#body merge

[samsm2mstories]

Exotic Fusion

This is my new form, fusions wasn't meant to be a thing but I definitely fucked up here on my holidays in Asia.

I was your typical backpacker from the US, I was quite a jock style guy, muscles, looks, sports background. I was touring a local town when I came across a cute Asian twink who had his eyes set on me.

I was straight into this twink as we went back to his place, which was pretty decent. He gave me a cold drink before I started touching him all over, and he was muttering some words that I didn't care about.

He looked as me and forced me to push my cock into his ass which was so fucking tight!!! After a few minutes of annilating his ass and body, he recited some final words and I felt something was odd. I could feel his nervous system and I instantly moaned exactly like him. We both were in a bliss heaven for hours until I opened my eyes.

I felt even more powerful, my body fucking changed, I felt hornier than before, a bigger bulge, more muscle mass and smoother all over! That's when I panicked, running to my bathroom!

I saw I was now and Fusion with this twink! I was smirking away as I felt fucking amazing, having fused with a cute Asian twink fucking made me feel and look amazing. My new bulge was hard as fuck already and broooo! I'm so fucking smooth now! Alot less hairy than before..

The only weird thing is that this was now my holiday apartment that I own here in Asia. It seems like I was now and rich Asian jock that loved coming back here for holidays when my studies have finished.

I couldn't believe it but this is all fucked. I couldn't reverse it but after a week, I knew this was amazing.

Sex was amazing with tight ass guys

I am a rich cunt now

I'm fucking SEXY BROOO

Ohhh I can handle spicy foods and speak the local language.

Girls wanted me but I only fuck guys.

Fuckkk my cock is raging, can you bend over now BROOO AS I'M GONNA FUCK YOU NEXT.

[the-shiftshop]

Shift Anomaly: Swap Curse?

The time Michael and I swapped again, I couldn't help but feel his body. God. He's just so hot and- I don't know what's going on. Ever since we started swapping I've been slowly realizing that I am attracted to Michael, or maybe it's just his body. It honestly takes all my will power to not jerk off while thinking about him and trigger a swap.

That last swap was something different. I couldn't stop staring at his body, until I hear a knock at the door.

As I opened the door to my body, Michael inside, it just clicked between he two of us. We started kissing. I just realized how strong my body really is with all that muscle when Michael carried me to the bed.

"I'm so sorry. I don't know what took over me." Michael purred to my ear.

"Don't stop." I whimpered.

Michael took my, for now his, clothes off and I got to see my cock from an outside point of view, and a very unfamiliar craving boiled in me. I wanted that cock in my ass.

We looked at each other, Michael got the hint and dove on top of me, pushing my legs up to his shoulders as he kiss me, his hands gripping my chest. Michael's body is so sensitive right now and all I can think of is how good it feels.

My former cock just slid into Michael's, for now my, ass. It went it so smoothly that I let out a loud moan. I wasn't aware that that is where we fucked up. As Michael fucked me, we started melting into each other. Our thighs combining together. Soon, our torsos, our arms, then finally our heads.

I can hear his moans in my head and so does he with mine. I....

---

That's when I came to be.

Everything felt new and familiar at the same time. Reality had formed around us, or me, I honestly don't know anymore. I am composed of both Michael and Nate and my brain could not comprehend which is real. It's like they're still fighting for dominance in my head and I cannot find my own sense of self.

God, just what is wrong with everything right now

[sicklysublimeamulet]

Becoming One: A Father’s Strength

Donnie sat on the side of a dusty rural road, arms wrapped tightly around his knees, trying to make himself as small as possible. The heat pressed down on him like an invisible weight. His clothes were torn, his shoes missing, and the last bit of pride he had clung to had been stolen along with his backpack by a group of people he thought were friends.

He was 21. A man by law, maybe, but in his own heart, he still felt like the same scrawny, insecure kid who spent most of his school life being picked last, laughed at, and forgotten. He had grown taller, maybe, but not stronger—at least not in the way that counted. He had been cast aside by those he thought were friends, humiliated in a twisted joke that stripped him of his dignity—and his belongings.

This wasn't the first time he'd felt abandoned. But this time, he had truly hit bottom.

Far down the road, a car approached—slowly, cautiously. Donnie didn't move. Either it would stop or it wouldn’t. He didn’t really care anymore.

The car did stop. Out stepped Christopher, a man in his late 40s with streaks of almost gray in his hair and a deep concern written all over his face. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

“Donnie!” he called out.

Donnie didn’t answer.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you!." Christopher said as he knelt in front of his son.

Donnie finally glanced up. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked more lost than angry. “Why are you even here?” he asked. “You’ve never understood me.”

“I didn’t come to understand,” Christopher said quietly. “I came because you’re my son.”

Silence stretched between them. Then, softly: “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

Christopher’s eyes filled with tears. “Then let’s figure it out. Together.”

The car slowed to a stop, and for a moment, father and son simply looked at one another. Neither said a word.

But in that silence, something shifted.

Christopher wasn’t always the father Donnie needed. He had been raised in a house where men didn’t talk about their feelings. Where "tough love" meant silence instead of support. When Donnie was younger—sensitive, creative, and smaller than the other kids—Christopher thought the only way to protect him was to make him "toughen up."

But all it did was make Donnie feel like he was never enough.

Even when Donnie did well, he looked in the mirror and saw only shortcomings—his narrow frame, his awkward laugh, the softness in his voice. People didn’t take him seriously. They either overlooked him or mocked him. He carried that weight into adulthood, and it never let him breathe.

After a long, quiet car ride back to Christopher’s lake house, Donnie finally spoke again.

“I just… I hate who I am,” he whispered.

Christopher placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Then it’s time you saw what I see.”

That night, Christopher led Donnie into the meditation room—a quiet, open space where the walls were covered with photos of family, of childhood, of moments worth remembering. In the center was an ornate mirror passed down through generations.

Christopher stood behind him, placing a hand gently on his bare shoulder.

“This mirror,” Christopher said, “shows more than your reflection. It shows your truth—if you’re ready to face it.”

Donnie stepped forward.

What he saw wasn’t just his own image—but layers. Memories. Pain. Joy. Laughter. Shame. And Christopher standing behind him, not as a man judging him—but as a man who shared his pain.

Then, something strange happened.

The air grew warmer. Light shimmered across the surface of the mirror. And then, in a flash of instinct, Donnie turned around—and walked into his father’s arms.

That one touch lit something inside Donnie.

He turned—and embraced his father.

The embrace turned tighter. Warmer. No longer hesitant. Their bodies pressed closer. Shirts were drawn upward. Breath quickened. Not sexual, exactly—but intimate. The distance between father and son evaporated. There were no boundaries now. Only heat. Only contact. Only becoming.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” Christopher whispered. “I just didn’t know how to love you the way you needed.”

“I know that now Dad,” Donnie said. “And… I’m ready.”

"I love you, my son." Christopher said to his son for the last time.

"I love you too Dad." Donnie said while he hugged him with tears before they say goodbye to each other.

Their skin began to shimmer with soft golden light. Where their bare chests touched, energy pulsed—not just warmth, but something deeper. Their nerves responded, their pulses syncing, their muscles tightening and expanding in unison. A pleasurable tension built between them—arousing not from lust, but from transcendence.

As Donnie took his father’s hand, something shifted. Not just emotionally—but physically, spiritually. The air shimmered like a heatwave. The forest seemed to breathe with them.

A light grew around their joined hands—soft and golden at first, then pulsing with deeper tones. It wasn’t scary. It was warm. Welcoming. Like standing at the edge of something ancient and true.

Donnie’s chest tightened—not with fear, but with understanding. This was no hallucination.

Flesh melted into flesh. Arms wrapped, merged. Heartbeats became one.

Their moans echoed—not of pain, but of release. It was an unburdening. Every resentment, every unmet need, every apology never spoken—all of it poured out as they pressed tighter together.

Then their faces drew near. Cheeks brushed. Lips almost met—almost, until their faces, too, began to blur and melt into one another. Their minds merged in a burst of memory and emotion, their thoughts coiling and tangling like DNA strands twisting into harmony.

Their bodies unified into one figure—taller than Donnie had been, broader than Christopher alone. A perfect blend of the two. When the light faded, a new being stood in their place.

The mirror cracked.

And from the radiant light, a new form emerged as a father and a son.

In a morning change, he stood at the bathroom tall—lean and muscular, with the strength of a man who had endured, and the sensitivity of one who had suffered. His skin was smooth, aglow with the golden energy of rebirth. He bore the sharp jawline and broad chest of Christopher, and the soft gaze and agile form of Donnie.

Connor.

Not just a name—but a being.

He exhaled slowly, fully present in his new body.

He was not confused. Not ashamed. Not lost.

He was.

He bore Christopher’s broad shoulders and steady gaze, and Donnie’s youthful features and warm smile. His skin shimmered with subtle energy. His presence felt like home.

His body was youthful and strong, yet grounded in maturity. He had Donnie’s eyes but Christopher’s jaw. Donnie’s soul, Christopher’s heart. He felt confidence pulsing through him—not from vanity, but clarity.

A nearby stream reflected his new form, and this time, he didn’t flinch. He stared into his own reflection with awe, not hatred.

“I can do this,” Connor said, smiling to himself. “I can be someone... real.”

He moved to the balcony, sunlight touching his bare shoulders. The lake shimmered below, and a warm breeze carried the scent of pine, sweat, and possibility.

Connor looked down at his hands. Strong, yet tender.

He breathed deeply—and for the first time, felt complete.

Connor left the lake house the next morning. The world looked different, but it was the same. It was he who had changed.

With Christopher’s wisdom and Donnie’s sensitivity, Conner lived life with intention. He moved to a quiet island—not to hide, but to rebuild. There, he surrounded himself with people who valued honesty, integrity, and kindness.

