#athletepossession

You lick your lips and let out a soft breath.

“Goddamn, what a looker,” you mouth silently.  

A thick crown of chestnut hair frames a strong face with angelic features. Brown eyes glint with a hint of olive in the sunlight.

You’ve seen him before, you think- at the airport after break. Probably an athlete for the university.

Sure, he was hot at the airport, but everybody always is. Seeing him out here though, out in the real world? Really fucking hot.

You struggle to remain inconspicuous as your eyes greedily stay on subject. As if sensing your stare, his brow furrows as he looks in your general direction. You dodge glances last minute, cursing your lack of self control.

Anyone looking at you could probably see the longing in your glance, the hunger, the desperation to stay fixated at his visage. Anyone looking would see lust clouding your mind, the hint of a dangerous smiling painting your face, hiding the untold horrors in planning. But, you were never one to be seen, to be perceived. Always a background character in someone else’s story. He would be correcting that.  

When the coast was clear, your eyes rush back to feast on his image. He sits with some friends, adam’s apple gently bobbing up and down as he chatted, hair waving in the breeze like hands beckoning you inside. Everyone in the group seems relatively loose and relaxed, aside from him. One makes a joke, causing the rest to laugh. He gives a grimace, mimicking a smile. Though likely off-putting to some, that hardy exterior only manages to drive your lust deeper.

Another pats him on the back, and your heart stirs. Somewhat deceptive given his limber form, you only note how dull the smack sounds. It’s a confirmation to you. A confirmation that this man is dense and packed to the brim with muscle. Your mouth watered at the sight of that musculature tensing before relaxing. A brief glimpse in the raw power brimming inside that cute bundle of flesh.

“Peter, c’mon… lighten up bro,” they say. Peter. Aha, so that was his name. You repeat the name softly under your breath. “Peter…Petey…Pete”. It has a nice ring to it. In your mind, you relay the events with his friends instead directly calling *you* Peter. Your mouth pulls into a smile as your dick stirs. You rub it lightly, feeling a little pre leak at the thought “Mmmhmm. Peter. Call me Petey. Has a nice ring to it”

After several more minutes of jokes between friends, you finally catch one to break his facade. There it was. A genuine smile. A beautiful smile. A delicious smile.

You had to have it.

- - -

You sneak into the locker that Saturday. As you do, you slowly close each door, locking it. Ensuring none could block the consummation your life and Peter’s.

Like a snake in the grass, you slowly make your way to the lonesome Peter, sitting on a bench and panting after a game. A slight scent of flowers drifts through the air. As you move closer, the scent of his laundry fades and makes way to the damp, drying sweat soaking his shirt. Must have been a tough match.

His musk feels divine. If you could, you would have stopped time to just lay there, drunk in the scent that was Peter post-match. But you would have all the time in the world to bless yourself in that sun-drenched Peter flavor you craved. Plus, you knew you had to be quick. A body- especially an athlete’s body like this would be  incredibly resilient. You need to do this now, while he was sore and immeasurably tired.

He takes a swig while you approach. Putting down the bottle, he pants and looks up at you through sweat-stained vision.

“Uhhh.. can I help you dude?” He asks.

“I just wanted to say, I’m a huge fan”.

“Thanks bro,” He says.

“Just looking at the way you fly through the court. Amazing.” A bold-faced lie, having skipped his match to prep this empty locker room.

“Thanks,” he states plainly.

“And the way those hot, hot muscles propel you forward…”

You motion to hug him. He tries to pull away but you’re quick to embrace him. He feels a prick in his shoulder as you dose him.

You feel his post-game sweat drip off his skin and over yours, and lust overrides reason. You can’t help but squeeze tighter and tighter.

“The way that perky ass jiggles when you walk... I bet you’re packing too, aren’t you?”

His face, initially cringing in awkward tension, now shifts to disgust as he tries to push you away. Blind in pleasure, you inch even closer and wrap your legs around that ass, as he feels your dick sandwiched between your two torsos harden.

“And that face… goddamn what a face. I bet it’d be amazing to wear it. To look at your friends through it and hear them call me your name.” In frenzy, you begin grinding your stiffened dick into the heat of the closeness of your two bodies pressed together. “…to hear your own mother call me Peter. FUCK! I can’t wait to be Peter!” You whimper as you felt cum shoot out, staining your shorts and his. As a bit of your cum lands his flesh, he is finally able to shake off the initial shock.

“Sick fucking FREAK!” He spits at your face as he pushes hard, leaving you several feet away. It draws blood and immediate pain, but you could only feel the hunger to have that might as your own to wield.

You corral the spit onto your tongue, sucking and savoring the taste of your future mouth.

“Man… fuck… so that’s what kissing us would taste like” you tease. You could practically taste the vitality brimming from his body.

He looks as if he’s about to gag, and begins to gesture moving away. He panics when he feels his movements slow.

“Honestly, with that tight fucking bod, I’m not sure how long before you break free of this.”

