brossession-collection - Tumblr blog

brossession-collection · 5 hours ago

Text

The Hookup

"Come over pa, let me make you feel good”

I was chatting on the infamous orange app in my hotel room, settling in from sight seeing around the city when Jayco messaged me. I had a couple of hours to kill before heading to the concert I flew in for. On a solo trip in a brand new city, I wanted to spend some time with a cutie and Jayco checked off all my boxes.

I felt my throat tighten staring at his face picture. I needed him badly, so I was happy to oblige. A second later another message:

“Dejame sentir todos esos labios, come through”

Jayco definitely knew how to seduce a man, and within minutes I was ordering an Uber to his apartment.

I approached his door step and knocked a couple times before Jayco unlocked his door. He was wearing jeans, a black tank top, and a gold chain across his neck. He beamed a slow smile and told me to come in.

We made the usual small talk on his couch. I told him about being in town for just the night. He told me a bit about his work and what he was going to get into later. I tried to pretend to be interested but I kept glancing at his lips waiting to get a taste. Finally, I took the leap to give him a peck but he put a finger on my lips.

“Before that…..how about I get you a drink?” Jayco asked suddenly.

“Oh alright cool. If you got some tequila I’m down.” I replied.

Flashing me another smile he nodded and went into the kitchen. As the minutes passed on the couch I started to get an uneasy feeling as to what he was doing when suddenly I got a text from Jayco.

“Come into the kitchen. Don’t panic or call the police about what you see. Use me if you want. The effect lasts only 12 hours. Be sure to remove me before then. If you choose not to participate, leave me in my room.”

I reread this text a good ten times before having the courage to call out Jayco’s name. With no response back. I worked up the courage to get up from the couch and made my way to the kitchen.

Upon entering, I saw Jayco on the floor knocked out. A shot glass right next to him with remnants of some blue liquid that looked nothing like any tequila I knew.

“Oh shit Jayco are you okay man??” I yelled out as I approached his body. As soon as my hand touched his body it vanished. Leaving behind only a mask of Jayco's face.

All I could do in that moment was stare at the mask propped up beside me for a couple minutes. It took awhile before his message clicked. Jayco was offering me to use him as a disguise. I tried not to imagine how this all worked, but I finally decided to pick up the mask. It felt heavy as I felt the rubbery texture settle into my hands.

I knew I had to make a choice and immediately I went into Jayco’s room, mask in hand to leave him on his bed. I placed him on his pillow and was ready to get the hell out before I caught a glance of myself in the mirror. I paused for a second as I saw the mask laid up on the pillow.

An opportunity to be someone else for the night? Part of me was playing with the idea.

But could I come back to myself? How did this even work? Was I about to be playing with fire?

My mind raced as I decided all the possible outcomes to the idea.

No longer thinking, I turned around and picked up the mask. I stretched it a bit and within seconds put it over my face making my choice. A cool sensation began to spread over my body as I felt the mask move and adjust itself onto my face. Within minutes I saw the mask start to spread and change my neck, my torso, and my whole lower body until Jayco was staring right back at me.

It looked as though he had never left as I was dressed in the same clothes he had. Walking closer to the mirror I moved my new body. Posing in the mirror, touching my new beard, smelling Jayco’s mix of musk and cologne wrapped around me. The rush was intoxicating.

I felt completely turned on. Or was it Jayco? The thought quickly left my head as my new member throbbed under Jayco’s jeans. I couldn’t help but snap a picture of the moment.

I slowly started to undress Jayco. Layer by layer. I sat down on his bed completely naked, stroking his dick with his rough hands. Rubbing my new nipples almost as muscle memory as Jayco’s body moaned from the pleasure. Hearing Jayco’s voice come out only riled me up some more.

“You like that huh guapo?” I said smugly in the mirror with Jayco’s lips.

I laid on the bed for hours exploring Jayco’s body and feeling what made him react to my touch. As much as I rubbed Jayco’s dick he wasn’t even close to cumming. I felt hornier than ever. As soon as I felt Jayco come close it seemed like I was back at square one. It felt like Jayco’s body was toying with me, edging me without allowing me to blow off the steam.

I decided to stop, as I looked at the time.

“Oh fuck concert is soon” I said panting and dripping in sweat from my jerk session.

I quickly got in the shower, hoping a cold plunge could help shake off the horniness, but I soon found myself tugging at Jayco’s dick. I couldn't help but admire myself. Jayco's cockiness and swagger coming naturally to me. I knew I was in for a fun night.

