—heads bowed the second they saw Mateo’s body step out first. Diego. “Welcome home, señor,” the housekeeper said, eyes on the floor. Diego nodded once. They walked through the open spaces—marble, art, glass. Everyone deferred. Exactly like he’d wanted. In the master bedroom Diego pointed to the couch.

“Javier. Fuck him.”

Javier moved like he was in a dream. No hesitation, no questions. He walked over, eyes locked on Diego, not even glancing at the man bent over the arm of the couch. Mateo—in Javier’s old body—didn’t fight. Just let himself be positioned, ass up, gut hanging, thick thighs spread. He whimpered when Javier’s hands gripped his hips, but it wasn’t protest. More surrender.

Javier slid in raw. No prep, no lube, just the slow push until he bottomed out. He started thrusting—steady, deep, mechanical at first, then smoother as the rhythm took over. But he never looked down at Mateo. Never acknowledged the body he was buried in. His eyes stayed on Diego the whole time—wide, shining, grateful.

His hands roamed his own new chest, abs, thighs. Tracing the lines of ink, feeling the hard muscle flex under golden skin. Every thrust punctuated by soft, dazed murmurs.

“Thank you so much, mijo… thank you… dios, this body… it’s perfect…” Over and over. No taunts. No cruelty. Just pure, overwhelmed awe. Like Mateo wasn’t even there. Like the man he was fucking had become invisible the second Javier got what he’d begged for.

Diego leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching it all. Cock hard in his jeans. Smiling slow.

Mateo’s whimpers turned to low, broken sobs. Javier didn’t notice. He just kept moving, kept thanking, kept feeling every perfect inch of the body that used to be Diego’s. And Diego let him.

Javier kept moving, slow and deep, like he was trying to memorize every inch from the inside. His hands never stopped roaming—sliding up over the hard ridges of his new abs, across the smooth planes of his pecs, down the inked lines on his forearms, then back up to squeeze a bicep that flexed under golden skin. Mid-thrust he paused, just for a second, to press both palms flat against his own chest, feeling the heartbeat there, the heat, the youth. His eyes were glassy, unfocused, lost somewhere between disbelief and worship.

Diego sat back in the armchair across from the couch, legs spread wide, one hand wrapped loose around the thick cock that used to belong to Mateo. He stroked slow, lazy pulls, not rushing, just enjoying the show. Mateo’s perfect body felt like it was made for this—relaxed, powerful, in total control.

He tilted his head, eyes locked on the man bent over the couch arm. “See this, Mateo?” Diego said, voice calm, almost gentle. “This is what you begged for all those months. Getting fucked by my body. Worshipping it. Well, now it’s happening.”

Mateo didn’t answer. Just quiet, choked sobs muffled against the leather cushion. His new gut hung low, pressing into the couch edge with every shallow rock of Javier’s hips. The steel cage strained hard against the soft, heavy flesh of his groin—useless, trapped, the skin around it flushed red from how bad he wanted out. A thin string of pre-cum dripped from the slit, pooling on the floor beneath him.

Diego kept thrusting.

“Now cum,” he said.

Javier’s rhythm broke. His hips stuttered, then slammed forward one last time. A long, low groan tore out of him—raw, grateful—as he buried himself balls-deep and started unloading. Thick pulses, one after another, filling the body he barely registered as belonging to him just a few hours ago. His hands stayed glued to his own new biceps, fingers digging in like he needed to anchor himself to the miracle happening under his skin.

“Gracias… gracias, mijo…” he whispered, over and over, voice cracking on every syllable. He kept rocking gently after the first rush, slow rolls of his hips, milking every last drop while he trembled through the aftershocks. His eyes never left Diego. Not once.

Diego leaned back farther in the chair, legs still spread, hand still moving easy on himself. He watched Javier finally pull out—slow, careful. The cock that used to be Diego’s slid free, slick and shining, already twitching back toward half-hard. Javier stared down at it in open awe, chest rising and falling fast, one hand drifting to trace the vein along the shaft as if he’d never seen anything so beautiful.

Mateo stayed collapsed over the couch arm, ass still up, leaking slow and steady onto the cushion. His sobs had gone quiet, just shaky breaths now. Ruined. Caged. Forgotten.

Diego let his hand fall still. He looked from Javier—dazed, reverent, already reaching to stroke himself again—to Mateo—broken, leaking, trapped in the body nobody wanted—and finally down at himself. The rich, pretty skin. The carved lines. The life he’d taken and made his. He smirked, slow and satisfied.

This was exactly how it was supposed to end.

He stood, stretched once, feeling every perfect muscle shift under Mateo’s golden tan.

“Clean up,” he said to no one in particular.

Then he walked out of the room, leaving them both behind—Javier still touching and flexing his new body like it might vanish, Mateo still bent over the couch, leaking and silent.

The compound was his now. The body was his. And nothing was ever going back.

Diego never imagined he'd actually set foot on a private jet, yet here he was, sprawled across a butter-soft leather seat that probably cost more than his last three months' rent combined. The cabin smelled like old money: crisp, expensive, laced with the faint, lingering sweetness of champagne. A half-full glass sat sweating on the table beside him, untouched. He kept his phone in hand, thumb-scrolling through nothing in particular, just to look occupied.

Mateo had begged for this. Weeks of escalating messages—from polite “I’d love to host you” to desperate “Please, Sir, let me fly you down. Everything on me.” Diego had dragged it out, made him wait, demanded proof of the jet booking first. When he finally replied, it was curt: Fine. But don’t get any ideas. I’m not fucking you.

The flight attendant—young, male, unfairly attractive—approached with a crisp white towel folded over his arm.

“Anything for you, sir?”

Diego shook his head once, face neutral. Inside, he was buzzing. Buenos Aires. A full week at Mateo’s compound. He told himself it was just business: good content, easy money. But lower down, the truth throbbed—he’d jerked off more than once to the memory of Mateo’s sharp cheekbones, that stupid-perfect jaw, the way his eyes turned soft and glassy when he begged on video.

The landing was glass-smooth. A black SUV waited on the tarmac, engine idling. Mateo wasn’t there to greet him. Smart, Diego thought. He’d explicitly told him not to grovel at the airport like some desperate puppy.

The drive wound out of the city for forty minutes, climbing into greener hills. When the gates finally swung open, Diego let out a low, involuntary whistle. The compound was obscene: stark white modern walls, floor-to-ceiling glass, an infinity pool that seemed to spill straight into the horizon. Palm trees swayed lazily; an outdoor kitchen gleamed under string lights.

Mateo waited at the front door, barefoot in loose white linen pants and a no shirt. He looked even better in person—taller than the videos suggested, sun-golden skin, hair artfully messy in that rich-boy way. He didn’t rush forward. Just stood there, hands in pockets, offering a small, careful smile.

