Stars Fly High

This is a sequel to Couple's Therapy, which can be found here.

Marcus looked down at this request before crumbling it up and placing it in his pocket. He let out a sigh, took a long drag from his cigarette, and stomped it with his foot before going out on a walk to clear his head and to get a better idea of the new town he was in.

After a few months of operating in his hometown, Marcus decided it would be better to move on and not stay in one area for too long. Part of the reason was born out of regret. His powers weren’t fully under control as he initially believed they were, which caused some friction for about half to the couples he provided his unique counseling skills to. The other half seemed quite satisfied, but a 50% failure rate wasn’t exactly a passing grade for himself.

Of course, Marcus made sure to let most of his old clients, the satisfied ones at least, that he was going to be moving. For now, he was just rented out a little office space he discreetly also slept in, though the landlord didn't need to know that. However, he hadn't started advertising to the locals just yet—he wasn't quite ready to start. Even so, when awoke that morning and checked the mail, he received an unmarked envelope.

And as Marcus scanned the contents, he scowled.

“My father’s still in the closet. I’ve already graduated college and moved out with my partner, but my father still seems to be in denial about his sexuality. He’s been divorced from my mother for a while now, and I just want him to be happy, but it seems like he’s just holding himself back for some reason. Is there anything you can do?”

On the bottom of the letter was a single phone number. Likely a burner phone, considering the sender didn't put their name or address anywhere. The sender probably didn't want Marcus to find them or for anyone to know they had even contacted Marcus in the first place. However, they must've kept up with Marcus' work and movements if they knew he was staying here. He had to admit, he was rather impressed, but that didn't overshadow just how annoyed he was. The sender must've known he was currently on break and wasn't even sure if he was going to continue his work. Marcus crumbled up the note and took off.

He should’ve just thrown it in the trash and forgotten about—that would've solved everything—but some of those words weighed heavy in his mind. Still in the closet... he thought. Those words alone made him reconsider. It wasn't like any of his previous jobs, but the usual method might be able to fix it. Still, he hesitated. And with that came a whole host of problems. Now that sheet just felt heavy in his back pocket as he walked through the streets of this unfamiliar place, intent of memorizing routes.

A new problem arose: he was lost. Streets looked familiar and yet utterly unrecognizable. Marcus knew he wasn't great at following maps or remembering the routes, but he figured with enough age he'd eventually get good at it. Unfortunately, it seemed like he was wrong. Nevertheless, he kept his gaze firmly forward and his visage neutral. Nobody would know he was lost if he simply acted like he knew where he was going, and eventually he would, right?

Not too long after, just when he was about to give up hope and look for a map on his phone, a familiar voice rang out. “Marcus! Is that really you?” He couldn’t help but turn around despite how risky it could’ve been. He had his fair share of enemies at this point, but just the thoughts of finally interacting with a voice that wasn’t his own—wasn’t his inner monologue—was so enticing he could not help himself.

And to his relief, it was a friendly face. Not only that, but one that was rounder, fuller, and more colorful than last he saw her. “Julia…?” he breathed out, almost speechless as his former client came bounding over.

Beaming brightly as she approached, Julia didn’t slow down. Marcus nearly held his arms up in a defensive posture before she extended her arms out and tackled him into a hug that nearly bowled him over. It was only due to him expecting an impact that the pair remained standing, but never in his life would he have imagine she was going to embrace him like this.

Marcus blinked hard, staring up at the sky to make sure not a single tear fell. Once he was certain he wouldn’t embarrass himself, he said, “It’s nice to see a familiar face here,” with the dry tone he often used.

Julia tittered as she pulled back. She had gained weight, looking much healthier than the twig-like and stressed out woman Marcus had initially met; her round cheeks regained some of the lively, rose color they had lost;, and her eyes were gleaming with energy like fireflies on a cool summer night. “How are you? I haven’t seen you in so long ever since I moved. I tried to tell you but I found your office all but deserted when I stopped by!"

Marcus winced at that. He had been intending to let Julia know as well, but with her case being part of the reason he had gotten so big at his previous locale, it felt a bit awkward to tell her about it without accidentally implying that it was her fault he was leaving town. So he decided to forgo visiting her or leaving a note. "Sorry, I couldn't find your address. I lost it by accident."

"That's all right!" she said, still beaming. "Oh my gosh, are you busy right now? We should definitely sit down somewhere and catch up! I know all the nice eats around these parts.” Chest puffed out with pride, she dug into her purse and pulled out a folded up magazine. A local paper? She flipped to a certain page and all but shoved it in Marcus’ face. “Look, look! See?!”

Marcus took the magazine and skimmed through the page. Julia Hawking’s Juice Japes. The mouth-watering pictures of food and Julia posing with a few cooks and chefs spelled it all out. “I didn’t realize you were a food critic.”

“I wasn’t, when we first met,” she said. “Are you busy? I’d like to tell you all about it.”

“No, I can’t say that I am. Please, lead the way. I was actually trying to scope out this new location.” They walked side-by-side, and the whole way Marcus was reflecting—both on how much Julia had changed and if this was what it was like growing up with a sibling, although Julia had a few years over him.

“It’s really nice to see you again. To be honest, I was actually hoping I could show you how much I’ve changed,” she said, taking a sip of her sugary smoothie she had ordered. Marcus, meanwhile, ordered a juicy steak for his meal. He had skipped breakfast today, as he tended to do.

“With Trevor’s attitude change," continued Julia, "I’ve had time to keep growing my career and now…” she blushed before saying, “Yeah, I’ve started running my own business. Anyway, we ended up moving here since it’s closer to my husband’s mother so he could continue taking care of her.”

Hmm? Marcus hadn’t expected that reveal. When was his mother in the picture?

“To be honest, she really wasn’t—for a while, a least,” said Julia. “But after the treatment we did with you… he changed. Not just him being more open to all this other stuff, but he’s become much kinder. Much more interested in people’s well-being. To be honest, it was such a 180 that I was nearly floored. I know I asked for you to make me treat me nicer, but he really has become a stand-out guy.”

Marcus nodded to himself. “Well, at least it worked out for you," he said, resting his elbow on the table, forlorn.

Julia's brow furrowed. "Oh, I did hear some things before I left—about your business. Um… there were some issues?"

'Issues' was putting it lightly. What had ended up happening was several of the husbands of his clientele becoming far more sexually active and more interesting in the same gender. The end result is many of the husbands cheating on their wives with each other. To make things worse, not all of the wives were completely outraged. About enjoyed the little 'shows' their husbands put on or saw it as a form of sexual liberation. From t hat came disagreement—and then friendships began to shatter. The whole town ended up becoming a battlefield or sorts.

Marcus becoming the enemy of the heterosexual couples of that town would've suited him just fine. He was used to being outcasted and scapegoated, it was almost nostalgic. It didn't feel great, but it was something her was used to. Having others stick up, defend him, and ruin their standing with the rest of the town was what made him uncomfortable. So he packed his bags, apologized, and left.

Julia sighed when Marcus finished telling his story. "It is a shame," she said.

"I know. I didn't mean to mess up their marriages like that," said Marcus, bowing his head as he thought back to the women yelling at each other. "I didn't think I influenced them that much."

"No, I meant all those ladies running you out of town as if we're not all on the same boat." Julia reached out and squeezed Marcus' hand. "You really helped me out, y'know. Not just me, but also all those other women in town, even if they didn't particularly care for the end result." She spoke with such confidence that Marcus was almost convinced. However, he wrested his hand from her grip and drew back.

"I made them unfaithful."

“I don't know if you did all of that. I think my husband became kinder and more considerate of others because you possessed him. And you didn’t reprogram him—not completely anyway, I think. You showed him that he’s capable of becoming that kind of person." She flashed an awkward smile, which reminded Marcus of the timid young woman who first stepped into his office with her head bowed and her hands trembling. But there was no meekness in that smile anymore. No, she seemed like she was having fun at how awkward she was being, like she was inviting him to joke and smile with her.

“I’m no doctor, lawyer, or psychologist so I can’t exactly discuss with you how ethical your method is, but I do know one thing: you saved me, and Trevor, too. I think he’s much happier this way, not because he’s been reprogrammed to think so, but because he’s just much more comfortable living in his own skin again. Life tears you down," she continued, "but I think you helped him take the first step in rebuilding himself back up. After that, the rest was for the two of us to do."

Comfortable in his own skin, huh…? Marcus let those words echo in his head throughout the rest of the meal. The two conversed, with Marcus nodding along and congratulating Julia as she told him about her latest promotion and then taking notes when she began telling him about all the best places in town to try out.

Before Julia left for her Zumba class, she asked, “Are you going to go to the Pride parade this weekend? Trevor and I were planning on going—and knowing you’re gonna be here, I think it’d be neat for the two of you to formally meet.”

“I think I will, but I won’t exactly be there as myself.” Julia nodded, an understanding smile on her face, and wished him good luck. With the tab paid and his belly full, Marcus resumed his walk throughout the town with a much more energetic gait.

Tomorrow would be his first Pride parade as well.

Douglas Moore had been intending on spending the weekend quietly at home. He picked out a good book to read, he was planning on running the bath later that evening, and there was an unopened bottle of wine in the living room that had been teasing him all week to finally uncork it.

Yes, it's going to be a lovely weekend indeed, Douglas thought as he awoke to the sounds of the birds nesting by his windowsill gently awoke him with the lovebird symphony. He slowly sat up, blinking himself to full awoke ness, and then was forced back onto his bed immediately by an invisible force. He flopped on the mattress, shivering and moaning as a numbing sensation spread throughout his body. At first, he was concerned he was having some kind of heart attack before, all of a sudden, it subsided. Douglas was left breathless on his bed.

Slowly, he sat back up, rubbing his hands over his chest to check his on his racing heart. Yes, he felt fine, right? Hmm… for whatever reason, he was rubbing himself a bit more than he thought he needed, but better to be safe than sorry.

"Nrgh…!" Douglas' whole body shivered as he suddenly tweaked his nipple through his wifebeater. He hadn't expected such a sensitive reaction from just touching himself, but now that he was, he couldn't just ignore the rising tent in his boxers. "Shit, I'm like a hormonal teen," he muttered. He didn't expect to curse out of the blue like that, but he should cut himself some slack. What's the matter with a curse every once in a while so long as it was kept out of children's ears and away from the house of God?