He mentored others who felt broken—young men and women who had been bullied, fathers who didn’t know how to express love, sons who didn’t feel seen.

He wasn’t a superhero. He was something more powerful.

He was whole.

And on the days he walked the beach, the wind in his hair, the sun warming his skin, he would pause and whisper:

“Thank you, Dad… for becoming part of me.”

Connor returned to the world with a fresh fire. He didn’t just seek success—he redefined it.

He started mentoring youth like Donnie had once been—those who felt lost, overlooked, unsure. He told them his story—not with arrogance, but with honesty.

He built a home that was more than walls—it was a space for growth, for community, for reflection.

He honored his father by embodying his love. And he honored Donnie—the scared boy who once hated mirrors—by becoming a man who could finally look in one and smile.

In dawn, Connor stood at the edge of the lake where it had all begun. The wind brushed his skin. He closed his eyes and whispered:

“Thank you, Dad. For showing me that I didn’t need to be someone else. I just needed to accept the parts of you that were already in me.” Connor said fully appreciated with tears of cry.

He placed a hand over his heart, feeling the steady beat that once belonged to both of them.

He wasn’t perfect. But he was complete.

He was Christopher’s wisdom. He was Donnie’s potential. And now, he was Connor—a living legacy of love, healing, and self-acceptance.

And as he walked away from the forest, one thing was certain:

He would never fear mirrors again.

[persuasivetfs]

A Favor

Muhammad Al-Khatib saw himself as a pretty good guy all around. Easygoing, generous, always willing to help a friend out.

So when his childhood best-friend Rajesh asked if Muhammad could take 4 days off from work to help him with a work emergency, Muhammad didn’t hesitate. Though when Muhamaad got to his friend’s apartment he was less sure he could provide Rajesh needed.

For sprawled out unconscious and half-naked on Rajesh’s bed was The Ali Gomaa, an internationally ranked Egyptian body-builder, and Rajesh’s boss. For half a second Muhammad became worried that his best-friend had accidentally killed the man, before the massive man released a loud snort in his sleep.

“Alright so I fucked up bad, I fucked up real bad, man. Bad enough to cost me my job,” Rajesh began, pacing at the foot of his bed. Mr. Gomaa meanwhile seemed to be sleeping peacefully, a grin plastered to his face.

“I was supposed to put the order in for 300 units of the new Wolf Muscle Powder my boss is promoting at the Santa Fe Bodybuilding convention tomorrow and I only ordered 30.”

“So?” Muhammad asked, easing into a comfortable spot in a chair by the door.

“So? So, I’m fucked. My boss was insistent that this new muscle wolf powder was going to relaunch his career. How the fuck is he supposed to do that when I only ordered 30 of the fucking units to sell?” Rajesh panicked.

“Well mistakes happen. I mean is he really going to fire you over a little mistake like this,” Muhammad asked, absentmindedly twirling his friend’s baseball cap in his hand.

“Yes, yes he would, because Mr. Gomaa is a perfectionist and I’ve already fucked up twice this month on this order alone. He’s already warned me once that if I kept making these kinds of mistakes that he’d find someone to replace me. I can’t lose this job, man, I just can’t,” Rajesh reasoned. Muhammad frowned.

“If he’s that much of a pain in the ass to work for, why do you even want to be his personal assistant? Not like you need the money or the bodybuilding experience,” Muhammad answered with a shrug.

Rajesh was a popular athletic model and professional bodybuilder in his own right, having won two local championship trophies in the last year alone. It made more sense when Rajesh was just starting out after high school, when he still needed all the help he could get, but that was years ago. How long was he planning on staying attached to this man by the hip?

“This job was never about the money. Ali Gomaa is a legend in professional bodybuilding. I still have so much to learn, and it's only under Mr. Gomaa that I’ve advanced so much in such a short period of time,” Rajesh said, gazing with what Mohamaad imagined as pure admiration at the perfectly sculpted body of Mr. Gomaa. He then briefly smiled at the thought of Rajesh under the man’s older and heavier body.

Muhammad was careful to keep such thoughts to himself. Rajesh was straight and the last time he cracked a joke about the two men together, his face had gone scarlet and they hadn’t talked again for a month. He’d do anything to prevent a fight like that again.

“Then what do you need me to help with? Ordering a new shipment for this Muscle Coyote Powder?” Muhammad asked, giving the cap another spin on his thumb.

“No, I already handled that. No, what I need from you is more hands on,” Rajesh explained.

He took out a silvery blue pill from his pocket.

“What am I even looking at?”

“The future of professional body-building, my friend. That and possibly the future of athletics in general,” Rajesh said with a sense of wonder bordering on pride.

“This is Splindifferin,” Rajesh introduced with the air of a professor giving a lecture, “A marvel of medical science that allows one person to enter the body of another and control it from the inside.

For after a person has taken Splindifferin their body and mind enter a mutable state, where both become fluid. This then allows another person, presumably a coach or fellow teammate to enter the host’s body where the two become one. Once inside, the second person is given complete control over the original inhabitant’s form allowing them to overcome any mental or emotional challenges that may inhibit the host’s functioning. Then after a period of several days, the intruder is ejected from the host body and the patient returns to normal functioning. Watch,” Rajesh then poked Mr. Gomaa’s knee, creating a ripple effect of moving skin that moved from the tips of his toes to the top of his head.

”That’s incredible. But do you really think I can pass as your boss for four days? I don’t know anything about him or bodybuilding,” Muhammad pointed out, scratching at his round stomach.

“That’s where the process of ‘doubling’ comes in. For the longer you remain within Ali Gomaa‘s body the more of his memories, mannerisms, and knowledge will flow into you. By the end of four days, not even his wife or adult sons would be able to tell the difference,” Rajesh explained with a grin, patting Mohammad warmly on the shoulder.

“Besides, I’ll be with you every step of the way coaching you through this. That is if you agree to help me out.” Rajesh then flashed Mohammad a look of his soft, pleading brown eyes, making him melt like butter into his chair.

“Alright, alright. If you say we can do this, then I trust you. I’ll help you out,” Mohammad agreed.

“You’re amazing! Thanks so much, man. You have no idea how much this means to me! Okay, now get undressed. We can’t do this unless you’re both nude,” Rajesh said, shifting his tone of voice from appreciative to authoritative so quick it made Mohammad’s head spin.

He got up from his seat and began to disrobe. Rajesh instead of leaving as Mohammad expected, took his place in his chair.

“You sure you want to stay here and watch?” Muhmmad asked, taking off his shirt. He remembered how squeamish his friend had been with his undressing near him after their fight.

“Bro, I need to stay here and make sure you enter Mr. Gomaa’s body the right way. So just take your dick out and let’s hurry this up,” Rajesh said, crossing his arms and leaning back into his chair.

“So why did Mr.Gomaa need a drug like Splindifferin to compete anyway? Hasn’t he been a professional body-builder for like 20 years?” Mohammad asked as he took off his shirt.

“Ever since 2017, as great as the man is, Ali Gomaa has suffered from acute stage fright. The result of mild heat stroke and anxiety that struck him while competing in the Summer Cairo heat. So to compete, he has been relying on others to literally take over for him.”

“Has Me.Gomaa ever let you enter his body before?” Mohammad asked, kicking off his jeans.

“A few times, but never for more than a day, and the whole time I was under constant watch by other members of his support team. Guess they were fearful of me trying to run off in his body or commit some felonies. This time however, we’re doing this before we arrive in Santa Fe, so we don’t have to worry about them knowing it's you in there,” Rajesh explained.

Once fully naked, Muhammad walked to the side of the bed. Mr. Gomaa was fully naked except for a dark blue jockstrap.

Now, Muhammad always knew he was on the heavier side of things and the hairer side but he’d never really been insecure about it. Plenty of gay guys loved bears. Still, next to this muscular behemoth Muhammad felt tiny and petite.

Unsteady, and with trembling knees, he got on the bed and attempted to ease himself into Mr. Gomaa. Once his ass cheeks hit the man’s waist, the bodybuilder’s eyes opened wide, nearly scaring him back off the bed, when Rajesh stood from his seat and eased him back.

“Easy man! He’s still asleep. That just happens sometimes,” Rajesh explained, his hands comforting and firm.

With another breath, Muhammad leaned back and laid himself fully into the bodybuilder’s body as Rajesh looked him over.

It was like the body of Mr.Gomaa had turned into a thick, heavy wad of gelatin, and the more Muhammad pushed in, the more the man’s flesh sucked him in further and further.

Wet muscle and skin enveloped him, flooding Muhammad’s skin with a thousand pinpricks of pins and needles. Then as his head merged with the bodybuilder’s his vision went dark and for a brief second it was hard to breathe.

Muhammad awoke with a start, sitting up in bed and gasping for air, his eyes going from one side of the room to the other.

“Easy, friend, easy. Deep breathes,” Rajesh soothed, holding onto his chest.

Muhammad looked down. His chest was Mr. Gomaa’s chest, big and powerful, radiating heat like a furnace. Shocked and not quite believing what was happening, Mohammad tried to stand up and run to the bedroom mirror but nearly fell, his heavy legs stumbling underneath him.

Rajesh went to hold him back, but Muhammad found he could push away his friend easily. He staggered to the mirror.

It was in the body of The Ali Gomaa standing there before him. Thick neck, bulging triceps, biceps so big they’d literally won awards! He flexed an arm and the reflection did the same.

Already Muhammad was a little drunk on power. He wanted to push this body to its limits.

To lift every weight and crush every goal just to prove he could. His hands were shaking but not with fright but excitement.

Rajesh came around the corner, wrapping a still muscular but not as thick arm around Muhammad’s shoulders.