“Welcome, Sir,” he said, voice low and steady.

Diego stepped out, duffel slung over one shoulder. He didn’t return the smile.

“Show me where I’m staying.”

Mateo led him through open, airy spaces—marble underfoot, six-figure art on the walls. In the master suite, Diego dropped his bag beside the enormous bed, turned, and met Mateo’s eyes.

“Strip.”

Mateo obeyed without hesitation. Shirt, pants, briefs—gone. He stood naked, already half-hard. Diego circled him slowly, taking his time.

“You bought the cage like I told you?”

“Yes, Sir.” Mateo nodded toward a small black box on the dresser.

Diego opened it. Heavy stainless steel, custom-made. Perfect.

“Kneel.”

Mateo dropped to his knees on the thick rug. Diego took his time fitting the ring, sliding the cage over, locking it with a sharp click that echoed in the quiet room. Mateo exhaled, shaky.

“Key stays with me,” Diego said, threading it onto the chain beside his own keys. “You touch it, you try anything, this week ends. Understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

The next morning Diego woke to the smell of fresh coffee. He stretched in the tangled king-size sheets and grinned at the ceiling.

He fucked the pool boy that afternoon—twenty-two, gym-carved abs, dick with the perfect upward curve. Diego bent him over a lounge chair at the pool’s edge, windows wide open upstairs where Mateo was surely pacing. He didn’t bother keeping quiet.

“Fuck, yeah—take it,” he groaned, loud and deliberate. The kid came twice before Diego finished. Afterward, a playful slap on the ass and a casual “Good job,” then the boy was gone.

Mateo was in the kitchen when Diego came down for lunch, shirtless in those same linen pants, eyes fixed on the floor. The cage strained visibly against the fabric. He said nothing about the noise from the pool.

The staff, though—that started to grate. They were polite to Diego—drinks, towels, whatever he wanted—but they still deferred to Mateo. One morning he told the housekeeper to bring fresh towels; she glanced at Mateo first, waiting for the nod. Only then did she move. Diego held the key to Mateo’s cock, made him sleep on the guest-room floor like a dog, yet in this house Mateo was still king.

By day four, the luxury felt almost normal, but it wasn’t enough. After breakfast Diego cornered Mateo by the pool, sun already brutal.

“Listen,” he said, arms crossed. “I want control of the house. The staff, the whole compound. For the rest of the week. I’m done with everyone looking at you like you’re the boss. They answer to me now. Got it?”

Mateo shifted, the cage no doubt biting. He looked up, eyes softening again.

“Sir, that’s… not how it works. The staff are loyal to me. Most of them have been with my family for years.”

Diego raised an eyebrow. “Then make it work.”

Mateo paused, thinking hard. Then he stepped closer, voice dropping.

“If you really want to be in charge… if you like this life that much… we could swap."

Diego blinked. “Swap what?”

“Bodies.” Mateo said it fast, quiet, like he was afraid the palm trees might overhear. “There’s a place in the hills—an elite spa. They do real body swaps. Some of the old-money crowd go there to trade with younger guys, just to feel it for a weekend. It’s completely private. Discreet. Safe.”

Diego barked a single, sharp laugh. But his pulse kicked hard. Him in that lean, golden frame. The entire household snapping to attention for him. The power. The automatic respect. It was perfect.

Mateo pressed on, eyes locked to Diego’s.

“We’d stay at the spa a couple days after to make sure the swap settles—no side effects, nothing weird. Then we could go into town. You’d see how people treat me here. I’m not just some rich kid. I’m connected. Doors open. Everyone knows the name. And when we come back to the compound… the staff would listen to you. No questions. You’d be the one giving orders. The ultimate dom in my skin. We swap back right before you fly out.”

Diego let the silence stretch. He scratched his jaw, pretending to consider. Inside he was electric. Finally he smirked, reached out, and tilted Mateo’s chin up with one finger.

“You’ve been a good boy this week. Alright. I’ll show you how a real man wears your body.”

The next morning Diego didn’t waste time. He told Mateo to ready the car; by noon they pulled up to a sleek building tucked into the hills. It looked more like a five-star resort than a medical facility—white stone, fountains, robed guests drifting across manicured lawns. But inside, the weirdness hit immediately: elderly men in their sixties and seventies looking faintly disoriented while lithe twenty-somethings flexed abs and let hard cocks swing under thin shorts. Rich fucks paying obscene money to feel young again. Diego smirked to himself—he already had a rich fuck who was hot as hell, practically begging to hand it all over.

They checked in, signed waivers, and were led to a private suite with two beds and banks of monitors. Calm professionals in scrubs hooked them up. Mateo looked nervous but eager. Diego just leaned back and let it happen. A low hum, flashing lights, then blackout.

When awareness returned, everything felt… shifted. He sat up, looked down at golden skin, carved abs, the caged cock already stirring. Across the room, Mateo—in Diego’s body—blinked slowly, fingers tracing his own unfamiliar jaw.

The staff finished, disconnected the last wires, and left. The door clicked shut. Diego stood immediately, testing the longer legs. Strong. Powerful. He crossed the room in two strides and gripped Mateo by the jaw—his jaw, surreal and filthy-hot.

“Still me in charge,” he said, voice deeper, smoother, pure Mateo. “This body doesn’t change shit. I’m the dom. You’re the bitch. Got it?”

Mateo nodded fast, eyes wide in Diego’s face. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Now take the cage off my cock.”

Mateo dropped to his knees, hands trembling slightly as he worked the lock. Click. He slid the cage free, set it aside, and looked up.

“Put it on you,” Diego ordered.

Mateo didn’t hesitate. He fitted the ring around the base of Diego’s old cock—now his—locked the tube in place. Another loud click. He held up the key, eyes down.

Diego took it, slipped it onto the chain around his new neck.

“Same rules. You don’t fuck anyone while we’re here. Not one person. You stay locked. You stay mine. Understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” Mateo rasped in Diego’s rougher voice.

Diego patted his cheek. “Good boy.”

That night, after dinner in the spa’s private lounge, the new body wouldn’t settle. Energy thrummed through it, horny and restless. Diego spotted two swapped guests at the bar—one in a lean runner’s build (probably an octogenarian banker inside), the other bulkier, surfer vibes. They were laughing too loud, hands roaming. Diego walked over, flashed Mateo’s effortless smile, and minutes later had them both back in his suite.

He fucked the runner first, bent over the balcony railing, while the other watched and stroked himself. Then he switched. The bodies were tight, eager; he made them moan loud enough to carry down the hall. He came twice, hard, reveling in every inch of Mateo’s cock. When he finished, he dismissed them and collapsed, sated.

The next day he hit the gym to test the body further. Mid-bench set, he spotted Mateo across the room—chatting up two trainers, laughing, touching arms, leaning in too close. Diego narrowed his eyes. Then he saw it: the unmistakable outline in Mateo’s shorts. A thick, partial erection—way too obvious to be caged. What the fuck? Diego still wore the key around his neck.