Douglas was so caught up in these new thoughts that he didn't consider that, up until now, he never had any sort of inner narration like 50% of the population. Suddenly he was on the other camp, yet he didn't find it off-putting in the slightest.

He threw the blankets off his body with a flourish he never hand before and glanced down at himself as if witnessing his form for the very first time. He breathed in and out, seeing the chest rise and fall rhythmically. His wiggled his toes and waved his bare, hairy feet like they were some new-found novelty. Oh my, he thought, I don't know why I'm feeling so frisky but I kinda like it. So much of his life was spent being a prude, so why not enjoy the physique he had worked hard onto maintain? With that, he grabbed the rim of his boxers with both hands and threw it to the other side of the room. His cock, already hard and swinging in the air, looked like it needed attention.

"Nrgh…! Mmmf…! Love doing this shit!" Douglas cried out, jacking his meat with little shame. He couldn't remember the last time he was so enthusiastically choking his cock like this, but it felt so good! He couldn't get enough of it. He turned over so he lied on his belly and started humping the mattress. "Nrgh! Yeah, y-yeah! This is great…" he kept muttered, one hand tweaking his nipple while the bed covers enveloped his dick. "Haah…! Oh yeah. I-I'm… fuck, I'm fucking cumming…!" He cried out, his whole body curling up into a C as his twitching cock could take no more and started spewing out semen all over the sheets.

Douglas collapsed onto his own mess. "Heheh…! Think I went a little overboard," he said with an embarrassed yet still shameless titter. He rubbed the cum over his stomach like sunscreen. "There we go, all clean," he said. It was just fluids, after all. Only some immature prude would really make a big deal about cumming on the sheets. Today was laundry day, anyway.

Satisfied, Douglas swung his large legs to the side and had enough restraint to not leapt out of his bed. With a swagger normally reserved for big-shot athletes, he marched over to his closet, threw the door open, and recoiled in horror. "Oh no… oh no, no no no—oh this is dreadful," he muttered to himself as he went through each garment. "It's borderline terminal. Nothing even the tiniest bit bold of colorful." Douglas internally withered as his hands went through and rummaged through years of dull, mono-colored shirts and sweaters—only occasion finding a red or yellow that had grown faded from the years. When was the last time he had gone clothes shopping?

"It's been too long," he said, and he absolutely agreed. "I've got to get ready since I'll be preparing for today's Pride. Need something fashionable to wear. Don't need to look like a grandpa for the party over there."

Today's Pride? Douglas was surprised a this own words, but also more surprised at just how nonchalantly he was speaking to himself as well. But… this was his own decision. Yes, he wanted to go to pride of his own accord. Even though he couldn't recall knowing any details of the event or what he was supposed to do when he got there, he put on the least atrocious combinations of colors he could put on, scarfed down a plain breakfast, and rushed to the clothing store.

"Mmm… nice." Douglas had never been much of a fashion connoisseur, but there was something almost hypnotic about watching himself try on these different, much more colorful styles and pose in the mirror. On occasion, he would even wink to his own reflection. Once, he even leaned forward, both arms pressed up against the glass and shook his hips while panting with his tongue out. "Ohhh," moaned Douglas, quickly pressing his hand over his mouth. Even without anybody else int he fitting rooms, he couldn't help but be overwhelmed by all these emotions. Even better he really wanted to just tear of all these clothes and just start ravaging himself and bust his load all over the mirror.

Have I always been this good-looking? Douglas thought. No, it's because I'm finally giving a shit about my appearance like this.

"I think I've got a nice look down," he said, chuckling to himself and even giving a tiny flex in these fashionable clothes. "Bet all the handsome hunks will be thrilled to see a nice little DILF like this." And Douglas agreed. He'd give them all a nice little show as they marched down the streets.

As the young clerk rang up his purchases, Douglas noticed just how long his gaze lingered. He grinned and said, "Going to the pride after parties once your shift's over?"

The young man flinched but then shyly smiled. He nodded with a small, meek smile. "Knowing you'll be there, I think I can make the effort," he said, tittering. He took out a few bills from the register and handed Douglas his change. Douglas reached out, cupping the young man's hand and tenderly stroke it before taking his cash. The young man was fully blushing and left a stuttering mess.

"See you around," Douglas said with a killer, confident grin. He couldn't believe he had done that, but… he wanted to do it again. He wanted to make that clerk's whole body blush while ramming inside of him. As he walked back to his car, Douglas' cock was tenting up in his pants, but he walked around with little shame. "Why bother with shame?" he said outloud, walking around with a swagger only a hot older man could possess. "Keeping this hot body all to myself would be a disservice to the world. We got only one life, we gotta live it."

Douglas had heard that kinda nonsense all his life, but saying it himself just now… he was believing it. Hell, he was even living it.

The parade would start around noon, so Douglas wasted no time… is what he told himself. The truth was, as he took out the boring shirts and jeans he had on, he stopped and took a clear look at his reflection. He was oozing confidence he had no idea he could ever possess. So much of his his life was spent gazing at his own feet and awkwardly shuffling forward. Any flamboyance or even simple joy in life was swiftly beaten down by his father and older brothers. Being a real man was being a stoic, miserable wretch that until until he died—that was what they believed, and they firmly made sure Douglas believed the same thing. And for most of his life, he did.

But now—fresh shirt, suit, and colorful pants on—Douglas felt like he was truly alive. "Yup," he said to his own reflection, "this is what a real man looks like." It wasn't so much that he was looking a handsome man in the mirror, but rather that it was a a man who was finally able to make choice without worrying about what an outsiders might think. "Confident, nicely groomed, and ready to turn heads."

The energy of the parade was electric. People chanting, shouting, cheering, and marching forward with so much determination in their gazes and voices. Not a single one of them looked ashamed to be there, and Douglas was right there with them. He pumped his fist in the air, walking forward and catching people's eyes. So many people chatted him up, speaking and asking him so many questions as a 'queer unc.' He had no clue what that meant, but he still smiled and spoke with confidence.

It was during the aftermath that he started getting a more attention. "Heeey handsome." A younger man, shirtless and carrying a microphone, waved Douglas down. Trailing just a few steps behind was a cameraman. "Mind asking some questions for my channel? It's always nice interviewing some older gay men to get a fresh perspective."

The implications weren't lost on Douglas. He nodded and walked over. He asked some basic questions, and Douglas answered with mostly the truth. "I think I knew my whole life, but I wasn't quite ready to accept it until I was much older," he said, and he supposed that wasn't untrue. Ever since he was a child Douglas always felt like he was a tiny bit different than the other boys his age. He stared at the men in his life, gaze lingering a bit longer. "It took a while to let go of the shame. This is actually my first pride, but I think I'd like to attend more." He looked around, seeing all the different kinds of folks milling around and having fun. So many of them seemed relieved and at home. It felt like their own little slice of heaven here on earth.

"So, this is something I ask everyone I interview," the host said, "what does pride mean to you?"

Douglas took a deep breath. He had never given it much thought before. Honestly, in the past he figured that the whole thing was silly and the gays didn't need to make a whole parade over being who they were. "I think it's a way to express ourselves, and individuals," he began. "We were get labeled growing up, but I think part of maturing and growing into our own skin is taking these labels and using them not just to define ourselves but to show the world 'this is who I am. This is what I'm about.'"

Who I really am… Yeah, this is what I want the world to see me as. This is who I want to be. Queer and free.

"Pride is to celebrate that. It's like a big artshow, and the craft is ourselves. Our identities, our lives, our experiences—we're here to show all of ourselves to each other, and to make sure we're not all drowning in loneliness," he added, chuckling. "I think that's what pride is to me, and why it's so important."

"Interesting," the interviewer said, nodding. "Well, thanks for your time, and be sure to follow us at…"

I didn't realize I was so eloquent with words, thought Douglas. Perhaps it was time to get back into the arts, as well. With the passion he was speaking with it'd be a waste to not channel that one in a creative pursuit. Gays generally made for good artists, right? He was certain he heard about that somewhere before.

As the festivities wound down, Douglas found that same clerk from the show store. "So," he said as he approached, nearly making the younger man jump out of his skin, "you made it. So glad to see you. By yourself, though?"

"Ah, well…" said the young man, sheepishly scratching the back of his next. "I mean, not too many of my friends really know. And this isn't really their scene, so…"

Douglas nodded, empathizing with Steven. If anyone he knew saw him here… well, before he was certain he would've been panicking and pleading for them to not reveal this to anyone. but for whatever reason he no longer had that fear. If anyone saw me here, he thought, I'd tell them to fuck off and mind their own business. I'm a grown-ass man and can make my own choices and my own decisions.

Suddenly Douglas let out a groan as that weighty feeling vanished. That slight disassociation disappeared, and he truly felt like he was back in his own skin. Though strange, it didn't matter right now. "C'mon, then. Want me to show you around? There's still plenty to see, and a nice nightlife to check out afterwards." Douglas gently took the younger man's hand as he tried to strutter out a response. "Name's Douglas, but just Doug's fine. You?"

"St-Steven…" was all the young man was able to get out before Douglas pulled him along.

Neither of them saw the figure walking away, whistling to himself in satisfaction of a job well-done. Both just enjoyed what they night offered them.

Sequel to Day 21: Electricity

For much of his new life, Hans didn’t consider himself to be human—he simply wanted to have fun and enjoy the little hedonistic pleasures that came with no longer having a biological body and the ability to jump into other humans. That day he met that woman, he had jumped into the body of a man that had been talking just a bit too much trash during their online game.

“Let’s see how you like it,” taunted Hans as he slipped off the shirt, the shoes, the shorts, and tugged at this body’s cock through his underwear. Then, just to make sure he added insult to injury, he left the man’s house and wandered the suburbs, clad only through underwear that struggled to contain his new meat.

"I believe your talents are being wasted," a voice called out to him as he marched through the neighborhood. He looked up to see her, a woman in a wheelchair rolling towards him with a pleasant smile on her face and not at all bewildered at the sight of a young man walking around half-naked.

"Who the hell are you? Sorry, I'm not interested in a modeling contract."