“You ready to compete bro?”

[multiplicationdivision]

Beach Body

——————————————————————————

The beach was a perfection like nothing the town of Rusty Coast had seen in the last recorded memory. Gone today were the rocky waves lapping amidst thick fog and heavy crashing of the winter fishing season. The air from miles out was still and comfortably warm from the coming summer, a fact that would’ve made it feel lonely if not for the steady rhythmic pound of waves accompanied by the rise and fall of cackling gulls and the occasional sneeze of a seal somewhere in the distance. Somehow in this cove the frigid pacific water was warm, the curls of seafoam lapping up the beach onto their feet before sinking back in with the countless bubbles of hidden sand crabs.

Rhett could already feel himself baking in this sun, although that was no indication of the sun today. Being a Irish man in California was just a fact of burning sometimes, not that getting pink in just a couple of minutes was ever fun. Worse when your company seemed to only relax in this secluded place’s warmth, his two housemates relaxed as they moved set up their towels and awkwardly drag their single board onto the sand.

Evan was the darkest one out of all of them, although a few quarters of non-stop accounting classes certainly pulled as much color out of him as possible. Same with Oliver, who’d once discovered this beach ages ago when he’d had the time to surf.

Now they were a house graduated, each of their degrees piled on their kitchen table and only the evidence of the work it took to get them being the scrawniness of their muscles and the near complete translucence of Rhett himself. It had felt like years before physical activity was even an idea in their heads, but it was felt now.

“You struggling Oliver?” Rhett called out to the guy clearly coming apart at the task of pulling the massive surfboard across the rocky tidepools. Even the crabs seemed slightly worried for the guy, having the mind to leave a large berth for his flailing. It was odd to imagine Oliver used to surf on that board nearly everyday and Rhett and Evan couldn’t help thinking that it was slightly pathetic. It was paired with their affection at the “please ignore me” look on the guy’s sweaty face, although sharing a bed with the guy would likely ensure it.

“Fucking idiot” Evan sighed in the direction of the ever-stubborn Oliver, as he sat down, shrugging off his shirt and kicking off the converse that had already gotten heavy with sand. His body wasn’t much to look at these days to a passerby, but Rhett was a long-practiced connoisseur in enjoying what others were too shallow to appreciate. He let himself lean back into the guy, against the familiar warmth of the guy’s chest and the slight unpleasantness of the man’s chronically cold hands.

Evan was ever his particular brand of affectionate as he whined in displeasure “Dude your damn Nikes are getting sand on my towel”, his tone already betraying that he was saying it more for himself than Rhett. Rhett wasn’t in the habit of undressing himself these days and teasing Evan was as fun as it always was, although the idea of exposing more of himself to the sun than necessary was an equal component. Instead, he just grabbed a handful of sand and released it onto Evan’s head, watching the man sputter in annoyance.

“Evan, I think you have some sand on your face” Oliver said casually at the amusingly enraged man and the self-satisfied smirk of Rhett. The surfboard sat just a couple feet from the tidepools, Oliver having stealthily abandoned the task to the small company of crabs now crowding his old board. They guy was soaked with sweat and probably a tumble in the same tidepool, judging by the sandy mud on his shorts and a lost sandal.

Not that he would need the cheap cloth sandal being carried off by a crab in the distance.

They weren’t a foolish group having come here expecting to surf as they were. Hell they weren’t even dressed for it, Rhett in his jean shorts and the others in old basketball shorts. Not that they’d be dressed in much soon anyways, judging by the impatience tenting Oliver’s shorts, matching Evan’s own defiantly pressing against Rhett’s hand even as Evan tried unsuccessfully to douse Rhett in sand himself.

“Weathers so perfect boys that we could just spend today without any of that extra business” Rhett said jokingly, although he didn’t stop Evan from hooking his thumb under his shirt and wrestling it off of him just like they had so many nights this week.

Oliver enjoyed the sight and stretched, slipping his own athletic shirt off with a groan. His own little play on Evan’s weak mind judging by Evan seeming to slip at the distraction at the sight.

They’d gotten so far from the awkward pairing of roommates they’d been at the start of their college careers. Evan a supposed straight guy, Rhett a closeted bisexual and Oliver a nervous gay man. They’d been roomed together in a dorm their first year, some fluke leaving them three guys with a single bed. A month of two of them sleeping on the bed and then Oliver and Rhett had begun to share on their nights. A month after that and somehow Evan found himself tangled in their little pile, his sleeping bag rolled up into the corner.

Class was just too much to not have good sleep to stave off the exhaustion. That had been a good excuse before administration caught up to the fluke and got them a new bunk. At the time they hadn’t even really discussed it before the bunk was just another shelf, full of papers and junk.

Evan was no longer a self-described straight man, although one has to abandon the title when they start feeling FOMO after catching their bedmates sucking each other’s dicks after a cancelled class. Especially so after the six or seven-hundreth time of giving and receiving the act himself.

So they’d stuck together through all of college’s trials and tribulations. Found themselves a big enough flat with a single bedroom, each of them feeling some sense of their internalized homophobia act up even in the apathetic face of a apartment manager who couldn’t give a shit about what three college kids got up to in their spare time. Their separate closets seemed to merge after some time, initially just with the excuse of all the wasted space. Not that Rhett ever really cared about their collective image as platonic housemates, but it had taken the other two sometime to stop fixating on whose hoodie was who’s. You gloss over the lube visible under the bed enough times to your basketball friends and suddenly it seems like a wasted effort to care if your mixed up the underwear. Hell, they were even close enough in sizes that they could just wear whatever, although Oliver had become the defacto buyer. He’d bought every bit of clothing that now was now in a growing sandy pile beside him.

A anxious glance by Evan to their surroundings and the three’s jean shorts and black pair of boxers were tossed into that pile, leaving Rhett a self-satisfied hard naked man, the pair of Oliver’s Nike blazers he’d been wearing scattered around them.

“Completely private beach Evan” Oliver comforted, slipping his own shorts off and having no boxers to remove, the man never bothering to wear any when it was just them. A particularly unfortunate habit when he was packing so much, his oversized cock having been a particular distraction when they’d gotten Chipotle on the way. It wasn’t big enough to escape his shorts, but it had been enough for eyes to keep glancing the way of the thing’s attempted to escape the torn up synthetic fabric.

“Sorry I’m not an exhibitionist like you fucking perverts” Evan said as he awkwardly tried to sightlessly pull off his own shorts, struggling to do so under the weight of Rhett and the overwhelming draw of Oliver’s cock, now standing like a flag pole. It was especially ironic of a statement given he’d been the one to suggest this entire thing. What they were doing could’ve been done in the privacy of their own home, could’ve been done with no risk of someone witnessing it.

They’d done it like that so many time before, letting the process be done with closed blinds and locked doors.

Oliver had looked so empty as he’d looked at his surfboard this past three months though and Rhett had been especially pissy so many times in public when Evan had brushed off contact. Oliver couldn’t care less with how Evan acted beyond their bedroom but Rhett was right. Doing what they were doing on a private beach wasn’t much of a advancement in Evan’s fight against toxic masculinity, but the effort was enough to bring Rhett’s frustration back into his shit-eating grin that always marked him when he was at his happiest and horniest. Certainly helped get Oliver back into fighting order as well, the guy clearly very turned on himself, but more so looking at the surfboard more often than not, eyes glazed over with what was definitely the three’s evening after this.

Truth be told, Evan was a fucking pervert himself, so as much as he wanted to make his boys happy, he was also kind of turned on by the being out in the open on the beach thing. Rhett could see through him just like always, nudging him to look at his own sizable cock before giving it a single stroke before happily watching the static reach Evan’s brain.

“Our guy’s got his mind already so far in the gutter huh” the ginger man said at Oliver with a exasperated expression. Oliver just laughed, as if his shorts didn’t lay beside him wet with pre-cum.

“Getting ahead of ourselves isn’t he” Oliver said, bending down over them, cock nearing the positoon where it could easily slid into either Rhett or Evan if he wanted to. Both would be very receptive to the idea.

That wasn’t what was happening though.

“Just fucking get on with it Oliver.” Evan snapped, fighting every urge he had to wrestle the two others into the ground and fuck them himself, lest he physically explode. “Do you have the trunks or not”

Oliver’s practiced seductive face cracked before he rolled his eyes, accompanied by Rhett’s vocal disappointment at not continuing to mentally screw with the man he still held down under his own weight. Oliver was always the reasonable one of the three, but not enough to ever stop joining Rhett’s campaign at teasing their partner

“Fine, fine, yeah” Oliver said as he got back up, wandering over to the pile of clothes to fish into his short’s pockets. “You better have prepared them right”, he said, pulling out the fabric within them as Evan almost re-activated his mini rage at the idea of having not done their preparations right.

Four years in the running and he’d gotten fucking good at the spell.

The fabric wasn’t anything special. Just a pair of trunks, blue and white and much larger than their size 34 waists. A pair of swim trunks made for a man triple their size. The only hint of something peculiar about them being the mess of symbols stitched into the waistband.

The first year it had been a messy affair, borne of an accident with a strange grouping of strange people and acquisition of a relic of a necklace, with symbols embossed into its chain. The second year and a bad experience had been one they’d recreated when curiosity overtook locking that necklace in a lead box in their kitchen. The third year and Evan had a ge course of old witchcraft to get him through the process of amateurly experimenting with the situation, trial and error leaving him something like an expert in the only supernatural thing they’d ever witnessed. Year four and each of them had studied those symbols long and hard, seen every way their group shifted and changed the outcome.

