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clevertreephilosopher · 3 days ago

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Bodyjacked

CONTENT WARNING: This story includes themes of transformation and body control with a suggestive approach. If this type of narrative is not to your liking or you do not meet the recommended age, we suggest you do not continue. All images used (if any) belong to their respective owners. I claim no authorship over them and they are only used for illustrative purposes.

If you decide to go ahead, welcome to Possessed Desires, where mind and body are never completely under your control.

Bodyjacked

My father had forbidden me from talking to my uncle Jake my entire life; he was his brother, but they hadn’t spoken since my dad was fifteen and my uncle was nineteen. Dad always said it was because of "a disagreement" (I liked to think it was over a girl or something like that, but… was it really that bad to draw such a clear line between them?).

I was browsing some friend suggestions on my social media when I came across what looked like his profile. I wasn’t totally sure it was him, but I mean, what were the odds that someone else had his exact same name and last name? Plus, he looked kinda like my dad.

My dad’s rule felt weird, why wouldn’t he want me to have a relationship with my uncle? He was family. And whatever happened in the past… should stay in the past, right?

I sent the friend request without overthinking it. I got busy with a few things until I felt my phone vibrate with a notification: “Your friend request has been accepted.”

Maybe I could talk to him later. I even started imagining what it’d be like getting close to him. I’d never had any family to talk to outside my parents, and I didn’t have siblings either, so it was a pretty “lonely” life. We could catch up on a lot.

But… when I looked at his photos, I kinda started to get why my dad might not want him around. He had a lot of photos that were… well, flashy. I didn’t want to assume my dad was homophobic or anything, but… Then my head started hurting. Like, really hurting. It was constant and intense—definitely felt like a migraine. Torturous. Like my brain was about to explode.

I was about to leave the room when everything suddenly went black. I don’t know how much time passed. I opened my eyes slowly and found myself in a space completely different from my bedroom. It looked like some kind of walk-in closet. Huge. Well-lit. I looked around, feeling heavy… and why was there a breeze?

My gaze shifted forward — and that’s when I saw what looked like some kind of altar. There were candles, weird salt markings on the floor, and a phone right in the center. The worst part? My picture was on the screen, it was one I’d posted a few weeks ago.

My heart was pounding like crazy. I nervously stepped forward to grab the phone, and that’s when I noticed a mirror in front of me.

— What the fuck?! – I shouted, realizing the reflection wasn’t mine.

It was my uncle’s. Or at least, the person who looked exactly like him from the profile pictures.

He was wearing nothing but a tiny, tight outfit. Like... exotic dancer vibes. A harness, thigh-high socks, and the tiniest pair of underwear I’d ever seen.

I felt so... exposed.

I grabbed the phone quickly, trying to send a message to one my old contact, but there was already a message on the screen:

"Hey kiddo, sorry for introducing myself like this, and under these circumstances. But you've got a pretty nice body, and well… I’m running out of time. And no, I don’t mean you’re sick or anything like that. I just feel myself getting older, which is normal. But 35 is my limit.

I’m sure your dad never told you why we stopped talking. The answer’s pretty simple: I stole his body. It didn’t last long. He figured out how to switch us back within a few weeks and sealed his body so I couldn’t get back into it.

But now… it’s you and me. And look at this, how could I resist?

Don’t worry though, I didn’t leave you totally screwed. I’m actually pretty rich, so you’ve got a bunch of savings to live off before you even have to think about working. And, well, my body is pretty tempting. I hope you like it (not like you have a choice).

I’m sorry, really… but this only works between family. I won’t block you or anything, I’d like us to stay in touch.

Take care, uncle Jake."

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

I felt so confused, so betrayed. How the hell did I screw up this badly?! I should’ve listened to my dad. Now I was stuck in this body. But if he’d figured out how to fix it back when he was young, maybe he could help me too… right? Still, I couldn’t go out looking like this. That’d be beyond humiliating. I headed to the closet, hoping to find something decent to wear out on the street. And then came the next surprise: his entire wardrobe was just as trashy as what I was already wearing.

— What the hell is all this?!

There were latex clothes, leather, tiny or fitted suits, gloves, tight underwear. I felt a mixture of courage and something else the more I touched the clothes. It was like... Curiosity?

I swallowed hard. I could ask my dad to sort it out later, couldn't I? There was still time left, my Uncle Jake didn't say all this had a deadline, I could try things on and experiment.

I took off what I was wearing to put on a leather suit, it felt pretty tight, especially in the front and back at the bottom. My uncle certainly had a nice body... How huge his package looked wrapped up in this thing.

Shit. I felt it slowly harden, my nipples rising and stiffening. I let out a gasp before I dared to bring my hand to my bare chest, giving it a hard squeeze, causing me to let out a moan. It was like a bolt of lightning that struck my whole body, I wanted more, I licked my lips, going back to exploring his drawers.

I felt overwhelmed in a sea of sensations, I wanted to stop but why did everything feel so good? I had never had such urges, much less these preferences for such clothes, but I was getting so excited feeling the texture of each garment. I ended up pulling out some shiny gloves, and that delighted me even more to see. I let out a gasp, almost running out of air with a naughty smile, I loved seeing my gloved hand, I even picked up my new cell phone to take a picture, I looked so good...

