D.M.

Greg was vain and cocky. Why wouldn’t he be? He was raised in a world that exalted his conventionally attractive body and milky white complexion.

His unremarkable life was a dime a dozen among gay gymbros. Scrawny gay kid was bullied in his rural town and when he got out of town for college and work he devoted himself to the gym. Aiming to attain a physique that would warrant him all the male affection he craved but never received growing up. A cliche plight for a cliche man.

Even with all the conventionally attractive attributes, Greg was held back in the world from meaningful relationships and meaningful growth as a person. Night after night was filled with clubbing and hookups after hard days as a financial analyst in his father’s company. That was Greg’s life. It should then come as no surprise that he also lacked empathy for anyone different from him because he felt as if the struggles he went through was as hard as the world got. Greg routinely passed off news headlines as fake news meant to pass agendas that only hindered him and his families fortune.

That’s the great thing about the gym though, it’s the ultimate primal equalizer. People from all walks of life come in with the same goal, to look and feel good. But Greg brought in the added issue of a sense of superiority. He thought everyone around him was blessed to be in his presence.

Gabriel was definitely what Greg would call woke. A first generation American, he’s worked hard to build a life and a physique most would admire. He was living the (dead) American Dream. A self made personal trainer, advocate for immigrant rights in his community. A truly admirable and stand up guy with morals, something Greg couldn’t begin to understand.

But all the defying the odds, all that perseverance, is taxing. Gabriel was tired of fighting the good fight for his loved ones, at least for now. He needed a temporary break, but being a self-employed trainer didn’t loan itself to off time. And his family needed his support. Often Gabriel found himself occasionally supplementing his families pay to keep his youngest siblings fed and dressed for school.

Both men needed something from each other they didn’t realize, but the world was ready to do its part to rectify the world for them. A day as mundane as any other, it seemed. Greg was wrapping up his workout his chest felt puffed up and taut. Gabriel coincidentally wrapped up a few minutes ago and was checking out his hard work, posing in the mirror room.

Greg arrogantly walked in the way of Gabriel’s view while doomscrolling on his phone. When the white gymbro finally looked up to see where he was standing, his eyes locked with the Latino hunk. Gabriel stood in a silent confidence that would shake anyone into getting out his way. But Greg had spent his whole life thinking he was a prime specimen all men should aspire to resemble. The two were caught in a deadlock, somehow a mutual respect for each other’s presence but a disdain for what each other clearly represented.

Greg scoffed at Gabriel as if he was in the wrong and walked towards the showers. He walked into a stall and filled the space with steam. As the hot moist air filled the musty room, Gabriel walked into get his belongings and head home but the thick steam suddenly filled the space. Both men were engrossed in the moisture and eventually it felt like they were drowning as their vision went white.

A bright light filled their sight as a ringing chimed in. Then darkness. Greg woke up from the heaviest sleep he could remember in years. He could feel the soreness of his heaving chest and something under the sheets was just as hard and commanding of his full attention. As a financial analyst, he was very routine in his day and had his mornings down to a science. As he swung his legs off the bed to search for his luxury slippers to make his way to shower, he was shocked to find they weren’t there. He passed it off as a mistake he must’ve made last night. His body guided him to a restroom he had yet to realize was unfamiliar and turned on the hot water. Preparing for his morning jerk and shower, his strong palm made its routine way down to begin when the newfound girth and length confused him. He always thought highly of himself and his “immaculate” form, and passed it off as his peak form getting more peak. But that’s when the cocky prick finally looked down to realize everything about his skin tone was significantly darker than before. The visual also confirming his tool wasn’t just thicker it wasn’t even his. He turned to the mirror that only confirmed what occurred.

He knew what his form looked like by memory, this wasn’t that. Gone was his marble off-white lean torso lined with sculpture abdominals, replaced instead with a tanned torso rippling with his own, hardened musculature equally matched by a magnificent set of pectorals. He rotated his arms in awe looking at his strong new calloused hands. Opening them in and out before latching their grip on his pecs, alternating them between flexed and unflexed to see how they felt. He enjoyed how full and squishy they felt when he released a flex, the phenomenon almost electric. It’s that electricity that led him to a twinge. A familiar feeling with unfamiliar equipment. He lifted an eyebrow and moved his grip from his chest to his new thick and surprisingly long tool. It was actually one of the first times Greg could remember being intimidated. Could they actually get this large….especially when not at full mast? Like an eager person ready to open a birthday gift, he put one hand at the base and readied the other. A natural excitement met a primal urge to pump and he began going back and forth, allowing his brain and new muscle memory to dictate the rhythm.