With no sight of release, I decided to head out and dry off. Finding Jayco’s clothes, I put on fresh underwear and jeans. Shifting Jayco’s dick to hide his bulge from plain sight. I finished my outfit by putting on a black t-shirt and cowboy hat I found in the back of his closet. It felt like a common outfit Jayco would wear that he must have unconsciously helped me pick out because it felt so right. I was determined to go to the concert and find someone to get this cowboy’s load out before the end of the night.

~~~

381 notes · View notes

brossession-collection · 5 hours ago

Text

The Landlord

“Listen Joel, just give me another week, man,” Leo pleaded.

“You said that two weeks ago,” I replied, keeping my voice even. “You’re really testing me, Leo.”

He sat shirtless on the couch, arms spread lazily across the cushions. “You know I deliver. I’m just in a rough spot. They’ve been cutting my hours at the bar. Have a heart, man.”

Leo was a peculiar tenant. He always dodged rent with excuses, usually tied to his so-called job. But his Mercedes never disappeared from the lot, and I never saw him wear the same outfit twice. Following him on social media, it was obvious. He didn’t work at a bar. His rent money was being poured into bottle service and club nights.

And yet, I didn’t mind. Not really. These little standoffs had become something I looked forward to. Like clockwork, around this time of year, Leo would dance through the same routine.

I rolled my eyes for effect. “Leo, bro, I can’t keep doing this. It’s unfair to the rest of the people who live here.”

“Let’s just do a deal again,” he said quickly. “If you need maintenance done, let me handle it.”

I had to keep the excitement out of my voice. This was what I needed, a clear invitation.

With a heavy sigh I asked, “So you promise? You’ll work for me around here?”

Leo’s eyes widened. “Yeah, man, I agree to it. Just let me know when, I got you.”

That was enough. The words I had been waiting for.

“Fine,” I said, standing, brushing off my jeans. “I’m heading out.”

I closed his door behind me and stepped into the hallway. But I had no plans for the weekend, and my workday was finished. Leo was my last stop.

Out of sight, I let my form unravel, slipping into the spirit realm. Then I drifted back through the very door he thought I’d left and into him. He was laying on the couch settling in for a nap relieved that I left him alone. Standing before him I aligned my own body above him and dove in.

Leo’s body jerked as I settled inside, his muscles tensing under my control. "Oh fuck I forgot how good you feel Leo," I say with my stolen lips. Getting up to stretch and feel the new weight of my body. He was well-built, tan, with a fresh fade and a full beard. I went to his closet to go change, I knew it well by now and found my favorite hat of his. I then padded into the bathroom, grinning at my reflection. I stroked the beard, flexed his pecs, ran my tongue over his perfect teeth. He looked good, and now he was mine.

And if Leo wanted to be late with rent again? Fuck yes go ahead. Trust that I’d make sure the money came in through him. With his body and my cunning, I logged on to the OnlyFans that I created just for these moments when I inhabited him. Still surprised he's blissfully unaware of it all. The views and subscriptions had grown since the last time I signed in. I settled back into the couch and shot another picture.

"Back from a well deserved break but ready to churn out content. Subscribe to see whats underneath 😈🍆." I didn't think much of it and hit send. I'd be getting that rent soon enough. Most likely 3x times the amount. The leftover funneled straight into my personal account. I open the coffee table drawer, and pick up the phone tripod I had left last time and set my phone on Leo. "Alright Leo lets make some magic." I say out loud as I hit record and get in character. I settle into the couch and mean mug the camera, as my hand moves down my crotch. Leo's bulge now visible enough, as I give it a nice tug for the viewers.

236 notes · View notes

brossession-collection · 5 hours ago

Text

The Idol’s Alpha

Alex was your typical ditzy twink. At 22, he had that slim, smooth body that turned heads in the clubs back home, with his bleached blond hair always perfectly tousled, his tight little outfits showing off his perky ass, and a giggle that could melt ice. He wasn’t the brightest bulb, but he didn’t need to be. Guys loved spoiling him, and he loved the attention. This summer, he’d convinced his rich daddy-type boyfriend to take him on a fancy vacation to Costa Rica. Beaches, resorts, and maybe some light adventure. But the boyfriend, Mark, was more into lounging by the pool with cocktails, so Alex decided to go on a solo hike through the rainforest one afternoon. “It’ll be fun,” he chirped to himself, slipping on his tiny shorts and a crop top that barely covered his nipples. “Like, totally Instagram-worthy.”

The trail started easy enough, all manicured paths with signs warning about monkeys and snakes. But Alex, being Alex, got distracted by a shiny butterfly and wandered off the path. Before he knew it, he was deep in the thick of it, vines tangling around his legs, the air humid and sticky against his skin. Sweat beaded on his forehead, making his makeup run a bit, but he didn’t care. He was lost in the fantasy of being some explorer babe. Then, pushing through a wall of ferns, he stumbled into a small clearing. There, half-buried in the mossy ground, was this weird stone statue. It looked ancient, like something from a movie. Carved into the shape of a massive, muscular man with a huge cock jutting out, balls heavy and full. Symbols etched all over it, ferns growing around its base like pubic hair.

“Oh my god, what is this?�� Alex squealed, his voice echoing a little too loud in the quiet forest. He knelt down, brushing dirt off the idol’s chest. It felt warm under his fingers, almost pulsing. “This is so cool. I bet it’s worth a fortune.” Without thinking, because thinking wasn’t his strong suit, he wrapped his manicured hands around the stone cock, giving it a playful squeeze. A jolt shot through him, like static electricity but way hornier. His body tingled, and he let out a gasp, falling back on his ass. The idol seemed to glow faintly, and a deep, rumbling voice echoed in his head. “You have awakened me, mortal. I am Xochipilli, god of masculinity and fertility. For eons, I have waited for one worthy to carry my essence.”

Alex blinked, his brain short-circuiting. “Wait, what? Like, a god? That’s hot.” But before he could process, the tingling turned into a burn, a delicious, aching heat spreading from his core. He moaned, clutching his stomach as his abs started to tighten. No, not tighten. Grow. His flat, smooth belly rippled, muscles pushing out like someone was inflating him from the inside. “Oh fuck, what’s happening?” he whimpered, but it didn’t hurt. It felt good. Really good. His crop top stretched, then tore at the seams as his chest expanded, pecs ballooning into thick slabs of meat, nipples hardening into sensitive peaks.

His arms followed, biceps swelling, veins popping along his forearms. He flexed experimentally, watching in awe as his once-skinny limbs turned into powerful guns. “Holy shit, I’m getting buff.” The heat dipped lower, and his cock, which had always been cute and average, throbbed against his shorts. It grew, pushing against the fabric, thickening and lengthening until it tore through, slapping against his new abs. Nine inches, ten, eleven, a monster now, leaking precum like a faucet. His balls churned, growing heavier, fuller, like they were filling with something potent. His ass plumped up too, but in a firm, muscular way, thighs quadrupling in size, calves diamond-hard.

The voice boomed again. “You will be my vessel. Alpha among men. Your seed will bring fertility to the barren. Impregnate the males, spread my power. Seed as many as you can, and my strength will grow with each life you create.”

Alex, or whatever he was becoming, groaned as his face shifted. Jawline sharpening, stubble sprouting, his ditzy features turning rugged and handsome. His hair darkened a bit, curling wildly. He stood up, towering now at 6’4”, his shredded clothes hanging off him like rags. He felt powerful, horny as hell, his new cock bobbing with need. “Fuck yeah,” he growled, voice deeper, more commanding. The ditziness was still there, but overlaid with this alpha confidence. He was Alex no more. He was… Alejandro now? Nah, still Alex, but Alpha Alex. And god, he needed to fuck.

The directive burned in his mind. Seed men. Impregnate them. His cock twitched at the thought, balls aching with fertility. He ripped off the remains of his clothes, standing naked in the clearing, muscles glistening with sweat. Birds chirped overhead, but all he could think about was finding someone to breed. Mark. His boyfriend was back at the resort. Perfect start.

He crashed through the forest, instinct guiding him back to the trail. His body moved with ease now, powerful strides eating up the distance. By the time he reached the resort, the sun was dipping low, casting golden light over the pools and cabanas. Heads turned as he walked in, naked and unashamed, his massive cock swinging between his legs. Whispers and gasps followed him. “Is that… Alex?” someone said. But he ignored them, zeroing in on the suite.