My new tan complexion, how sensitive every inch of me felt, shit. Rubbing my bulge just like that, it was so delicious...

JAKE

I felt a little bad about stealing my nephew’s body, but— He looked so damn good...

He was just entering his twenties, and I wasn’t about to let time catch up to me. I lived a pretty chill lifestyle, some might call it “liberal,” I guess. I loved going to nightclubs, spending the night with men from top to bottom, making them mine or giving myself to them.

Either way, it was all perfectly fine with me. But my old body just didn’t have the stamina anymore. Keeping my muscles in shape was getting harder and harder, and guys kept turning me down for being “too old” for those scenes.

So when my dumb nephew suddenly popped into my life, it felt like a miracle sent from above.

I haven’t stopped running my hands all over this body since the second I opened my eyes. It looks so fucking good. That smooth skin… it’s a little weird being whiter than I’m used to, and having such an innocent-looking face, but hey, I’m not complaining. I’d figure out a way to get myself back in the game.

First thing I did was open my phone, download Grindr, and make myself a new profile to get back into my usual adventures. I uploaded a pic, something “innocent,” but made sure to flex my arms just enough to set the thirst trap.

Let the boys go crazy over me.

From my new age, DILFS, jocks, bears, otters, I wanted it all. This body would last me several years and I wanted to enjoy it, I didn't know later what I would do, technically this body is the bottom rung of the family. But I would worry about it later.

I scrolled down, looking at the other profiles, until I came across one in particular, I smiled hungrily as I saw my name and an updated picture.

Apparently my dumb nephew was discovering the advantages of his new body.

- Hello, uncle.

It didn't take him a minute to respond with a photo.

- Save the formalities, come to my house now.

- Sure, I'd be happy to.

Shit, I'm really going to love my new life.

----

Hello everyone! I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you liked it, don't forget to follow it and share it so more people can discover it.

I'm always open to suggestions and ideas, so if you have any fantasy or scenario in mind, let me know in the comments or in messages. See you in the next story... Who knows what body you will occupy this time?

---

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clevertreephilosopher · 4 days ago

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New Bodies - Raul & Chad - PART TWO

“Baby boy,” Chad said, holding me against his body. “Turn around, let’s take a picture.”

“No, babe,” I said, my reply coming out whinier than I intended. “We’ve already taken plenty of pictures together this week.”

“I know,” Chad said, “but I honestly can’t help it. I just love seeing the size difference between us. It really turns me on.” Chad slid his hand down my back, cupping my ass in his palm.

“Besides,” Chad said, continuing, “we both know you really enjoy this. And honestly, I could get used to these new versions of us.” He tightened his grip, squeezing my butt and causing an involuntary moan to escape from my mouth.

I didn’t want to admit it to Chad, but I really had enjoyed this week. My initial thoughts were correct: Allowing the poll to trigger our body transformations without my direct influence had resulted in personality and behavioral alterations to both Chad and I. The more Chad embraced his larger, beefier body, the more he became assertive and dominant. Every day, he commanded more and more control in our relationship. Seeing Chad behave this way caused me to feel more inferior each passing day and triggered me to become more submissive and receptive to his demands. I woke up craving to obey my man, and I eagerly anticipated him completely taking charge in the bedroom.

At first, I was scared. I mean, I had always taken charge in my life. I was a leader, not a follower. In all my relationships, I took charge. I took care of my man, I loved being in control when I had sex, and I never desired being submissive in any way or form.

But it was like all those past memories were being erased from my life and being rewritten for this new version me. I couldn’t even picture being able to take of care Chad in the ways I had once been able to. I was an 18 year-old kid, fresh out of high school, without a degree, without a house, without a thing truly in my name. Our lives had changed entirely: Chad had just graduated from university with a degree in business and my old house was now under his name. He talked about memories of graduating in the top 5% of his class that we both knew could not have been true, but once they were said out loud, it was like they really had taken place.

Meanwhile, my university education was entirely stripped from me, and I apparently wasn’t the brightest kid in my graduating high school class. It seemed like spending so much time in the gym had impacted my studies. Gone was the highly educated Raul, and in his place was a mediocre, C-average 2.9 GPA boy.

It was truly becoming difficult to remember the old me. Hearing Chad say he could get used to the new versions of us terrified me, because I almost wished that we could stay like this too, but only because I could barely remember who I was before. The personality and behavioral rewrite had begun to tremendously affect both our memories. I wondered if I could even be the old Raul once we did inevitably revert back to the way things were a week prior.

“I get what you’re saying, Chad,” I said, burying my head into his shoulder. “I have liked you taking care of me this week, but I really miss being that guy for you. I miss us being the same age, both having degrees, good jobs. I miss owning my house and feeling in control. I don’t even have a car anymore, Chad! You’ve had to drive me around everywhere; I really feel like a kid sometimes.”

I looked up at my boyfriend, my eyes beginning to water. I loved him. I truly did. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have voluntarily put myself in the current situation I was in. I was testing the boundaries of my abilities and my self-control in ways I had never even imagined before. I was just grateful to have him, and I was glad that this was our final day before we returned to our old lives.

“Oh, Raul,” Chad said, rubbing his hand up and down my back. “I’m sorry – I guess I wasn’t being sensitive enough about how difficult this week must have been for you. I definitely got the better end of this deal, and I should be more considerate of that.” Chad leaned down and kissed me.