He let it pass for the moment, finished his workout, but stayed watchful. Later, in the steam room, the same thing: Mateo cozying up to another swapped guest, whispering, hands brushing thighs. The bulge was back. But Diego was too distracted by his new very sexy body to care that much in the moment, so he let is pass.

Still, later that night Diego couldn’t let it go. After midnight he padded down the hall and pushed Mateo’s door open without knocking.

Mateo—in Diego’s body—was on his knees on the bed, back arched, ass high, getting railed hard by one of the spa’s personal trainers. The trainer—ripped, thirties, sweat-glistening—gripped Mateo’s hips with bruising force, hips snapping forward in short, punishing strokes. Mateo’s face was buried in the sheets, muffled moans turning raw and desperate. One of the trainer’s hands was wrapped around Diego’s old cock—now Mateo’s—stroking fast, slick with lube and pre-cum.

The cage lay discarded on the nightstand, lock popped open, key nowhere in sight.

Diego stood frozen in the doorway as the rhythm peaked.

Mateo’s whole body seized—back bowing, thighs trembling. A choked, broken sound tore out of him as he came, spurting hard across the sheets in thick, white ropes. At the same instant the trainer groaned low, buried himself to the hilt, and started unloading deep inside. Mateo shuddered through every pulse, hips jerking back instinctively like he was trying to take it deeper, milking it, ass clenching visibly around the thick shaft as he was bred full.

Only then did the trainer notice the figure in the doorway. He froze mid-thrust, still buried balls-deep, chest heaving. Mateo—still riding the aftershocks, cock twitching, hole leaking—lifted his head slowly. His eyes (Diego’s eyes) widened in glassy, post-orgasm shock.

Silence stretched, thick and electric, broken only by the wet sound of the trainer slowly pulling out. A thick trickle of cum followed, sliding down Mateo’s thigh.

Diego stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft, deliberate click. “This,” he said, voice low and venomous in Mateo’s smooth, cultured tenor, “is fucking unacceptable.”

He crossed the space in three strides, grabbed Mateo by the hair—his own hair—and yanked his head back so their faces were inches apart.

Tommy's POV

I woke up with David’s back pressed against my chest, my arm draped over his waist. Early morning light was coming through the blinds, and I just lay there for a minute, breathing him in.

Fuck… David Clemence is like the cutest guy ever.

I still couldn’t believe last night actually happened. I’d had a crush on him back when we swam together, but I never thought I’d get the chance to be with him like this. Fucking him last night was a dream. The way he moaned my name, the way his body reacted to every touch, how tight and warm he felt around me… I couldn’t stop replaying it in my head.

I carefully brushed some of his hair out of his face so I could see him better. Even sleeping, he looked good. Smooth skin, sharp jawline, those long eyelashes. He had no idea how cute he was, honestly. Guys like him never do.

I’d struggled to keep my hands off him all night at the bar. Every time he laughed at one of my stupid jokes, every time he leaned in a little closer, I wanted to pull him against me. But I held back. I really wanted to be respectful until I knew for sure he was into me too. The last thing I wanted was to make things weird or pushy.

Later at McDonald’s, when I finally made my move… I was so nervous. Sliding my hand around his waist in the booth, feeling the warm, smooth skin of his side and the hard lines of his abs under my fingers — fuck, I got so turned on. I kept glancing at my friends across the table, nervous as hell that I was being too forward. But then I felt David lean into my touch, his lustful gaze burning into me. When I rubbed the inside of his thigh before we left, I swear I could feel his breathing change. He wanted me too.

I pressed a soft kiss to the back of his shoulder, then another one a little higher on his neck. David stirred, letting out a quiet sleepy sound that made me smile.

“Morning,” I whispered against his skin, keeping my voice low. “You sleep okay?”

He nodded, still half-asleep, and pushed back against me a little. I tightened my arm around his waist, pulling him closer.

I ran my hand slowly up and down his side, enjoying the feeling of his smooth, toned body under my palm. I was already getting hard again just being pressed against him, but I didn’t want to rush anything. I wanted him to feel comfortable. Safe.

But I couldn’t help but let my mind wander.

He doesn’t know this either, but he was the reason I came out when I got to college. All those stolen glances I made in the locker room, trying not to stare at his body while we changed. Going back to his Instagram late at night just to look at every new cute photo he posted. I finally couldn’t deny it to myself anymore. I liked guys.

Unfortunately for me, I still haven’t found anyone I liked quite as much as I liked him back then. No one ever measured up.

I wondered what things would’ve been like if I had figured myself out while we were still in high school. Maybe we could’ve dated. Sneaking around, going to movies together, making out in my car after practice…

Can we date now?

The thought made my heart beat faster. It felt a little crazy, but it also felt right.

I leaned in and kissed the back of his neck again, speaking softly.

“Hey… I know this might sound sudden, but would you want to get dinner this week? Just the two of us. A real date.”

He looked back at me and smiled, still barely awake, and said, “I'd like that.”

Ryan's POV

It had been three weeks since I swapped into David’s body.

Tommy and I had been seeing each other almost every day since that first night. We weren’t officially calling it anything yet, but it felt like a relationship. Texts good morning and good night, dinners, movies at his place, waking up next to him on weekends. It felt natural. Easy.

David had been surprisingly cool about extending the swap. When I messaged him asking for two more weeks, he replied almost immediately saying it was fine. I didn’t tell him the real reason — that I was seeing Tommy. I just said I was having too much fun exploring life in a younger body and wanted a little more time. I was worried that if I mentioned I was dating someone — especially another former swimmer — he might get weird about it and demand we swap back.

Part of me liked to think he’d actually be excited for me. Worst case scenario, at least I’d be giving him a hot boyfriend when he finally got his body back. Best case scenario… I didn’t let myself think too far ahead on that one.

Having a boyfriend — or de facto boyfriend — was nicer than I ever imagined it would be. After years of hiding and pretending, being able to hold someone’s hand in public, kiss them goodbye on the sidewalk, or fall asleep with someone’s arm around me felt like something I’d been missing my whole life.

Tommy was every bit as sweet as I remembered from his swimming days. He was the perfect gentleman — always opening doors, checking in on how my day was, making me coffee in the morning exactly how I liked it. But when he wanted to turn on that raw sexual energy, he became something else entirely. The way he’d pin me against the wall the second we got back to his apartment, the way he’d look at me like he wanted to devour me, the low growl in his voice when he told me exactly what he was going to do to me… it made my knees weak every single time.

Tonight we were on his couch, half-watching a movie. I was lying with my head in his lap while he played with my hair. He looked down at me with that warm, affectionate smile that made my stomach flutter.