Mark was lounging on the bed, scrolling his phone, when the door burst open. “Babe, where have you been? And what the fuck happened to you?” Mark sat up, eyes wide, taking in the transformed hunk.

Alex grinned, predatory. “Got an upgrade, baby. Now get on your knees.”

Mark hesitated, but the pheromones rolling off Alex were intoxicating. He dropped to the floor, mouth watering. Alex’s cock was right there, thick and veined, head glistening. Mark leaned in, licking the tip, tasting the salty precum. It was like a drug, making his hole twitch with need. “Fuck, Alex, you’re huge.”

“Suck it,” Alex commanded, grabbing Mark’s head and thrusting in. Mark gagged, but took it, throat stretching around the girth. Alex face-fucked him roughly, balls slapping against chin, grunting with pleasure. But this wasn’t enough. He needed to breed. Pulling out, he flipped Mark onto the bed, ripping off his shorts. Mark’s ass was exposed, pink and eager. Alex spit on his hand, slicking his cock, then pressed in.

“Oh god, yes,” Mark moaned as the head popped past his ring. Alex sank deep, inch by inch, until his pubes ground against Mark’s cheeks. He started pounding, hard and fast, the bed creaking. Mark’s cries filled the room, pleasure mixing with the stretch. Alex felt his balls tighten, the god’s power surging. “Gonna fill you up, make you mine.”

“Do it,” Mark begged, pushing back.

With a roar, Alex came, pumping rope after rope of thick cum into Mark’s guts. It was more than normal, flooding him, and something magical happened. Mark’s belly warmed, a faint glow as the seed took root. He gasped, feeling fuller, changed. “What… what did you do?”

Alex pulled out, cum leaking from Mark’s hole. “Planted my seed. You’re gonna carry my kid now.” He smirked, cock still hard. The directive pulsed: more. He needed more.

That night, Alex prowled the resort. The pool bar was packed with hot guys on vacation. He spotted a group of twinks like his old self, giggling over drinks. “Hey boys,” he said, striding up naked, muscles flexing. They stared, jaws dropping.

One, a cute blond named Tyler, blushed. “Um, hi. You looking for fun?”

Alex grabbed Tyler’s hand, pulling him close. “More than fun.” He kissed him hard, tongue invading, while his hand slipped into Tyler’s speedo, stroking his little cock. The others watched, aroused. Soon, Alex had them all in a cabana, clothes off, bodies writhing.

He fucked Tyler first, bending him over a lounge chair, slamming into his tight ass. Tyler screamed in ecstasy, cumming hands-free as Alex bred him deep. Then the next, a brunet named Jake, on his back, legs over Alex’s shoulders. Alex pounded him mercilessly, whispering dirty promises. “Gonna knock you up, make your belly swell with my baby.” Jake came twice before Alex flooded him.

By the third guy, the cabana reeked of sex, cum everywhere. Alex was insatiable, his god-given stamina endless. He lined them up, breeding each one, their moans blending into a symphony. Bellies warmed, seeds planted. The god’s voice approved: “Good. Spread my fertility.”

But the resort wasn’t enough. The next day, Alex hit the beaches, picking up surfers and tourists. He fucked a ripped lifeguard in the dunes, the guy’s muscular ass clenching around his cock as he begged for more. “Fill me, dude, make me yours.” Alex did, pumping him full, watching the glow take hold.

In the evenings, he ventured into local gay clubs, a beast among men. Dressed in tight shorts that barely contained his bulge, he danced, grinding against bodies until they followed him to back rooms. One night, he took three at once: one riding his cock, another sucking his balls, the third fingering himself in wait. He bred them all, cum overflowing, their bodies accepting his gift.

Weeks passed, Alex’s vacation turning into a breeding spree. Mark, now sporting a small bump, stayed by his side, horny and devoted. “I love what you’ve become,” he’d say, rubbing his belly while Alex fucked him again.

The god’s power grew with each impregnation. Alex felt stronger, his cock even bigger, loads thicker. He impregnated dozens: twinks, jocks, daddies. Some resisted at first, but his alpha aura broke them down, turning them into eager sluts.

One memorable encounter was with a group of backpackers in the rainforest, near where it all started. Four guys, all fit from hiking. Alex appeared like a god himself, naked and hard. “Wanna feel real power?” he asked.

They nodded, stripping. He fucked them one by one under the canopy, rain starting to fall, slicking their bodies. The first, a ginger, took him doggy-style, ass up, moaning as Alex’s cock reshaped his insides. Cum shot deep, seeding him. The second rode him, bouncing on that massive pole until he came, then got bred. The third and fourth shared, Alex alternating thrusts until both were filled.

As he came in the last one, the idol’s voice thundered: “You are my champion. Seed the world.”

Alex knew this was just the beginning. Costa Rica was fertile ground, but the world waited. His balls churned, ready for more. Horny, powerful, unstoppable.

190 notes · View notes

brossession-collection · 8 hours ago

Text

Josue

When I’m getting ready for the day, I always have to make a difficult choice. I have to decide what skin to wear. I have so many choices sometimes I’m paralyzed with indecision. Today the choice was pretty easy. I’ve selected Josue and I couldn’t be more satisfied with my choice. His lean hot muscle and his perfectly tanned skin look great on me. It’s kind of hard not to have a good day when you look like this.

557 notes · View notes

brossession-collection · 1 day ago

Text

There's something so intoxicating about taking over a big, buffy nerd like my manager Joe over here. He shouldn't be that friendly to a twisted and mentally goon-tard nobodies like me, but he couldn't help himself LOL.

Mr. Perfect

Mr. Congeniality

Mr. Know It All

Well, gonna make sure that he's gonna be known as Mr. Gooner from now on with me on the driving seat. Just look at this arm......fuuuuucckkkkk......that triceps is massive, am I right?

Well, the coast is clear.....there's really no one around here, should I......ahhhh so much better. Mmmmhhhh.....look at these tiny prickly hair.....you are one hairy daddy, aren't you Joe?

Correction......hmmmm yeaahhhh.....I am one furry daddy, baby......love to make it damp with my sweat and bask myself in my own delicious, pungent musk!

You wanna know how pungent can it be???? Go on, try it straight from the source then, I let it musky on purpose because I love to goon to my own smell HAHAH! I'm a nasty musk whore like that sometimes, love my own stink LOL!

Smells divine, right? That's just the allure of the Garden of Joe, a blessing for you to come visit and sniff HAHAHHA.

Mmmhhhhhmmmmpppphhhh......just smells insanely good, isn't it? Fuck, it's leaking pre underneath this jeans, I think my eyes will flutter to the back of my head and drool escaped my lips if I keep this shit going on as it is! Who would have thought that a renowned and well-respected sales manager enjoyed gooning this much

239 notes · View notes

brossession-collection · 1 day ago

Photo

“What the…” Kane shouted as he saw a spirit streak across the gym toward him. But it was too late. He was hit square in the face.

The giant collapsed onto the ground like a redwood in the forest and began to convulse. A man working out nearby ran over to assist.

Kane grew still as he approached, then blinked and looked down at his massive chest, then smiled at the man. “This one is fucking stud!” Kane boomed happily.

“Are you all right, sir?” the man asked, confused. He watched musclehead run to the mirror with excitement and examine his face.

“Sexy as fuck!” Kane roared, pumping up his chest.

Kane turned back toward the man and spotted his wedding ring. This gave Allister, the trickster spirit possessing him, a new idea. Normally Allister got his kicks off of possessing married guys and getting them to cheat on their wives. Now he would do it the other way around.

Kane approached the man and presented a flexed bicep. “Feel this,” he demanded. The man did so.

“Hot, right?” he bellowed proudly.

“You’re not really my type,” the man said. “I’m straight.”

Kane took his hand and placed it on his crotch. “Don’t worry, I’m everyone’s type.”

487 notes · View notes

brossession-collection · 1 day ago

Text

82 notes · View notes

brossession-collection · 1 day ago

Text

Taking it all

“Damn bro, this jaw came in nicely,” Josh said as he inspected his strong jaw in the bathroom mirror. He rubbed his fingers across his prickly stubble, tracing the lantern-shaped bone beneath. “Like a fucking work of art,” Josh mumbled as he took a few steps away from the mirror. The reflection staring back at him was breathtaking. His handsome, boy-next-door features were given an edge by a dusting of dark stubble and thick eyebrows. A trendy haircut and tanned, blemish-free skin completed the look. Looks like this could definitely get a boy into trouble.