To say Chad got the better end of this transformation would be an understatement. But, honestly, that kiss instantly put my nerves at ease. One bright side of my mental changes was Chad’s protective nature was immensely soothing. I felt like he could protect me from anything, and that he would never let me get hurt. I was proud to be his, and I knew my man would take of me always.

“Are you sure you don’t want to look for the picture?” Chad said, lifting my chin to look at him.

“I’m sure, babe,” I said, smiling. I wrapped my arms around his torso.

“Okay,” Chad said, smiling back. He wrapped his right arm around my neck and adjusted his phone camera with his left hand. “You still look really hot in this picture, baby boy.”

I heard the CLICK of the camera, and I glanced at the screen quickly. Damn, I really did have the perkiest ass now. A top’s dream conquest, and what every bottom wished they had. I flexed, and immediately remembered the sex Chad and I had the night before. The positions we experimented with, how loud I yelled as Chad entered me over and over again. Who would’ve thought a strict top like me, or how I used to be, would be such a perfect, hungry bottom?

“Can we watch something on Netflix, babe?” I asked, taking a step back to look up at Chad.

“Sure,” Chad said, chuckling. “Go ahead and turn on the laptop and I’ll meet you in the room. I just have to take a leak.”

I nodded and headed back into our bedroom. I removed my hat, lazily throwing it behind a chair, and jumped onto the bed. Sprawled out on my stomach, I opened the laptop I had closed not long before. I had been reading through the comments Chad and I received about our transformations. Everyone loved the new us, some even teased that we were even more perfect than before.

I looked at the clock in the top-right corner: 11:27. In just over 12 hours, this would all be over. I’d be back in my 24-year-old body, and things would get back to normal.

Logging into Netflix, I scrolled through the list of titles Chad and I had been meaning to watch: Ozark, Narcos, How To Get Away With Murder, The Sinner. I decided on the latter, and turned up the volume.

CLICK.

“Damn, you really are too cute, Raul,” Chad said.

I turned my head to see Chad towering behind me with his phone in his hand.

“You’re really going to show me these pictures non-stop after we switch back, aren’t you Chad?” I said, shaking my head and trying to hold in a laugh.

“I can’t help it, Raul,” Chad said, throwing his hands in the air. “I mean, look at this! You’re so fucking cute! I could pounce on you right and eat you out!”

Chad had a point; I looked beautiful in every picture we took. Maybe, since I wasn’t the brightest light bulb in the factory anymore, maybe I could pursue modeling. I was young, tall, fit… wait no. What was I talking about? We were going to switch back. Yes. This wasn’t our life. This was temporary. In 12 hours, I was going to be back in my normal body, have my job as a marketing manager for a recording studio, and I wouldn’t have to think about what a young, average-minded twunk should pursue for a career.

“Well, you can do that later,” I said, patting a space on the bed next to me. “Let’s just watch the next episode of The Sinner, and we can get busy later on tonight before we switch back.”

“Okay, okay,” Chad said, laughing. He lay next to me, grabbing a few pillows in the process to make us more comfortable. “Should I get a blanket, cutie?”

“No, no, it’s fine,” I said, hitting the spacebar on the keyboard. “It’s warm outside and the AC isn’t on too high. It feels good to just lounge in our underwear.” I adjusted my body, subconsciously shaking my ass in the air in the process.

“You sure love showing off that butt now, don’t you?” Chad said, playfully pinching each of my cheeks.

“I guess so,” I said, chuckling. “I guess I just learned from the best! It’s nothing you didn’t use to do!”

“Oh, so we’re going to play it that way, huh?” Chad said, punching my shoulder lightly. “Sure, I used to wiggle that all in your face when I felt like it, but you’ve taken it to the next level, baby boy. It’s like you’ve been dethroned from alpha top to needy bottom boy.”

“Oh shut up, Chad,” I said. I felt my face heat up. He was completely right. I couldn’t even picture topping Chad now. I only wanted to be fucked. I wanted to feel him inside me, filling me up with his seed. I craved it so badly.

“Raul, do you think, even after we switch, we could try flip fucking more?” Chad asked, hesitantly. “I know you weren’t really down for it before, and that’s totally cool, I won’t ever force you to do anything you don’t want to do. But, I mean, if you’re down for it once we go back to normal…”

I smiled at Chad. This was the first I had seen him behave even remotely shy since our transformations.

“I think it’s something we can definitely work out, babe,” I said. I meant it. Experiencing this side of the sexual spectrum had me wondering how things would feel once we were back in our regular bodies.

“Really?” Chad said, almost surprised.

“Yes, really,” I said, smiling.

“You. Are. The. Best,” Chad said, kissing me in-between each word.

“I know, babe,” I said, laughing. “But, so are you.” I sat up and hugged my man.

“You know, this version of me doesn’t really want to bottom,” Chad began, “but if you wanted t-”

“Chad,” I said, cutting him off. “It’s fine. I don’t really want to top in this body anyways. I… I really like bottoming for you. It turns me on so much.” I felt myself blush again, feeling extremely vulnerable admitting I enjoyed being dominated.

“Fuck, baby boy,” Chad said, groping the front of my briefs. “I don’t think we’re going to watch the show anymore.”