“You good?” he asked softly, his thumb brushing over my cheek.

“Yeah,” I said, looking up at him. “I have something I want to talk to you about.” I sat up.

“Hmm?” He kissed the top of my head. "What is it?"

I swallowed hard. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”

He shifted so he could look at me better, his expression soft and patient. “You can tell me anything.”

I beat around the bush for a minute, stuttering. “I have this… kink. I’ve had it for a while.”

Tommy’s eyebrows raised slightly, but he smiled. “Okay. What is it?”

I opened my mouth, closed it, then tried again. My face felt hot. “It’s… body swapping. Like… the idea of switching bodies with someone.”

He didn’t laugh. He didn’t look weirded out. Instead, his smile grew a little.

“That’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he said gently. “Actually sounds kinda hot. You want to pretend we’ve swapped bodies next time we fuck?”

I let out a nervous laugh. “Not exactly pretending…”

“I found this site called SwapService. It says it can actually do it. For real.” I paused, then added the lie I’d rehearsed. “I’ve always been too scared to try it with anyone before… but I want to try it with you.”

Tommy’s eyes lit up with genuine interest. He pushed himself up on one elbow so he could look at me properly.

“Seriously? Like an actual body swap?” He didn’t sound judgmental at all. If anything, he looked excited. “That sounds like a lot of fun. Assuming it actually works, of course.” He grinned and ran his hand down my side. “And let’s be honest… you’re super fucking hot. It’s not like I’d be giving much up.”

I let out a breath of relief.

“You’d really be okay with that?” I asked, still a little stunned by how easily he was taking it.

“Yeah,” he said without hesitation, leaning in to kiss me softly. “If it’s something you’re into, I want to experience it with you. Plus…” He smirked, that confident, playful look returning to his face. “I wouldn’t mind taking that cock for a test drive.”

He kissed me again, deeper this time, his hand sliding down to squeeze my crotch.

“So,” he murmured against my lips, “when do you want to do it?”

---

The next evening we sat together on Tommy’s couch with his laptop open. We made our profiles side by side, carefully filling in all the stats and preferences so the system would register us as a 100% match. Tommy kept laughing and teasing me the whole time, clearly enjoying how nervous and excited I was. Once everything was set, we confirmed the swap.

The flash hit.

When I opened my eyes, I was looking up at the ceiling from a different angle. Tommy’s bigger, stronger body. I flexed my new hands, feeling the thickness of his forearms, the power in his biceps. A rush of pure ecstasy ran through me.

I looked over at Tommy, now in David’s leaner body. He was sitting up, running his hands over his new smooth chest and abs, a big grin on his face.

“Holy shit,” he said, using David’s voice. “This feels weird… but not bad.”

He looked thrilled.

Before I could say anything, Tommy moved fast. He climbed on top of me, pinning my new, bigger wrists down to the bed with surprising strength. Even though I was now physically larger, the way he looked down at me with that confident, hungry expression made it clear nothing had really changed about who was in charge.

“Even in these new bodies,” he said, voice low and firm, “I’m still the one running things in the bedroom. Got it?”

I nodded quickly, already breathing harder.

Tommy reached down and slid his hand under the waistband of my underwear. His fingers found my hole and started rubbing slow, teasing circles against it. The sensation in Tommy’s more sensitive body made me groan.

“Good,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss my neck as his finger pressed more firmly. “Because I’ve got plans for this body tonight.”

Lying there pinned under him, feeling his finger teasing me, all I could think was:

David is going to have to wait a while longer to get his body back.

I hoped he’d be okay with that.

Ryan's POV

It had been three weeks since Cruz and I swapped back.

I was sitting on my couch with a beer in hand, staring at the SwapService app icon on my phone. I’d deleted it the day we returned to our own bodies, telling myself I needed a break. The whole experience had been intense. Eye-opening. Kind of incredible, honestly. For the first time in my life I’d been able to have sex with men without the crushing weight of fear that someone I knew would find out. I’d fucked, I’d been fucked, I’d finally let myself enjoy it. Cruz’s body had felt good. Young. Tight. Full of energy.

But the way he casually asked me on the last night if I wanted to make the swap permanent had freaked me out. Who the hell offers something like that so easily? Was that normal on this site? I’d said no immediately, and he’d just shrugged like it was no big deal. Still, I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t intrigued by the idea.

A do-over. Getting to live as an out gay man from a much younger age. No decades spent hiding. No pretending.

I shook my head and took another sip of beer. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Ryan. One more swap. Just to explore a little more. Nothing permanent. Nothing crazy.

I reinstalled the app, set up my profile again, and adjusted my preferences.

The moment I hit search, a profile popped up at the very top with a bright green 98% compatibility score.

That was insanely high. Higher than anything I’d seen last time, even with Cruz.

I tapped on it.

My stomach dropped.

David Clemence, 25

One of my former varsity swimmers. Lean, athletic build, wavy brown hair, cocky smile in his profile picture. He was shirtless by the ocean, water still dripping down his chest. He looked exactly like I remembered him — confident, good-looking, and way too young.

What the hell was he doing on here?

I stared at the screen for a long time, thumb hovering. Part of me knew I should just close the app. But another part of me — the part that had spent years in high school and college fighting against stealing glances at other swimmers in the locker room — stayed frozen.

I opened his profile fully.

His bio was short:

“Former swimmer. Looking for an older, experienced guy who knows how to take charge. Open to anything, including longer swaps.”

My cock twitched in my shorts before I could stop it.

I told myself I was just curious. I clicked the message button.

A new chat window opened.

Before I could even type anything, David’s message came through.

David: Coach Ryan? Holy shit, no way. Is that really you?

I stared at the screen for a second, then typed back.

Ryan: Yeah, it’s me. Didn’t expect to see you on here, David.

David: Same here, Coach. This is wild. I just logged on tonight and your profile popped up. Crazy coincidence. What brings you on here>

I leaned back on the couch, heart still beating faster than it should. I decided to keep things vague.

Ryan: I’ve just been taking a little break from things. Trying to figure some stuff out, I guess.

David: I get that You doing okay?

I hesitated, then found myself opening up more than I planned.

Ryan: Honestly? I’ve been exploring my sexuality lately. First time I’ve really let myself do that. It’s been… new. Kind of freeing, but also scary as hell.

David: That’s awesome, Coach. Seriously. I’m really glad you’re doing that. You deserve to figure shit out without anyone giving you crap.

His words hit me harder than I expected. I felt a strange warmth in my chest. Out of all the people who could have said that to me, hearing it from one of my former swimmers felt surprisingly good.

Ryan: Thanks, David. That means more than you know.

We messaged back and forth for a while. He was easy to talk to — supportive, casual, and didn’t make it weird. After twenty minutes of chatting, he finally said it.

David: So… would you want to swap for a few days? I’m down if you are.