Moving down from his stunning facial features, Josh’s neck was the first sign that there was something more to this high school senior than just a pretty face. His neck was thick and wide, flanked by two broad traps. The two muscle groups weren’t usually so freakishly developed on a high school senior’s body, but Josh was no ordinary 18-year-old. Standing well over 6 feet, Josh’s broad frame was packed with musculature that was more in keeping with an athlete in their late twenties.

His rounded shoulders and back were so broad that they couldn’t even fit within the frame of the bathroom mirror. Huge swollen pecs jutted several inches from his chest. His biceps and triceps were so large that it was a small miracle that any sleeve could contain them. Powerful, ripped abdominal muscles led to the lower abdominal ‘dick pointer’ that so many men craved. A perky bubble butt and think quads stretched the fabric of his designer underwear to breaking point.

Josh put both his large calloused hands on the edge of the counter and slowly lowered his weight in a push-up-like motion. He loved how his biceps swelled, a single pencil-thick vein throbbing to the surface. As it contracted, his chest hardened into a granite shelf to power the simple movement. His body was a well-tuned machine, a perfectly balanced system of power and finesse. Such a physique in one so young could only be achieved through insane genetics, perfect nutrition, and hour after hour of tortuous workouts. And in Josh’s case, he was grateful that Harry had put the hard yards in.

Josh turned to the former Jock sitting next to him. Harry was bound tightly to a simple chair and his mouth was gagged to silence any potential outbursts. His body was pale and thin, his arms lacking any form of muscle definition to even think of attempting an escape. The boyish features of his face were centered around large, blue eyes that would have been dazzling if it were not for their bloodshot appearance and dark under-eye circles. He looked completely drained, tear’s having long since stained his pale cheeks. Harry was utterly defeated. The only thing that hinted at his former jock life was the dusting of hair covering his body, and the fat 10-inch cock swinging between his legs.

Josh bent down and stroked Harry’s flaccid member with one of his hands, the rough calluses from hours of pumping iron sending a shiver up the smaller man's spine. “Please” Harry cried, “I have nothing more to give”. Josh squeezed the throbbing shaft, noting the glob of precum that oozed from the exposed head. Harry caught the drop of white liquid on the tip of his finger just before it fell to the floor. “Can’t let this go to waste now can we?” he smirked as he ran the finger along the end of his chin. After a few seconds, Harry’s seed began to absorb into Josh’s skin. As the cum soaked into his skin, a deep cleft began to surface, further increasing Josh’s handsome looks.

“Fuck, I’m even more perfect,” Josh gasped as he continued to gently stroke Harry’s throbbing shaft. With his other hand, Josh palmed Harry’s oversized balls, marvelling in their weight and size. Even after all of the loads that they’d shot today, they still seemed to have more in the tank. Harry was trying to resist with all his might “Please, just give me my body back”. Josh smiled to himself. Typical Harry - a stupid jock till the end. He hadn’t taken his body, that was impossible. However, he had taken his vitality, his height, and his innate masculinity to further enhance his own far beyond his former genetic limits. But somewhere in the back of his mind, Josh did take pity on the former stud.

“Ok bud, I’ll give it to you,” Josh said, letting go of Harry’s package and standing to his full imposing height. His chest and lats were so thick and wide, they just seemed to go on and on forever. “Really?” Harry said, looking up at the giant in front of him, his eyes full of hope. “Really, I’ll give it all to you,” Josh said, crossing his heavy arms in front of his chest, “I wanted you to stop bullying me, and something tells me you’ll never lay a finger on me again”. “Yes, I’ll do whatever you want!” Harry pleaded. “Ok, well this transfer is going to be a bit different” Josh said as he disappeared behind Harry. “How?” Harry asked, panic setting into his voice. Josh knelt down behind Harry, his hot breath against Harry’s neck. “I’m going to fuck you” whispered, his low baritone rumbling across the silent room.

In one swift motion, Josh tore Harry’s bindings off and lifted him off the chair. Josh roughly bent Harry over before tearing off his own underwear. Josh’s thin 5-inches was at full mast, and while it wasn’t impressive, it was more than enough for the task that lay ahead. He pushed his small head against Harry’s tight hole. “Do you want this to happen or not?” Josh growled. Harry knew this was the only chance he had of getting his body back, so he took a deep breath and relaxed. Josh saw his opening and slid his dick inside Harry’s waiting hole. Using his powerful forearms, he began to pump Harry’s perky rear up and down on his cock, practically using the former jock as a fleshlight. “Fuck, that isn’t so bad,” Harry panted, “good thing you have such a small dick”.

Josh’s powerful thrusts slowed to a stop. “What did you just say runt?” his voice rumbled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it, it was just a stupid slip” Harry stammered. His whole body was shaking as he cowered in fear. Josh could snap him in two without even a second thought. Josh calmly reached down and grabbed Harry’s throbbing erection, his huge mitt not even making it the whole way around Harry’s shaft. Frozen in fear, Harry watched on hopelessly as the larger man began to run his hand up and down his shaft.

A mixture of pleasure and pain coursed through Harry's body as the larger man’s calloused hands worked the length of his shaft. With not even a single ounce of lube, the hand job was rough, but it was working as intended as Harry was quickly brought to the brink of orgasm. “You deserve this you asshole” Josh whispered in Harry’s ear as Harry’s dick started spewing cum into Josh’s waiting hand.

As Harry came down from his orgasmic high, Josh pulled his still-hard dick out of the smaller man. Josh grinned as he slathered his thin member in Harry’s cum. When it was all good and lubed, he massaged the excess cum onto his swollen pecs. As the potent liquid quickly disappeared into Josh’s chest, a dusting of hair sprouted from the formally smooth skin. Harry stared at his own flat chest in horror as his carefully trimmed chest hair retreated back into his skin.

“This is going to be good”, Josh said licking his lips. Using the viscous liquid as lube, Josh slammed his cock back into Harry’s waiting hole. He proceeded to jackhammer the smaller man with thrusts of his powerful thighs, pulling his cock almost entirely out before slamming it back in again to the base of his shaft.

With each powerful thrust, Harry felt a pressure build inside of him. Harry looked down in despair as he saw his cock shrivelling away each time his ass was pounded. Each of Josh’s thrusts became successively longer as his dick swelled in size. Josh grunted as Harry’s hole seemed to grow tighter and tighter as it struggled to contain his growing mass.

As the growth subsided, Josh fell into a steady rhythm as breeding his former tormentor. His newly heavy balls smacked Harry’s ass cheeks with each powerful stroke. Harry’s vision flashed white from the sheer pain and pleasure he felt during the hammering of his tight hole.

Remnants of cum had dripped from Josh’s chest to cascade over the ridges of his six-pack, causing his core to tighten further and a treasure trail to develop from the top of his abs down to his perfectly trimmed pubes. Harry’s ass was so tight on Josh’s thick rod that every thrust sent a jolt of pleasure throughout his body, the nerves of his fuck stick firing with each elongated stroke. After what seemed like hours, the pressure building in Josh’s balls became immense and he neared climax.

With a roar, Josh came, spewing a torrent of cum inside of Harry’s waiting ass. All his muscles twitched and flexed as a bone-shaking orgasm pulsed through his powerful body. He radiated a pure masculine heat, causing a thin sheen of sweat to develop across his wide form. The air reeked of the smell of sweat and sex. Josh had never felt such a raw, primal power before. He lifted the former jock off his still dripping cock and turned to the mirror to admire himself once more, flexing each one of his swollen muscles in turn.

Harry fell to the ground spent. He’d never felt so used. But at least he’d get his body back. He lay there for a few moments, absolutely exhausted, waiting for his familiar strength to return. But it never came. After what seemed like an eternity, Harry opened his eyes to see Josh standing above him, his erect cock pointing straight towards him. “Want to take all of it again?” the giant said with a dark grin on his face.

If you like my stories and want to support my writing, please consider shouting me a coffee over on ko-fi.

763 notes · View notes

brossession-collection · 1 day ago

Text

Revolving Door

When Tate McRae said that "I keep comin' back like a revolving door" in her hit song, I guess that aptly described my relationship with my ex-boyfriend, Kentaro, or Ken for short.