“I don’t think so either,” I said, shutting the laptop.

–

13:37.

Chad and I lay tangled in our sheets, our breathing finally leveled out after panting for several minutes.

“God, that was amazing, Raul,” Chad said.

“It really was, wasn’t it?” I said, sighing. “I’m glad we got to do that one more time before we changed. And, honestly, I can’t wait to go back to topping you.”

“Nnn, stop,” Chad said, moaning. “Don’t make me hard again. I don’t think I can survive another round.”

“Neither can I,” I said, laughing. I rolled over to look Chad in the eye. “Hey, why don’t we drive up to my family’s mansion for the end of our day? No one will be there – we can swim, go out into the yard, and we’ll transform back in front of the fireplace.”

“Okay,” Chad said, nodding. “Sounds good to me. Let’s just rinse off and get ready to head out.”

“Perfect,” I said, kissing him quickly.

–

18:22.

The drive up to my family’s mansion was nice. I always enjoyed driving through the mountains. The twists and turns of the road, the music echoing from bouncing against the walls of the many tunnels we had to travel through, and the fresh air pouring in through the cracked windows.

I guess one thing that didn’t change in this reality was Chad’s love for sports cars. He still had his 2004 red Mustang with black racing stripes: his prize possession that he took care of meticulously, no matter how much gas and money it sucked up.

We had spent the time singing along to the radio, talking about what we enjoyed about this week, and what we had learned.

Chad explained he wanted more balance in our relationship; less social roles in place. He wanted to contribute more, and for me to allow myself to stop acting like the “knight in shining armor” that needed to save the day.

I agreed. I guess that’s what we all strive for in our relationships, right? Equality – equal distribution of responsibility, understanding and loving care.

Now, Chad was off exploring the yards of the mansion, and I was taking a break in the pool. My hair was a lot shaggier than I had initially thought since it was all hiding underneath my snapback when I transformed. But, right now, I was letting it peak out a bit from underneath the hat I was currently wearing. I honestly despised this current style, because I felt like it youthened me even further, but I was finally at the point where I didn’t really give a shit. I would only be 18 for a handful more hours, and no one was really around to look at me.

I rolled my eyes remembering a cashier earlier in the week refusing to sell Chad a case of beer because I walked to the counter with him.

Chad repeatedly told the cashier that I wasn’t going to drink any since I was underage – I involuntarily cringed every time Chad mentioned me being under the legal drinking age – but the cashier was convinced Chad was trying to buy an underage kid alcohol. Finally, Chad gave up and we walked away empty handed.

I apologized the whole walk back home, but Chad just wrapped his arm around my shoulder telling me it wasn’t a big deal and that he would go to a different market later on while I ordered us takeout food back at the house.

BUZZ.

I climbed out of the pool slowly to dry myself off. Kneeling on the towel, I checked my phone. I had a message from Chad.

I felt my shorts shrink as I gawked at the image on my screen. Chad was clad in nothing but a pair of skimpy grey briefs, flexed and posed with a strand of wheat between his teeth. A day or so after we had transformed, Chad noticed his body was indeed capable of growing body hair, so he decided to grow out his chest hair for the remainder of the week. I had to admit, in this picture, he looked like Adonis.

“Fucking A, Chad,” I said, moaning, gripping my hand around my stiffening member.

“Like what you see?” Chad asked, standing in front of me.

“Shit!” I said, yelling and taking my hand out of my pants, unable to hide the now obvious tent in my shorts. “You scared me!”

“I can see that, and a bit more,” Chad said, chuckling.

My face flushed for what seemed like the millionth time that day.

“Wait, don’t move,” Chad said, his eyes widening a bit.

“Chad, I swear to god,” I said, getting annoyed, but also a bit concerned that something was wrong.

“The way the light is hitting your face,” Chad said, pulling out his phone from his waistband. “Turn your head a bit to the right. Yes. Perfect. Just look off into the distance, like you’re thinking about something really hard.”

“With the amount of pictures you’ve been taking this week, Chad, maybe you should consider becoming a photographer,” I said, rolling my eyes.

CLICK.

“Only if you consider pursing becoming a model, Raul,” Chad said, holding the screen out to show me the picture. “The picture perfect Latin dream boy.”

I smiled. God, I really looked so good.

“Well, we’re changing back in a few hours, Chad, so, I guess that isn’t really an option for me.”

Chad walked over to me, his smile fading. I clenched my jaw; worried I had annoyed him.

“You could model with or without this 18-year-old body, Raul,” Chad said. “You said yourself that your other body is your “ideal” physique. Outside from your career job, you could do some shoots. Just consider it.” Chad reached out his hand to help me to my feet.

“Okay, babe,” I said. He was right. Maybe having someone look after me this week really would be beneficial for my normal life in the long run. “I’ll definitely consider it.” I grabbed his hand and stood up. “Let’s go inside and rest before… well, you know.” I smiled.

Hands still clasped, Chad and I made our way into the mansion’s den to light the fireplace and rest on the couch together.

–

23:56.

“This week has been amazing, Raul,” Chad began. “I can’t thank you enough.”

I smiled: “It really has been great, Chad. I’m glad you talked me into this whole thing, even if I did pout a bit for the first few days. I’m glad we got through it all together. I learned a lot, about myself, about us, and even about my magic.”