I read the message twice. My stomach tightened.

Ryan: You sure that wouldn’t be too weird? ... Exploring my sexuality, I mean.

David: Nah, not weird at all. That’s kind of what the site is for, right? Exploring stuff. Besides, I haven’t been getting much attention from guys lately anyway. I’ve worked hard to keep this body in shape. Might as well let someone who actually put it to good use. And if it’s an old friend like you? Even better.

Shit, I didn't realize David was gay. I mean, I guess in retrospect that makes sense, but I hadn't really thought that much about it. That would make things a bit easier.

I could feel myself getting tempted. The 98% match, the easy conversation, the way he was reassuring me… it all made it feel strangely safe.

Ryan: You’re really okay with me being in your body?

David: More than okay, Coach. I’d actually like it. I've always looked up to you, it would be cool to repay you for that.

I stared at my phone for a long moment, thumb hovering over the keyboard.

Ryan: Alright then, let's do it.

David and I agreed on a four-day swap. The process felt smoother than with Cruz. A bright flash behind my eyes, a moment of vertigo, and then everything settled.

When I opened my eyes, I was lying in an unfamiliar bed in a small, tidy apartment. I looked down.

David’s body.

Lean, smooth, athletic. My new hands were younger, veins less prominent. I sat up slowly and walked over to the full-length mirror on the back of the closet door.

It was so fucking weird.

I was staring at one of my former swimmers. The same kid I used to yell at for lazy flip turns and sloppy streamline. Now I was him. I ran David’s hands over his chest and abs, feeling the tight muscle definition I used to see every day at practice. His skin was smooth, almost no hair except a thin trail leading down from his navel. His cock was already half-hard just from the novelty of the swap.

I wrapped my new hand around it and gave a slow stroke. A sharp jolt of pleasure shot through me. It felt different. More sensitive. Quicker to respond.

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered in David’s voice. It still felt surreal hearing his younger tone come out of my mouth.

I kept stroking, watching myself — watching him — in the mirror. The way his abs flexed, the way his biceps popped when I tensed my arm. I imagined all the times I’d stood on the pool deck trying not to look too long at these exact bodies. Now I was inside one.

I jerked off faster, breathing harder, until I came hard across David’s tight stomach, thick ropes landing on his smooth skin. I stood there panting, looking at the mess I’d made in my former swimmer’s body.

It was the strangest mix of guilt and arousal I’d ever felt.

A few days later I was at a gay bar downtown in David’s body. It was crowded, loud, and full of guys in their twenties. I felt both out of place and strangely excited. Being young again, being able to be here without anyone recognizing me, was liberating.

I was nursing a vodka soda at the bar when I saw him.

Tommy Morrison.

He was standing near the edge of the dance floor with a couple of friends, laughing at something. He’d filled out nicely since high school — broader shoulders, solid arms, a confident stance. He looked good. Really good.

I remembered him clearly. He joined the swim team as a junior when David was a freshman. It was supposed to be cross-training for running after he injured his ankle pretty badly. Less impact on the joints. But Tommy took to swimming so naturally that he stuck with it. Skipped indoor track his senior year just so he could keep swimming.

He’d always been one of the nicest kids I ever coached. Respectful, hardworking, good attitude.

And now I was staring at him like he was a piece of meat.

I quickly looked away, heat rising in my face. What the hell are you doing, Ryan? You were his coach.

Then it hit me.

In this body, I was younger than Tommy now.

The realization sent a strange thrill through me. I wasn’t his coach anymore.

Before I could decide whether to look away or go say something, Tommy started walking straight toward me. My stomach flipped. I tried to act casual, but when he tapped me on the shoulder I still startled slightly.

“Hey man, how are you?” Tommy said with a big smile. Without hesitation he pulled me into a quick, firm hug. He smelled like cologne and beer. When he stepped back, he looked me up and down, his eyes lingering for a second, and the corner of his mouth turned up in a slight grin.

I felt my cheeks heat up instantly. David’s face was probably bright red.

Tommy didn’t seem to mind. “This is crazy, I haven’t seen you in forever. Come meet my friends.”

He introduced me to the group as David. For the rest of the night I stayed with them — laughing, drinking, moving between the bar and the dance floor. I couldn’t stop watching Tommy. The way he carried himself was magnetic. He was masculine and confident without trying too hard, but he was also goofy and playful — teasing his friends, making dumb jokes, dancing badly on purpose just to make everyone laugh. Guys kept glancing at him and checking him out as they walked by.

He was everything I wished I could have been as a gay man — comfortable in his skin, open, free.

By the end of the night we were all drunk and starving. The whole group ended up at a McDonald’s a couple blocks away. We crammed into a booth, laughing too loud for the late hour. Tommy slid in right next to me. Without saying anything, he smoothly wrapped his arm around my waist and let his hand rest on my side, rubbing slow circles with his thumb.

The casual touch sent heat rushing through David’s body.

When it was finally time to leave, Tommy’s hand moved to my thigh under the table. He rubbed the inside of it, fingers pressing just firm enough to make my breath catch.

“My apartment is right around the corner,” he said, voice low and close to my ear. “I’ve got some new records if you want to come see them.”

I didn’t even pretend to hesitate.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice coming out a little rough in David’s throat. “I’d like that.”

We said goodbye to his friends and started walking. Tommy kept his hand on my lower back the whole way. His apartment was only a five-minute walk, but it felt longer with the tension building between us. When we got inside, he locked the door behind us and turned to face me, that same slight grin playing on his lips.

I wandered over to his record collection, pretending to look through the sleeves while trying to calm my nerves. A few seconds later I felt Tommy come up behind me. His hands gently grabbed my waist and turned me around. Before I could say anything, he leaned in and kissed me.

It was tender at first, almost careful. Then he deepened it, one hand sliding up to the back of my neck. When he finally pulled back, he looked me in the eyes and said quietly, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that for.”

My heart slammed in David’s chest. I didn’t know what to say, so I just kissed him again, harder this time.

We made our way to his bed, still kissing as we pulled each other’s shirts off. Tommy laid me down gently and started kissing down my neck, then across my smooth chest and stomach. Every touch of his lips sent electricity through me. I couldn’t stop staring at him — his perfectly toned body, the way his veiny biceps flexed as he held himself over me, that cute smile, the light mustache above his lip, his warm sweet eyes, and the cool geometric tattoo on his forearm.

He was gorgeous.

I was so turned on I could barely think straight. This was one of my former swimmers — a kid I used to coach — now kissing his way down my (David’s) body like he’d been waiting years to do it. The guilt and the thrill mixed together in a way that made everything feel even more intense.

Tommy looked up at me, eyes dark with want, his hand sliding slowly up my thigh.