Back at home a small collection of boxer briefs had the symbols stitched into it. It had taken an embarrassingly long time for them to figure out sizing up them to avoid going through a pair every time, but practice makes perfect. They’d had a while to figure out what fit them best after their little rituals, evident by the backpack in the jeep full of an outfit that would most definitely fit them when the day was done.

Evan looked at the never worn swim trunks shed a cloud of sand before watching Oliver ball up the fabric and throw it at the two, Rhett lazily catching it. The Irish man lifted the waistband up, making a show of inspecting the symbology before Evan snatched it from his loose grip.

Just a swipe of the runes by it creator and the stitching began to heat, a shine of blue tracing the threads. It left a pressure to the air, particles of blue lifting off as energy subtly wafted from the spell.

Evan could tell when Rhett was excited by the way he stopped a limp mass weighing him down. There was something in the energy that was intoxicating to the guy, although he’d always been proven to be susceptible to the sway of the supernatural. The guy had been the one who’d almost been snatched by the strange folk they’d stolen the necklace from, almost making Evan speculate if there was something magic too loved about the guy. The symbols were something reminiscent of Gaelic, so maybe this was all down to fairies.

Or maybe it was just because Rhett never hid how much he loved this shit. It bled into each of them as they could almost feel his movements echo into their own. Rhett’s hand coming up to held hold the trunks and move them past their feet, helping focus Evan’s motion as every touch of the symbols on their skin felt like pure twistings of nervous system madness, feeling their cells open up with every reprogramming of the runes into their bodies.

Oliver watched with rapt interest, hand on his cock as he watched the points at which the two’s feet stuck together, the skin already latching on and binding the feet into the same motions. Evan’s heel sinking into Rhett’s, the two tones of skin initially meeting like oil and water before blending into a gradient. Evan’s melanin leaking into the joining points and travelling outwards in all directions.

They managed to remember to move the trunks up further, even as the feeling of nerves joining brought their brains to jelly. They’d done this ritual so many times, yet Rhett’s skull still swum as he felt 20 toes move instead of his typical 10. It was worse when he could feel the sensation of sinking twice over, feeling the feet begin to sinking further into their counterpart. It was impossible to describe, the paradoxical feeling of one’s body in itself.

The runes dragged against their legs and they were magnetized between the two men. Calves gluing to each other as their feet further merged, the feeling of their feet feeling the insides of their counterparts like they were a skinsuit ready to be filled. The toes aligning, yet not having enough space to fit within each other and instead forcing the mass to expand outwards with no where else to go.

It left a pair of men joined at a pair of large feet, their calves merging as their tibias converged, muscles physically joining and building upon each other.

Oliver found himself unconsciously stroking his dick, only coming to from his studying of the way the legs converged by the look of Evan, having forgone the effort of continuing pulling up the trunks longside Rhett, the two having failed to will past the need of their body to release the pressure building up. The magic’s effects clashed with neurons, inevitably ending in the body concluding a massive pent up amount of arousal, always leading to the brain to forget the task at hand and begin furiously attempting to cum in anyway possible.

Not that cumming could help when the magic’s effects on cells made a refractory period non-existent. It was an effect that continue on post transformation, a reason they could never really do school work alongside maintaining the spell.

The two failed in their willpower and gave way to attempting to the impossible, Rhett hungrily grabbing his cock and pumping it as Evan failed to reach his own with Rhett on top of him, yet still connecting through his fading brainpower that a suitable hole was perfectly aligned with his cock.

Before the two could get two carried away, Oliver leaned over them and grabbed the trunks with a tight grip before pulling them up, feeling the runic power hot on his skin.

It was too much too soon for his boys, but that was always inescapable. The very fact that it had to be done is what left Oliver enjoy it so much, seeing the symbols leave after images of energy as they slid up. Watching Evan and Rhett’s eyes roll back as their thighs and waist burrowed together.

It was one thing to feel one’s leg hair scratch against the nerves of another’s skin, but it was mind melting to feel a cock sink far further than it should’ve into the body. Just one thrust and Evan’s cock sunk like it was moving through wet clay, dragging against Rhett’s entire prostate in a long torturous moment. It was headed for Rhett’s cock, destined to fill the thing in a way that its nerves wouldn’t be able to define.

Oliver watched the two be unable to fully commit to the motion before he knew it was his right to join, just when the two felt they’d reached the climax, Evan’s cock still not aligned to shove into Rhett’s. Oliver would help, but his route was going to be selfish.

It was often easier to fit their cocks together by size, like a matryoshka doll. Evan’s cock into Rhett’s bigger one, Rhett’s into Oliver’s monster. Well fitting sleeves, nestled within each other.

Fuck if that wasn’t boring though.

Oliver lifted up his transcending partners abdomens enough to shove his his feet under them through the waist band that was already tight around their conjoined waist. He’d always had the best strength of mind out of the three, but even he bulked underneath the weight of the runes nuclear energy deciding that it would be easier if his legs just slide directly into his partner’s, like he was sliding into a particularly awkward pair of pants. He steadied himself by tightly gripping Evan’s shoulders as he pushed himself in, feeling hugged from all sides as the mass of the conjoined body pressed in from all sides.

He powered through, feeling his feet finally squeeze past the ankles and wriggling his toes into their proper position just as the bones of his partners invaded and fused into his body, dissolving his flesh into its own and reconnecting his brain to the feeling of the combined mass, warm sunlight on legs that were now a perfect blend of their skin tones, Oliver’s ankle tattoo bloom up into the skin as if it had always belonged there.

When his waist finally locked into place he could feel his cock slide against Evan’s, the sensation bringing enough clarity to the guy’s mind to begin to object to what was going to surely burn out his mind. It was an entirely to simple of a motion for Oliver to twist his barely merged waist to slot into Evan’s cock before pressing into Rhett’s, holding up as he strained his neck over the two as he listened to them moan, almost in complete unison.

Rhett’s cock and Evan’s beneath it stretched as Oliver shoved his massive cock into them, forcing their skin to expand to his length, feeling his testicles join Evans before fusing with Rhett’s, leaving a sensation of overstuffing before an almost blue ball sensation of the balls combining took over.

One of them cursed and then the puzzle pieces connected, nerves finally aligning as Oliver and Evan’s cocks dissolved and then reformed Rhett’s cock into a combination of the three, a olive erection framed by dark auburn pubes. It was long enough for both Rhett and Evan to immediately take to it, their brains finally having a outlet for their raging desires as Oliver continued to fight falling into the hormones filling them all. 3 times of the testosterone pulsing upwards alongside the multiplicatively nerve dense cock sending waves of euphoria up them.

Rhett and Evan gave a final pump of their cock before their right hands stuck together, palms fusing to leave a many fingered hand that was soon pouring in a tide of semen that seemed to endlessly flow, most assuredly ruining their towel.

With no where else for the symbols to touch, the energy would always pour up into the body, allowing a respite in the overpowering sensation.

Rhett could feel his mind come back to him as he lifted up his fused right hand to his face, watching the cum drip off as his number of fingers decreased as the copies fused together. He could feel Evan help him control it, both of their brains moving it together. They’d been a chaotic tumble of limbs the first time this had happened, the necklace having been tried on by Rhett one fateful day leaving Oliver to discover the chaos made up of the Irish man and Evan.

They were pretty sure that necklace had been intended as a curse, but now they fused harmoniously, the nerves entangling and their brains having gotten used to moving as a group. It let them do such impressive things as move their legs together halfway through the ritual, or wipe off their massive hand of an absurd amount of cum.

The energy amassed in their cores and they let themselves press into each other, Rhett and Evan sinking into Evan’s chest. They could feel their ribs slot into each other and the spines line up before slowly fusing like they were being zipped up. Their hearts layered upon each other, not bothering to fuse as they settled into always pumping away impossibly from within each other. It would be the final evidence of them being separate people, feeling the slight asynchrony of the three’s hearts on each other.

Evan and Rhett lifted up their combined hand to feel it pump as their body reshuffled, the heads coming to comfortably line up instead of being lined up back to front.

“God I never want this to end” Evan choked out through their fusing lungs, feeling the quick pump of their separate hearts against each other. It left their cock harder than ever, already rearing to go, but Oliver was able to stop his endlessly horny partners with a simple slipping of his hand into their large shared arm. It was simply a glove and so much easier than the legs, feeling the knuckles crush together and the joints melt together. It was awfully trippy feeling his much smaller left hand in comparison to the much larger right, the sheer difference in muscular power astronomical.

They always ended up practically superhuman and it was only so long before that feeling of pure power was enough for them to forgo separation altogether. Oliver hoped today was the day that happened, with all their obligation and responsibilities behind them.

He wrapped his left arm around Rhett and Evans and before long they were a single indistinct mass, bundles of arms beneath a singular skin that fluidly aligned, the muscle and bone weaving together into a suitable match for the right. Both arms melding further until the shoulders finally completed merging, leaving the three with the unified need to stretch, feeling the back crack as tension released up the spines.

They were now one three headed body sitting on the sand as the waves crashed in the back. They hadn’t even needed the stimulation to let loose into the swim trunks, another massive volume of cum dripping out. Rhett gasped for them all before they stilled, heads beside one another with Evan in the center, Rhett taking the left and Oliver on the right.

They’d stayed at this stage before, letting the magic settle down before removing the fabric containing the symbols. It was a quite enjoyable thing, to be so fucking massive yet still completely themselves. Half of the reason why they could work so perfectly to stand up and stretch as they were now was built on winter and spring break experimenting with every way they could be multi-headed. They’d alternate who was in what position, testing which person had dominance over the limbs (the answer being random every time). Now Evan seemed to be the lead as he reached into their trunks to provoke yet another burst of cum that would leave all three dizzy, half falling over back onto the sand.

“We’ve gotta go further” Rhett said, holding onto the ball of energy in their chest. It was a reminder more so than a demand, all three having wanted for this final step for a year of class.