In just four minutes, it would all be over. I breathed a sigh of relief.

“With that being said, I don’t think I’d do this again… at least not for a while,” I said.

“I don’t know,” Chad said. “I think I would. It was really fun.”

“Careful,” I said, “The people on the Internet just might grant your wish… and it might not be as lucky for you this time.”

“Nah,” Chad said, laughing. “I think they like me enough than to wreck me. You, on the other hand… they seemed to love the little submissive side of you. They might just go all the way next time.”

I shuddered at the thought, but couldn’t help me smile to myself knowing deep down I actually wouldn’t mind it anymore. I knew, in the long run, everything would be fine, after all.

“Okay, Chad, let’s head over to the middle of the room. Our reversion should be simultaneous, and extremely quick since I’ll be gaining control again.”

Taking Chad’s hand, I walked us over in front of the fireplace. The heat radiating from the flames soothed me even further.

“See you on the other side,” Chad said, kissing me.

As the clock struck midnight, I felt power surge throughout my entire body. In what felt like half a second, I felt euphoria as my body compressed and exploded back to normal.

“Jesus,” Chad and I said, in unison.

I smiled. We were back. The handsome, perfect man I had been in love with for months was back in front of me. I looked down, happy to see the tattoo adorned along my arm, my pecs, my abs, my tan… everything was back to normal.

“Damn, it feels good to have this body again,” I said, rubbing my throat, glad to hear my deeper timbre once again.

“I hate to admit it,” Chad said, smiling, “but it really does. I kind of missed not being so big.”

“I’m just happy to not be a freakin’ teenager anymore,” I said, laughing. “Thank god for that!”

“I bet, babe,” Chad said. “I do have a question though.”

“What is it, cutie,” I said, walking us back over to the couch.

“Well,” Chad began, “When you did the transformation with the poll, you said you didn’t expect the behavioral and personality adjustments, right?”

“Right…” I said, slightly confused.

“Well,” Chad continued, “That happened because you voluntarily gave power to online polls about us and gave up control over our own transformations… So, I guess what I’m wondering is: Do you think you if there was another online poll created about us that we could potentially be transformed again?”

My eyes widened. Fuck. I think Chad was right. I mean, it wouldn’t be just any poll. But if someone was able to put a poll on the Fate of Desire website asking for people’s opinions on how to transform us… once the poll concluded, we would be forced to experience another shift in reality for a week.

“It’s… very likely, yes,” I said, quietly.

“Well, shit,” Chad said, his lips tightening into a line.

“I’ll just have to research and study my magic books to see how I can undo that… fuck, how could I be so careless,” I said, clenching and relaxing my right hand repeatedly.

“I’m sure it’ll all be okay, Raul,” Chad said, trying to calm me down. “It was just a question I felt like I needed to ask.”

I wrapped my arms around my boyfriend, glad to not have the size difference between us feel so drastic anymore.

“You’re right, baby,” I said. “It’ll be okay.”

We continued to hold each other as the fireplace remained lit. I glanced over at my laptop in the corner of the room, unsure if everything really would be okay.

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clevertreephilosopher · 4 days ago

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New Bodies - Raul & Chad

“I still can’t believe you talked me into this, Chad” I said, shaking my head as I sipped on my whiskey and coke.

“I still can’t believe you agreed to it, honestly,” Chad said, laughing.

There was only 10 minutes left before the online polls closed - the polls that would effectively transform both Chad’s body and my body for an entire week. We had both spent the day together just lounging around the house. I made breakfast, we watched a couple movies, and over the last couple hours, we started doing our own things while chilling on the couch, clad in nothing but a hat and underwear. Chad was busy playing on his Playstation and I downloaded a couple music albums that had been out for a while, but I never got around to listening to.

I wouldn’t openly admit it to Chad, but I was nervous. I had no idea what the Internet had in store for us. I mean, what if they completely crossed us and put in completely dissatisfying bodies as a joke? Made me like, 50 years old, turned Chad into a child, and I’d have to take on a parental role for the week. I was not down for that whatsoever. So, I set down a few safety nets: We couldn’t get any younger than 18, and we couldn’t get older than 35. We would still be aware of who we were, and how we used to look. And finally, I made sure that reality would, as usual, shift around us and we’d be able to behave and live life like our new bodies had always looked that way.

But, a deal was a deal. This change was going to happen, whether I completely agreed with it or not.

“Call it a lapse of judgment,” I said, still drinking from my glass.

“Babe,” Chad said, pausing his game and turning to look at me. “Trust me, it won’t be that bad. It might even be fun. And we’ll be here for each other, to look after each other and take care of each other, even if things do go totally sour.”

Chad was right. Things would be fine. After all, the change was just for a week. I needed to swallow my pride, and let things fall into place, especially if this little experiment was going to make my man happy.

“Okay, Chad,” I said, exhaling. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just haven’t done anything like this before. I’m usually the one doing the transformations, not the person getting transformed in ways I didn’t exactly approve.”

“I get it,” Chad said. “It’ll definitely be an interesting experience for you. But it’ll be over before you know it!”