He stood up and pushed his underwear down in one motion, kicking them aside. His cock sprang up, hard and thick, curving slightly upward. I stared at it, my mouth going dry. He had already stripped me completely naked.

He reached into the nightstand drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube. Then he climbed back onto the bed, positioning himself on his knees between my spread legs. Looking down at me with dark, hungry eyes, he poured some lube onto his fingers and warmed it up by rubbing them together.

He leaned forward slightly and pressed one slick finger against my hole. I tensed for a second, but his other hand gently rubbed the inside of my thigh, slow and soothing. He pushed the finger in carefully, working it deeper with small, patient movements. A low moan escaped my throat.

After a minute he added a second finger, stretching me open. I squirmed on the sheets, breathing heavier, my cock leaking against my stomach. The combination of his fingers and that steady, comforting hand on my thigh was driving me crazy.

Tommy looked me straight in the eyes, his voice low and commanding.

“Are you on Prep?”

I could barely form words. I was so desperate to feel him inside me that it came out shaky and needy.

“Yes,” I managed, practically whimpering. “Yeah, I’m on it.”

Tommy gave me that same endearing, cute, confident smile — the one that made my chest tighten. Without another word, he pulled his fingers out, slicked up his cock, and lined himself up.

He thrust into me in one smooth, steady motion.

I gasped loudly as he filled me, my hands grabbing at his arms. He felt huge inside David’s tighter body. Tommy let out a deep groan, eyes half-closed for a moment, then looked back down at me as he started moving his hips.

“Fuck, David…” he breathed, leaning down closer.

Tommy started thrusting, deep and steady. Every roll of his hips sent waves of pleasure through me.

Fuck, he’s so hot. The thought kept repeating in my head as I watched him above me. The way his shoulders flexed, the way his chest moved with each breath, the confident look on his face. This is exactly how I want to be. Masculine. At ease in my own skin. Open. Desired.

This was my first time having sex without a condom. The feeling of Tommy’s bare cock sliding in and out of me was overwhelming. I couldn’t tell if raw sex just felt this incredible, or if it was specifically his cock — thick, curved, and hitting the perfect spot every single time. Honestly, it was probably both.

Tommy’s rhythm picked up. His eyes had turned darker, hungrier. He looked down at me and said in a low, rough voice, “I wish you could see how sexy you look right now.”

That sent me spiraling.

I closed my eyes and pictured it — being inside Tommy’s body instead. Looking down at David’s lean, smooth body spread out beneath me. Seeing my new, stronger hands gripping these hips. Fucking him with this powerful body while wearing that cute, confident smile.

The fantasy hit me like a freight train.

I came hard, moaning loudly as my cock pulsed between us, shooting across David’s stomach and chest. My hole clenched tight around Tommy’s cock with every wave.

“Fuck— David—” Tommy groaned. His thrusts became shorter and harder, then he buried himself deep and came. I felt every pulse as he filled me.

He dropped down onto me, chest to chest, our sweaty skin pressing together and smearing my cum between us. I pulled him into a deep kiss, tasting beer and salt on his tongue.

We stayed like that for a long moment, breathing hard.

All I could think, over and over, was:

I was lying in bed scrolling through Grindr with one hand, the other resting on my stomach. The apartment was quiet except for the low hum of the fan. It was a Thursday night and I wasn’t expecting much — just killing time before I passed out.

I swiped past a few generic torso shots and blank profiles when a new face popped up. My thumb froze mid-air.

Ryan Callahan. Coach Ryan. My high school swimming coach. For four years I had shamelessly tried to get his attention. I used to “accidentally” flex every time I climbed out of the pool and knew he was watching. I’d linger in the locker room with my towel slung low, joking around with the other guys while making sure he got a good look. I was still deep in the closet back then, so I played it off as regular jock shit. But he never took the bait. Never even gave me a second glance that I could tell.

Now here he was. Less than three miles away. Active twenty minutes ago.

Now forty years old, he had a beard with streaks of gray, short hair going silver at the temples, and the same heavy, hairy chest I used to stare at every day in high school. He was shirtless in the bathroom mirror selfie. His shoulders and pecs still looked solid, the dark hair across his chest even thicker than I remembered. The profile listed him at 5'11", 205 lbs, and looking for “fun, no strings.”

My heart started beating harder. I let out a slow breath and tapped the message button.

Before I could even type anything, the typing bubble appeared.

“Fuck dude you’re super cute.”

Two pictures followed right after. The first was a close-up of his cock, thick and heavy, hanging soft but already filling out. The second showed the same dick gripped in his hand, now mostly hard, head flushed dark. A thick vein ran along the top. His hand looked big around it.

I was practically salivating.

“Damn, you don’t know how happy I am to hear you say that,” I replied.

He didn’t waste any time.

“Looking to get off tonight. You down?” He said.

“I have work in the morning but fuck it. Send me the address.” I responded.

Twenty minutes later I stood outside his apartment door on the third floor of a quiet building a couple towns over. My heart was pounding hard. I knocked twice.

The door opened.

Ryan stood there shirtless in nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants sitting low on his hips. His chest and stomach were covered in dark hair mixed with gray. His shoulders and arms still carried the muscle from years of coaching and lifting. He looked at me with heavy, hungry eyes and stepped aside.

“Holy fuck,” I said under my breath as I walked in.

He closed the door, turned to the kitchen counter, and poured two glasses of whiskey. He handed one to me. I took a sip. The burn went straight down.

Ryan didn’t speak. He stepped closer, set his glass down, and reached for my shirt. His thick fingers undid the top three buttons smoothly. Then he leaned in, pressed his mouth to the side of my neck, and started kissing me there. His beard scratched against my skin. One hand slid under the back of my shirt, rough and warm as it moved up my spine.

I took another sip of whiskey while his mouth worked lower, sucking lightly at the spot where my neck met my shoulder. His other hand stayed on my lower back, pulling me closer until my hips bumped against his.

We never finished the drinks. Ryan took the glass from my hand, set it aside, and nodded toward the hallway. I followed him into the bedroom. The only light came from a small lamp on the nightstand. The bed was already turned down.

He pushed the door shut and took full control. He stripped the rest of my clothes off slowly, then shoved me back onto the bed. He climbed on top of me, his heavy, hairy body pressing me into the mattress.

He took his time. He pushed my legs up and back, then buried his face between my cheeks. His beard rubbed rough against my skin while his tongue worked me open, slow and wet. I gripped the sheets and let out low groans every time he pushed deeper. He kept going until my hole was slick and relaxed.

When he finally pulled back, he grabbed a condom, rolled it on, and lubed up. He lined himself up and pushed inside me. The stretch burned at first, but once he was all the way in, pure bliss took over. Ryan fucked me deep and steady, his hips rolling in a strong, controlled rhythm. His hairy chest hovered over me as he held my legs open. Every thrust felt better than the last.