It wasn’t a privilege when they were still pretending to be three separate people. When they explained themselves as a throuple to hosts of acquaintances, the words ringing false every time.

They found themselves in sophomore year in each other. Experimentation had led to a point so far that to come back had felt laughable at the time. How they’d separated that first completion had been a miracle and every division felt worse and worse with every repetition. They couldn’t do a thing like this during their school years because there was always a risk they couldn’t differentiate back into three people enough to return. It got harder every time.

Even now they felt the absences in their minds. Memories they recalled remembering but that had returned to the rightful skull upon separation. Rhett’s forced enrollment in baseball as a teenager that only was looked on with fondness by how Evan’s and Oliver’s neurons fawned over how adorable he’d been. His own guilt towards never being enough for his distant father flung to the dark recesses of his brain as the memories of Oliver and Evan’s sweet upbringings gave him a childhood he could enjoy. Oliver’s endless tainting anxiety banished by the ever-present encompassing of others into his most private closed off spaces, handing off old traumas to be soothed by brain tissue that wasn’t trained to fixate on it all. Instead, Evan’s self-confidence overlaid it alongside what felt like the man’s overpowering appreciation for all things Rhett and Oliver, enjoying every tiny quirk and flawed complication to the two, which wouldn’t disappear but be revealed as a treasured peculiarity that had never actually been as awful as they’d thought. Evan himself could feel the shame he’d always kept dull under Rhett and Oliver’s life and then suddenly they’d be complete. Free.

It was hard to pretend to be anything but incomplete after that, so when their massive hands began crush their heads together, none of them could tell who was ordering it.

One would expect the sound of melons cracking or gore. Something about the head just made one expect it to burst, especially now when the pressure built but didn’t seem to relieve. But then the ball of energy moved up their spines and the runes flared.

Any physical sensation was overpowered the moment their brains connected. The feeling of their spines and necks pushing into each other or the sensation of their heads forcing together, rendering their jaws inoperational and their breathing stilted.

Evan felt like he was a river between two oceans, but that wasn’t right. A river flows from one to another, yet lives flowed between him and into him. He remembered so much.

He remembered painting, months upon months of painting. Sketching and ripping and sculpting as every form of his artistic expression fell upon the idea of a third. Life drawings of men and woman all left purposefully without, sections of their body removed with the only evidence in the silhouettes of the heads, faces, arms, fingers and feet they once had. Abstract art his professors had complimented him for time and time again, although he failed to communicate that they were still incomplete. He simply didn’t have the parts of him who were so good at detailing those missing pieces at the moment.

The information tilted into the man with red hair and he felt his emotions come back to him. He hadn’t felt this way in a year, every bit of feeling back where it belonged. He knew he should’ve always felt this way and that when he hadn’t he’d been numb. Not depressed, but not all there. The part of him that hadn’t been the red-haired man at the time was left with too much feeling, overcoming him in every way. Had that part been the angry and desperate part he thought he’d been? It was a ridiculous thought now that he remembered how it was ridiculous. He remembered having felt so much and having loved himself for that exact reason. He remembered missing the clarity of feeling that way and he was relieved that he could feel it again.

Oliver was the last to remember that he wasn’t Oliver any more. Was white light the thousand of hues contained within its wavelength or was it in the end its own energy. The answer is that there was never any actual color, it was an illusion. Oliver had been Oliver up until he remembered that Oliver was an illusion. A vague identity formed up by interests, hopes and dreams that had always hoped to be shared. To connect and to be validated in every way. Laid out and dissected on a platter for the ways that its purposes were true. To form even grander arguments to the validity of its existence and being based on a mountain of new evidence. The man that was Oliver understood.

He wasn’t Oliver, nor Evan, nor Rhett. They were him, but the opposite wasn’t true. They were pieces of this man the moment they first come together and to be anything close to independent people after that was an act. It was feeling like he did now that was why he could only be himself when he had the long time it took to tear himself into pieces.

His face swam and he knew the hue it would return to, the dark auburn he could see looking down at his pubes. He could feel the roughness of his facial hair, back to having the potential of being thick as evident by the stubble across his face. He’d let it grow out one summer, now remembering how handsome he’d felt as the memories condensed. It was another reason he couldn’t imagine doing this again, feeling his life as himself scatter amongst his pieces. The three would remember bits and parts of a better existence, but the information was too divided to ever be enough.

He stroked his cock under his swim trunks and remembered just why he wasn’t overcome with masturbation all this time, all his willpower now firmly in place. It would feel better anyways with other partners now that he couldn’t possibly feel jealous of himself with other people. That was simply a ridiculous concept he realized for the 3rd time again.

He felt normal which was always a trip because his components thought he felt strong. In actuality they were just so frail that to be him felt like being a god. Being whole was a hell of a drug, but he certainly looked like a fair bit like a god now. Muscles back to a fairly sufficient degree, although he’d certainly need to work on them again. Growing incredibly scrawny in three bodies could only contribute so much muscle to the whole again, but he’d always been quick at gaining muscle.

The surf was loud and his surfboard was floating in a tidepool a bit away, the oncoming tide causing it to rock back and forth. He remembered being so pitifully cute struggling with it watching from third person and his hearts pumped in asynchrony, the only argument against him having always been just himself. The contradiction felt good oddly enough and he felt turned on by the thought of himself. It was pretty offputting being a narcissist in such a way, but jacking off in a mirror was a activity he had done too much to care about. He had a great excuse for studying his body for all the ways he was handsome and maybe he talked to himself far too much, but how couldn’t he. He’d been formed by a love for himself and who was he to deny himself that.

He flexed, feeling his body move like it should, all ducks in a row. The runes against his skin settled and just a little motion on the purposefully loose knot holding the embroidery together was enough to tighten it the symbols into meaningless nothings. His hands came back sticky of course, but it wasn’t anything the surf could fix.

The waves were perfect for a man like him, the perfect height and the perfect rhythm. They fell in gigantic spiral that he would paint later now that he could remember just how mathematically the angles combined and the paint could set. Now he would grab his surfboard easily underhand and dive into the waves, remembering just how much the feeling was incredible. He stay here till the sun set before likely airdrying (considering he’d completely ruined the towels), towing his surfboard to his jeep and pulling out the backpack full of clothes that he’d worn last summer. He’d go home and meet the eyes of the still apathetic apartment manager who’d grown used to seeing him replace the three boys she was equally apathetic to.

He'd never been able to be permanently himself and there was a league of challenges to get there. For one, a new closet fitting the style his components had grown for him over the past year. For two, a solution to combining the legal and emotional connections of three men together, although he was smart enough to probably achieve it all with magic. He’d worried about it when he hadn’t had all the pieces to know it was probably pretty simple.

He would enjoy his day here and go home to sleep back in the same singular bed. He’d wake up the next day and he’d continue waking up the next day forever as himself. It was how he was supposed to be.

Just Everett

[petew21-blog]

The curse of Hecatoncheires

Zayn shouted at us: "All is set guys. Let's get to the table"

Me:"Can't we just play Dungeons and Dragons just as we always do? This seems complicated. It will take us much more time to learn that then playing"

Zayn:"No, we're gonna play this. It's basically a modified version of what we always play. But much more fun."

Alex:"Ok, let's play before the weekend ends. I really wanna do something fun instead of just sitting here."

Zayn:"Oh, you're gonna have enough of fun today.

Ground rules:

We play the story just as we always do

The dice is a way of deciding conflict. But in this game you're not playing against the game. You're playing against each other.

The conflict can be won by throwing a higher number then the other. If you throw a higher number you win what the other person bet in that round"

Me:"Bet? We're gonna bet? With what? We don't have anything."

Zayn:"Actually you do. You have your bodies, your body parts. You can bet them. And the winner has 3 options a) keep your part he won over you, b) swap his part he bet with you or c) donate a part to someone else"

Jordan:"Zayn, this has to be one of the worst game ideas you ever had. Not only it's complicated, but we're just gonna pretend that our parts are not ours but belong to someone else?"

We all started laughing except for Zayn. He was serious. He then threw a cube on the table. It was the same as ourselves we usually played with. But this one glowed.

Zayn:"I see the explaining of rules will be better to do during the game. Right?"

We started the game. Each of us had to bet a part of our bodies.

I bet my feet, Zayn his thumb, Alex wanted to bet his head but Zayn advsied him not to, so he bet his arm. And Jordan wanted to boycot the game as always so he bet his dick.

We play for some time like always. But then me and Jordan stepped on the first fighting platform. Zayn:"Ok, Jordan. It's your time to choose your oponent"

Jordan:"I choose you (he pointed at me). I want your smell feet haha" He then threw the dice with number 15. Fuck I have to throw higher than that. The chances aren't that big tho. I threw the dice and saw the number 7.

Jordan:"Haha. I win your feet!"

Zayn:"Ok now you get to choose a/b/c. A is keeping it, b is swapping it and c is giving it to someone else."

Jordan:"Fine. We'll I'm going with option a. I want to have extra feet."

Suddenly the cube shined brightly. Me and Jordan screamed in pain. I looked down and saw my shoes fall off. Jordan was screaming horribly. He threw always his shoes. His socks ripped and at the same place where his feet grew, another pair grew out. Oddly familiar pair. Jordan looked down in shock.

Jordan:"What the fuck!!! Zayn what the hell is this?! What did you do?"

Zayn:"I already told you the rules. So this is the first option. I wanted to make our game a bit more special, cause I noticed how you guys grew more bored each game we played. So this should be more fun"

Alex:"This shit is incredible" he touched my feet on Jordan's body. I could still feel them a bit but I couldn't move them. Jordan was speechles and touched them too.