He's quite a toxic, manipulative, trustfund gym junkie that is completely a ref flag through and through, but how can I resist him when he always fashioned himself in an entirely different manner after every single time he fucked up? What I'm about to tell you is absurd but it really is the truth, but aside from being crazy rich due to his parents work, that work done by his parents also enabled him to shapeshift into any human being on Earth as long as he physically touched them. So imagine my frustration (and obviously massive surprise that almost sent me to cardiac arrest) that after my first breakup with him, the person I have a big fat crush on because of his interest to me that came out of nowhere as I noticed him from ages before but not receiving any signal in return until after my breakup turned out to be Kentaro in disguise!

How did I found out about it? Well, he revealed himself by shifting right in front of my eyes after he fucked me. He explained that the people he decided to shift into would fall asleep as soon as he shifted into their form and so all the flirting I received from Grant was actually his. I obviously called him a fucking creep right then and there and started to throw any stuff I could find at him, until he shifted into my own fucking boss back then and styled that man in his posing brief as we knew him to be a bodybuilder and even watched his shows as he invited all the employee to support him. He grabbed me with my boss fucking muscular arm and leaned closer to me with a smirk before ravenously kissed me, using his knowledge over my fantasies that I shared with him about my boss as a weapon to attack my defense, which of course unable to resist my own wildest fantasies that came to life at that time

And that's been the dynamic ever since. Every time after our breakup and even when I already dated steadily with my now-boyfriend Lin, or Linford based on his English nickname, Ken would tease me from time-to-time for a quick fling here and there. My younger sis jock boyfriend......

the fucking plumber that worked in my house......

and even a random jogger I bumped with became a string of his identity theft victim and also my passionate lust and no matter how disgusted or wracked with guilt I was, I always returned with fascination to his different kind of embraces and deep obsession with me

He seemed to keep track of me rather obsessively, or maybe I let him track me deep within my psyche as I desired his bold moves, like shifting into my favorite coffee shop barista and sent me a crude message through HIS PHONE offering a fucking during his shift break as a reward for my loyalty to the indie coffee shop!

Or when he shifted into the fucking priest that officiated the wedding of our mutual friend, his eyes probably noticed how long I kept my eyes shut and lulled to the priest's fatherly baritone that enchanted everyone and when I caught seeing for too goddamn long at the priest taking off his suit jacket to reveal an insanely tight shirt that hugged his splendid figure. Ken used all that knowing full-well how much a man that pious turned out to be corrupted and want to fuck another man really stirred my groin with excitement

He seemed to really understand me in a molecular level, at least when it comes to my lust and sexual desires, and he utilized it in ways not a single boyfriend of mine after him managed to do.

So, after one of my escapades with him just a few months ago, this time he was in the form of my CEO's asshole son, he asked me

"What are we, really? I won't keep doing this with you, Evan. I have a life I want to build too and as much as I enjoyed your company with all your ideas and kink, this needs to be put to a stop if you really don't want to end with me. You always returned to me no matter how far you go, why can't you just stay with me then if I'm that irressistible for you?"

I was stunned........but I have no answer back then so I ran right away and leaving him to dust. I ghosted him by blocking all contacts of his because I was surprised he took all of the flings deeper than it should when I treated it as something shallow.

Nowadays, I really enjoyed Linford's presence and I've not cheated from him ever since. He's quite the gym junkie too in the past few months, I told him to bulk up and be strong and he took the advice really well and even more devoted compared to my working out hours as he has the flexibility of remote work. Things are also more exciting as Linford also shown me his shapeshifting power that makes everything so much more exciting in our bedroom, but I love his original look as it is.

531 notes · View notes

brossession-collection · 3 days ago

Text

Damn, every single thing about my flatmate Lance is a turn on. His tattoos, his body, and holy shit his scent. His fans sure seem to like it, at least. Since the pandemic hit, he’s been in his room doing numbers on OnlyFans, and I can see why. I can’t get enough of any of it! He’s out on one of his many dates tonight, so I figured I’d wander into his room to see his set up, check out his toys, and sure, maybe take one of his dirty briefs for my own.

Well, one thing led to another and I perhaps got too carried away. Next thing I knew, I was pulling up one of his musky pairs of briefs. I just wanted to wear them under my clothes and strut around the apartment with only me knowing my dirty little secret.

Imagine my surprise when, as I was pulling my jeans up, I felt my balls droop larger and heavier while my cock plumped thicker and longer. My ass filled out into a much rounder, firmer shape, too, as the formerly loose pair of briefs now clung tightly to my body. My body went into overdrive then, my skin experiencing a tingling sensation all over as tattoos and darker body hair began to appear, my glands releasing strong and fragrant musky plumes of pure pheromones, and my body swelling and expanding so intensely and significantly that my pants would no longer fasten and I bursted right out of my button down shirt.

This was a surprising turn of events, but seeing my pecs split apart the buttons on my shirt and bounce out with Lance’s tattoos on them was enough to send me over the edge.

I’ve done about a full hour of self-worship and self-pleasure, and I’m not even beginning to get bored. I love slapping my dick against my abs, I’m obsessed with lifting my arm and inhaling Lance’s scent, and I have been edging the whole time, cooking up what is sure to be one of Lance’s hottest, largest, and most tasty loads. And I’ve seen his livestream enough times to know that the guy can shoot enough cum to drown a colony of ants!

Moaning and groaning loudly and deeply in his voice only egged me on, fueling my intense jack off session and driving my senses into overdrive. As I felt myself teaching an earth-shattering climax, I laid back in his bed and started thrusting my hips into the air over and over and bringing myself down on his mattress hard, no doubt pissing the neighbors upstairs, downstairs, and on either side of the wall. I tweaked my nipples with fervor and heightened my groaning and moaning, becoming more cries of pleasure than simple vocalizations.

I could feel the dam break in my cock and balls and immediately felt my balls begin to squeeze out more and more jizz into my cock even before I had fired my first shot. I took one last heavy sniff of one of Lance’s briefs, felt my entire musculature tense and flex, and unleashed a torrential flood of orgasmic pleasure.

His first load splatted against my face, but lucky enough it was right by my mouth. I came in heavy, sticky globs, much different from my own more watery loads. Smelling Lance’s load on my lips sent me onto stronger throes of ecstasy, as my cock spat out more and more and more of Lance’s fat, sticky loads onto my lower abs. I kept firing more and more onto myself as I stuck out my tongue and licked my upper lip where the load had landed, welcoming his spunk into my mouth and savoring it’s flavor. That sensation alone caused my balls to gush out more and more of his seed into my cock, which in turn pumped out into the mess I’d complied on my lower abs.

After what seemed like forever, I finished dumping loads all over myself and sprawled out on Lance’s bed, sweating and panting. I ran my fingers through the swamp of spunk on my lower abs and held my hands up to look at them. Webby, gluey trails of cum spread between my fingers and both of my hands were soaked white. Determined not to waste a drop of Lance’s high-quality jizz, I began eagerly sucking my fingers dry, running my fingers across my lower abs again to ensure every drop was accounted for and swimming in my guts.

Lance should be back any minute. I should leave his briefs in here, but looking at his dirty cloths pile, it seems like he has more than enough for himself. He probably wouldn’t even realize two were missing. In fact, I may just take a few for some friends of mine looking for a good time...

I made a mental note to book “An Orgy of Lances” into my weekend plans.

646 notes · View notes

brossession-collection · 3 days ago

Text

Let me inside…

Oof!..

That’s better

69 notes · View notes

brossession-collection · 4 days ago

Text

Swipe, Zap, Swap

Matt wasn’t supposed to still be scrolling Tumblr.