You begin to prep, stripping both your bodies naked. His head attempts to shake in defiance when he sees you pull two syringes from your pocket. You wink before jamming one into your arm and one into his.

The effects are instant, you feel your senses dull. You also feel your own body begin to soften as you move towards the naked Peter. After a few moments, your senses start pick up and explode and blend together. Every heartbeat, blood vessel, and neuron. You feel intimate control over every piece. It was overwhelming at first, truly feeling every bit of yourself. Looking at Peter, you knew you didn’t want to wait any longer to feel every bit of his.

You line your cocks together, pointing at each other. You then knead your dick slowly. Slit touches slit before inside begin to touch inside. Resistance bubbles in him as you see his arms clench and unclench, and his face wince at the foreign intrusion.

You sigh for a moment, admiring your handiwork. Peter’s dick appeared to be swallowing yours. That was partially true. You knew what you had actually done. Inside Peter’s dick lay your own, turned inside out so that both your insides faced each other.

He tries to scream, but can’t muster a sound beyond a low moan as you continue to knead and push and overlay more of your insides into his, your body turning inside out in the safety of his body. He sees your malleable form appear to deflate as more of your innards took flow in his.

“…aaaaAAAAAA. FUCKK.. FUUUUCK” He screamed. He starts to wiggle out the confines of his paralysis.

You know time is limited. In a rush, you use your nerves to commandeer his, swallowing all control of his dick as your own.

He screams and kicks in horror as he watches his own cock swallow inch upon inch of you like a worm. It happens in moments, and the force of the intrusion rocks his hips back, as his body makes room for you. His belly distends from all the added mass, causing him to lose balance and collapse.

“Oh god, oh god” he whimpers, as he gently feels his new belly, afraid of what was now inside him, what he could now no longer reach.

In the safety of your future body, you slow down, feeling yourself dissolve into a mass of parts.

Peter feels it in his legs first. Like millions of threads beneath his flesh, burrowing into his sinew. You don’t leave a crevice in the man untouched. In every part of his powerful legs, you weave and intertwine your fibers into his. He thrashes them in a tantrum, but the movement only causes him further displeasure, as he feels his own taught skin and muscle squeeze into wriggling masses. Into fusion.

You make quick work of his arms as well, greedily swallowing and interlacing whole pieces of Peter’s dense muscle fibers into yours. He screams as he feels his muscles in his biceps tear and repair themselves, fortified and irreversibly bonded to your fibers. With the half control you now had over his arms, you run them along his body and defile himself, dancing his fingers across and feeling every inch of your future self.

You make a quick stop at his heart, embracing it with your flesh to feel its power. There was a warmth in knowing this would soon be yours. He really was an athlete. You could feel the sheer energy in every pump.

After admiring your future core for a few moments, you decide to hijack it for yourself, pumping Peter’s heart full of your threads. Like a virus, you flood into his bloodstream, carried by the very organ that gives Peter his power. He’s unable to do anything aside from watch, as every vein and artery of his being pulse and writhe with you inside them. It takes a just a few pumps of the athlete’s heart to leave every juncture of his flesh connected to you. At last, you feel yourself in his own blood, coursing through him. If you had lips, you would lick them in anticipation at the last bastion of the old Peter- his head.

He squirms and smashes his head into the floor repeatedly, as he feels your fleshy mass slowly traveling up his vascular neck.

“I’m me! I’m me!” He repeats as he feels your brain touch his.

He grips his head in pain at first contact. Inside, your brain folds begin to slip into his, coalescing. The process is acutely violating for him, as he feels your thoughts inside of his own mind. Like a thousand needles, you inject every piece of your mind into his.

He pulls at his hair while trying to shake you off when he feels your sick perversions course inside him, then begins to get lightheaded as they start to come from him. He retches as he feels the thrill of possession, of violating his own flesh come from his own mind. Still, you made sure to keep the original Peter strung up and intact inside your shared mind. Something about keeping every bit of him tethered to you only riled you up further.

Breaths ragged, and screaming turned feral, he shouts one last war cry, as the last individuated pieces of yourself and his join and merge into one.

- - -

Your eyes blink open, woken by afternoon sun peering from the skylight.

You stand up groggy in the locker room as you try to piece the day’s events.

As you do, some stray hairs fall in front, and you see their gentle curl glow caramel in the filtered sunlight. “oh my god… oh my god,” you moan.

Upon hearing your velvety new baritone, your moan upgrades into a soft scream. You look down, seeing your new, long legs pushing you towering over your previous height, and the sun-tanned Peter-flesh and hairs now encapsulating them. ‘Fucking Stud’, you bite his lip.

Even standing, you could feel them brimming with power. You swing his arms back and forth, relishing in the control and precision they now had. Virile. Absolute god bod. You glance at the rest of your new, permanent meatsuit- Dick, already rock-hard and pulsating, abs, defined and glistening in the afternoon glow.

You slap your new cheeks, feeling them flush and jiggle with youth. Your Peter face pulls into a smile, wider and wider.