Jordan:"Holy shit dude. I have two pairs of feet. I have your feet man! Wow. They're really big. And really smelly. Have you washed them recently?"

Me:"Hey! Of course I did. I just... sweat a lot. It's a condition. I can't help it."

Zayn:"Ok, you have to pick another betting part and then we can continue"

I picked my dick just as Jordan has.

We proceeded and then Alex got in a duel with Zayn. Alex won.

Alex:"Ok, so... I don't want to be a freak like Jordan. I want to swap our two parts"

They also screamed. Alex's arm disappeared and now instead of it only Zayn's thumb was visible. Zayn's arm now instead of his thumb grew out another arm. It was massively long

Alex:"Zayn, but you said we would swap the parts. I just wanted your thumb instead of mine not this shit. I look like a freak. And so do you..."

Zayn:"Well those were the rules. If you want to swap the identical part and not the one that was threw in as a bet, you have to say so. Ok my new part to bet is my index finger"

Alex:"Bet something meaningful atleast. You now have my arm to bet"

Zayn:"Ok, you're right. I bet my feet."

Alex:"Ok, I bet my whole leg, cause I don't want this game to last the whole day"

We continued. I couldn't really get of the chair without my feet. "Guys I'm gonna have to pee sooner or later. Some of you might help me."

Zayn;"Don't worry about it. We'll help you out somehow."

Now it was my time to battle someone. I picked Jordan and won. "I want to swap our dicks."

Jordan stood up screaming as his dick disappeared. He looked down and my own emerged. I looked down as well and saw his in the place where mine was."

Jordan:"Did you do this on purpose? I have to pee now dude."

Me:"Haha, yeah I did. I wanted to know if it would work."

Jordan ran (or limped with his new set of feet) to the bathroom and locked himself in:"Play without me. I'll be back soon"

We played the story for a while without any conflict, but now we had to wait for Jordan to come out. He really took some time in there.

He got out of the bathroom sweaty, smiling and with his shirt tucked behind his shorts

Me:"Dude, don't tell me you have..."

Jordan:"Hell yes I did. And I must say you have a magnificent dick. The cum shot on the wall is the biggest proof of it."

Me:"You're disgusting Jordan. What if I did the same?"

Jordan:"Don't act like you don't want to right now."

Zayn:"Guys, let's play, you can get even in another way."

Me:"Jordan, don't be a pussy and bet something big this time."

Jordan:"Fine I bet my lower body half, dick excluded. I'm keeping yours for a while"

Me:"Don't be a bitch. I bet my whole body without my head... And Jordan's dick"

Jordan:"Fine, well so do I."

Alex and Zayn just observed amused. We continued.

Now Alex dueled me. I lost. Jesus no...

Alex pitied me I think, but maybe missed his arm. "I want your body you betted to be swapped with mine."

I now had feet again, but lost an arm in the process. I could feel Alex's muscular body form under my clothes. I used my remaining hand and trailed the abs under my shirt and the beautiful pecs. Then I flexed his biceps"

Alex:"Enjoying it huh?"

Me:"Dude, I never knew it feels so good to be this tight"

Jordan threw the dice and this time - number 20

Zayn:"Shit. I thought it would take some more time before I had to explain this one. Ok, so now we all are under the curse of Hecatoncheires."

Me:"What's that?"

Zayn:"It's a beast from greek mythology with hunderds of heads, hands and legs"

Alex:"So what does that mean for us?"

Zayn:"You now have to throw 15 or above to not be cursed."

Jordan:"What happens if we fail?"

Zayn:"Well... let's play and see shall we?" Zayn diverted from the question

Zayn threw 15, lucky guy. Alex threw 5 so he was doomed. Jordan threw 19. It was my turn now. Fuck 2

Zayn:"Ok, guys. You now have to go next to each other. And hug"

We did so. Nothing happened at first, but now we were both stuck. We couldn't move from each other. We were merging. I just watched as Jordan's horrified face ran from the room and Zayn went to get him.

But me and Alex were still merging. Now our body had a massive chest made out of our two harlves. My other parts were moved to the left side while Alex's moved to the right.

We were left with one extra pair of lehs without feet and only one extra arm and a thumb next to my arm.

Our dicks grew out right next to each other.

I couldn't look at Alex. He was directly next to my head. Limiting to see. We tried to get to the mirror. But our movement was really unorganised. We eventually got there to see what kind of a monster we became.

What caught my attention was our new combined crotch

The lines of two dicks were clearly visible

I took my only arm and with my hand I grabbed our crotch

Alex:"What are you doing man? That's my dick!"

Me:"I'm sorry Alex, but that's our dicks right now. I can feel both of them"

We both put our hands on them. We both could feel every part of our merged bodies. But I could control only the left part and Alex controled the right side of our body.

Alex:"Well, shitting is gonna be interesting"

I could feel we were both horny. I was a bit more because of the fact that the dick on my side was actually Alex's and Alex now had Jordan's

I unzipped our jeans. Alex gave me an approving smile. I lowered to jeans to see the new creation now

Alex:"I can't believe Jordan's dick is bigger than mine. I always thought he was small."

Me:"Well yours isn't fully hard yet, so don't worry."

I grabbed his dick and started jerking it. So did Alex, but he was jerking Jordan's dick. The whole time we were moaning in sync as we both felt the same. We knew how the other one felt. And in sync we shot loads from our dicks"

Just as we finished Zayn and Jordan came back into the room

Jordan realising that it's his dick that Alex was now holding got angry and went towards UA

Zayn:"Wait, Jordan you can't touch them!"

Jordan ran straight to us and probably wanted to scream something but ended up being absorbed into us. The pain started again. Jordan now emerged between us. New arms grew out, new legs, my dick in the middle and Jordan's head right between us

Zayn:"That's what I was trying to tell you. It's called a curse for a reason

Our new body was now a mix of hands everywhere trying to feel everything. Jordan was still screaming. But me and Alex knew that it was the first massive wave of all our feelings combined. The more people were part of our body the more pleasure we had. It was ecstatic and overwhelming.

Alex:"Come on Zayn. Join us"

Zayn:"I would, honestly. But someone has to reverse this"

We sat down next to the table to continue playing. I now controled an Jordans left arm and Alex controlled his right one. Jordan was now trapped until we were joined by another person.

Zayn kept playing. Quite nervous from what he caused. He finished the game out of fear as he watched us enjoy the senses of our combined body

The game ended but nothing happened. We didn't care. We were now feeling amazing. All three of us.

Zayn:"I... I don't know what happened. I thought it would all revert back to normal."

We stood up and slowly crept behind Zayn reading the manual to the dice

Me:"Oh don't worry about that. We can sort this out tommorow"

Alex:"What a great game you set up for us"

Jordan:"Truly one of the best. And you didn't even get to enjoy it enough"

Me:"I think you should relax now."

We got really close and Zayn probably got suspicious, but it was too late for him. I grabbed his arm and that was all that was needed for him to merge into us.

Zayn:"Oh god, this really feels amazing. We can feel everything multiplied"

Hecatoncheire:"We are amazing. We love our body. We are Hecatoncheire! And we need more beautiful bodies to join us!"

[jamearts]

[C] Rumbudzai's weird spell

Commission for reaper2545 reaper2545 The witch tries the body merge spell on Jimmy, just to toy with him~ Rumbudzai © reaper2545 Jimmy Basil-Lisk © ME My linktree: https://linktr.ee/jamearts

[jakkinlarethian]

Can Breathe for only a bit longer...

[intistone]

lending magic is the jester's way of paying rent in this au.

[iizuumi]

Side effects of wearing your sentient Kaiju suit too often ,,,,

[bixels]

As cameras becomes more normalized (Sarah Bernhardt encouraging it, grifters on the rise, young artists using it), I wanna express how I will never turn to it because it fundamentally bores me to my core. There is no reason for me to want to use cameras because I will never want to give up my autonomy in creating art. I never want to become reliant on an inhuman object for expression, least of all if that object is created and controlled by manufacturing companies. I paint not because I want a painting but because I love the process of painting. So even in a future where everyone’s accepted it, I’m never gonna sway on this.

if i have to explain to you that using a camera to take a picture is not the same as using generative ai to generate an image then you are a fucking moron.

[thefusioncelestial]

Mix 11: A Transition Complete

Anonymous asked:

Add a hung twink and jock type transman in your list

Life was great for Alex. He was on the basketball team & popular with everyone. You see everything about him screamed a fine specimen of a man. But he had an open secret.

He was trans. But look at him:

You couldn't tell. The chemical treatments were a resounding success. He had ladies all over him.

But there was one part that refused to change: his reproductive organs. He still had his initial parts despite the hormone regimes. Fertility tests showed that if he had sex with someone of the opposite parts, he would get pregnant. This greatly attracted other men to him. They wanted this stud to have their babies.

Alex was fine with this. However, the winds of society was blowing away from him. Transmen & Transwomen were being demonized. He was a political science major & knew that the next election was going to flip to those who hated people like him. He could get surgery and get an artificial man rod, but that meant bye bye to having kids of his own.

He needed a solution.

His close friends, that included Christian and Shun, knew of his worries. They pondered for a bit on what to do. They decided that Alex would join the fold.

After bringing him over, Alex was explained of the solution: He would merge with another dude. Take their manhood, be reborn completely without question as the man he desired to be.

But there was a problem.

They have never merged beings with opposite sexual organs. If it resulted in an true blending, then Alex would have a cross or both. It must be assimilation.

They had a target.

The annoying Fred:

A twink with a massive rod for his stature. He somehow found about about the David & Goliath Society and wanted in. Truth be told he just walked by the dorm while Shun was absorbing Tim. He heard the explanation, heard the process, and ran as Shun walked out the dorm.

No amount of history shifting would make him forget. The prospect of going from a twink to a buff man or at least an athletic one was too much for him to not want in.