It was late. Like, really late. But the comfort of his small studio apartment, the soft hum of his fan, and the glowing blue light of his laptop screen made it easy to ignore the ticking clock. He was curled up on his couch, hoodie sleeves tugged nervously over his palms, quietly flipping through a curated tag of gay art and porn gifs with that familiar cocktail of guilt and excitement tightening in his chest.

He was 22. White. Kind of cute, people said — in a geeky way. Shy. Didn’t get out much. Still lived in his college town. Still used “uwu” unironically sometimes. He wasn’t out to his family, but all his close friends knew. Most of his nights ended like this — Tumblr, tea, too many feelings.

Then he saw him.

A reblogged clip from some straight porn site, posted for “ironic” reasons — supposedly — but Matt clicked anyway. The video looped. A tanned, jacked Mexican porn guy, grunting while pounding a bottle-blonde girl with the grace of a gorilla and the sweat of a sauna. The guy's abs flexed like steel cables. His face was all squinting, lip-curling intensity, thick brows and a sculpted jaw covered in a trim, wet beard. He had an accent, too — at least, the caption claimed he did. “Yo, this pussy feel too good, mami, fuck!” it read.

Matt blushed. He would never go for a guy like that. Like, ew. So straight. So gross. So… smelly-looking. And yet, some shameful, small part of him lingered. Not with attraction, but curiosity.

“What the hell even goes on in a guy like that’s head?” he muttered, shaking his head.

That’s when it happened.

A sharp, stinging zap! hit his fingertips as they hovered over the play button. His laptop screen pulsed — not flashed, but throbbed. His eyes widened. The room tipped. The air grew humid. He opened his mouth to gasp, but—

He groaned.

The sound that came out wasn’t Matt’s soft voice. It was deep, cocky, dripping with sleaze.

His eyelids fluttered open. The ceiling above him was off-white and cracked. A ceiling fan spun slowly, barely moving the thick, wet air. His head throbbed. His skin was hot.

And he was lying naked.

“Wha…?” he slurred. Except it didn’t come out like a question. It came out as a grunt.

He sat up. His chest heaved. Gone was his flat, hair-dusted torso. In its place was a bronzed, sweaty slab of pecs, firm and lean, beaded with sweat. Two dark, tiny nipples pointed outward like cocky exclamation points. His skin was completely hairless. Not shaved — bare, like waxed smooth all over. His armpits reeked, tangy and masculine. Even that had changed.

His hands — holy shit. Calloused. Tanned. Veiny. When he brought them to his face, he felt scruff. A beard. Thick mustache. He whimpered again — no, moaned. But it wasn’t fear. His cock twitched.

A mirror on the dresser caught his eye. The guy in the reflection wasn’t Matt.

It was him. The straight porn star.

Matted black hair slicked with sweat. Brown, slightly bloodshot eyes. Faint acne scars. And a stupid, cocky smirk that curled at the corner of his lips even though he felt panic swelling in his throat.

“No, no, no, bro, this ain't right,” he tried to say.

What came out was: “Puta madre… what the fuck… why I so fuckin’ hard, bro?” The accent was thick. Lazy. Drawling. Straight from some cheap LA amateur studio.

He stumbled to his feet — legs shaky, dick rock hard, slapping his thigh. He had on nothing but cheap white boxer-briefs that were damp with sweat and pre-cum. His cock was massive. Uncut. Pulsing. Veiny. The sight made him gag — but instead of recoiling, his body flexed, hips grinding forward on instinct.

He looked around the room. No books. No plush toys. No LED lights. Just a single mattress, dirty sheets, a gym bag on the floor, and a giant calendar tacked to the wall with one word scrawled over every day: “SHOOT.”

His phone lit up on the nightstand. A notification from someone named Vato69.

“Yo bro u good? Mia’s outside. We doing that DP scene at 3.”

His fingers tapped the screen on muscle memory. “Hell yeah, bro. I’m hard already.”

His jaw locked. He tried to scream, tried to say “help,” but instead, he licked his lips and murmured: “Mmm, hope her pussy’s tight today.”

Tears welled in his eyes. He wasn’t into girls. He had never been into girls. But now? The only thing his brain kept looping was tits bouncing. Pussies clenching. Faces moaning as they got sprayed.

He grabbed his cock, unable to stop himself. “Mmmf… fuckkk… gimme dat throat, baby…” His free hand rubbed across his abs, smearing sweat across his tan chest. His eyes glazed over, mouth open, tongue flicking the air like some dumb, horny dog.

No thoughts. Just sex. Just sweat. Just porn.

His name wasn’t Matt anymore.

It was Javi.

The van smelled like cum, weed, and AXE body spray.

Matt—or Javi, as the thick-necked driver kept calling him—sat in the back seat with his legs spread wide, the tip of his uncut cock barely restrained by his damp boxers. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. But all he could do was scratch at his sweaty crotch with a grunt and squint at the screen of his cracked iPhone, where a low-res thumbnail of a girl gagging on a dildo made his cock twitch again.

He hated it.

He loved it.

“Fuck, bro,” he muttered in that greasy, nasal voice, Mexican accent thick and lazy like it oozed out of his mouth between tongue and lip. “Hope she takes both cocks today. I don’t wanna wait long. Gotta nut hard, hombre.”

He cringed on the inside, but outwardly, his lips curled into that same crooked grin. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with a meaty knuckle. His face was stubbled, slightly greasy. He could smell himself—strong. Sour. Musky. Not in a bad way, though. In a dominant way.

When he stepped out into the daylight, he barely registered the shift. He was too focused on the blonde waiting outside the warehouse door. Big fake tits. Tan lines. Lips like a cartoon. He drooled. Literally.

“Hola, mami…” he grunted, lips parting into a crude, horny smirk. “Mmmph, you lookin’ like a snack.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile said she was used to it.

He wanted to ask her name, ask if she was okay, if she liked doing this—but all that came to his tongue was: “You ready to get this fat dick in your guts or what?”

“God, Javi, same shit every time,” she laughed. “You gonna actually remember your lines today?”

He blinked. “Lines?”

“Yeah. Not just ‘fuck yeah, take it, bitch.’” She laughed again. “You say that in every scene.”

He chuckled—loud, guttural, stupid. “Shit, that’s ‘cause they always do, mami. Fuckin’ love it.”

Inside, the lights were hot. Cameras ready. Crew milling around. And the moment he stripped down, the last of his resistance tried to rise up—only to be steamrolled by the wave of horniness that seized his body.

His balls felt full. His cock ached. There was no shame, no anxiety. Only a need. A dumb, primal urge.

He looked at himself in the mirror before the director called action. The body was still shocking.

Bronzed, lean, wiry muscle. No hair. Not on the chest, not under the arms, not even below the waist. Just sweat. And that face: lined with sleaze, beard trimmed like a porn parody of machismo. His tongue dangled from his mouth a little. His brow furrowed in that signature fuckboy focus.

He tried to say “please stop, I don’t want this” but his mouth opened and the only words that came out were: “Ayyy, let’s fuckin’ GO, baby! Javi gonna ruin that pussy today!”

The shoot was brutal.

Raw.

He was a machine. Groaning. Sweating. Saying the filthiest things in a ridiculous accent he couldn’t shake even if he tried. Every time he tried to think about who he was before—what he was doing the day before, where he grew up, his real name—all he could think about was tits. Pussy. His own smell. Fuckin’ breedin’.

By the time he came — all over the girl’s back, his balls empty and swinging — he was lightheaded and happy.

The director clapped.

“Nice job, Javi. As always.”

He grinned, slapping the girl’s ass. “Told ya. Javi always delivers that leche, bro.”

As he pulled his boxers up over his still-slick cock, his reflection caught his eye again.

There was nothing left of Matt.

No softness. No shame. No trace of the quiet, shy boy who liked tea, books, and guys with soft eyes.

Only Javi remained — horny, smirking, swaggering. Dumb as a brick and lovin’ it.

He flexed his pecs in the mirror and muttered:

“Fuck, I’m so fuckin’ hot, bro. Gonna jerk off again in the van. Can’t wait to fuck another bitch tomorrow.”

Somewhere, deep inside, Matt whimpered.

But Javi just laughed.

361 notes · View notes

brossession-collection · 4 days ago

Text

92%

I don’t think most people would peg me as the type of guy who’d want to be someone else.

Honestly, it probably looks like I have it all.

Growing up in Salzburg, then being sent to the French international school in the Alps—yeah, I was pretty privileged. My parents wanted the “best environment” for me, which mostly meant an endless carousel of uniforms, skiing weekends, and being reminded that I was the first-born son.

And I guess I’m not too hard on the eyes either. People have told me enough times: dark brown hair, olive skin, a lean build. Even my name —Lorenz—just kind of sounds hot. Thanks mom and dad for that one I guess.

But if I’m being honest, the pressure of being perfect all the time has been exhausting. .