Greg turned to the side and looked up at the mirror, locking eyes with his new self. The deep brown eyes held enthusiasm but also lust. He watched in awe as his hips rocked with a fluidity his original body could never do. He couldn’t contain the thoughts arising from the darkest recesses of his mind. He was more of a grunter in his original body but he wanted to see what Gabriel’s primal moans sounded like. The new “Gabriel” emulating what he thought the stunning Latino beast would do in this moment. Greg couldn’t believe how much longer this was taking than it would’ve in his original body. Panting and panting half an hour went by when a familiar sensation surprised him. He locked eyes with himself in the mirror once again before examining every muscular striation and contraction as he erupted. Pulse after pulse sent him over the edge as he returned to grunting. A wicked smile arose on his face as he rose his hand to his mouth to taste himself.

An alarm disrupted the moment of “self” discovery as a client called asking where “Gabriel” was for their appointment. Muscle memory took over and he headed to the gym to meet his first client.

A selfie of his new torso felt like a must before that hour long session. The morning hormones and weight lifting session sparked more testosterone to flow. This time Greg chose to channel it in a more disruptive way. Gabriel looked too juvenile for him, so Greg sought out a barber to evolved his new body to look like a MAN. One haircut later, a conveniently timed text came to his new phone. A silent pleasure flowed over him as the phone unlocked to his new face. The text invited him to a night out with the bros. He laughed to himself, it’s the perfect chance to show off the new “Gabriel” and see what he could pull.

Greg may have been in a new body, but the old cockiness was never seemingly going to go away. Throughout the night, Gabriel’s friends noticed the stark personality change, but they saw it as him finally growing into a confident man you’d expect to see with that body instead of the humble one he was before.

You are Jack, the number one jock in school who is one of the most athletic people on the block. Opportunities are there left and right for you and much more you are team captain.

After every game and practice session, you and your teammates go into the locker room and shower you spank each other on the ass. However, you see yourself enjoying it a bit too much and your thoughts begin to trouble you about your repressed part of yourself, leading you to be sexually frustrated.

As you go through the hallway, you meet this nerd named Humer, who you project all of your issues on and you start to beat him up and you begin to degrade him by saying,

“You watch where your going faggot, or there more where that came from.”

Your peers see this and begin to degrade him as well and encourage you. People on campus look up to you and agree with all you do. You can’t do no wrong in their eyes.

Moreover, the nerds themselves are your punching bag if you say so and no one can detest you. Some of them to avoid your wrath even go as far as to do your homework or any assignments for that matter. They are like your subjects and serve your whim and if your lucky, they may even continue with your college work.

You have no problem with getting a good bitch to fuck cause every girl wants to be with you. Your only problem is which one will satisfy you best. Your not without any parties to attend on weekends, your the guest of honor being the most popular guy on the block and have automatic invites.

You even get to be around the best dealers who give weed and cocaine not having trouble when going to get alcohol at the liquor stores being a charming and good looking guy, they let you pass with privileges in your city.

You are the party dancing and laughing up with your friends. Hours pass and you are high and intoxicated. You recall this nerd who tried to stand up to you acting out how he tried to resist you with your bros present causing everyone to laugh louder.

You begin to feel horny and to satisfy that lust and the woman can smell it. You know and they know and you start making out with them taking it to the nearest room. As you push the door open, your guided towards the bed, she pushes to the bed. She pulls your pants down and as this happens, she says, relax babe, I’m gonna make you feel real good papi as she begins to stroke your cock before she gives you the blowjob of your life. So good that it causes you to feel detached from your reality, like you experienced becoming spiritually awakened.

When it becomes late and you become tired, you start heading back home for the night. Your friends try to convince you to stay or take a ride but you are adamant and continue to leave home. Your parents are not home leaving you all alone. You go upstairs to shower for the night and after you dry off, you sit up a bit and doomscroll through your phone. When you feel your doze off, you start going to bed.

All of a sudden, you hear something move and you begin to look around then go downstairs to find out it was nothing. Heading back to bed, you drift between consciousness and see something that looks similar to a person. You think to yourself,

“Damn, I really overdid it with the drugs tonight.”

Not long after, you feel something feel your whole body all over and enjoys feeling your muscles. Being levitated above the bed, your pants are pulled down by this being leaving you in your naked glory.

Laying you on your stomach, you feel something rubbing your ass and licking your man hole, you begin to moan, however this is the beginning for it the then starts to thrust in and out causing great moans of pleasure. After sometime, you can only feel ecstasy, euphoria clouding your mind. You want to cum but can’t, your hard remain.

This being the goes deeper into you causing pain and pleasure. Your stomach is full for a moment till it spreads through out your whole body into each limb, even your cock. Lastly, your neck begins to be filled with its head, you feel like your going to choke as it proceeds through your head. Once it pops into place, you black out, no longer a particpater in your life but merely an observer. This new being gets up and walks to see what it possesses now.

It admires its new body, feeling every muscle that is jacked in this body. Feeling intruded, you began to yell saying,

“Look you motherfucker, you better give me back my body or I’ll fuck you up.”