I nodded and glanced over at the clock on the wall. 23:57. In just a few moments, I was going to have to kiss this perfect body goodbye for seven days. I stood up and walked over to the full-length mirror. I quietly mourned over the physique I had carefully crafted over the past year, flexing and posing in numerous angles.

“Just a week,” I said, quietly.

“Getting one last look?” Chad said, walking up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist.

“Yeah,” I said.

“I’m sure you’re going to be just as beautiful when this is all over,” Chad said, kissing my cheek.

Taking Chad’s hand, I walked us over to the middle of our living room.

“Okay, Chad,” I said, looking him in the eyes. “I only have a bit to explain this but, here goes nothing. My transformation will take place first. While I’m transforming, don’t try to touch my body or anything. Let the transformation completely finish first; I’ll let you know when that is. If the transformation feels like it’s being fought against or interrupted, there’s really no telling what could happen since I have set this to occur without my interaction.”

“Once my new body is finished, we’ll have a minute or two to talk before your change begins. Once you’re fully transformed, then we’ll be able to actually talk about what happened, explore our bodies, and see exactly what the online polls say and how people voted.”

“Okay, Raul,” Chad said, nodding. “I understand. I’m ready.”

I nodded in return, watching the second hand on the clock slowly creep towards…

Midnight.

“Fuck,” I said, extending my arms outwards to maintain my balance.

The room around me felt like it was spinning. I squinted my eyes, trying to focus on Chad, but my vision blurred beyond my control. My skin felt like it was heating up from the inside, stretching in every direction. I coughed as I struggled to catch my breath. Maybe letting this transformation occur on its own without my interaction was a mistake. I wasn’t able to pad the changes with serotonin or any kind of positive feeling. My body and DNA were changing, and I was helplessly along for the ride.

“Raul,” Chad said. “You’re definitely growing – getting taller, and buffer.”

Well that was a good sign at least. My fears of becoming a tiny, short Latino twink were eradicated from my mind. I guess the people online preferred me to look like a stud.

“God,” I said, holding my head. “I’m just warning you, Chad, that this transformation is not going to be as smooth as the ones I’ve done for you. It feels like I’m on the world’s fastest and bumpiest rollercoaster.”

I tried to see if Chad’s facial expression changed at all, but the attempt was futile. I could barely pay attention to what was going on with myself. Chad was right: I was getting bigger. I could feel myself inching further away from the ground and my weight increasing slowly.

But then a new sensation began. One I genuinely couldn’t put my finger on. I had definitely felt this before in the past, but it must have been a very long time since then because I couldn’t tell what was happening to my body.

“Chad?” I asked. “What’s happening now?”

“I’m…” Chad began. “I honestly can’t really tell. You’re not growing any more. But… something definitely is still changing.”

I closed my eyes, the dizziness finally getting the best of me. I fought to pinpoint words that would describe how I was feeling.

Shrinking? Tightening? Energized?

Nothing made any sense. I wasn’t losing muscle mass, nor fat content. My muscles weren’t getting any more toned. I was at a loss. But before I could continue to think, everything stopped. The sensation was gone and I no longer felt like the room was rotating. My body had finished changing.

“Oh shit,” Chad said.

“What is it?” I asked, opening my eyes.

“Well, your body’s done,” Chad said, with awe.

“Yeah,” I said, clearing my throat a bit. “I can tell.” I coughed. It felt like something was lodged in my throat. “But what are you cussing about?”

“I think I’ll just let you take a look for yourself, baby boy,” Chad said, slightly smirking and taking a seat on the couch.

“What?” I said, furrowing my eyebrows. I coughed again. Why did Chad call me that? He had never said anything like that before, especially considering we were the same… unless… No…

I hurriedly made my way to the mirror, my eyes widening. Chad chuckled as I finally got a look at myself.

“Fucking shit,” I said, my eyes widening. “I’m a fucking kid.”

I ran my hands over my body, tight with muscle, definitely more toned and built than my ideal body. But, the baby face I now possessed offset all that. I couldn’t be more than 18 years old now. Six years, vanished into thin air. And no amount of increased muscle or height would make me look anything other than a freshly graduated senior from high school.

The sensation I experienced finally made sense - the feeling of loss, but simultaneous energy. I was getting younger. I hadn’t regressed myself since I first received my magic specialization, back when I aged myself down into an elementary school kid, aged myself up into a middle-aged man, and back to my normal age.

“I’m a kid,” I repeated, still surprised I let this happen to me.

“Raul,” Chad said.

I turned around to face my now much older boyfriend, and leaned against the couch. I opened my mouth to speak, but was immediately blinded by a flash of light.

“Oh my god,” Chad said, laughing. “This is perfect.”

“Chad, what the fuck?” I said, finally realizing the higher timbre of my voice. “Did you really have to take my picture already? I’m barely processing that I agreed to let you all turn me into a boy again.”

“Aww, come on, Raul,” Chad said, putting his phone away. “You’re not a boy, you’re still a man. Just, a much younger man! And at least we’re the same height now!” He smiled, his eyes twinkling as if he could barely contain his laughter.

“Well, you better chill out and get ready for your transformation any second now,” I said, my tone dripping with annoyance. “I would get in the middle of the room if I were you.”

Just as Chad stood up, he doubled over, clutching his stomach.

“Holy shit, Raul,” Chad said, gasping. “I didn’t think this would feel like this.”