"Oh, I'm not talking about your body. I'm talking about you," she said as though she could see right through him.

That bizarre opener began the strangest and longest friendship Hans ever had. "Wh-Who…? Who even are you?"

"My name is Helena Winters," said the odd woman, beaming brightly at him. "Would you join me in protecting humanity?"

Months later…

"You never told me what your powers even are," he said to Helena as they walked down the halls of the secret lair. Really, it was just some property that Helena owned and built a decent-sized manor on. All their troops, not many but about a dozen, were possessors and routinely came by to rest and recount their progress on various fronts.

"A lady must have her secrets," she said.

"And a commander doubly-so?"

"Exactly."

It was the day after Hans had spent his first day infiltrating the company invaded by those damn electric aliens. The two had spent a few hours stargazing and were now unwinding with a bit of wine from Helena’s secret stash. A few sips later, a soft red glow spread over Helena’s cheeks. Of course, Hans’ artificial body had a hard time getting drunk, as they all did. “Do you know where I was born, Hans?” Of course, Hans shook his head. Why would he have known something like that?

“I was born in the South Pole. I was born in the North Pole,” she had said with an enigmatic smile that suited her and pissed Hans off. “I came from the ice, and when the time comes, I will return to the ice.” He half-expected her to end by saying, “What am I?” but Helena never did.

Instead, she said, "Already, I can feel myself melting away."

Today, Hans felt like both his head and his psyche were in the process of being split apart. He wasn’t sure when was the last time he felt this way. It was probably when he still had his own physical body rather than this borrowed form, but even then his fevers had never been so intense. Was it just exhaustion? No, he certainly had a fever. The nurse that lived in this little compound had verified that.

He lied on his bed, holding a damp rag over his face as he tried to fall back asleep in this borrowed body supplied by Helena and her organization. Even when his essence dived inside the web, he still felt like he was burning up with a terrible fever. Better to be in a body to he could at least take some medication and try to cool himself off from whatever he got.

There was a gentle knock at his door. Hans sighed and shouted, “Come in!” just in case it was who he suspected was knocking.

The door to his room opened, and then click! went the lock. The irritating whir of Helena’s rusty wheelchair tires filled the room. Hans groaned and covered his ears with his pillow, but he eventually relented when Helena roughly tapped his leg. Sighing, he let go of the pillow and settled for folding his arms over his chest and glaring at the wall.

No wonder she locked the door, thought Hans. Probably didn’t want to be caught giving someone like me any favoritism. Just about everyone here remained under her command because she had personally convinced them to stay. She was a friend to them all, having that be the basis for their allegiance to her meant nobody could be more than a friend to her. If anyone did, her entire organization could fall apart with infighting.

So Hans understood, but hated it nonetheless. It always sucks not being anyone's first choice, Hans thought bitterly. He had been there before, and he refused to be a part of that again. Perhaps that was why he had been so okay with becoming what he considered to be a ‘bio-mechanical miracle.’

As Helena approached the bed, she tittered and said, “I forgot even computers gets viruses.” Hans rolled his eyes but said nothing. “How’re you feeling?” she said, her voice growing serious.

“Still feel like crap, but I’ll live," he said, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. It always felt weird whenever people showed such concern for him. He could never get used to it.

“Oh, that’s a relief,” she said softly. Her usual cheer seemed drained, and her voice still sounded quite somber. It felt… wrong for her to seem that way. Hans felt a pang of guilt inside. With him like this, their silent war wouldn’t be able to continue. What would happen while he was out of commission. He looked up to ask her, but was taken aback by the sight of her.

“What about you?” he said. Her hair was a mess, discolored bags hung below her eyes, and her skin was paler than normal. Her sunken cheeks suggested she may not have been eating well lately. To be honest, it looked like nothing has been going well for her. “You look like hell, too.” Once the words left his lips he immediately cringed. No longer having his own foot didn’t mean he couldn’t stick it in his mouth during these critical conversations.

Helena sighed and placed on her hands on Hans’ borrowed ones. She was cold—icy, even. It was as if she was halfway dead already. “I don’t think I’ll live to see the morning,” she said with little sadness in her soft, breathless voice. "So, in that sense, I suppose we're both sick. Sucks for us, huh?" she said, her gentle laugh interrupted by a dry coughing fit. They remained quiet for a few moments, wanting to say the world to the other but afraid that saying even a single word would break them.

As Hans expected, it was Helena that broke the silence. "I never did tell you what my power is, did I? I'm sorry, I didn't…" she paused to cough. "I didn't mean to lie to you. These people… they need a leader, Hans. They need someone to guide them. Otherwise…" she didn't dare say more.

He didn’t notice the glint of the steel until it was too late.A dagger, pulled from who knows were, was now embedded into his chest—right through the heart of this body she had given him. "I take no pleasure in this, but I cannot afford to lose your powers because you're on the brink. A leader must do what she can for her people to survive."

Despite Helena’s sharp words, her hands—still clutching the hilt of the dagger—trembled. Hans wasn’t sure which of the two she was trying to reassure. “I promise I’ll put them to proper use. I’ll live your life with the utmost respect, Hans. I promise you this.”

Ahhh, so that’s her ability, thoughts Hans. He managed one last wry smirk as he figured out the rest of Helena’s plans during his final breaths.

Before, back when he was still flesh and bone, he had never really thought about dying. It was only once this conflict started and he became the sole front-line force in it that he began to consider his own mortality, but the very idea was quickly dismissed. He was confident in himself and everything he did, including everyone he placed his faith in. Especially Helena.

Guess I really messed that one up, huh? Hans thought sardonically. Still, it’s kinda funny… He slowly turned his gaze from his injury to Helena’s face. There was no malice, no fury—only a deep sorrow. Even after everything, I just feel sorry for this girl.

Once again, it felt like he had placed her in a difficult position. No, not just him; the whole world did.

Already, his very existence was vanishing from this world. Memories went first, as they always did. Who among his old life would miss him? He couldn’t remember any of them, but they probably existed. Surely they did. He was certain, probably. They likely thought him dead. Oh well, at least now they can properly grieve someone they actually lost.

Still, with what little strength he had remaining, Hans placed a hand over Helena’s shaky grip and squeezed. “You gotta be way more… b-bloodthirsty if you’re… g-gonna win, Helena,” Hans choked out.

She stared at him, mouth agape in horror.

“Do it,” he continued. “S-Save… yourself. Live. Mankind is second. It should… a-always be second.”

There was no point in self-sacrifice. Until his dying breath he believed in that—and he was desperate for Helena to believe it, too.

Guess… this essence of mine… really was a miracle, were his final thoughts before Hans ceased to exist in this world.

Transition was always difficult, but for non-formal armies it was even more so. Hans, being careful to show too much emotion—something he did when was truly upset, announced to the whole organization that Helena had passed. The whole room cried out in distress at the results. “What’ll happen with the war? All the meetings she had been attending?” Those were the more common cries that echoed throughout the crowd. It seemed like silence would never come until a boom voice thundered over the cacophony.

“QUIET!”

All turned to the unlikely source, a panting Hans with a red face and a sore throat. He had overestimate how much strain a shout like that would cause. Still, in the moment, it had felt good to have command of such lungs. “The war continues,” he said, speaking at a much more comfortable volume. “Helena’s gone, that’s not gonna change, but her will lives on. Through me, though us. I promised her I’d protect humanity from these invaders, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do! It’s the same for the rest of us. We watch over humanity, we create peace in this world, and we keep each other safe and in-check. So, when we see her again—wherever we’re all going—we can tell her just how good of a job we did. For her.”

The room remained silent. Not a word escaped any of their lips. Then, a clap from just one person. Another joined in, and soon the energy from Hans’ words began to eclipse the crowd’s concerns. They grew confident and began to believe in this new voice that bellowed such bold words.

Internally, Hans wondered which leadership style would be superior in the coming days; strict and domineering to compliment his new powerful masculinity, or a more gentle and motherly way that was more akin to Helena’s old femininity? But, the new Hans thought as he made his way to his room, I suppose it doesn’t matter. It’s all me in the end.

He lied down on his bed and took a whiff while stifling a sob that threatened to escape. Hans’ scent…

Helena died, and yet she lived on, possessing Hans. Not quite his borrowed body, but his essence. The secret Helena kept to herself until her last moments was the ability to take over possessors. The original Hans was gone now, replaced by this impostor couldn't stop these hot tears of spilling on the bed.

“Live,” was the final thing Hans had said—an implicit consent to what had happened to him. And yet, as the new Hans smelled the scent of the man he had killed, he so verily wished he could join his dear friend and cease to exist.

This one is particularly long, so I've decided to put it under a Read More.

Randy Ashford was a tough son-of-a-bitch. Chase Fisher had experience with him. But lately, something about him seemed to change.

It only really hit him when said hardass suggested a place like a combination bar arcade as a way to rewards the hard workers of the police precinct. It was four top-of-the-line officers sitting opposite of four pencil-pushers, and Chase had the awesome privilege of having been on both sides.

One accident was enough to take his promising career as a police officer into just being another office-slave handling paperwork and being the object of mockery and ridicule for the able-bodied officers that loved to pass down their grunt work to him. And the one who had caused said accident was the one sitting opposite of Chase but refused to meet his eyes, an attractive young man by the name of William Barrows.

Tall, handsome, and master of an easy-going grin that hid his sadistic nature. It was him who broken Chase's knee, and then played it off as an accident. Even after months of recovery and physical therapy, Chase was left to keep walking around with a limp. His career was done.

Will had never apologized. Even if it had been an accident, he made no effort to clear the air or even offer to assist Chase whenever the pain in his leg visibly impaired him.

Today, we have a tale that will make very little sense until a certain points afterwards, so enjoy how much you don’t understand, my dear reader.

Our protagonist today is a young man named Mario, fresh out college and already having landed a job as an assistant coach in the college he attended due to nepotism—er, his dedication to teaching and guiding others, as he would often say. He was also, unbeknownst to him, recipient of an untested, recently-developed spell. Because of the nature of such spells, he has become a sort of… carrier. It’s not a disease, but it wouldn’t be inaccurate to compare it as such. And the cause of this little ailment is his younger brother, the college junior Alfonso, but more on him at a later date.