We fucked for at least half an hour. The room filled with the sound of skin slapping skin and my moans growing louder. Ryan stayed in charge, shifting angles until he hit the spot that made my back arch off the bed.

Finally I couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Please take off the condom,” I said, voice rough.

Ryan paused mid-thrust, eyes dark. “Fuck kid, you don’t have to tell me twice.”

He pulled out, ripped the condom off, and tossed it aside. His bare cock looked even thicker now, slick and flushed. He pushed back inside me in one smooth motion.

He leaned down closer, still fucking me deep. One big hand wrapped around my lubed cock and started stroking me slowly, twisting at the head on every upstroke. His other hand found my left nipple, rolling and pinching it. Then he leaned in and kissed me, beard scratching my face, tongue sliding into my mouth.

That pushed me over the edge. My whole body tensed and I came hard, shooting across my stomach and chest while he kept stroking me through it. My hole clenched tight around him.

Ryan lasted another five minutes. His thrusts got shorter and harder. Then his breathing changed. He buried himself deep, let out a low guttural groan, and came. His face twisted in the hottest way — jaw tight, eyes half-shut, mouth open just enough to show his teeth. I felt every pulse as he filled me up.

He stayed inside me for a long moment afterward, both of us breathing hard. His sweaty, hairy chest pressed against mine while his cock slowly softened.

We lay there in the afterglow, bodies slick with sweat. Ryan’s heavy chest rose and fell against my side, his arm resting across my stomach.

After a few minutes he turned his head toward me.

“You clean?” he asked, voice low and rough.

I let out a small laugh. “Damn Coach, don’t you trust me?”

Ryan gave me a strange look and pushed himself up on one elbow.

“Wait, fuck… do you know me?”

What a weird way to phrase that question, I thought.

“Yeah Coach,” I said. “I was on your team for four years. You made me captain senior year. Don’t you remember?”

His face changed. “Fuck… shit shit.” He rubbed a hand across his face. “He told me not to do this. He’s gonna be pissed.”

He stared at the ceiling, then shrugged. “Oh well. Nothing I can do about it now. Guess it’s his problem.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

Ryan let out a long breath. “This isn’t my real body. I’m not actually Ryan. My name is Cruz. We swapped for a few days using this site called SwapService.”

I stared at him. “Swapped?”

“Yeah. Ryan and I swapped bodies.” He ran a hand through the short graying hair. “How it works is you enter your own body stats — height, weight, age, build, everything. Then you put in the type of guy you want to swap with. The site gives you compatibility percentages with people looking to swap. Ryan and I hit like 85%.”

I stayed quiet for a second, then asked, “Why would Ryan ever want to swap?”

Cruz scratched at the thick hair on his chest. “I don’t remember every detail, but he said he’s been reckoning with his sexuality. He wanted to experiment with being an openly gay man for a few days. Guess he’s been in the closet a long time.”

He shrugged Ryan’s broad shoulders.

“The only rules he gave me was to stay DL and safe. He’s not out to anyone, not even his doctor, so he’s not on PrEP. He didn’t want it getting back to anyone he knows. So fucking one of his old swimmers raw…” He let out a short laugh. “That was a double no in his book.”

I looked at him and gave a stunted, incredulous laugh. “So do you swap often then?”

Cruz laughed low in Ryan’s deep voice and scratched at the thick hair on his chest. “Oh, I do it all the time. I like being older muscle hunks. Lets me fuck guys like you.” He looked me up and down slowly, eyes still hungry. “Young, lean, blonde jocks with tight asses. Never gets old.” He reached over and gave my thigh a squeeze before continuing. “And you felt even better and tighter than most.”

I felt my face heat up. Cruz leaned back against the pillows, looking completely relaxed in Ryan’s body.

I couldn’t stop myself from asking more. I was dying to know what kind of guy Ryan would actually trade this body for.

“So… what kind of body did you leave behind?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual. “You must have offered Ryan something he really wanted if he agreed to the swap.”

Cruz grinned, Ryan’s bearded face looking amused. He reached over to the nightstand, grabbed his phone, and scrolled for a second before turning the screen toward me. The photo showed a 23-year-old Latino guy with a muscular twink build — smooth tan skin, sharp jawline, dark hair, and a tight six-pack. He was shirtless in a gym mirror, flexing with a cocky smile.

“That’s me,” Cruz said. “My real body.”

He locked the phone and tossed it back onto the nightstand. “I don’t like being a twink. Never have. So I swap all the time. Usually, once I’m a few days into a swap and the guy is really enjoying himself, I ask if he wants to make it permanent. Still haven't gotten on to say yes though. It's a big commitment I guess and I only offer to swap with the hottest guys.”

Cruz shrugged Ryan’s broad shoulders, his thick fingers idly scratching through the graying hair on his chest.

“I haven’t asked Ryan yet, though. Wasn’t sure how he’d react.”

My mind started spinning with possibilities.

If Ryan was willing to swap with a guy like Cruz — a complete stranger — then maybe he’d be open to swapping with me too. And if he liked being in my younger, lean, blonde body… maybe he’d agree to make it permanent.

All of the sudden, I pictured myself waking up inside Ryan’s body for good. Looking down at this thick, hairy chest every morning. Feeling the weight of these heavy muscles. Walking around with this deep voice and this powerful build. My cock started getting hard again just thinking about it, twitching against my stomach as the fantasy took hold.

Cruz noticed immediately. His eyes dropped to my growing erection and a slow, knowing smirk spread across Ryan’s face.

“Looks like you’re ready for round two already.”

He rolled on top of me again and pushed my legs apart. “And for the rest of the night, you still call me Ryan. Got it?”

“Yes, Ryan,” I breathed, voice already thick with need.

He lined himself up and slid back inside me raw, slow and deep. I groaned loudly as he bottomed out.

Ryan started thrusting in a steady, powerful rhythm, his heavy, hairy body moving over mine.

With every thrust, I imagined running my hands over this thick chest, feeling the weight of Ryan’s muscles under my fingers.

“Ryan…” I moaned.

He picked up the pace, hips snapping harder as he drove deeper into me.

I pictured myself lifting his arm and burying my face in his hairy pit, inhaling his scent while I was in his body.

“Fuck… Ryan,” I gasped.

Cruz leaned down, beard scraping against my neck as he growled in my ear, “You like that, kid?”

Another deep thrust made my back arch.

I imagined wrapping my hand around Ryan’s thick cock — my new cock — and jerking off slowly in front of the mirror, watching his body respond.

“Ryan… fuck, Ryan!” I cried out, voice breaking.

His thrusts grew rougher, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room.

The more he fucked me, the more certain I became.

I was going to become Ryan.

No matter what it took.

He pinned my wrist harder to the bed, pounding into me with deep, possessive strokes.