“I’m me, I’m me” you mock. “Welcome home, me”. You make him say to you.

His resilience, his power, his fucking body… yours.  

“FUCK! Oh God! Yes! Ugh… Fucking Mine. You’re all mine!” You scream. The pleasure is overstimulating, and you fall in a pool of your new body’s sweat.

His body. Yours. All muscle underneath. All at your whim. Molded, corrupted and rewired to betray its original owner and keep you forever locked safe inside.

His brain, his thoughts- last remnants of resistance that you keep as a souvenir. His own agency now tied to you. Through his brain, you feel Peter try to reign control, and in amusement you feel these thoughts pass through you.

Outside, his body spasms as he slowly regains sovereignty. He struggles to get up, body aching from the violation his insides endured. As he gets back up, he walks to the locker room mirror with worry in his eyes, trying catch anything out of the ordinary. He checks his face first, turning his neck from side to side. Slight relief paints Peter’s face.

He lifts his arms next, checking if they still listened to him. He begins to think he overshot the movement as his arms continue moving. Instead, horror begins to dawn on his face as his own hands run through his hair before landing on the back of his head. He trembles as he again wrestles for control. In concentration, drool escapes his lips and sweat dots his furrowed brow as his arms continue to shake but steadily move into a new position. Your position. They lock into a flex.

Slowly, Peter’s eyes blink close and face crinkles before wordlessly screaming into uncharacteristic pleasure. Then, those beautiful brown eyes with a hint of olive stare back, those beautiful lips smile back as you breath Peter’s air into the mirror, fogging it up for a moment before revealing his face swimming in perverse pleasure.

“…I-you-we feel fucking amazing. You think I’m ever leaving this fine, fine piece of ass? Bro? Bro… get real. I am never fucking leaving.”

Peter’s hands cup his own plump ass, squeezing tight. His vocal cords relay your moan, stifled by the slight pain.

With that, you reign back control of every cell and strand of sinew of your new flesh. You tune back into the folds of your brain inside of his, into his very thoughts and let his unburdened rage wash over you. Rage turns to revulsion as he promptly feels his own dick betray him and begin to throb. You love the feeling of his inner turmoil, his endless perseverance. Interspersed was the euphoria you felt in controlling his body, in wearing it as your own.

You also love it because these were his heightened emotions, raw and intoxicating, now turned internally, redirected. You fuel those very same emotions to his insides, causing them to tighten and squeeze the parts of you bonded to an eternal internal embrace even tighter.

A flex of the now-drenched hand and a slight scowl of triumph paints Peter’s face. He’s yours.

Everything he ever was, is and will be. Yours at last.

- - -

A few days later, a dormmate comes to your room. Apparently, the entire dorm had some form of event in a nearby beach.

You turn around and begin to remove your shirt before his eyes. As you do, you feel Pete’s struggle manifest as a muscle spasm. “GET THE FUCK OUT OF ME, I’M NOT EVEN GAY” He shouts and screams in defiance. You moan internally. In truth, you could tell his dick didn’t budge for men. Doesn’t matter. You pant softly as it hardens anyway, forced against its very nature into your own whims. This was your fuckstick, your cum to do with as you pleased. It felt fucking good to have him inside there with you fighting. Like a constant reminder that he was yours. You never wanted to take this divine body for granted.

“W-Why me?” He whimpers internally.

“Honestly bro? Something about you just felt right, your-our face. And that body? As soon as I saw it. I knew we were meant to be one.”

He’s silent after that.

Outside, all one would see is a single tear, escaping your new set of eyes, and you take a moment to relish his angst. As if to taunt him, you lick the tear, closing your eyes and smiling seductively. Internally, you grab Peter’s sense of self, snuggling into his personality as you feel your face externally begin to adopt his serious demeanor. These moments were always the best. When you were truly enveloped by Peter in all levels. Like when you called your new mother and father for the first time, and heard them call you their son. It was an actualization of your new identity. And it always made your stolen dick throb.

“So, uhhh, anyway… I’m Nate” The dormmate stammers as he stares at your defined musculature. The blushing Nate was quite a looker himself. You look back with disinterest and a cockiness previously uncharacteristic of Peter. Nate’s face looks disheartened.

Using your athlete strength, you rush him to the ground, grinding Peter’s sweaty bod into his and forcing your spit-lubed tongue into his gasp of surprise.

With your expert control over every piece of your new body, you snake Peter’s tongue over Nate’s, constricting it like a python. Likewise, You snake your new powerful arms and legs over his, locking him into your grinding hips. You tear away from the kiss savagely with a pop, and breath right over his face. “My body’s fucking hot isn’t it?”.

“F-fuckkkk” Nate huffed as his eyelids fluttered. You spot a growing stain on his board shorts and laugh callously in a way that just felt natural in body like Peter’s. “Bro, we gotta work on your fucking stamina”.

“Oh yeah… call me Petey,” you giggle, before pulling your lips into a wide-brimming smile.

-End-

Aaand that’s a wrap. What’d you think?