“Babe, don’t move,” I said, letting my annoyance subside for a moment. “Only stand up when you feel like capable. You’re going to feel extremely warm and dizzy.”

I watched Chad, trying to level out my concern and let the transformation take place on its own. He was already expanding, both in girth and height. The abs underneath his clenched arms began to firm, becoming more prominent than before. His legs and torso stretched, increasing his height several inches. He appeared to be gaining a little weight too, fat wise, but that was difficult to notice because of the extra muscle tone. It balanced out a good amount. It would likely only ever become noticeable if Chad ever got bloated or skipped the gym for a couple days. He was becoming an even more built man.

“Am I getting bigger, Raul?” Chad asked, starting to straighten his posture.

“Yeah, you’re bulking up a bit,” I said, watching my man surpass 6 feet tall. “We have a bit of a height difference again.”

“Aw,” Chad said, sighing. “I was kind of hoping we’d be the same height at least.” He clenched his eyes tightly. “Shit, Raul, something else is happening. I don’t think I’m growing anymore.”

I surveyed Chad head to toe. I couldn’t sense any significant change. He definitely had stopped growing. But then I noticed his beard and body hair begin to retreat into his skin, leaving him smoother than I had ever seen him.

“I think you’re getting—”

“Wait,” Chad said. “I think it’s done. I don’t feel anything anymore.”

Chad hadn’t regressed much. I was thankful, but also mildly annoyed. He looked to be about 22, still four years my senior. If we were normal people, he’d just have finished his undergraduate studies, and I would barely be starting mine.

“Yeah,” I said. “I think you’re done.”

Chad opened his eyes, rubbing them in the process.

“Oh damn,” Chad said, flexing his arms. “I’m even bigger than before.” He looked over at me, smiling. “Can we go into the bedroom? I’d rather take a look at myself in there.”

I nodded and followed Chad into our bedroom. He really was big. I knew he likely only had 20 or so pounds on me, probably closer to 30, but it made me feel unrealistically small in comparison. I knew I was ripped, but our age gap made me feel a bit inferior.

“Whew,” Chad said, whistling at his reflection. “This is way more ripped than I ever wanted to be, but I’ll take it for now. I look hot as fuck.” Chad whipped out his phone, snapping a quick picture in the process. He looked up and removed his hat and began to analyze even further.

“I’m kind of bummed about the body hair, but it looks like I can still grow a beard if I let it happen. I think I’m a little younger though.”

“Yeah,” I said, standing next to Chad, our size difference becoming even more apparent. “Just a couple years though, I think. I’ll check when I check the laptop for the actual votes.

Grabbing my laptop from the charger, I sat on our bed and quickly logged into Tumblr. I felt the weight of the bed shift underneath me as Chad sat besides me.

“You’re seriously so cute, Raul,” Chad said, kissing my neck.

“Chad,” I said, attempting to keep my voice level. “I appreciate the compliment, but, if you haven’t noticed, I’m not too thrilled about being reduced to a teenager again.”

“Okay, okay, Raul,” Chad said, rubbing my leg. He knew better not to continue to tease me when I wasn’t in the mood.

“Well,” I said, sighing. “I was right. According to these votes and how I set the algorithm, I’d say I’m 18 again, 5 foot 10 inches, and 185 pounds. Some people wanted me to be older, and some even wanted me to chunk up a bit, but those votes were all negated by the overwhelming decision to make me younger and grow my muscles.”

I couldn’t help but sigh in relief. I was annoyed that I was regressed into a twunk, but I wouldn’t have been too happy to be a chubby 18 year old.

“And what about me?” Chad asked.

“You…” I began, clicking over to Chad’s poll. “… I’d say you’re 22 years old, 6 foot 2 inches and 205 pounds. You had nearly just as many votes, but the difference between age regression and progression was much tighter. Hence why you barely regressed.” I looked over at Chad and couldn’t help but chuckle to myself at his expression trying to read all the votes. Even underneath all the extra weight and height, he was still the same guy I fell in love with.

“You gained a little bit of fat,” I continued. “But honestly, you’re so built you can hardly tell. I’m sure you just have to flex your stomach a little harder if you want every ridge to show, and maybe eating a big meal would make your abs a little less noticeable. But, I wouldn’t trip over it. A minority of people wanted you to lose some muscle mass, but everyone seems to love your muscles so they voted for an overwhelming amount of muscle growth.”

I closed the laptop, and smiled softly at my boyfriend. This was definitely an experience. And it had barely begun. Sure, the transformations were finished. But we still had to live in these bodies for the next week. I could only imagine the encounters we’d have from strangers and hearing how differently we would be treated now that we looked totally different. Sure, reality was warped that this was how we always looked, but I’m sure we’d still get a lot of head turns as an even more obvious muscled-gay couple, especially with the subtle age difference.

“I know you’re mad you lost a few years,” Chad said, still rubbing my leg.

“Six years,” I said, correcting him.

“Yeah, six years,” Chad said. “I’m sorry. I really am! I would’ve thought they’d want you to be a muscle daddy or something, but I guess they were thinking more on the twinky side.”

“It’s fine,” I said, shrugging. I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit I thought the same thing. But Chad didn’t need to know that. “It’s just for a week. I’ll survive.”