Empty words is all they are and the being in control of your body starts to go back to bed. It then says, “let me take of that hard on you couldn’t before.” With those words, it strokes your big cock blasting sperms of man seed all over you and the bed, drowning out your voice in the process.

Pleased with its work it says,

As much as I want to play with you I mean myself longer, I have important matters to attend to.

It's a bit longer, but I am super happy with how this one turned out. Enjoy!

The email about the Serbian exchange program hit my inbox on a Tuesday morning, buried beneath the usual flood of meeting invites and project updates. I almost deleted it on reflex, but the subject line—Host Opportunity: Belgrade Team Visit—$5K Bonus—caught my eye. Five grand wasn’t nothing. And besides, I’d heard murmurs about it before—last year, a handful of engineers from our Belgrade office had filtered through the US branch for a few months, shadowing teams, attending meetings, and, from what I gathered, drinking heavily at every happy hour within a ten-mile radius. Nobody I knew had hosted, though. Or if they had, they hadn’t mentioned it.

I skimmed the details. The company was flying over a dozen employees from Serbia, all of them mid-level or higher, for a three-month immersion program. The idea was to give them a taste of life at the US office—how we worked, how we (allegedly) collaborated, how we complained about the same corporate nonsense in a different language. And if they liked it? Well, then maybe they’d angle for a sponsored transfer. The host bonus was just grease to make sure enough of us volunteered to house them.

I didn’t think too hard before signing up. My apartment had a guest room that had been functioning as a glorified storage closet for the better part of a year. A real, live human being might actually put it to good use.

A few days later, the assignment email landed in my inbox. I clicked it open, scanning the spreadsheet until I found my name paired with Nikola Vasić, DevOps Engineer. His photo showed a guy in his late twenties—maybe a few years younger than me—with a sharp jawline, short-cropped dark hair, and sleeves of tattoos running down both arms. His bio read: 5 years with company. Powerlifting, MMA, craft beer.

Hell yeah. This was going to be easy. We’d hit the gym, crush some deadlifts, maybe grab a beer after. I could already picture it—Nikola nodding approvingly at my protein shake stash, me pretending I knew anything about MMA. A total bro situation.

I shot him a quick LinkedIn message—Hey man, looking forward to hosting you. Let me know if you want me to pick you up from the airport. He replied almost immediately: Appreciate it! Will send flight details soon. Excited to train together. Perfect. This was going to work.

Then, three days later, another email.

Subject: Host Assignment Update

Due to a last-minute adjustment in seniority prioritization, your guest has been reassigned. You will now be hosting Dragan Kovačević, Infrastructure Architect. Nikola Vasić has been reassigned to Mark Teslik. Apologies for any inconvenience.

I pulled up Dragan’s profile, which I hadn’t bothered to check before.

It was a selfie—dim lighting, the kind taken in what looked like a basement, the camera angled slightly upward. And Dragan was, inexplicably, shirtless and flexing, but not in a particularly attractive way. The bio beneath read: 20 years with company. Enjoys hiking, chess, and American whiskey.

I sighed. Of course. Instead of a gym buddy, I got a middle-aged, bare-chested supervisor.

Well. At least it was only three months.

---

A few weeks later, the Belgrade team arrived, and the office threw a welcome reception in the cafeteria—plastic cups of cheap wine, a sad platter of cubed cheese, and a banner that read Welcome Serbian Colleagues!

I spotted Nikola first. He was even bigger in person—broad shoulders, thick arms, the kind of guy who looked like he could deadlift a car. He noticed me and walked over, his expression serious.

"Sam," he said, his accent rough around the edges. "Is shame we are not paired."

I shrugged. "Yeah, but we can still hang out. Hit the gym, grab a beer."

He nodded, but there was something off in the way he said, "Mark is... very skinny." He flexed one arm slightly, as if to emphasize the contrast. "I did not want to be him for three months."

I frowned. His English was a little broken, so maybe he meant something else—like he didn’t want to train him, or room with him? Before I could ask, the HR coordinator clinked her glass and announced, "Alright, everyone, find your host or guest and take a seat!"

I scanned the room for Dragan.

He was sitting at a table in the corner, watching me. Not in a casual oh-there’s-my-host way, but in a slow, deliberate stare, like he was sizing me up. When I approached, he stood and shook my hand—his grip was firm, almost testing.

"American Sam," he said, his voice deeper than I expected. "I am very excited."

There was something in the way he said it—not quite enthusiasm, more like anticipation. I forced a polite smile. "Yeah, it’ll be nice to have you."

The HR coordinator clinked her glass again, signaling for silence. "Thank you all for participating in this year's cultural exchange program," she said with a smile that felt a little too rehearsed. "The swaps will begin first thing tomorrow morning. Please report to the designated conference rooms by 8 AM."

A murmur of confusion rippled through the American employees. I glanced around—most of the American team looked baffled, but the Serbians all had placid looks on their faces.