I saw myself bending Ryan over in my old body, sliding this fat cock inside him and fucking him deep after he finally agreed to make the swap permanent. I imagined finally cumming inside him.

“Ryan… don’t stop,” I moaned desperately, my hole clenching around him.

Cruz leaned closer, voice low and rough against my ear. “You’re so fucking tight.”

Every powerful thrust pushed me closer to the edge while the fantasy burned hotter in my mind.

This body was going to be mine.

They say: Don’t buy anything from untrustworthy websites. Viruses, spam and far worse things could be lurking there. The moment your details fall into the wrong hands, your peace of mind is gone and your money is gone too.

But Roman says: I don’t care! I want that orange iPhone! For $300, I just have to buy it!

He waited several weeks for his parcel from Zingiber Technology – and sure enough, it arrived after seven weeks. Slightly battered, but it was there. Full of impatience, Roman tore it open. There it was. The latest iPhone. Shiny and shrink-wrapped. He carefully picked it up, turning it gently in his hands. He set it up. Everything worked. His Apple ID, all his passwords. He was just about to install his tax app.

But then… he felt an irrepressible urge to take a selfie. Right at that very moment. Not just any selfie. It had to be topless. Roman was slim; he would never take a photo of himself bare-chested. But it was like an inner compulsion that made him rip his shirt off and throw it to the floor.

Now he stood there in front of the mirror. His heart was beating and bumping against his chest.

Bump.

It tickled.

Bump. Bump.

Hair blossomed on his chest. Bright orange curls wiggled out of his slightly reddening skin. Slowly they spread over his pectorals. Wait...

Bump. Bump. Bump. Bump.

His flat chest muscles pressed against Roman's skin, filling it with hard textur, coated with bristly hairs. His free hand came in touch with his new furry chest. Feeling the rough patch under his fingers, he gasped for air. Like water falling down a waterfall the rusty-orange hairs created a path to his lower regions, accompanied by a subtle swelling in his mid-section.

Fffffffhhhhhh. The air was filling his body.

Bump. Bump. Bump. The blood was pumped through his thickening body.

Roman's shoulders tensed. Widening, rounding, spreading into the room, while some sparse red hairs greeted from there, declaring it as their new home.

His forearms filled out. Thickening with every breath as freckles joined the fight over the free patches of skin on Roman's body. They lost around the elbow, giving space to the luscious red curls flowing down his forearms.

Fffffffffffffffffh. Bump. Bump. Ffffffffffffffffffffh.

His upper arm crunched. Muscles and fibers dwelling beneath the skin, creating a solid unit of strength from hand to head.

Click. Another picture. Ffffffffffffh. The growth wandered down to his butt, swelling and stretching his shorts.

He moaned, caressing his nipple, throwing back his head as he could feel blood rushing to his face.

Bump. Bump. Bump.

Roman's hair started curling, forming locks that looked redder by the second, while the same orange hair spread over his clean-shaven face. Crunching and creaking sounds escaped his face as his lower jaw sharpened. His brows extended slightly forward, taking the reddish tone that could be found almost everywhere on his body. An invisible blade carefully traced the outlines.

Deep inside him Roman could feel something shifting. Away from the phone gamer to a trained camera expert, knowing how to show off with the right light. But as the wave of red hairs hit his legs, he was not thinking about it.

He was feeling it. The swelling beneath his skin, the tingling on his skin. He did not think about his feet, bursting out of his sandals.

He did feel the power surge blasting the thin leather stripes away, making place for bigger feet with freckles and tufts of red hair. Different thoughts occupied his minds. Training. Showing off. Posing. Taking pics.

Click. Bump. Bump.

Roman was looking at his mirror selfie. That was who he was. Who he had always been. Who he will always be. And he was feeling everything of himself.

Click.

"That's good enough, the lads gonna love it."

Pfffffffffffffh.

Roman exhaled.

Bump.

Posted.

“You miss this bro?”

He smirks as he slowly lifts the blue jersey higher, deliberately exposing the smooth, tight abs and sharp V-lines that used to be yours. The same body you spent years training, the one that turned heads at every game and party, now belonging to someone else.

He’s been in your skin for almost a week now. Every morning he wakes up in your bed, flexes in your mirror, strokes your cock, and sends cocky selfies to your friends pretending to be you. He even hooked up with your best mate last night using your body, moaning in your voice while he fucked him.

You’re still trapped inside his old, scrawny, weak body, forced to watch helplessly as he owns every inch of what was once yours. He slaps your abs hard, making them flex, then runs his hand down the waistband of your shorts, gripping your cock through the fabric.

“Fuck… this body feels so much better than my old one,” he says casually with your voice. “I think I’m keeping it for good.”

He winks at you, using your own face, and laughs.

Superpower Bottom

I think I messed up when I willingly accepted to swap bodies with this guy. He seemed so perfect, like why give it away?

I met Cory at a concert. Seemed like he was trying to hide. We made eye contact. He offered me his body to live in. Said I was cute. I wanted to think about it, but as he walked away, I changed my mind, and said yes.

We went to a body swapping facility nearby and signed paperwork. First thing I noticed after swapping was how my new ass felt like an open sky. I looked to my old face, and he was relaxing and maybe relieved.

I called my old friend Liam to tell him the news. And he came over. He was staring at my dick, and then checked my posterior. "You even got a nice bubble butt! Can I touch?"

"Sure" I told him. He felt static electricity when he did, and laughed. He asked for sex, and I said, "why not, you'll be my first time in a new body." We got around to flip fucking, and he entered my ass.

"My dick is stuck. It feels good though. WHAT IS GOING ON?" he freaked out. I felt his dick growing inside me. Once it filled the entirety of my insides, it released it. And man, did he go from scared to super excited.

"I got a monster sized dick now! This is amazing. That ass gave me a monster... dude that ass could make us, I mean you so much money. Who wouldn't pay for a bigger dick?"

"I think i know why the original owner gave me his body now... and an ass this coveted isn't safe to own... only topping now for now... please don't tell anyone. Hopefully, there aren't many others that do as well. But Cory did seem very relieved when he became me."

Liam kept eyeing my ass... "Dude we should call you a Superpower Bottom because that bottom packs so much power."

"Not funny, Liam."

Liam already told his best friends to come... I was upset when they arrived. To keep them quiet. They all got the bigger dicks they wanted. It took 3 hours for all 10 of them. I was dehydrated afterwards. It takes energy that I don't really have.

I packed a bag. And went somewhere I wouldn't be known. I stopped at a gas station. Ran into my old body by chance. Asked for it back. He declined. He did ask for a quick fuck... I figured i could keep asking for it back if I let him. My former body's dick grew to 9 inches. And he was on his way... guess I'm Cory forever unless I trick someone. Or maybe I'll become famous for this, and hire a protection detail. That settles it. I'm Cory the famous Superpower Bottom and verse top...