That’s how I ended up on SwapService.

I’d heard about it a few years back from a classmate Nils. We’d gotten drunk together at a party and somewhere between our third and fourth drink, he leaned in and told me he wasn’t actually Nils.

I laughed at first, thought he was being drunk. But he went on to explain he’d swapped into that body. He’d grown up in Singapore, in some ridiculous wealthy family. Said he’d always wanted to be European, and that Nils' body—tall, blond, mode-like features—felt like his dream come true.

Nils just wanted to be muscular and tan and apparently this guy's old Singaporean body fit the bill exactly. They were both rich, both from the same private-school bubble, so I guess it worked out for them. No harm done.

That conversation stuck with me. And that’s how I find myself here tonight.

---

I’d been living on my own for a couple years now, post-uni in Vienna. My parents thought I’d go straight into consulting or law school, something respectable. Instead, I’ve been drifting—half working, half trying to figure out what I actually want. And the more time I spent alone, the more I realized how suffocating it had felt always being “the perfect son.”

So when I pulled up the SwapService site for the first time, it didn’t feel as crazy as it probably should have.

The homepage looked clinical—nothing flashy, just a clean form. Step one: enter your own stats.

Age range. Height. Weight. Ethnicity. Language. Region. Hairiness. I filled it out slowly, double-checking like it mattered whether I wrote “slim build” or “lean build.”

Then came the preferences section. There, the form basically asked: who do you want to be?

It asked all the same questions I'd fillled out about myself plus one about the duration of how long I’d like the swap to last. There was even a box for “permanent,” which made me pause for a second.

I shook my head. “Yeah, no thanks,” I muttered to myself.

I just needed a break, to step away from the version of myself everyone else expected me to be. But also… maybe a chance to see what being a real man was like.

So I put in my preference: 30+ years old , 170+ cm, 75+ kg, Latino/Hispanic, Spanish/English/French, Spain/Latin America, Hairy. I tried not to be too picky I just wanted someone different enough from me that I wouldn’t be thinking about my parents or home every time I looked in the mirror.

I sat back, staring at the form for a moment, heart beating faster than it should have.

Then I clicked submit.

---

About an hour later the email came through: “Your matches are ready."

My stomach did this weird flip. I hadn’t really thought about what it would feel like when the site actually came back with real people.

When I logged in, it showed me a list—about ten guys, each with a percentage score next to their names. The site didn’t explain what the score meant, just that the higher the number, the better the match. They also didn’t say which criteria lined up—so I guess it was on me to assume what the other person had put down about themselves.

The first few were exactly the kind of guys I had pictured. Latino, thirties, strong, built in a way I’d never been. Some with tattoos, some with heavy beards, all of them somewhere in that 70–80% criteria match range. They were hot, no doubt. I kept thinking, if this were Tinder, I’d swipe yes on every single one.

But then I scrolled down and saw the one the site had marked Best Match – 92%.

Rafael.

52 years old. Lived in Ibiza. Bald, hairy, muscular. The profile said he’d retired early after making millions from a construction company.

I just stared at his picture for a while. He looked nothing like me—older, rougher. Though he still had a flirty, kinda cocky glint in his eye. And apparently, out of everyone on the list, he was the closest fit for me.

I wasn’t really sure about it at first. I mean, 52 was a bit older than I was thinking. Yeah, I should probably just message one of the other younger, ripped guys.

I almost clicked back to this guy Arturo, my next highest match, but then a new message notification popped up.

Rafael: So, you’re my best match. I think we should swap now.

His style was straightforward—assertive but still, I was charmed. He already knew who he was and what he wanted. And apparently, that was me.

Rafael: Been trying for ages to get a match this high. You’d be perfect.

I stared at the screen, biting my lip.

Rafael: If you don’t want to swap, fine. But at least let me fly you to Ibiza so I can fuck you.

I laughed out loud when I read it, but I don't think he was kidding. Yeah, I had a feeling he meant it and I won’t lie... it turned me on.

I’d always fantasized about a daddy type, someone older and in control, but I’d never been brave enough to actually follow through. The thought of Rafael wanting me that badly made me sprout a partial.

I thought to myself, Rafael was hot enough. Older, sure, but powerful. Confident. He looked like someone who didn’t take no for an answer, in the best way.

And the idea of stepping into his life for a few months? Living as him, testing it out? That didn’t sound so bad.

So I typed back before I could overthink it:

Me: What the hell. Let’s do it.

When I woke up in Rafael’s body, it hit me all at once.

The hair on my chest and arms. The way my muscles felt thick and heavy even when I wasn’t flexing.

My head felt strangely light without hair, but in the mirror, the bald look worked, I felt great. And best of all, no more Mr. Perfect.

A few minutes later, my phone buzzed.

Rafael (in my body): Thank you. This is perfect. Already feels like home.

I frowned at the screen. That wording was a little odd. But I told myself he was just excited.

---

The first few weeks were surreal. I got used to being stared at in Ibiza—on the beach, at cafés, walking shirtless through my villa. I texted my old body constantly, just to check in.

Me: How’s everything? You holding up okay?

Him (as me): Yeah, it’s great. Your friends are fun. Everyone’s so easygoing.

But it was weird. Every time I reached out, he sounded surprised I was even asking. Like he hadn’t thought I’d bother. Still, he was always polite, always said things were going well.

Then two weeks went by without a single reply. My messages just sat there, unread.

By the time I finally called, my chest was tight with worry.

“Hello?” My voice—his voice—answered after a few rings.

“Hey,” I said quickly. “It’s me. You okay? I haven’t heard from you.”

There was a pause, then a slightly confused, cautious tone. “Oh… yeah. Sorry. I didn’t think you’d want me to check in all the time.”

“I mean, I do,” I said, trying to laugh it off. “I want to make sure everything’s good.”

“It is,” he said, still sounding like he was trying to place why I’d even be asking. “Really good.”

I hesitated, then decided to test something. “Would you be alright if I used your money to fly you—well, me—to Ibiza? Just for a visit?”

He laughed lightly. “There’s no reason to ask me. Do whatever you want with it. But sure, I’d be happy to come.”

---

Rafael flew in a few days later, wearing my body like it had always been his. He looked comfortable, confident—more than I’d ever seen myself. Even just walking through the airport, he carried himself differently. Straighter back, more presence, like he knew people were watching him and he loved it.

That night we had dinner at a little seafood place by the marina. After a couple glasses of wine, Rafael loosened up and started talking.

He leaned back in his chair, grinning, my face flushed from the alcohol. “You know, man, I have to thank you. I really mean it. I’m so fucking excited to live in this body. I don’t know why you’d ever give it up.”

I blinked at him. “Live in it?”

He waved a hand, like it was obvious. “Yeah. I mean, come on. The Christmas trip to Fiji with the fam? That’s going to be unreal. And that Amsterdam thing with my mates in February—I cannot wait for that.” He chuckled, swirling his wine. “It's a good life dude. I plan to enjoy every minute of it.”

My stomach dropped. “What the hell are you talking about? We’ll be swapped back by then.”

He stopped mid-sip and frowned. “Wait, what do you mean?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean? This was temporary swap. Then we switch back. That was the deal.”

He set his glass down, staring at me like I’d just said something insane. “No, man. We agreed to permanent. That was the whole point.”

I nearly choked. “No the fuck we didn’t.”

His eyes widened in shock. “You’re kidding, right? I checked off permanent on my end. I assumed you did too.”

I shook my head furiously. “I would never have chosen that.”

He leaned back, suddenly serious, his expression tightening. “Shit. You think that’s the 8% difference? Ninety-two out of a hundred—we matched on everything else, but you didn’t check permanent. That's crazy.”

I landed my glass down harder than I meant to. “You’re full of shit, man. You see how good my life is. I wouldn’t want to give that up—I mean, look at me.” I gestured at his face, my face, across the table. “You think I’d just throw that away?”

Rafael raised his hands like he was innocent. “I swear, I didn’t know. I thought we were on the same page. That’s why I was confused when you kept checking in all the time. Honestly?” He laughed softly, shaking his head. “I was surprised you wanted to give me my new body at all. But hey, I wasn’t gonna complain.”