Mario was an assistant coach for Coach Hernandez, who was taking charge and helping the college’s swimming team practice to keep in shape for the upcoming Fall semester. This week, Coach Hernandez was in vacation with his wife in Hawaii, so the swim team was relying on Mario to help them train and manage the facilities so they could keep up their routine throughout the summer. Because of that, Mario had to wake up extremely early in morning, something he was already quite accustomed to; which is why he was so surprised when he woke up late and had the type of morning he did.

Since getting up, Mario found himself unable to focus on anything for a significant point of time. He honestly couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him. His brain was foggy, he was constantly misplacing things, and he had a hard time getting everything organized. Come to think of it, his father—a rather well-put together and sharp-minded man—seemed have the same issue that morning as well. For Christ’s sake, the man has been walking around the house without his pants on. So maybe there was some kind of bug passing around. However, Mario didn’t have a lot of time to think about that. Honestly, he felt as though he had no time at all, considering how late he was getting to the university’s pool.

When Mario arrived, panting and sweaty, to practice about forty-five minutes late. Most of the men there were already getting their feet wet or doing warm-ups. A few were on their phones, though they did look up to glare at Mario as he approached. Embarrassed, Mario blew his whistle and began barking orders at the team to get some semblance of organization going. There was some grumbling from the team about his tardiness, but Mario tried his best to ignore those and focused on getting them back on track.

Of course, Mario couldn’t keep very good track of the team’s times, either. He found himself staring at the swimmers’ bodies instead of their techniques or their speed. When several of the members came up to him asking for how they could improve or what their times were like, all Mario could do was reply with empty compliments or flat critiques. “Focus a bit more of keeping your motions smooth… breathe as much as you can while going up for air…” Seeing several faces turn crestfallen as they received no useful advice broke Mario's heart, but he had no idea what else he could do for the poor swimmers.

What the hell is wrong with me? Mario thought, rubbing his forehead as though he had a fever. He had never felt any sort of attraction towards men, but now… all he could do was focus on the way their bulges bounced in their speedos and their muscles that flexed as they swam in the water.

After a few agonizing hours of this, Mario called the team over and gave them their praises. “Many of you showed initiative today, and I recognize that,” he said, not missing several of the swimmers giving each other bemused looks. Still, he tried to remain professional, and that included thinking unsexy things to keep his erection under control. “Y-Yes, well… I believe this team has a great shot at the next swim meet. All of you, keep practicing, keep challenging—and supporting—each other, and I will see you all next Monday. Dismissed!”

Then, after the most dispirited chorus of “Yes, sir,” Mario hustled over to the coach's office while trying to keep a casual appearance.. Not only did he have to get away from all of these hot, sexy swimmers, he also had some nasty gurgling in his stomach. He felt as though he might throw up. Passing through the men’s locker rooms, he burst into Coach Hernandez’s office, Mario’s for now, and tried to calm his breathing. Memories of throwing up when he was a child got him nearly hyperventilating. Not again, he did not want to go through that shit ever again.

Knock, knock, knock!

Time passed.

Knock, knock, knock!

It was far too many knocks for him to ignore. Sighing, Mario tried to compose himself and prayed this wouldn’t take too long as he wandered over to the door.

To his surprised, it wasn’t just one disgruntled swimmer, but three of them. Mario only knew of their names because the three of them had apparently decided that Mario was far too lonely and needed friends that were somewhat around his age. Leading the three was a young man named Evan, who was the quintessential all-American boy with a magazine cover-worthy smile.

“Heya there, coach. I was—you good?” His irritated scowl quickly turned to a look of concern as he saw Mario struggling to remain standing.

“Yeesh, you look like garbage. Got a summer fever or something?” The shorter and by far most annoying of the three was named Davis.

The last of the three was named Ray, a tall and stoic young man who hardly said a word, but somehow Mario could tell that he was also worried.

Mario weakly shrugged. It was difficult for him to respond because he was far too afraid to open his mouth. He tried to do something, anything, to assure them that he was fine, but in doing so he nearly lost his balance. He would’ve fallen if Evan hadn’t rushed forward his support for Mario to stand.

“Goddamn, coach. Is this why you were late? Wish you had been more honest earlier!” said Evan as he guided Mario back inside the office and towards desk chair. Ray and Davis trailed after them, Davis running his mouth about something or other until Ray lightly smacked the back of his head. Even shot them a quick glare before telling Mario, “You should really trust us more often, coach. We’re your buddies, remember?”

Mario frowned wryly at Evan, but grimaced as another surge of pain shot throughout his body. It was getting worse. The gurgling, the pain… he wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to hold it together. Was he going to vomit in front of all these nice hunks? After they did such a good job being nice eye-candy for him all day? Was that any way to thank them? He had never really been attracted to men before, but what was so wrong about surrendering to these urges completely? There was nothing wrong with that.

He thought back to that one argument that his younger brother had—about how homosexuality was observed in various species of social animals. Most of them Mario couldn’t remember off the top of his head, but he was certain that there were multiple, enough that it couldn't be denied.

But there was no time to consider that. Evan’s hands were still touching Mario and caressing his back. The pain was still there, and intensifying every moment. And of course, the other two chose that moment to crowd around and gawk at him. It is nice, thought Mario allowed them to worry about him, to have all these attractive men fawn and care about me. Is this a kind of power fantasy? That should’ve been his first red flag. Mario’s mind having any amount of literary knowledge should’ve informed him that his mind was no longer just his own. However, he was far too caught up in the moment for him to acknowledge it. Maybe I died and went to heaven.

If that was the case, I need to thank them. And so he opened his mouth to do so, but nothing heavenly came afterwards. In fact, what rushed out of Mario's mouth could only be described as coming straight out of hell. As his lips parted, out shot a stream of bright, pink bubbles which quickly filled the closed office. The three swimmers cried out in shock and confusion as pink foam filled their vision and invaded their orifices. They slapped their arms and hands around in a panic, trying to pop the bubbles but it was already far too late. By the time the room cleared up, the trio collapsed and began convulsing on the office floor.

Mario stared in confusion. He should’ve been horrified at seeing three young men on the ground, shaking as their tight, hot bodies struggled against some kind of invisible force invading them, but he couldn’t help but rub his cock through his pants as he stared. What was so appealing about seeing these men suffer and have their minds rewritten? He wasn’t sure, but he did know how hot it was for him.

Minds… rewritten? Those thoughts weren’t his own, he was certain of that. Knowledge he shouldn't know about was bouncing around in his head, as if there was another mind inside his skull and would occasionally jump in to mess around with the controls in his brain. But, in a way, that was its own relief. If Mario was merely the victim of some other force, then what did it matter if he just went with the flow? Swimming against the current just exhausted you.

His eyes focused on the closest one to him. Evan. He knelt down and straddled Evan’s convulsing body on his lap and began to gently stroke his cheek. How had he not noticed how handsome Evan was? How cute his youthful looks were. Mario was just a few years younger but was deeply jealous of just how flawless Evan’s skin was.

Then, the convulsions slowed until finally the three swimmers were lying still. Evan’s eyes snapped open first and immediately focused on Mario. “W-Well, hello…” Mario stammered out, smiling awkwardly at the odd position they now found themselves in. To his disappointment, Evan rose up to a seated position, legs criss-crossed, and began to orient himself. He blinked and glanced down at his body, running his hands down his torso and then flexing his arms. Just a few feet away, his fellow swim club members began doing the same thing. “A-Are you okay…?” Mario asked, but on a subconscious level he knew the answer was far more complex than that.

Evan glanced at Mario and shuffled forward. He brought a hand up and wiped away a few drops of sweat—or perhaps they were tears—from Mario’s face. Then, he leaned in for a deep, sensual kiss. Their tongues met as they shared hot breaths between the two of them. Mario flinched back, breaking the kiss, before going with the flow once more and kissing Evan again. Ray and Davis began to jeer while Mario hungrily drank in as much of this taboo bliss as he could. His hands pushed forwards and groped Evan's chest, caressing the soft pecs before trailing down and tracing the various muscles down there.

Evan drew back and gently broke the film of saliva that still bridged their two lips, but he still caressed Mario's cheek with one hands while squeezing his thigh with the other.

“C’mon, Evan! No fair,” said Davis with a pout. “Leave some for the rest of us.”

“…” Ray didn't verbally express his displeasure, but his intense glare was enough to even shake Mario’s newly-found blissful composure. Even without any words, Ray was able to express his dissatisfaction with the scene before him. “…”Once more, this time with even more feeling, if such a thing was even possible.

Evan shot the two a smirk as he kept rubbing and squeezing Mario. “Early worm gets the old man cock, bros. Everybody knows that!”

“I’m only a couple years older than you guys,” muttered Mario, far too swept up to care too much about the discussion. He knew that baldness might eventually come for him soon, considering his father, but all this talk about how old he was made him want to schedule an appointment for a hair transplant quickly. His family, especially his younger brother, had already been cracking jokes about his thinning hair and receding hair line, the bastards.

Davis, Ray, and Evan continued arguing until one of them one loudly (in his own way) suddenly shared a brilliant idea. “…!” As if struck by lightning, Ray’s eyes lit up. A few animated gestures; of which Mario only barely got the gist of; later, all three of the swimming hunks stared at Mario like hungry sharks. For his part, Mario—far too shaken up by the past few hours, gave little resistance as the three descended upon him like vultures on a fresh carcass.

He was lying down on a lock room bench. His sun-kissed flesh shivered as the much stronger men made him their meal. Ray, sitting down in front of him and still towering over everyone, spread Mario’s legs. On the opposite side was Evan, who held Mario by the wrists and was rubbing his own erect cock, covered only by the thin cloth of his speedo, against Mario’s cheek. Meanwhile, Davis rubbed his own cheek against the fabric of Mario’s jockstrap (as it was summer break) and was itching to tear it off to get at the erect cock already leaking precum just beneath.

“Yooo, check out how hard coach is!” Davis shouted as he pulled the thin fabric to the side and revealed the flopping hard-on. “Oh wow, I think he’s even more hung than I am!”

Evan scoffed. Using one of the bench’s corners, he pulled down his own speed and lightly smacked Mario’s cheek with his cock. The latter let out a moan as his whole body shivered in an odd mix of fear and anticipation.