"Swaps?" I muttered under my breath.

Dragan leaned in slightly, his voice low. "You did not read paperwork?"

Before I could respond, the HR coordinator continued. "For full immersion, participants will temporarily inhabit one another's bodies, with access to each other's memories. To avoid legal complications, you are expected to maintain your host's professional and personal life as closely as possible during the exchange."

My stomach dropped. What the hell?

A guy from Marketing shot his hand up. "Wait, so we’re just—switching bodies? Like, for real?"

"Yes," the coordinator said, unfazed. "It’s all outlined in the consent forms you signed. Section 12, subsection C."

I didn’t remember signing anything about body swapping. Then again, I’d skimmed most of it, clicking through the digital paperwork just to get to the bonus disclaimer.

The coordinator wrapped up with a cheerful, "Get a good night’s sleep! Tomorrow’s a big day."

---

The next morning, they led us into sterile white chambers that looked like something out of a sci-fi movie. Two by two, employees disappeared behind frosted glass doors, emerging minutes later—swapped.

Just before my turn, I watched Mark stumble out, his movements awkward in Nikola’s muscular frame. He kept flexing his tattooed arms, his eyes wide with childlike wonder. Nikola followed behind in his body, just seeming borade

Dragan gave me a knowing smirk before we entered. Then inside, there was a flash of light, a sensation like falling—

—and then I was standing again, but wrong. My center of gravity was lower, my shoulders heavier. When I lifted a hand, it was thick-fingered, lightly hairy. Dragan’s hand.

Across from me, my body blinked rapidly—then broke into a grin. "Ha!" Dragan said with my mouth, his English flawless, his tone giddy. "This is perfect!"

Meanwhile, my thoughts were... sluggish. Words didn’t come easily. Instead of English, my brain churned in Serbian, the syntax heavy and familiar. When I tried to speak, the accent rolled thick off my tongue. "Šta je—? What the—?

Dragan barked a laugh. "You sound just like me!" He clapped my shoulder, delighted. "And I don’t understand a word you’re saying!"

---

That night, he vanished into the city the second we got home, leaving me to wrestle with his body alone. The weight of it, the way it moved—none of it felt right. I caught my reflection in the bathroom mirror and grimaced. A gross longish beard. A thicker neck. A patchwork of ugly tattoos.

Dragan stumbled in past midnight, reeking of whiskey. He leaned against the doorframe, my usually neat shirt unbuttoned halfway, his—my—face flushed. "You missed a hell of a night," he slurred, though his English was still weirdly perfect.

I scowled, struggling to force out the words. "You... left me... like this." The accent mangled the sentence, made it sound like a complaint.

He grinned, swaying slightly. "Aw, poor Dragan," he mocked, using his own name like a joke.

I wanted to snap back, but the English tangled in my throat. Instead, I muttered something crude in Serbian.

Dragan just laughed harder, pointing at me like I was the funniest thing he’d ever seen. "God, this is even better than I thought."

---

The next few months were pure, unrelenting hell.

Dragan, in my body, was like a kid who’d been handed the keys to a candy store. He wanted to do everything—especially the kind of obnoxiously American shit I’d never even bothered with.

"We’re going to go shooting today," he announced one Saturday morning, already pulling on my favorite jacket.

"What? No, we—" I fumbled for the English words. "I don’t shooting."

"You do now!" He grinned, clapping me on the back. "Your friends think it’s funny you’re bringing your ‘Serbian coworker’ to the range. Play along."

So I did. I had to stand there in Dragan’s bulky frame, nodding awkwardly while he laughed and high-fived my buddies, pretending to be me. He was a disturbingly good shot.

"Damn, Sam," my friend Jake said, slapping him on the shoulder. "When the hell did you get so good at this?"

Dragan just smirked and said "natural talent," before pulling the trigger of his shotgun, exploding the clay disk.

---

The dating was worse. He always dressed to the nines and I have to admit, it looked great.

But , he came home one night, still buzzing from whatever bar he’d crawled out of, and flopped onto the couch. "American women," he sighed, stretching my arms behind my head, "are very impressed with you."

I glared. "You—what?"

"They assume you’re boring in bed," he mused, inspecting my fingernails. "But then—surprise! Serbian passion!" He winked. "They like it."

I wanted to strangle him.

---

Then there was the shirt thing.

Dragan refused to keep it on. Ever. Working out? Shirtless. Drinking whiskey on the balcony? Shirtless. Cooking (badly)? Shirtless, with an apron that barely covered anything.

"Put on a damn shirt," I growled one evening, my Serbian accent thickening with frustration.

"Why?" He flexed my biceps—which, thanks to him, were actually looking better. "This body is so in shape, I just want to show it off."

He would also smoke all the time, somethg I never did. When I complained to HR, Dragan, smug bastard that he was, dug up a single photo from my buddy’s bachelor party two years ago, where I’d half-heartedly smoked a cigar.