The way he said my new body sent a chill through me. He lingered on it, almost savoring the phrase, like it turned him on to say it out loud.

“Well, I don’t,” I snapped. “And it’s not your body, it’s mine. We need to switch back.”

He leaned in, elbows on the table, voice low but steady. “Wait. Just—wait. I really thought… maybe you should just consider it. Consider staying.” His eyes roamed over me—over his old body now filled by me. “I mean, look at you now. You’ve been walking around Ibiza like a god. I know for a fact you’ve got a bigger cock now. And all day you’ve been saying how good it feels, how free you feel. What if that didn’t have to end?”

I stared at him, my chest tight. “But no—that’s my entire youth you’re asking me to give you. I don’t want to give that up.”

He shrugged, like it was nothing. “But you were fine giving a few months of it up? Come on, Lorenz. If it was really that perfect, you wouldn’t want to let any of it go. Maybe deep down, you wanted this more than you’re admitting.”

“That’s not the same thing,” I muttered.

“Besides,” he went on smoothly, “we don’t have to decide right now. Why rush? How long did you want the swap to last anyway?”

“Two months,” I said, my voice firmer.

He grinned then, slow and wolfish. “Two months? Then what are you even worried about? We’re only at a month and a half.” He leaned back in his chair, swirling the last of his wine with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Relax. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

---

Later, we walked back to Rafael’s flat, the luxurous one-bedroom I’d been calling home since the swap. The air was humid, clinging to my skin. Neither of us said much.

Inside, I kicked off my shoes and peeled my shirt over my head, tossing it on the chair. The place smelled faintly of cologne and laundry detergent. Without a word, I stretched out on the bed, flat on my back, trying to focus on the ceiling and not the thousand thoughts in my head.

A few minutes later, I felt the mattress dip. Rafael slid in beside me. I didn’t need to open my eyes to know he was naked—his warmth pressed against me, skin to skin.

We lay there in silence. I shut my eyes tighter, willing myself to relax. Then I felt his hand drift across my chest, fingers combing through the thick hair. Slow. Lazy. Like he was testing what he could get away with.

He let out a quiet moan, almost like he was savoring it.

I didn’t move. I didn’t push him away.

Finally, he broke the silence. His voice was low, certain. “Just so you know… in case nobody’s telling you enough… you are so. fucking. sexy in your new body.”

Something in me flipped. My eyes snapped open.

In one move, I rolled over, grabbing his wrists and pinning him down against the mattress. His eyes went wide for a second, then his lips curled into a grin.

“You like that?” I asked, my voice coming out rougher than I expected.

He nodded quickly, biting his lip.

I spat on my fingers and shoved one between his cheeks, pressing inside. He arched his back, gasping, already opening up for me.

“Fuck, Rafael,” he groaned. “Yeah—just like that.”

I worked him with my finger, then two, and he was squirming under me, grinding against my hand like he couldn’t get enough.

When I finally pushed into him, he was more than ready. His hands grabbed at the sheets, pulling tight.

“God, you’re big,” he hissed, his voice cracking with pleasure.

I didn’t care that it was my old body I was fucking. Lying under me, he wasn’t me. He was just a needy twink, spread out and taking it, and I was in complete control. That was all that mattered.

I thrust hard, steady, holding his hips down. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, his moans spilling louder with every movement.

When I came, I stayed inside him, grinding deep, watching him writhe beneath me.

---

We fucked raw like that every night that week—sometimes twice. He’d climb on top of me, or bend over the edge of the bed, and I couldn’t resist. The way he moaned in my old voice, the way his face looked flushed and desperate beneath me—it was addictive. By the fourth night, I stopped thinking about anything except the pleasure. By the last night before his flight, I’d forgotten all about my insistence on swapping back.

When he packed his bag and headed for the door, though, the clarity returned like a jolt.

“Wait,” I said, leaning against the door frame. “We should talk about switching back soon.”

He paused. “Call me next week if you really still want that,” he said. “Maybe we can work something out.”

So, the next week, I called him.

“Rafael?”

“Yeah,” my voice answered on the other end, warm and teasing.

“I’m serious. I want to go back.”

He chuckled. “Lorenz, come on. You’re telling me you don’t love walking around Ibiza like you own the place? You didn’t love fucking in that body every night? Don’t lie. You’re thriving. Just give it a little longer.”

“I said two months,” I reminded him.

“Two months went by so fast. And what’s the rush?” His tone softened. “Trust me. If you go back now, you’ll regret it. Let yourself enjoy this while it lasts.”

By the time we hung up, he’d convinced me. Again.

But a few weeks later, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The longer I stayed, the more it felt like I was becoming Rafael and he was becoming me. I didn’t want to lose my body forever. So, I booked a flight to Vienna without telling him.

When I told him I'd arrived in the city, only then did he agree to meet me at a bar near the center.

I got there early, chest tight with nerves. I sat at a corner table, sweating slightly in Rafael’s heavier body.

When the door opened, my breath caught. It wasn’t just Rafael who walked in wearing my skin. He was with Henry.

Henry. My old classmate, my crush for years, the one I never said anything to because I knew he didn't feel the same about me.

They spotted me. Rafael’s face lit up as if nothing was unusual. “Rafael!” he called, waving as though we were just casual friends meeting up. Then he clapped Henry on the shoulder. “And this is Henry. Thought you should meet him.”

Henry extended a hand to me, eyes lingering on my chest, then my arms. “Nice to meet you,” he said, smiling a little too much.

I forced a nod, heart pounding. “Yeah. You too.”

We sat together, ordered drinks. Rafael kept the conversation light, careful, steering away from anything that would expose the truth. Henry leaned in toward me every chance he got. His knee brushed mine under the table. He asked me about Ibiza, about Spain, about how I was liking Vienna so far.

Eventually, Rafael stretched and yawned. “I’m beat. Gotta get up early tomorrow. You two stay, though.” He patted Henry’s back. “Take care of him, yeah?”

Henry grinned at him. “Yeah, of course.”

When Rafael left, Henry turned fully confessed. “You know,” he said, voice low, “I don’t usually do this, but…” He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear. “I want you bad.”

Every rational thought screamed at me to walk away. To remember why I’d come. But this was Henry—finally, after all these years, wanting me.

I nodded. “Let’s go.”

We stumbled back to his place. The second the door shut, he pushed me against the wall and kissed me hard. His hands roamed over my hairy chest, down to my belt, fumbling it open.

“God, you’re built,” he said between kisses. “Exactly my type.”

I grabbed his ass, pulling him against me. I fucked him hard, raw, his moans filling the room. His fingers clawed at my back as I drove into him, finally getting what I’d fantasized about since I was a teenager.

Lying there after, sweaty and spent, I thought to myself maybe this swap wasn’t all bad after all.

I went back to Ibiza after that. But the weeks dragged on. I tried to enjoy the beaches, the villa, the easy confidence of this new body, but every morning I’d catch myself in the mirror and feel that ache in my chest. I missed my old face. I missed the way my friends knew me without introductions. I missed being me.

So I booked another flight. This time, I promised myself, I wouldn’t get distracted. I would corner Rafael and make him listen. No excuses. No stalling.

I walked into the same bar in Vienna, heart pounding with determination.

And there he was. My body. My smile. And next to him, perched close against his arm, was another guy.

This one was maybe mid-twenties. Dark hair, clean-shaven, dressed sharp in a designer button-down. His build was lean but toned, the kind of body that lived in gyms and rooftop pools. The second I approached the table, he turned his attention to me, eyes wide, lips curling into a grin.

“You must be Rafael,” he said, voice low and eager. He reached out, resting a hand on my arm as if we’d known each other for years. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

The way he said it, touch lingering on my bicep, I felt my cock stir instantly.

I glanced up, and there was Rafael. His lips curled into a satisfied smirk, as he’d set this up perfectly. He knew exactly what was happening to me.

I swallowed hard, pulse quickening, my earlier resolve slipping with every brush of contact.

I thought to myself: Fuck. Not again.

278 notes · View notes