“Like that’s hard to pull off," Evan scoffed at Davis before focusing back on Mario. "I gave ya a kiss with my lips already, coach. It’s only right your pair services my cock next.” Mario didn’t bother replying. The past few hours had already eroded the logical part of his brain, and he was far too afraid of admitting just how excited he was to get face-fucked to reply.

I-I’ve hard sex before, with tons of girls! S-So why does this feel like my first time. Guess I’ve never done it in public before, especially with men—three of them, even! Mario glanced over at Ray and balked. His dick was huge! Monstrous, even! How did this guy walk around with this thing between his legs?

“…” Ray’s blank stare made Mario too self-conscious to ask.

“Let’s begin this little team-building exercise,” said Evan. Mario opened his mouth and nearly gagged when Evan forced most of his inches down his throat. He shivered and let out a muffled cry as Ray teased his hole by tracing circles on it with his large, girthy cock. Then, Mario flinched and struggled against the tight hold the two swimmers had on him as Davis began deep-throating his cock. He kept licking up and down the shaft of Mario's dick like a lollipop. Already there was precum dripping from the tip, and Davis made him to lick it all clean.

“MRGH! MMRFFGH...!” Never in his life did Mario think this would happen for him, used and abused by these college jocks for their own lustful ends. But… it wasn’t just for them. No, Mario knew that, deep inside—far deeper than he could ever imagine—he needed this to happen, and they needed this too. There was something linking the four of them—more than lust, but a need. And it completed them. No, not quite. It brought them a sense of fulfillment, but they weren’t quite complete.

And only when I’m getting stuffed like this, thought Mario, moving his hips and shifting to better handle the two cocks penetrating him, that I am even close to feeling fulfilled.

It felt like he was in some pornography just for him. Evan howled in pleasure, laughing with tears streaming down his eyes as Mario made sure to tease the tip of his cock with his tongue. Ray let out a few surprised grunts as Mario expertly squeezed his cock and couldn't accept him pulling out. With each thrust, Mario tightened his hole, unable to bear having his ass be so empty for even a second. He needed to be plugged, and luckily for him Ray slammed into him harder with each thrust. Both of the men writhed in pleasure as Mario’s pleasured them both.

Ah, dear god…! The way that Davis was blowing him…! The guy put practiced whores to shame the way he just gobbled down on Mario’s cock like a pro. Mario couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous, but far too much of his brain was occupied enjoying the way Davis fit the whole thing down his warm throat. The way be could fondle Mario’s sensitive balls from time to time—making the older man’s brain short-circuit—and how he’d even plant some small kisses up and down the shaft as he worked it.

Mario smacked his head against the wooden bench, his mind having a complete meltdown as pleasured coursed all of his body. This was his fate—to be used as a dirty cum-slut for these men. And to be frank, he didn’t mind at all. If anything, he was a little disappointed. If only the entirety of the swim team was here. Oh, if only he had more holes to get stuffed and filled by more men!

“F-Fuck, aww, fuck yeah! Slutty coaches are the best!” said Even in-between pants. “Oh if only Coach Hernandez was like you, Mario!”

“Mffrgh, mm-hmm!” Davis said, his own mouth full of cock.

“…” Ray nodded and gave his own approval.

“Coach Hernandez will be like us soon,” said Davis, letting the cock slid from his lips. Despite the sinister and sadistic tone in his voice, this was still very clearly Davis speaking. “This thing’ll spread beyond us, beyond Coach Mario, even the swimming meet, even. Every last man will become like us, whether they want to or not.” There was an eerie glint in his eyes as he spoke. It was Davis, but also something else.

If Mario had his wits together he might’ve noticed how such a monologue somehow resembled how Mario’s younger brother would talk sometimes—just busting out performative soliloquies during the plays he would put on with the rest of the drama club.

Ray suddenly burst out laughing, caressing his muscles as he kept thrusting into Mario. The shock of such an occurrence nearly caused the other three men to freeze in their tracks and stared at him. But then Evan continued pumping his cock, rubbing his smooth body. Flashes of pink danced across their eyes—and the two easily became transfixed in their own bodies just as much as they were with Mario’s rougher, hairier form. The same happened for Davis as well. He threw his head back, eyes tinted pink, and then he began caressing his round, fuckable ass as he continued sucking Mario off.

It was if the three were more than just in sync. A force was filling all three of their souls and allowing them to become something beyond human. Their minds were slowly melding into one—the walls that separated their souls and upheld their individuality began to wane. Ray and Evan clasped their hands together as they painted both of Mario’s soft, silky-smooth hole completely white. “Ohhh, coach!” shouted Ray with Evan's, “your ass if a gift from god! Fuck, ahhh! I’m fucking cumming!”

“Nrgh… Mmmff…!” Evan said, silent as he came.

Hands now free, Mario clasped David’s head and pushed it down as much as he could down his cock and pumped his own loads down David’s throat—straight into his stomach—as the swimmer pumped his own cock and came all over the floor. Mario remained slack on the bench, breathing heavily. He was covered in sweat, exhausted, and feeling fuller than he ever did in his life.

But of course they weren’t done with him. Mario continued being used like a cheap sex toy by the three. Three virile athletes would not be satisfied by just cumming once.

Ray loved using Mario’s chest in a pec-job while Evan blew his load all over Mario’s hair. The three of them greedily made out in the communal shower while Mario was on his knees, servicing their cocks to quench the lustful fire within himself. He was exhausted, but he couldn’t stop himself. Feeling those warm cocks down his throat and being covered in cum satisfied him in a way that he couldn’t explain. He wasn’t just physically full, but emotionally full. These three used him, but there was something warm in this relationship between them. Blood was thicker than water, but cum was thicker than them both.

Davis, Ray, and Evan toweled themselves off after another day of training. Before, all three of them had unique reasons for competing. Evan had done all of this to help pay for college; David loved all the attention he got from winning; and Ray, stoic as ever, did it to connect with his even more anti-social and stoic father. Now? Things had changed, and the three were thrilled about it. Their original goals remained, but they had another reason to compete for: their love for each other, themselves, and the need to spread.

As they dried off, they couldn’t help but admire their own bodies. Ray continued giggling to himself as he played with the air on his happy trail and his pits. It was more than the clean-shaved Davis and Evan—who didn’t grow nearly as much body hair as he did.

Davis’ hands kept finding themselves rubbing, smacking, and even teasing his own ass and rim. Every part of him was sensitive, and Davis couldn’t help but just continue teasing and groping himself. He shook his hips a few times and loved the attention from the lustful Ray and Evan.

Speaking of Evan, he kept flexing and taking selfies of himself. There were simply far too many good sides, and he wanted to try and capture them all. So much so that Ray had to smack the back of his head and remind him to hurry and get changed. “We got shit to do,” said Davis in a tone reminiscent of Ray.

“Yo coach!” Ray called out with the boyish charm Davis usually had. “You good?”

Mario was barely able to respond. Legs trembling and asshole still leaking cum, stumbled out of the communal-style showers and leaned against the wall for support. “I-I’ll be fine,” he said in-between pants. He looked at the scene before him. These three couldn’t be anymore different and yet the grin they all wore was familiar to Mario. It was the same stupid, dopey grin Alfonso always wore when he was zoning out.

Yes, somehow Alfonso had something to do with this. But instead of getting heated as he tended to do when thinking about that fool, Mario became flushed as he felt an uncontrollable wave of arousal wash over him again. Fuck, he though, gonna make that motherfucker cry uncle when I get his cock up my fat ass…! Fuck, he was hard again, and in front of these students, too. What was happening to him. It felt like his head would explode from all the thoughts racing through it! And this horrible, untamable sex drive… It was as if another mind was inside of his head and wanted to call all the shots. And frankly, Mario wasn’t entirely opposed to that idea.

“Gonna go visit your brother?” Evan called out, breaking Mario out of his stupor. “I can tell by the boner you’ve got again,” Evan laughed. “Well, me and the boys are gonna be heading out now.” Mario glanced over. A day ago the sight would’ve left him slack-jawed. Now, it felt completely ordinary. Evan had his arms around around Ray and Davis’ shoulders the two kept groping and prodding Evan through his clothes. They just couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. It went beyond love and lust; devotion and depravity; it was something grotesquely beautiful—enough so that it almost made Mario want to weep from the sheer beauty of it.

“One of Ray’s cute friends is working at the ice cream bar just down the street. We figured we’d spread to him. Good luck rearranging your guts on your cute li’l bro’s cock!”

It had started out a typical day for a trio of friends: Ed, Gabriel, and Niles. The three were college-aged students that enjoyed high-jacking and using the bodies of the various students in their dorm room for debauchery. Most days, they would either jack off by themselves or indulge in a little three-way action. Today, as it tended to be, was a case of the latter, as the trio found themselves in the bodies of the swimming team hunks that lived in the same apartment complex.

“Nrgh…! Fuck, this body feels too good!” cried out Ed as he was pounding his dear friend Niles in the ass while Gabe was eating him out. He flexed his arms, amazed at the amount of muscle he had packed on just by being inside of this guy’s body. He was a foreign exchange student from Spain or something, Ed had no idea who he was but he knew just how hard he wanted this body. “C’mon, give it to me, give it to me!”

But suddenly the sensation of having this cherry popped suddenly stopped. “Hey, c’mon, what the fuck?!” he cried out, turning over to see what was the problem.

Gabe held up the smartwatch his host was wearing. “We’re running out of time,” he said, pointing out they only had two minutes to leave before… something happened? Honestly, Ed wasn’t paying much attention, and with Niles’ warm and tight stolen ass engulfing his penis in anal nirvana it was even harder to recall Gabe’s advice.

“It’s not safe being inside of these bodies for too long!” warned Gabe. “Shit, I-I’m getting out of here. See y’all later!” His host began to convulse as a spectral light appeared in his core and traveled up his chest and out his mouth. His former host’s hard cock spewed his load all over Ed’s borrowed ass before collapsing on the floor.

Ed rolled his eyes. “C’mon Niles, you really wanna leave right now?” he said while thrusting deep inside Niles’ borrowed holes.

“Hrmf…! Mmmff…!” was all Niles was able to say, clutching the sheets with his knuckles as he locked his legs around Ed’s borrowed waist.