"See?" he said, waving the evidence in front of the HR rep. "Sam smokes."

They caved.

---

The final insult was the wedding.

My college friend Chris was getting married, and of course, Dragan insisted on going.

Chris had been talking about setting me up with his fiancée's cousin for months. "She's perfect for you, man," he'd said.

But of course, Dragan went instead of me.

I spent that night alone in the apartment, stewing in Dragan's body while he was out living my life. The photos started popping up on social media around midnight—there I was, looking sharper than I'd ever looked in my life, my arm around the bridesmaid Chris had wanted to set me up with. She was beaming up at me like I'd hung the moon.

Dragan stumbled in at 3 AM, reeking of whiskey and expensive perfume. "Ahhh," he groaned, flopping onto the couch next to me. "American weddings. So much food. So much drink. So much..." He made a crude gesture.

My stomach dropped. "You didn't—"

"She was very disappointed when I said I don't do girlfriends," he chuckled, inspecting a hickey on my neck. "But not too disappointed, if you know what I mean."

I nearly punched him.

---

By the last two weeks, I was done. Completely, utterly done.

Dragan, of course, was in the best mood of his life. He sprawled across my couch—shirtless, obviously—sipping whiskey while scrolling through visa application forms on my laptop.

"The company wants someone in US for my same infrastructure role," he mused, grinning. "And when we swap back, my English will be even better thanks to you practicing all this time. Its perfect."

I clenched my jaw. My English had improved slightly—enough to get by without sounding like a complete beginner—but it wasn’t perfect the accent still clung stubbornly.

"Great," I muttered in Serbian-inflected English, not even hiding my bitterness.

Dragan finally glanced up, studying me. "You hate this," he said, not a question.

"Yeah. I do."

A long silence. Then, to my surprise, he sighed and closed the laptop. "We could swap back early."

I froze. "...What?"

The whiskey glass clicked softly as Dragan set it down on the coffee table. For the first time since the swap, his expression was completely earnest—no smirk, no teasing glint in his eyes. Just quiet gratitude.

"Sam," he said, my own voice sounding strangely solemn coming from my lips. "I see how much you hate this. And... I want to thank you." He gestured to himself—to my body. "This has been... more than I hoped for. The freedom, the experiences. And you—" He nodded at me, sitting stiffly in his heavier frame. "You worked hard. My body will return to me much improved.”

He leaned forward, elbows on knees. "We can swap back tomorrow. Before HR arrives. No one needs to know."

"Yes," I blurted, the Serbian accent rough with urgency. "Yes. Let’s do it."

Dragan smiled—soft, almost relieved. "First thing in the morning, then." He stood, stretching my arms overhead with a satisfied groan. "One last night as you, yes? I think I will enjoy it."

He grabbed his keys and headed for the door, pausing just long enough to throw me a wink over his shoulder. "Do not wait up."

The door clicked shut behind him.

I sank back into the couch, Dragan’s body suddenly feeling lighter, the weight of those final two weeks already slipping away. Tomorrow, I’d be myself again.

Tomorrow, this nightmare would be over.

---

The predawn darkness clung to the empty streets as we drove to the office in silence. My truck’s headlights cut through the gloom, the only sound the hum of the engine and the occasional sigh from Dragan in the passenger seat. He kept rubbing his face—my face—with a look of quiet regret, like he was already mourning the loss of my younger, fitter body.

Meanwhile, my fingers tapped impatiently on the steering wheel. Every second in his overweight, middle-aged form had been torture, and now freedom was so close I could taste it.

When we pulled into the deserted office parking lot, Dragan hesitated before getting out. "Maybe we should—"

"No," I cut him off, already unbuckling. "We’re doing this."

The security guard wasn’t at his desk—convenient—and Dragan led me through the maze of cubicles to the sealed-off wing where the swapping chambers were kept. He punched in a code I didn’t recognize, and the door clicked open.

"How the hell did you get access?" I asked.

He ignored me, walking straight to the pod controls.

Inside the sterile room, Dragan stripped off his clothes without hesitation. I averted my eyes at first—then did a double take. Damn. My body did look good. Leaner than before, muscles more defined. Dragan had clearly been putting in work.

The machine hummed to life with a low, ominous whine. We stepped in. Dragan hesitated one last time, his hand hovering over the activation switch. "You sure about this?"

"Do it."

He pressed the button.

A flash of blinding light—

—and then, relief.

I stumbled forward, catching myself on the pod’s edge. My hands were mine again. Slimmer, familiar. I patted my chest, my face, no more thick beard. Just me.

Across from me, Dragan flexed his fingers, his expression unreadable. He ran a hand over his own thicker frame, his mouth twisting slightly.

"Happy now?" he muttered.

I didn’t answer.

I was too busy grinning.