He pestered Christian & Shun to upgrade him for a while. They decided to they would grant his wish, but on their own terms.

They were going to call Fred, but he was around the corner, coming to pester them again. He knocked on their door. He was let in.

Christian & Shun had large smiles on their faces.

"Congrats, you are getting your wish," Shun said.

Fred was excited, but before he could start bouncing with joy, he saw Alex.

"Am I about merge with the most desirable dude on campus," he asked in shock.

"Does he have the size I need," Alex asked.

"Size?" Fred asked.

"I need someone with an larger rod than what their body would suggest their body said they should have," Alex said.

They soon explained the situation to Fred.

He was a bit unnerved.

"You are asking me to get eaten by someone else instead of being the upgraded," he said.

"You get to become one with Alex, you know his rep. With your help, he can act out some of those activities. You'll get to feel what he feels, you get to experience a more mature body," Shun said.

He continued: "Tim in still in here, my experiences also flow to him. And he influences my decisions," he finished.

Alex blushed. Prior to this, Alex agreed to have kids with Shun if he couldn't find a partner by 28. A surrogate father. Tim's desire to start a family influenced Shun. Alex was perfect as far as he was concerned. But now his survival was at stake. He would have to become competition in earnest to live. Shun relished the challenge.

People like Fred looked up to Alex. He had everyone swooning over him. He walked out of many parties with people of both sex & genders literally hanging off his biceps. He could have that. He just got to give himself up.

"We could just force you, ask Tim," Christian said.

"Don't get so hasty. I'll bite," Fred responded.

"Show me you have the goods," Alex said.

Fred took out his phone and showed Alex a picture:

He was well hung alright. He revealed that he was a grower & that was it at rest.

Alex coughed at the prospect of getting it for himself. Fred just wanted the Alex experience. Basketball team, parties, people fawning over him.

They both stripped down to their birthday suits.

Christian took the necklace. Explained how it worked and put it on Alex.

To increase the chances of success. It was decided that Fred would hang on Alex's back like a cape. The idea of "pushing out" the old organs, and let Fred's settle in.

Fred was on Alex's back within the minute. Hanging on, excitedly.

The necklace melted in Alex.

Fred began to melt into Alex. Starting from the feet first and then processing upwards. Alex grunted. Fred blushed & moaned.

Then their reproductive organs & butt. Only Fred's upper half remained.

Stomach, chest, and arms followed. Fred, despite that fact that he was being assimilated was very happy. If he has to upgrade someone else, then Alex was his number one choice. Now only a neck and head, Fred pushed in, fusing starting from the back of Alex's skull.

He was gone. What was Fred was now a mix of dna & biomatter floating in Alex.

Alex & Fred's mind quickly merged. Alex did not want to reject any aspect of Fred and cause a feedback loop elsewhere.

Alex let out a large exhale.

Alex's dna hungrily took Fred's. The new dna fired up and the changes began.

Alex stood upright.

He felt his reproductive organs change. He craned his neck & head upwards. He was moaning. If felt like he needed to pee. But instead of pee or a child, the flesh inside liquefied and solidified into male reproductive organs, and at the same time began to push out.

It started as a massive of slightly off colored skin. At first it just hung there outside, then it perked up & began to constrict and form into the shape of a man's family rod. The birth of new neural paths connecting his reproductive organs to his brain were born.

The remaining mass turned into a liquid filed sack. He felt his new veins and nerves go in and intertwine. Two small hard masses formed inside the sack, and as they grew larger they took in those nerves and veins. He had a pair of balls now.

His body shape shifted. It took more ques from Fred. Alex could feel his body stretch. "ugh" He was taller. His chest got smaller, and his nipples sat more straighter, but they became more dense. He didn't loose mass per say, but his body was making better use of how it distributed the muscle fiber. His body did this all over. He took in more & more of Fred's twink traits.

"uhhh"

More squeezing. His arms met the same fate as his chest. Smaller, but so much denser.

Surprisingly, his legs grew instead. A pop could be heard. Alex grunted in response.

As his stomach contracted, his abs reshaped themselves. Fred's eight pack was now Alex. It was like 8 balls slowly floating to the top, breaking the surface at the same time.They were rounder & more uniform.

His neck stayed the same. His skin became smoother.

His began to morph. His eyebrows were from Fred. His eyes a combination of both with Alex's bags now gone. His lips & mouth a combination. His nose from Fred. His ears from Alex.

His hair shifted color to Fred's brown, but the hair style was from Alex only a bit more metro.

The excess testosterone did their work. Facial hair exploded from all over Alex's body. Arms, stomach, chest, and face were all now partially covered. Alex would need a shaving routine now.

Alex let out a deep exhale & opened his eyes. The merger was done.

He ran to the mirror and checked out his new features. He quickly looked at his new man rod and was elated. He got what he wanted. He could work on his muscle sizes, or absorb a buff dude if it bothered him so much.

Christian wrote everything he saw in his little journal. Shun was proud of the new person birthed before him & nodded in approval.

"Just a sec," Alex said. He ran to the bathroom. 10 minutes passed by. What was he doing? The sink turned on, and Alex washed & dried his hands.

"It works."

They both realized what Alex just did. Must be Fred inside him.

"Welcome to the fold," Christian said.

Alex agreed to become a part of their new society.

He was still a star basketball player, still partied, but now wore protection. He could get someone pregnant now. Fred in subconscious made him enjoy & appreciate his life more. He saw & felt through Fred what the other side felt.

Fertility tests were done. He was fertile. He could still have a family. And with the shifting of history, Alex was always born a man. He didn't have to worry about persecution. But he felt bad for those straddling the line. Part of the agreement in joining the group was to help those within the trans community fully transition via fusion if they wanted. Alex was now in charge of that task within The David & Goliath society. Shun would use his money to help those in need as well, no matter what stage of transition they were at or wanted to stay in.

With Fred's memory, he found his speedo from the earlier picture and put them on. Fred's influence opened him up to these skimpy beach wears.

[sicklysublimeamulet]

In His Steps

Jared had always looked up to his older brother, Brandon.

From the moment he was little, Jared admired everything about him—his kindness, his broad shoulders, the way he lit up any room he walked into. Brandon was strong, smart, and honest. He helped their neighbors shovel snow without being asked. He studied hard and tutored Jared after school. He played sports but never let winning change his heart.

And above all, he was brave. When Jared got bullied in middle school, Brandon was the first one to show up—not with fists, but with calm words that made even the toughest kids back off.

Jared, now sixteen, often found himself comparing his own thin frame and shy personality to his brother’s confident presence. He didn’t hate himself, not exactly. But he wished—wished he could be like Brandon. Not just look like him… be him.

One ordinary Saturday afternoon...

Jared was sent to buy groceries at the corner store. While walking back, he passed an old thrift market tucked between a laundromat and a repair shop. It wasn’t there yesterday. Curiosity pulled him in.

The place smelled of incense and dust. Strange clocks ticked along the wall, and shelves were lined with odd trinkets—glowing stones, music boxes, feathers in jars.

A bottle on a velvet cushion caught Jared’s eye. It was labeled: “MergeLotion: Become who you admire. For unity of soul and purpose.”

He blinked. Was this a joke?

"How much?" he asked the old man behind the counter.

The man simply smiled. “Enough to know who you are. And who you want to be.”

Weird answer. But something told Jared to buy it. Maybe it was silly. Maybe it was just scented moisturizer in a fancy bottle.

But he bought it anyway.

That night...

After his shower, Jared opened the silver bottle. The lotion shimmered faintly in the light. He rubbed some onto his arms, then down his legs, like regular moisturizer. It felt cool at first, but then—warm. As if it was humming under his skin.

Moments later, Brandon passed by his room. Brandon:

“Hey, squirt,” Brandon said with a grin, tossing him a sports magazine. “Thought you’d like this.”

“Thanks,” Jared said, heart pounding. The moment he accepted the magazine and their hands brushed—

FLASH.

Both their hands glowed.

“What the—Jared?!”

Before they could pull away, the glow traveled up both their arms. Jared stumbled toward Brandon—something magnetic drew them closer. Their bodies pressed together in a sudden burst of golden light.

In seconds, the room filled with energy. Their silhouettes blurred and wavered.

Then… silence.

A new form stood in the room.

Taller than Jared. Leaner than Brandon. Strong. Handsome. Calm eyes. Sharp jawline. Kind smile. Their shared memories poured into this new being.

The merged boy—this new self—looked down at his hands and arms. He touched his face. He saw himself in the mirror.

He was… both. And something more.

“I… I’m…” the voice spoke. It wasn’t Brandon’s. It wasn’t Jared’s. It was a perfect harmony of both.

For a moment, he walked through the hallway, feeling unstoppable. Confident. Brave. Warm inside.

But the soul within began to tremble.

Two minds. Two hearts. Not quite ready.

FWOOSH.

In a flash of golden light, the form split again—Brandon gasping, Jared stumbling back into his chair.

“What… was that?” Brandon asked, stunned.

Jared looked down, eyes watery. “I didn’t mean to… I just wanted to be like you. I’m tired of always being the weak one.”

Brandon knelt next to him, gripping his shoulder gently. “You should’ve just told me.”

“I thought you’d laugh…”

“Laugh?” Brandon said softly. “Jared, I admire your heart. You’re already strong, in your own way.”

Jared stared. “But… I still want to be more.”

Brandon was quiet, then slowly nodded. “Then let’s do it together. This time… with intention.”

Jared, stunned but hopeful, opened the bottle again. This time, he rubbed the lotion on his arms slowly, reverently.

Brandon extended his hand.

“You ready?” Brandon asked.

Jared nodded.

They pressed their hands together.

BOOM.