“Hell yeah! Knew you’d seen things my way.” Ed went wild of pounding Niles, grabbing his waist as he thrust in and out like Niles was his own personal fucktoy. “Yeah, yeah…! Fuck, it feels so good! Damn!” He smacked Niles’ stolen thighs a few times, eliciting a delighted moan from him with each meaty slap as the flesh jiggled from the fucking.

“Haargh…! I-I’m cumming! Take my load, whore!” Ed shrieked, collapsing on top of Niles’ body and gripping him hard as he came hard all over Niles’ inside. From beneath him, Niles was writhing and screaming out in pleasure as he came and splattered cum all over their chests.

Even as his stolen cock was softening, Ed couldn’t help but keep humping Niles a bit longer—enjoying the sensation of Niles’ cum spread throughout their chests.

But of course, all good things came to an end. The two convulsed and shivered as their souls exited their spent hosts.

Ed let out a sigh of relief. He grinned, shivering as he felt the aftermath of jacking off and cumming in another’s body. It had been so intense that, wait… ohhh…

—F-Fuck yeah!— he bellowed out, his own cock making a mess on his sheets before he realized something was wrong. —The hell is this? Oh… oh shit, I gotta go talk to Gabe!— he said, nearly yanking the hair off his scalp. Internally, Ed was fuming. He couldn’t even enjoy the sensation of cumming his insides out, and it was all likely Gabe’s fault, too. Little asshole. He should’ve warned Ed this might happen!

Gabriel pushed up his glasses as he took in all of Ed’s story in-between the ranting and ramblings. “I see,” he said, his own punctuation perfectly unchanged. “Well, I imagine these are the marks your host uses. Since you stayed in his body beyond the time limit I warned you about, this particular trait of his found itself in you, now.” Despite the graveness of his words, Gabe was still smirking as spoke. “This is what I meant when I warned you that we couldn’t stay inside other bodies for so long. Now you see what you get when you ignore punctuality.”

—¡Fuck you, man!— Ed cried out. —¿What am I supposed to do now? ¿Am I supposed to live the rest of my life without any quotation marks?— Ed grimaced as he felt those upside down question marks appear in his words. —It looks really stupid seeing English with these marks at the end of my words. Feels like I’m being interrupted all the time, and it just looks all awkward, y’know.—

Gabe bristled at that. “Y’know, whenever they localize stories for a foreign market, the punctuation is changed for the new audience. You act like this is something new, — he said.

—Watch out there, you’re mixing them up. You’re gonna end up confusing the reader, —warned Ed.

“You’ve got far too little faith. I always believe in the ingenuity of our readers, I said.”

—Now you’re just misplacing them.—

“And for the NSFW version of this post, please check this link.”

—¡I’m not clicking that! I’ll probably get a nasty virus or something weird in my computer.—

“M y c o c k i n B i o.”

—I’m definitely not clicking on that. So, ¿how long until this is out of my system?—

“Ah, well, uhm… hmm…I can tell you this: I can’t really say; afraid I’m kinda stumped with that one.”

Ed narrowed his eyes. He really did not enjoy just how many different punctuation marks Gabe was throwing at him. It almost felt like he was being mocked. —¿Have you never seen this before? ¿Am I going to be screwed for the rest of my life? ¿Will it really run out?—

“It should, it should!” Gabriel insisted. “Listen, if it doesn’t then I’ll be sure to fix it myself someway, somehow. For now, I would say just keep calm and try not to aggravate yourself too much. You just might make it worse, and I don’t want to have to deal with that nonsense.”

Ah, so Gabriel had a serious side to him. It was rare, but a pleasant sight nonetheless. Though Ed lacked sophistication, he could at least appreciate the sincerity he was putting on, even if it sounded like total bullshit.

“Oh? Hey, I think Niles is back,” said Gabriel. As if on queue, a loud and almost irritating moan filled the whole apartment. Niles always did have a pair of lungs on him. “Let’s hope his symptoms are a lot less severe than your own.”

Niles stepped outside of the room clad in just a pair of briefs. He looked between his two friends, beaming the whole time, and began to speak:

"Hey, what’s up guys—oh hold on, what’s going on?!„ And so, another headache occurred between the three friends.

There was something so sexy to Stephen Doyle about watching some kind of strange, unassuming creature exploring its environment while having taken over the body of another human. “Amazing,” said the creature who had, just a few weeks ago, been his college roommate—a young man named Gabriel, a 2nd generation mixed race guy with roots in just about every race, though he usually just referred to himself as Latino.

Stephen didn’t talk to Gabe much; though he did have to admit he was quite the looker, and certainly a bit of a charmer; he just knew vague details about the guy after skimming through Gabriel’s application for the cultural exchange program. Gabe had asked for his help during the process (Stephen was trying to become a lawyer and had plenty of experience scouring through long and dry papers).

What program? Well...

The year was about 2032. Mankind was no longer alone. Though the past few decades had been turbulent with the threat of nuclear annihilation, invasion, broken treaties, and a dinner party that nearly lead to the end of all sentient life on the planet, the world had finally calmed down. For the first time in years, species big and small were able to take each other’s hands and move forward into the future.

Part of that step was the Cultural Exchange Program throughout universities on all corners of the world. Due to his financial situation (and what Stephen assumed was undiagnosed ADHD), Gabriel had chosen to take part in such a program to reap the benefits they offered. And the result was a parasite—no, Stephen shook his head as he tried to eliminate such a word from his vocabulary while describing the Pommeterians. Too much blood had been spilled on both sides, and to not honor that was to allow those sacrifices to go on in vain. The results were a symbiotic race of people that used hosts bodies in order to experience the world and build their societies. While initially hostile in peace treaties, the voluntary hosts from humanity and the willingness to co-exist allowed for peace to come for the two species.

And for people like Stephen, a new way to explore one’s sexuality. “So, c-can he hear what you’re doing and saying?” he asked, eager to learn more. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Gabriel’s body as it looked down at himself, inspecting the various limbs and muscles he now controlled.

The Pommeterian stopped and stared at Stephen. This being the first time in a human body, it was not particularly good at facial expressions yet. That was fine, Stephen found those difficult to master as well. “I… Hmm… perhaps we should share names, first,” he said. “I will be your roommate for the rest of the semester, after all.”

Gabriel’s hands were trembling. What was he going to do? Stephen stealthy grabbed a pillow and placed it on his lap to hide erection. The anticipation was killing him.

Then, Gabriel’s body brought its fingers together and raised it up about halfway—just about his stomach—palm facing down. “My name is Argophlux, of the Shayd Clan. Th-This is a handshake, correct? I’ve seen a few videos and clips about your customs, s-so…” Although his face and voice remained a bit flat, there was no denying the slight blush that crept upon his cheeks, nor how red his ears were turning. "Now I'm starting to realize that those videos may not have been entirely accurate."

Stephen’s cock softened, but his heart began to flutter. “Here. Let me.” With a gentle demeanor like a knight from a fairy tale, Stephen held Gabriel’s hand and carefully guided Argophlux through the proper steps. “Like this,” he said, fingers intertwined as they shook their hands together.

“Ahh…! It’s… it feels so quaint. So good. Feeling our palms connected, it's as if our souls are becoming entangled!" Argophlux exclaimed. Stephen nodded, his cheeks flushed. "You have my thanks, my friend.” The flatness in his voice remained, but Stephen could sense the sincerity from him. “And your name…?”

“Stephen Doyle, but just Stephen is fine. To be honest, I’ve heard so much about your kind, but seeing you now… Yeah, you’re just like us.”

“Like you?”

Stephen nodded. “Yeah, like I don’t really get any of these people, either.” He gestured towards the outside window, where people were hanging around the large lawn near the student union. Summer was stubbornly hanging on, and so most of the student body was enjoying the warm weather and perfectly going through the motions of interactions with not even a hint of difficulty that Stephen usually had. “Honestly, it’s fascinating looking at you. It's like I'm looking... no, never mind," he said, shaking his head.

To call Argophlux a mirror would just be pure arrogance. He didn't know him well enough to make such a comparison. But, seeing how similar they were… it felt as though Stephen could see another spectrum of himself, like when light goes through a prism and allows one to see the entire spectrum of color. Somehow, it felt like Stephen could see something about himself he hadn't quite understood until now.

And not only that… he rose from his chair and crawled on Gabe’s bed. He approached Argophlux, who didn’t withdraw or even seem the slightest bit uncomfortable. Their noses were almost touching. Their chest, rising and falling in an anxious rhythm, were almost in sync. Slowly, Stephen raised and hand and cupped Gabe's cheek.

“Can Gabriel see what you’re doing?” asked Stephen.

Argophlux nodded. “Yes, and he speaks to me. He tells me many things. And one such thing is that he wants you to keep going.” Stephen froze at those words. He stared deep into Gabe’s eyes, and he could’ve sworn the real Gabe stare back with a deep, longing look. A trick of the light, or was Stephen just seeing what he wanted to see?

Argophlux took the lead. He tackled Stephen onto the bed and pinned him down with Gabe’s body. Now the two were panting as they stared at each other, their crotches touching and the heat fully shared between them. “I’ve seen clips of it, once,” said Argophlux, Gabe’s lips quivering as he spoke. “I-I’ve always found humans… so fascinating. I-Interesting. I… I’ve been wanting… to touch you all. To feel these sensations you’ve had the privilege of feeling.” With one hand, he traced Stephen’s lips. “Have you ever kissed anyone before? Can you show me how?”

Stephen nodded. “I’ll show me many things. You and Gabe both.”

Their legs intertwined, and Argophlux lowered Gabe’s body so he was resting on Stephen’s. Their lips touched, and soon their clothes were discarded so they could feel the other’s flesh in their raw, passionate, and unorthodox three-way.

Humanity and the Pommeterians had many things to learn from each other indeed.

I’ve never written anything involving skin suits before and my mind ended up wandering towards the idea of how two different type of possessors thought about their different methods, and thinking about the gross details enamored me on the idea even more.

It’s interesting thinking about mechanics in settings like these. Reminds me of those “wizards vs warlocks” posts when discussing how the mechanical philosophy the two classes have.

Living with someone so similar and yet so different always caused conflicts. It was far too easy to see someone like that and begin projecting one's own flaws onto them—as people tend to do.