---

The day before the official swap-back ceremony, I pulled Dragan aside, my stomach twisting with nerves.

"What’s the plan?" I hissed. "They’re expecting to swap us tomorrow. If they find out we already did it—"

Dragan waved a hand dismissively. "Relax. I talk to the Serbian tech who runs the machine. He know we already did swap. He fake it tomorrow—will not activate it for us. We walk in, play along, walk out. Easy."

I frowned. "And he’s cool with that?"

"Of course," Dragan said, grinning.

The next day, we lined up with the rest of the swapped employees in the sterile white chamber room. The air buzzed with nervous energy—some people looked relieved, others apprehensive. I caught the eye of the Serbian technician, a wiry guy with a buzzcut, and gave him a subtle, knowing smile.

He barely glanced at me. Just shook his head slightly and turned away.

Right. Discretion.

Dragan nudged me as our turn approached. "Ready?" he murmured.

I nodded, stepping into the pod beside him. The glass door hissed shut, sealing us inside.

Then, just as I was getting ready to get out, the machine whirred to life. A wave of panic washes over me and I turn to Dragan expecting to see a similar look. Instead, he smile and whispers "I will love being you, American Sam."

My blood ran cold.

The light flashed—

—and suddenly, I was staring at my own face from across the pod.

My face.

Wearing the widest, most triumphant grin I’d ever seen.

I looked down.

Thick fingers. Heavy frame.

Dragan’s body.

Again.

Across from me, Dragan—now me—stretched luxuriously, rolling my shoulders with delight. "Ah," he sighed, his voice mine now. "Much better."

(Hope you like my answer, even though it might not have gone in the same direction you described in your ask...) 

"Oh shit! I can explain son... I mean Sean! It's not what it looks like! We were just... we..." you watched on as your best friend Sean's dad stood next to you in your body and anxiously tried to talk his way out of this. Meanwhile you just stood there awkwardly trying to cover your muscular mature body with your big hands.

"Oh, don't bulshit me dad. I know very well what's going on." He paused and looked you both up and down. " You guys just switched bodies again haven't you?"

"Wh-what? How... how did you know?" Sean's dad asked, dumbfounded by the fact that his son somehow managed to come to that conclusion.

"Pfft. You seriously don't think I could recognize and differentiate my own dad from my best friend? For God's sake, I even caught him playing on my PS5 a few times." Sean curled his eyebrows and nodded towards you. That caused his dad to turn towards you and glare at you scornfully.

"I mean... I'm not the best at acting you know..." you smiled at him awkwardly with his own bearded grin. He could only roll his eyes at you before deeply sighing.

"Aaanywho, I promise I won't tell anyone... as long as you let be a part of this." your friend said resolutely. You could tell he had decided that for a long time now.

"Son... I'm sorry, but you can't. It wouldn't work." His dad answered disapprovingly and begun pulling on the rest of your clothes.

"What do you mean you can't? You guys switch all the time! You're just saying that because you don't want to let me in the fun, isn't it?" He said angrily and crossed his arms defiantly.

"No, it's not... let me explain." His dad sighed once again before having us all sit down so he could explain everything. He showed Sean the amulet, explained where we found it, how it worked, how many times we've used it, and even explaining that physical contact was necessary between the switchers.

"... and that's why we can't include you. Because we're stuck in our new bodies for at least 24 hours before we can switch again. You see?" Sean's dad in your old body finally concluded his summary. He gave his son some time to process all the information given, before he turned to you and rolled his eyes at the sight of what you were doing.

"Right?!" He slapped you on your meaty arm as you had obviously not been paying attention and instead been playing with your chest hair the whole time.

"Huh? Oh, yeah that's right!" You reacted and gave them both another toothy smile.

"Well, I still want to be a part of this!" Sean said, still standing by his decision even though he was fully caught up to the situation.

"Son... I've told you-"

"I have an idea." You suddenly exclaimed, causing both of them to turn to you with a surprised look on their faces.

---

"Daaamn! This feels good..." Sean whistled as he squeezed his big meaty arms and did all kinds of weird poses in front of you. "Can't believe you managed to convince your dad to switch bodies with me. Why would he even wanna be a pimpled and scrawny college kid like me?"

"Well, let's just say I convinced him about the perks of being young and free again..." You relaxed on the couch behind him and watched as your best friend spun around with your dad's beefy body. " ...just like how I convinced your dad too." A sly smile crept upon your handsome face.

"Oh yeah?" You watched your best friend turn around and began walking seductively towards you. The floorboard creaking slightly under his new heavy weight as he pulled off the dirty shirt your dad had hastily decided to put on before Sean came in. "You're a little devil aren't you? Pretending to be dumb and useless when you are in fact the one that planned all of this..."