A quiet burst of white light wrapped around them. Their forms shimmered, slowly knitting into one seamless body—this time without resistance.

No confusion. No fear.

Only unity.

Hours later…

Brandon and Jared no longer existed separately. Only Jordan—a name that came to him naturally. He stood in front of the mirror, running a hand through his tousled hair. His voice, deeper. His muscles, defined. But more than that—his soul was whole.

He wasn’t trying to be his brother anymore. He was the best of both.

Neighbors just commented how “Brandon looked more mature lately.” No one suspected a thing.

And Jordan? He was finally happy.

He wasn’t just chasing greatness anymore.

He was it.

Weeks passed since that night of quiet transformation, and Jordan had settled into his new life—a seamless blend of Jared's thoughtful nature and Brandon's confidence. But it wasn’t just about having muscles or good looks. It was about feeling whole. Jordan wasn’t alone in his thoughts anymore. Brandon was still there—not as a voice, but as a presence. A warm, constant guide within him. Like an older brother standing in the background of every decision, every triumph.

They weren’t two people anymore.

They were one heart, one soul, one body—Jordan.

College Years: New Heights

When Jordan walked onto campus as a freshman, heads turned. Not because he looked like a fitness model or because of his effortless charisma, but because of how centered he was. Grounded. Mature.

Professors respected his questions. Classmates admired his work ethic.

He joined the university's aviation program on day one. Not many knew that both Jared and Brandon had dreamed of flying—but Brandon never got the chance. Now, Jordan would carry that dream forward, with purpose and pride.

In his dorm, late at night, Jordan would sometimes gaze at the stars through the window, whispering:

“We’re going to fly soon, bro.”

And though no one else could hear it, he always felt a quiet, proud smile in return.

Moments of Reflection

During his second year, he joined the school's glider training club. On his first solo flight, the silence of the air reminded him of the quietness right before the merge. Peaceful. Powerful. Alive.

Jordan gripped the controls, the horizon ahead.

“This is it, Brandon,” he said aloud. “You’re flying with me.”

Every time he took off, he felt like both their souls soared together.

When challenges came—exams, sleepless nights, days filled with doubt—he’d return to the gym or the field, like Brandon used to. Let his muscles carry the stress away. And when he looked in the mirror afterward, he saw not just strength, but resilience.

Graduation: A Promise Fulfilled

Years passed like seasons.

On graduation day, Jordan stood tall in his tailored uniform and wings. The room echoed with applause as he stepped onto the stage to accept his degree in Aeronautical Engineering. Beside it, pinned to his chest, was a silver pilot badge—the one Brandon had once talked about when he was still dreaming.

As he looked across the crowd, he imagined Brandon standing in the back of the auditorium—arms crossed, grinning wide, just like always.

Tears welled up in Jordan’s eyes, but he didn’t wipe them away.

“We made it,” he whispered.

Now and Forever

Jordan would go on to become a commercial pilot, known not only for his skill but for his heart. People described him as someone “who always seems to know what to do,” or “like someone who’s lived twice the life of a normal man.”

And maybe, in a way, he had.

Evenings were his favorite. After a flight, as he walked along the runway and the sunset painted the clouds, Jordan would sit quietly at the edge of the tarmac. Thinking. Reflecting.

“Thank you, Brandon,” he’d say.

And though no one answered, Jordan always smiled in his mind.

Because he knew.

Brandon was always there—with him, in him.

And in every step he took forward… Jordan was never walking alone.

[moviebunny]

[sicklysublimeamulet]

One Goal, One Heart

Ivan loved football. Not just watching it on TV or cheering for his favorite team—he lived for the sport. From sunrise jogs to late-night drills in his backyard, he trained harder than anyone on his local youth club. He had endurance, speed, and the spirit of a team player—but he lacked one thing: natural instinct on the ball.

His best friend Logan, on the other hand, was a phenomenon. Agile, clever, and magnetic on the field, Logan made every pass, every trick, every goal seem effortless. Coaches called him a prodigy. Teammates looked up to him. And Ivan… well, Ivan admired him—maybe even envied him a little.

“I just wish I could be more like you,” Ivan once admitted, wiping sweat from his brow during practice.

Logan grinned and ruffled his hair. “Nah, man. You're you. And that matters more than being perfect at football.”

Still, Ivan couldn’t help but feel like he was always one step behind. During one important match, he missed an easy goal that would’ve won the game. Even though Logan tried to cheer him up afterward, Ivan felt crushed. As he walked home under the heavy night sky, something unexpected happened.

A quiet breeze carried the scent of rain—and something more unusual: a man standing near the sidewalk beneath a streetlamp, wearing a dark trench coat. His face was shadowed, but his voice was calm and warm.

“You’ve got heart, kid. But I know what you're missing.”

The man held out a wooden box. “This will help you unlock what you already have.”

Ivan hesitated. “Is this… for me?”

The man only smiled, eyes glinting like stars. “Wear it when you're ready. And only when you know who matters to you most.”

When Ivan got home, he opened the box to find a pair of sleek black boxer briefs stitched with glowing silver thread along the waistband. They pulsed faintly with energy, like a heartbeat.

He tucked them away, unsure what to do.

The Next Day

The sun rose clear and hot over the practice field. Ivan had barely slept, the strange box still on his mind. He remembered the man’s words, and something stirred inside him: a quiet voice, a question.

What if you could understand Logan? What if you could be more—not just like him, but with him, together?

Feeling bold, Ivan slipped on the boxer briefs under his training shorts. They felt light—barely there. Like second skin.

Later that day, Logan met him at the field for extra practice.

“You good today?” Logan asked, bouncing the ball on his knee.

Ivan nodded. “Yeah. Just… different.”

They began warming up. Passing drills. Sprints. Ivan felt faster, more connected. Then, during a close-range maneuver, Ivan stumbled into Logan—and in that moment, everything changed.

The time stopped with no motion occurring in the field.

A surge of warmth exploded between them, like a gust of wind. Their feet left the ground as glowing light surrounded them. The magical boxer briefs flared brilliantly as the two young men were pulled together—body to body, mind to mind.

No pain. Just pressure. Then stillness. Time continued. But aware of what happened and clueless around the field. Nothing noticed. Just a normal day.

Where two boys once stood, now there was only one: taller than Ivan, but softer around the eyes than Logan. His physique was lean and strong, his stance confident but grounded.

He looked down at his hands—his fingers flexed in harmony. His voice, when he spoke, was both familiar and new.

“I’m… Logan… and Ivan. I’m… Calvin.”

He blinked, slowly smiling. He remembered everything—every drill, every laugh, every misstep, every encouragement. Their strengths, flaws, and memories had become one. And it felt... right.

Calvin picked up the ball and juggled it with perfect rhythm. Then he stepped back and launched a curved shot into the goalpost—clean, fast, and beautiful.

In the Days After

No one remembered Ivan and Logan as separate people. In the new reality, Calvin had always existed. A gifted footballer known for his humble heart and powerful skills. Coaches praised his leadership. Teammates loved his humor. Fans admired his grace.

Yet deep within him, both Ivan and Logan still whispered—never gone, just… finally complete.

At school, people noticed a strange glow about Calvin. His confidence, his kindness, his quiet way of making everyone feel included.

He volunteered as an assistant coach for younger kids. He helped classmates study. He practiced not just for glory, but to grow. Everyone wanted to be his friend—not because he was popular, but because he made people feel seen.

And in quiet moments, Calvin would glance at the black boxer briefs now kept safely in his drawer, the silver threads dim but alive. A reminder of who he once was—and who he had become.

One night, as the stars shimmered above the rooftops, Calvin stood on the field alone. A breeze rolled in. From the shadows, the same man who gave the box appeared once more.

“You did well,” he said, voice soft.

Calvin turned. “Who are you?”

And with that, he vanished once again—leaving only the sound of wind, the whisper of a soccer ball rolling, and a young man who had become more than himself.

Calvin stood still, the man’s words echoing in his mind.

“Just someone who believes in what people can become… together.”

His chest rose and fell as he looked out across the darkened soccer field, lit only by the silver-blue shimmer of moonlight. The soft thud of the ball bumping against his foot grounded him, but something about that voice—so familiar, so warm—lingered like a melody from a forgotten dream.

He looked to the spot where the man had vanished. Nothing. Just grass and starlight.

But Calvin wasn’t the same boy who would’ve doubted himself. He knew now. He could feel it.

“That voice,” he whispered to himself. “It was you… wasn’t it, Logan?”

He closed his eyes. And in the space between silence and breath, a memory came—not a flash, not a blur, but a presence. Logan’s thoughts, his hopes, his admiration… all still lived inside him.

They hadn’t disappeared.

They had been integrated, like muscle memory, like instinct, like heart.

Calvin took a slow breath, and for a moment, he felt a warmth on his shoulder—like a hand.

“I’m still here,” the voice said again, not from the outside—but from within.

“I know,” Calvin said, smiling.

He walked toward the center of the field, where the moon’s glow was brightest. Standing there, he felt everything—the loneliness he used to carry, the quiet ache to be better, the courage it took to try, and finally, the bond that had changed everything.

Logan hadn’t just given him strength on the field. He’d given him clarity. Purpose. Wholeness.

And now Calvin would live for both of them.

The world didn’t need to know what had happened that night. They wouldn’t understand the magic. They’d only see a young man who had finally come into his own—driven, kind, powerful not just in body, but in spirit.

As the breeze picked up again and the ball rolled gently forward, Calvin began to jog.

Then he ran.

Faster. Stronger. Not to chase a goal—but to carry a legacy.

And behind every step, he carried not just his own heartbeat—but another’s, steady and unwavering.

[amendingreality]

“Can I become your cock?”

“Sure, jump in”

“…….”