Sam and Carrie were a pair much like that. They attended same university, the same clubs, and even shared many of the same classes. Just before moving in together, they were basically best friends and deeply enjoyed each other’s company.

Then the new semester began, as did their struggles trying to live under a single roof.

On a normal Saturday with little exams nearby, Sam awoke and immediately rushed to gather all her bathroom supplies. Luckily, Carrie had been out late with her boyfriend, (Sam had to wear earplugs as the walls weren’t thick enough. They never were…) so Sam could have full monopoly on the bathroom for most of the morning.

Sam stepped into the bathroom, set down her supplies, and pulled the curtain back.

“AAAAAHHHHHHHH!” Then, after a few moments… “CARRIEEEEEEEE!”

Carrie was having a good morning sleeping in only for her roommate, Sam, to burst into her room, shaking with indignation. Carrie shot up and began rubbing her eyes awake with the palms of her hands. “Urgh… what? It’s like 5 AM right now, whore.”

“It’s 8, actually,” said Sam before revealing what she was holding behind her back. “Look!” she said. It was the skin of Carrie’s boyfriend gripped between two fingers. The hollow skin wobbled before Sam tossed it onto the foot of Carrie’s bed. “How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t give a shit what you do with your boyfriend, but do not leave his skin in the shower. I nearly had a heart attack…!”

Carrie rolled her eyes as she grabbed the skin and began putting it on. “Seriously?! In front of me?” hissed Sam, but Carried ignored her.

Slipping on Kyle was always nice. He was a dumb college jock with delusions of playing in the NFL or whatever in the future. Carrie didn’t really pay too much attention to whatever numbers of stats he was talking about, but she liked seeing the dumb look on his face and loved the feeling of wearing his muscular body to cruise around. For whatever reason, Kyle’s hole never lost its tightness. Getting some nice cock back there felt a thousand times better than having sex with Kyle for half a minute before he finished and started snoring.

“Whatever, brah,” said Carrie as she finished putting the suit on and her voice immediately deepened. God, how much she enjoyed even just abusing Kyle’s dumb, slow voice to make Sam seethe like she was right now. Perhaps that vein on her forehead would finally pop. “Like you don’t do weird shit with your boyfriend,” he said, resting her head on Kyle’s hands, armpits exposed.

“Low blow,” snarled Sam, deliberately avoiding Carrie’s… well, now Kyle’s… smug stare. There was something so disturbing about a man with clear and intense amounts of brain damage to have such a focused gaze. “What I do with Harry is none of your business.”

“None of my business? Countless! Sleepless! Nights!” Carrie cried out, running Kyle’s hands through his immaculate hair. Sam looked to the side to confirm something. Yes, just as she thought, the semester started just two weeks ago. “Don’t look at the calendar,” snapped Carrie. “Look at me. I’m suffering right here. ‘Ohhh, Sammy! Get in there! Right through my asshole and make me play and cum all over myself!’” Carrie grimaced as she thought back to the time she had accidentally walked in on Sam possessing her boyfriend. Her slimy form was fucking three of his holes at the same time while taking him over. Sometimes she awoke in a cold sweat thinking back to that night. “Like, don’t you think that’s disgusting?”

“N-Not as much as trying to take a shower and seeing Kyle’s skin just, like, hanging there! If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought it was a dead body. I wouldn’t even mind it so much if you didn’t leave him just lying around the place. And that noise he makes when you ‘reinflate’ him.” Sam shivered as she thought back to that day. Never in her life did she even come remotely close to wondering what a ‘reverse meat-grinder’ (Carrie’s words, not hers) could possibly sound like, but thanks to Carrie she no longer needed to. She didn’t sleep well that night, and then seriously considered becoming vegan afterwards. “Urgh! Please, we have got to talk about boundaries.”

Before the argument could spiral even further, Bing Bong! went the doorbell's chime. “Well?” said Carrie, folding his impressive arms over his chest. “Can’t exactly answer the door as Kyle, can I?”

Sam sighed and walked to the front door. She really wished this morning had gone differently, but perhaps later she could turn it around. The semester just started, after all.

Once she arrived at the door, she took a look through the peephole and then groaned. On the other side was a pair of men that likely attended the same university. At the very least, Sam knew the two were her neighbors from the adjacent apartment. Their irate expressions were only slightly betrayed by their bleary-eyed gazes and bags under their eyes.

Taking a second to calm down and put on her friendliest expression and answered the door with a melodic, “Good morning!”

“Can you and your roommate shut your fucking traps?”

There was truly no hope. No hope to salvage this day whatsoever. “I-I’m sorry. I think I must’ve misheard you. Come again?” said Sam, struggling to keep her tone civilized. Was her vein showing? She really hoped not.

“No no, you heard him just fine,” said the man next to him, arms crossed and glaring down at Sam. “These walls ain’t that thick, we can hear you annoying sluts arguing every morning. We’re reporting your asses to the owner of this place.”

His voice wasn't loud enough to be called ‘yelling’ but it still brought back bad memories of Sam’s father during her childhood. On instinct, Sam hugged her left arm where the faintest scar was still visible on her arm. It was why she always preferred wearing long-sleeved shirts.

“Report?” A different, deep voice shook Sam. She turned around and gasped. Carrie arrived, clad in Kyle’s bodysuit, a pair of socks, and nothing else. Kyle’s cock, still quite long despite being flaccid, swung like pendulum as he lazily strut over. The two neighbors flinched at the sight and used their hands to avert their eyes. “Honestly you two chuckle-fucks should be the ones getting reported, harassing this distressed young lady. Don’t you have any shame? Fuck off.”

The two men left, but muttered stuff like “White knight,” and, “… still gonna report this…” before they were completely out of earshot. Sam shut the door and threw herself onto the worn-out sofa.

“Urgh…! Need something for this migraine.”

“What you need to do is give me a hand teaching those pricks a lesson,” said Carrie. Sam looked up and nearly chuckled at the sight of Kyle’s body with his hands resting on his hips and his body making a scowl that would never fit his scruffy face. “They keep me up all night with their stupid computer games and constantly speaking about their damn ‘cryo-curry.’”

“‘Crypto-currency,” corrected Sam. “But, you are right. They’re pissing me off, too. Plus, I really don’t feel like getting reported to the building’s owner. What do you think we should do?”

“Really?” said Carrie, one of Kyle’s eyebrows quirked. “We’ve got this gift and you’re not gonna go ahead and use it, girl? C’mon!” she said, tossing Kyle’s arms up in the air in exasperation. Then, she pinched a bit of loose skin on his neck, and soon Kyle’s face began to deflate. A slit formed on his chest, and Carrie began to shed Kyle’s skin off like a jacket. It was always odd, seeing someone clothed emerge from someone who wasn’t.

“Ignoring your talents and skills doesn’t make you humble, y’know. It just makes you arrogant," said Carrie in a serious, heavy tone Sam hadn't heard from her before. "Honestly, I think it’s kinda shameful to think you can just hang around normal people pretending you’re not some magical bitch—sorry, magical witch. It’s like a pro-athlete playing pick-up games with a bunch of middle-aged salary-men playing after their shift. Think about all those people desperate to have a talent like yours, and here you are wasting it." Carrie shrugged. "It's a shame, really. Beautiful and skilled girls like you and me come around only once in a lifetime."

Sam didn’t respond. She knew Carrie was wrong and shouldn’t be saying this sort of stuff, but there was something so intoxicating about her words. For a while, she hesitated. For so much of her life she had tried to repel the ‘abnormal’ tag so many others tried to place on her, with little to no avail. And yet, here came Carrie trying to shame her for that, as if trying to fit in was some kind of crime!

But, was Sam really so abnormal if someone like her was quite literally in the same room? “… I’m not arrogant,” she said. “But, I see your point. Just this once, let’s do it.”

#

It wasn’t difficult for two college-aged girls to convince two college-aged virgins to let them inside. So after a bit of planning Sam and Carrie walked over to the apartment next door and rang the doorbell. Sam let Carrie handle most of the work. “Like, hi!” said Carrie, making sure her voice was particularly high-pitched to get their guard down. “Listen, me and my roomie over here are so so soooo embarrassed about what’s been going on…” so on and so on she went, making sure to brown-nose the two guys the whole time. Eventually, she was able to step on through so that she could, “Really show how thankful I am the two of you haven’t reported us yet~!” said Carrie, pouting at the two.”

As soon as the two girls were inside and the door was shut, Carrie leapt into action. A quick flash of steel later, and one of the guys could only gawk in horror at the knife suddenly through his neck and the lack of blood. Already, he could barely move, barely think. Any chance of resisting was over as soon as he let Carrie through the door.

Before his roommate could even scream, Sam was already tackling the guy to the floor. She plunged her right arm, already melting into a pile of pink goo, into her target’s mouth and began flooding herself inside of him.

The one Carrie skinned was a man named Fernando. He was some kind of business major, but she really didn’t care. All she was worried about was just how much mass she had gain since putting him on. “Ohhh, now this feels good,” she said, taking a selfie using the mirror in his room. “He’s got even more mass than that other guy I grabbed. I might have to borrow him more often.”

Sam, in the mean, was sitting down on the living room and trying to calm herself down. She often tried not too abuse the spells and magics she had learned, but there was something so utterly addicting about taking another man’s flesh like this. The sensations, the way his body moved with such musculature, even the skin! God, the way his skin felt was so alien compared to how she usually felt. And these thoughts circling through his head. “I’m Sam, but… I’m also Alan. Alan…” The way this guy said his own name felt comfortable. So right. She wiggled his toes and flexed his arms as she kept repeating the name to herself. “Alan, Alan… ahaha…! I’m Alan!”

God, even just feeling his stomach and pinching felt hot.

“And also horny,” giggle Carrie as she left her host’s room. Sam looked down and tried covering up her erection that was starting to peek through her host’s boxers. “C’mon, Sammy! No need to be shy. We got work to do, anyway.” Carrie grabbed her host’s phone and waved it around. “Took a quick look through this guy’s memories. Apparently your host has a tri-pod we can use. Turns out he’s a wannabe streamer. Feel like making these guys wannabee porn-stars online?”