You couldn't help but lick your lips at the sight your burly shirtless dad affectionately calling you by your nickname. Standing in front of you, he gave you a flex before slowly straddling himself on top of you. Your thick furry legs pressed against each other as he put his large hands on your shoulders. You looked up at him, your lust-filled eyes met, and the world grew still. Before either of you knew it, your best friend had your dad's beefy arms around your neck, your lips crushed into each other's, and your beards scratching sensually against your cheeks.

You let the moment last for a few seconds before pushing him away, but still close enough so you could enjoy the smell and taste your dad's mouths. You watched as he looked at you still dazed by the moment and stunned by your push.

"Not here... babe..." You told him breathlessly, the warmth of your breaths fully heating up the empty space between you two. "Our dads could still be around y'know."

He gave you a puzzled look before an unfamiliar wide grin formed on his borrowed mature face.

"So what?" He grinned before once again throwing himself onto you. He leaned forward and began sucking on your thick neck.

"Uhm... they'll switch us back and never let us to switch with them again?" You answered, trying your best at not moaning too loudly or think about the fact that you were about to get hickeys by your own burly dad.

"And how would they do that...?" Your best friend chuckled while he kept sniffing and licking your thick neck. It took you a few seconds before you realized what he insinuated with that sentence.

"Sean... what did you do...?" You asked him as if scolding him for something bad he had done.

"Nuh uh uh. I'm not Sean anymore... My name's Carl, your dad's name." He breathed his hot words into your ear, as you suddenly felt one of his large hands begin caressing the growing bulge on your shorts. "Let's just say I might have flushed the amulet down the toilet when I marveled at your dad's hot body in the bathroom..."

"Uuugh..." was all you could utter as he suddenly slipped your dad's rugged hands down your pants and began tugging at your thick and hardening cock. You threw your head back and lost yourself completely in the moment, as this new body of yours was way more sensitive than what one would expect from a strong muscular man like that.

"What's wrong... Thomas?" He just called you by his dad's name. Well, this body's name... now your name. You felt the heat collecting in your groin and you were about to blow any second now. "Loss for words are you? Well, consider this my punishment for you... for keeping your body-switching shenanigans a secret from me for two whole months..." With that said he bit you hard on the neck, and leaving a clearly visibly mark there.

"Now, my dad's hot body and you... are mine forever!" He proudly proclaimed, as your eyes literally roll into your head and you exploded all over your pants, your shirt and even onto your own dad's naked muscular chest. You could only lie there dazed and exhausted as your best friend/dad/lover, licked the cum from his own furry chest and gave you sloppy kisses on your drooling lips...

I know that it’s wrong, but whenever I saw my uncle, I could only get hard. Fuck, just the mere thought of him makes me feel a lot of things. I know what you are thinking… he is your family, don’t be a pervert. It’s not like that, we are not blood related. He married my aunt last summer. In fact, I have only known him for a couple of years. Still, I have to admit that the level of lust is no normal. But just look at him… what is not to love about the man. He had a very welcoming face, big smile, scruffy look, and deep blue eyes. While he always looked good, I am so grateful that his normal outfit never revealed what a nice body he had as I don’t fucking know what I will do when I see him naked.

My biggest fantasy was to give him a blowjob. Sadly, Uncle Nick was straight as hell. He didn’t know that I was gay, even less that I was obsessed with him. Talking with him, it was obvious that he was a conservative man. That make him even sexier in my eyes, but I am certain that he would react very negatively if he knew the truth. The only way to fulfill my needs was to jack off in solitude while looking at his Instagram photos, most of them showing him on his camping trips or his fishing escapades. I wanted to move my fantasy to the next level and that’s when I found a particular forum where people gathered to talk about switching bodies. I was intrigued and, oh boy, I loved it.

“Scotty, you have been a bad boy” A man said at the other side of the phone. I have never been into roleplaying, but this was in another level. It started with some dirty messages, but things quickly escalated. We pretended that this guy, Aaron, stole the body of my uncle and that he did some nasty things to me. It was stupid, but extremely arousing. Of course, to make the fantasy more real, I send him several photos of my uncle and a couple of videos that I captured in secret. I explained him how he acted, how he was and what type of words Nick tend to use. No denying, Aaron was a fantastic actor. With the tips that I gave him, he sounded just like my uncle. He nailed the southern drawl and captured his spirit to a tee. I thought that we were only going to be roleplaying friends. However, Aaron surprised me with an interesting proposal. “Hey Scotty, do you know that body switching is the real deal. I know a guy. This doesn’t have to be just fantasy” he texted me and adorned the message with a devil emoji and an eggplant emoji. I saw the photos of my uncle… the things that I could do. I smiled and just replied “Let’s fucking do it”.