Sam hesitated, but there was little reason to do so when these new hands brushed up against her boner just a little too tight. Instantly, her whole borrowed tensed as a surge of erotic pleasure coursed throughout her system. She had felt similarly when she took her boyfriend’s body, but doing so in a different body meant this was a whole other world of sensations and possibilities. “F-Fine, let’s do it…!”

Living with someone so similar and yet so different from you was always a challenge. But two petty people could always come together against the world. In this case, it was a hate for annoying men and a love for abusing their nice bodies.

"NRGH! Yeah, fuck yeah, bro!" shouted Carrie as Sam filled Fernando's hole with Alan's thick, fat cock. "Keep pounding me, fuck fuck!" Carrie kept saying, making sure Fernando's cock was clearly in the shot.

Brandon let out an annoyed sigh mid-bite as his TV screen become full of static. “Urgh, again?! This is like the third time this month.” He had really been hoping this weekend would be different. The game was on and Brandon had made sure to make it clear today was supposed to be his day. “This better be important.”

As if to respond to him, some kind of black, gooey creature began pouring out of his TV. Still, Brandon remained calm. His heart was racing, and the bulge inside his cargo shorts began to tent out. As much as he tried to act as though this was an inconvenience, he couldn’t help but be aroused as the entity began slithering closer. It stopped a few inches from Brandon, its thin, snake-like body just hovering in the air as if to judge Brandon’s reaction. Was it observing him? Was it debating where it would enter this time? Each second felt like an eternity, and Brandon was soon growing irritated at this unwanted edging session.

Face growing red, Brandon shouted, “J-Just make it quick, all right? Stop holding me in suspense!” He cried out, slamming his fists on the couch like a child throwing a tantrum. Its thin, gooey body shot forward and struck itself into Brandon’s ear. “NRGH!” His whole body seized immediately after the creature made contact with skin. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as the invasive process overloaded his body with pleasure. “Urgh… ahhh… haaah… oh yeah…! Get in there!” Brandon shouted, humping the air as this creature took him over.

Was it the tenth or the hundredth time this had happened? Brandon lost count long ago, and he took a certain sense of pride in that. Despite the years this creature still enjoyed high-jacking him and taking over his body to use for its own devious plans.

“Yes, please…!” panted Brandon, his mouth agape as his fingers squeezed the sofa. Static began clouding his vision as it always did. He could feel the creature slithering through his mind and filling the space in his skull. This was always the best part. Once it got inside and began filling the wrinkles in his brain, it would spread down his spine and throughout his entire nervous system. He likened to extreme bondage—his body completely immobile by his will and completely at the mercy of another. At first he was a shamed and even disgusted by this sensation. But now he was truly and utterly in love with it, so much so that he had bought his own set of rope in hopes that this entity would use it for its own sick pleasure.

“Nrgh… fuck, fuck! Yes, fill me up! Take me over and use me like a puppet!” Brandon shouted before it was too late. “AHH! Fuck, fuck! YEEEES!” he bellowed out, his best perked as he arched his back. It was as if he had gripped a live-wire of pure pleasure. His whole body lit up in one continuous, orgasm as his nervous system went haywire. His brain was lit up like a pinball machine as every inch of his body tensed up. “Hrck…! Nrrgh… ahhhh…!” Brandon could even move his mouth, only letting out guttural cries as his cock spewed out rope after rope of electrifying cum into his cargo shorts. His body continued convulsing afterwards, until it suddenly stopped and he collapsed, eyes shut, back onto the couch.

Brandon opened his eyes once more, and gone was the simple yet genuine gleam they usually had. Instead, his gaze was much sharper, more calculating. He took off his shorts and pulled at the front of his boxers to stare at the mess he had made. “Pathetic human,” he sneered as he licked all the cum he could scoop up. “Your discharge is my sustenance. If you go about wasting it how will I be able to properly feed?” Yet it could not deny the heavenly taste of the ambrosia Brandon produced. It acted high and mighty, but the truth was that this creature was utterly addicted to Brandon’s semen. It had tasted plenty of other men in the past, but Brandon was the only one it couldn’t live without. So even though it spent its days searching for a replacement and keep its distance, it always returned to Brandon.

Hoping to get some larger projects off the ground as well. We shall see what the future holds. Tired from working lots at my job but somehow trying to make it all work while fulfilling my soul with my passion: writing.

In the meantime, feel free to drop some comments about anything you want to see. Not just from myself but from this little community in general. More of that or this, or just celebrate what you like from it. I always wanna make discussion and get people chatting and yapping about their thoughts.

When you're a pair wandering ghosts for hundreds of years, you tend to get a little bit bored of the same old same old.

Isn't that why we, as civilized and horny individuals, invented the concept of roleplay? Is it not a desire to play and induce a more spicy dimension to sex? And folks roleplay lots of scenarios that usually involve their mundane life. Playing doctor or acting as a corporate boss doing dirty stuff with their subordinates...

It was why my dearly departed and I roleplay this specific scenario: body possession. But, we mix it with a little bit of our own, actual possession.

During our regular searches for a host, we found this guy just hanging around the gym and decided to make him our next little project for the month.

He was an older man taking a selfie in the gym. Nice musculature but an attractive amount of aged fat that gave him a cute appearance. The treasure trail on his stomach was certainly a treasure in my eye. We didn't know his name, his status, or even his age; but still we craved him like nothing else.

I went first, as usual. "Nrgh...! The hell?!" The man cried out as my ghost essence began to slide into dad-bod flesh. "Ahh, s-someone... help!" Luckily the locker room was deserted as was most of the building. The man could do nothing but pant and moan like a whore as I fully took him over.

My vision refocused from the black void that came from diving into a man. My first sight was this reflection I stole. As eager as a schoolboy in a candy story, I stepped closer to the mirror and planted a deep kiss to my reflection. Yeah, this'd be a nice host for my husband and me.

I dug into the guy's wallet and pulled out his info. Charles Wallace. His address was xxx at !&*( Street. Nice.

"Hey, you done?" my husband asked. I could see his shimmering form in the corner, muted due to having the eyes of a mortal for the time being. I shook my head as I pulled out the car keys from Charles' locker.

"Just a second, darling. Let's get home first." Those first few minutes inside another man were unremarkable, but I enjoyed them. It felt nice doing the mundane as someone else. Seeing everyone look at you while wearing another brought about a certain thrill in me, like not wearing underwear beneath your pants. Seeing a few heads turn as I walked by definitely helped, too.

And the first thing I did when I got home was start flexing. I couldn't help it, could you? I just adored seeing muscle under my control, almost as much as I enjoyed said muscle moving without it.

But it seems like my husband began to grow more and more impatient. "Move on over, stud. It's my turn to drive!" he cried out before diving into my mouth, agape in a gasp.

As the last of my husband finishing slipping inside, I could feel the intensity of flesh multiply. Three souls now occupied this body, though Charles' was unconscious, and the constricting tightness made me reach an ecstasy that no rope could help me reach.

"N-No, this is my body...!" I called out, trying to hide my erection as I stared at Charles' reflection. My legs rubbed up against each other as I tried to stand while trembling with pleasure. I kept trembling as I allowed my husband to fill each of Charles' heavy limbs. Even though I could no longer move them, I could still feel the goosebumps and chills.

Finally, Charles' body straightened as he let out a low moan. His eyes opened and my husband smirked at his own reflection. "Ahhh, niceeee. Always love taking the big dumb straight ones." We had no idea if Charles was even straight or not, but that didn't matter. The story was already forming.

I took control back. Charles' face immediately turned into a grimaced as I begged to his reflection. "Get out of me, p-please!" I moaned as I felt my cock get even harder in these shorts. Already, my husband was shaking his hips to slide them off. "Ahh, what're you doing?! Pervert, don't!"

The smirk returned. "Hey now, I'm just trying to have good time like anyone else, my guy. Don't take it personally." He slapped one of Charles' pecs. "If anything, it's your fault for having such a nice, sexy body. I couldn't help it, really." His bit his bottom lip as he began twerking one of Charles' pecs, and I nearly lost it right then and there. I swear I could've cummed five times over just feeling that.

"P-Please, d-don't make do these erotic things. I-I'm a straight guy, I-I don't get aroused like this!"

"Straight?" My husband taunted back, guffawing as he performed a double-bicep flex. "With these babies? Hell no, that'd be a crime!"

The shorts came off, then the underwear; a pair of boring boxers that we'd have to upgrade to jock-straps later on; and soon enough my husband was jerking off this cock like a pro while playing with our sensitive chest. My very soul writhed in pleasure, so much so that I could barely even pretend to put up resistance.

"C'mon, is that all you can do!" My husband said, glaring at his reflection. "Don't even mind another dude is jerking off this fat cock?"

Instead of protest and horror like I wanted, I could only manage a tired groan as I panted. Forget the beast with two backs, we were a beast with two cocks. "N-No more... I-I'm... I'm going fucking crazy..." I was hardly roleplaying right now, my vision growing hazy as we explored this body. "I-I'm... I'm... oh god, I'm fucking cumming!"

We painted the mirror white with out thick loads. Then, Charles' body began to tremble as I lost focus. Slowly, my ghostly essence slipped from his mouth as I became ejaculated from his body as well. "Oh, damn. Didn't think it was that good for you," my husband said, chuckling as he saw my embarrassed form. "C'mon in, we got about a month of this to enjoy."

I slipped back inside and instantly felt our cock grow hard again. Twice the ghost twice the arousal. We took a deep breath to relax so I could get back into character. "Ohhh... you fucked up asshole," I hissed, voice barely above a whisper.

"Oh, for me? You shouldn't have, Charles." My husband said. He knelt down and began to lick the trailing cum from the glass while I protested.

"Fuck, no no!" I cried out from the inside. "Stop making me do all this gay shit! I can't... I can't take it anymore!"

"Sorry to disappoint you," my husband said, licking his lips to get the last of the delicious cum. "We're gonna a couple much-needed loads up this ass, next. By the time I'm done with you you're gonna be begging for me to never leave."

"N-No, please. Anything but that...!" I breathed out, moaning. The rest of the month was spent with me protesting in Charles' mind as my husband cruised around like a chaotic slut, having this body groped, fucked, and exploited in ways neither of us could've ever thought possible.