It was a bit surprising to learn that Aaron was a man in his 60s. It creeped me a little bit that someone of his age was doing the things that I heard him do. But hey, who I am to judge? The plan was simple, lure my uncle to a remote place, perform the ritual and have the time of my life. Aaron asked me if this was a one-way trip or if he should reverse everything after we have our time together. “Well, if you don’t disappoint me, you can keep him” I answered, and he just smiled. With that we began our plan. I have to do a lot of shitty things… but Aaron promised that at the end of the journey all of this was going to be worthwhile. Install a tracker on my uncle’s phone, aid to hack his accounts and stole some of his clothes. All needed for the takeover, all nerve racking to do.

Finally, the day arrived. I asked my Uncle Nick if he could teach me how to fish. He was so excited, and he quickly organized a trip to a nearby lagoon. Just the two of us. I would be honest, as we headed to the boat, I needed to hide my bulge. Sadly, being alone with him was so boring… so dull. I don’t know how anyone would like to fish. Sure enough, my uncle tried to make some conversation. He talked about sports, girls, and other stuff that I didn’t knew. Honestly, we didn’t have anything in common… gladly that was going to change soon.

Aaron was in the shore, he shouted at us begging for help. He looked as if he just recently had an accident. He was covered with bruises and his clothed were torn. Nick immediately went for the rescue. We quickly arrived at the shore and my beloved uncle make the big mistake of offering his hand to that stranger. The moment that their hands touched each other, it happened. Both men stood there, like statues. I looked in awe as Aaron slowly become taller and his wrinkles began to disappear. I unbutton my pants as Aaron’s arms began to inflate and veins pop out. As a big muscular chest formed and a layer of fur covered his torso. I stroke my dick as Aaron’s face contorted. Stubble appeared on his chin, his eyes became blue, and that beautiful smile formed in his face. I reached the climax as that man finally became an exact replica of my uncle… as my dream became a reality.

“Scotty, did you brought the clothes” My new uncle said, and I quickly gave him a bag. He began to change, and I was finally able to see my uncles amazing body. He had a six pack, a bubble but and an enormous dick… no doubt, just looking at him had made all this trip worth it. Then we return to our home, leaving that old man alone on that shore. He was crying, he was helpless, he looked pathetic. To be honest, I was worried that he could retaliate. Maybe attack us or something else. Gladly, my uncle assured me that he prepared everything, and that the new Aaron will pass the rest of his days behind bars.

“So, when… you know…” I said as we arrived at my home.

“You want to fuck me kid? You like what you see?”

“Oh yeah. God, this is a dream come true”

“Don’t be a faggot”

“I love when you talk dirty”

“No kid… I am not playing”

“Common dude… let’s go to a hotel”

“No kid!” He raised his voice and I understood that he was serious.

“But this is what we agree”

“And?”

“You owe me this”

“Don’t be stupid kid… you have problems. You need a doctor. It was disgusting to hear all your creepy fantasies. For good sake, he is your uncle”

“But… But… But you played along!”

“Yeah, I knew that in this forum I was going to find kids easy to manipulate”

“No… that’s not true”

“When you send me his photos, I knew that Nick was a diamond in the rough”

“This cannot be happening”

“I have to thank you kid… with your help I get access to everything I needed. Social Security, passport numbers, fucking social media. Everything to make a smooth transition”.

“You bastard!”

“I almost puked whenever I have to roleplay with you… but hey, it pay off”

“You will not get away with this”

“Kid… don’t be an idiot. I already get away with this. You give me your uncle on a silver plate, and I just took the opportunity. And lets be honest, we both know that you are not going to do  a fucking thing”

“I hate you”

“Fine for me. And again, thanks for the body. I am certain that I would fuck a lot of ladies with this baby”

——————–

Aaron stole my uncle’s body almost a year ago and, since then, a lot of things have changed. I was pissed at the beginning. I wanted revenge… but the man was saying the truth, there was nothing that I could do. As expected, “Nick” filled for divorce. It was hard seeing my devastated aunt, still asking what happened to her beloved husband. The guilt was the worst that I have ever experienced. Then, my former uncle moved to New York and start a fresh life as a 30-year-old hunk. Aaron prepared everything and he inherited in life all his possessions to his new self. Now he lives a luxurious life.  A big place, cars and dating top models. He transformed Nick from a simple feller to a fashion mogul. Now he acts like a douchey bachelor, and I am certain that I would never meet him again.

If I hadn’t done the spell, Uncle Nick would be in my life. His smile, his smell, his friendship… all lost due to my incontrollable lust. The only way that I can now look at Nick is through his Instagram posts. Gladly, he publishes regularly, and he pleases his fans. No more fishing stuff… no more photos of a normal dude having beers with his friends. Now his feed is full of sexy photoshoots and shirtless pictures. His last couple of ones are amazing. After everyone that happen… I know that I should stop jerking at Uncle Nick’s posts. I know what you may think. Maybe something like: “You didn’t learn your lesson” or “You lustful creep”. Yeah, probably you are right. What can I say? No matter who controls that flesh, there is no denying that my uncle is so fucking hot. So excuse me, as I need some time alone to really enjoy this new material.