“Exactly!” Chad said, smiling. “That’s the spirit. Thank you for even agreeing to do this. I’m sure we’ll have a lot of fun with these new bodies… we’ll get to explore in different ways, if you catch my drift.” Chad slid his hand higher up on my leg. “I’ve never been with a younger guy before.”

“And I’ve never been with an older man before,” I said, chuckling, still getting used to hearing my lighter voice. “So I guess this is a first for both of us.”

“Plus,” Chad continued. “I’m sure the people online will be happy with what they created. It’s a win-win for everyone.”

I nodded. This definitely was a successful start to this experiment. Sure, I wasn’t happy to not even be old enough to buy alcohol or drink alcohol anymore, but I guess things could have turned out worse.

“Now,” Chad said, sliding his hand into my briefs. “Let’s see if my baby boy feels a little more submissive in this body. Now that you’re… smaller than me, body wise, and age wise.”

I felt my breath hitch as Chad’s hand skirted dangerously close to my groin. Where was this personality shift coming from? Chad? Being dominant? Me… kind of enjoying it?

Shit. It had to be the reality shifting and me actually allowing the transformation to take place on its own. I didn’t think personality changes would be possible if I wasn’t directly involved in the initiation but it seemed like…

“Oh fuck, Chad,” I said, moaning as Chad licked the inside of my leg. I arched my back as he continued to tease me; in the same ways I had grown accustomed to teasing Chad. Except now, I was on the receiving end of things. And I loved it.

“This is going to be a fun week, Raul,” Chad said, pulling down my briefs.

–

Final transformation stats:

Raul: Age: 18 | Height: 5 foot 10 inches | Weight: 185

Chad: Age: 22 | Height: 6 foot 2 inches | Weight: 205

What do you guys think about Chad’s and I’s transformations? Shoot me a message or let’s chat a bit. Until next time!

447 notes · View notes

clevertreephilosopher · 4 days ago

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The Transfer Auction - Vince

(Original story posted June 29th 2023) This story has been Updated!

When I wrote this story back in the day, I did so with the intention of following it up with some kind of series. It didn’t end up happening unfortunately but after revisiting it I’m once again considering the idea of writing up some more stories surrounding the auction. I’ve already got a handful of ideas. Once I’ve finished reuploading my archive I’ll try to remember to write something else for the auction!

Late on the first Sunday evening of every month, an auction was held. But this was no ordinary auction of course. It was held at a private location where only a few were privileged and trusted enough to be allowed entry. These people were either those with vast amounts of wealth or those who had special connections. Or simply of course. The only other way to enter the auction was to ‘compete’.

It all took place in a large showroom with a huge luxurious stage up front. There were multiple rows of chairs seated before the stage, many of which were already being filled by those arriving. Each one of them understandably eager for the show to start. As this was the men’s auction, naturally the crowd was made up almost entirely of rich men. The kind of rich you’d be able to sense at a mere glance. High end tailored suits, designer clothes, expensive watches, perfect hairstyles. The type of men that could spend thousands in a single day and hardly bat an eye. And yet, because of its unique and fascinating nature, this auction had drawn them all here. Because at this auction they could buy something they wouldn’t be able to buy anywhere else. So naturally when the lights dimmed, the crowd erupted with applause while a man made his way to the left side of the stage where a podium sat.

“Good evening everyone! My name is Gavin Alexander and I’ll be your host for the night!” He announced via the microphone with a wide grin. “I can’t help but notice just how many of you there are! I suppose it’s only appropriate for me to lay the ground rules. You’ve probably all read the pamphlet but allow me to reiterate the basics for anyone who didn’t.” He took a small breath before continuing with a more serious demeanor. “To start, we expect everyone here today to conduct themselves with professionalism. Any rowdy behaviour during the bidding process will not be tolerated. Second, anyone caught bribing the staff will be permanently banned. Same goes for any kind of manipulation of the event. Third, you are not to harass any of the men seen on stage here today after the event regardless of which group they enter from. And Finally, we kindly ask that all mobile phones be silenced along with any other devices on your person that may cause unnecessary disruption.”

He paused for a moment, allowing the people before him to do as instructed. His eyes flickered across the room as he watched the crowd of well groomed men checking their pockets to make sure the phones were on silent.

Gavin's smile swiftly returned moments later. “Now, with that out of the way, let’s get this show started!” He announced, causing the crowd to erupt with applause once more. Moments later the overhead lights began to dim as the main stage beamed to life with gleaming spotlights, preparing for what was to come.

Moments later a group of ten men came onto stage, all in nothing but a tight speedo with a number and letter pinned to it. Nothing was left to the imagination. The men varied slightly in age with the youngest looking around 20 years old and the oldest seeming to be in his mid 40’s. They also varied in height, appearance and race but the one thing that remained consistent throughout all ten men was that they were in great shape. Most of them were the size of huge bodybuilder’s you’d typically see showing off their gains and giving out tips online. That said it almost seemed like a bodybuilding competition to see all those massive meatheads all lined up together on stage.

“As is tradition by now, we like to start every auction off with some of the biggest, beefiest and hunkiest men we have to offer. Each and every one of them is a tower of thick muscle mass that I’m sure any one of you wealthy gentlemen in the crowd will be eager to strike a transfer with.” He said as he gestured towards the line up, prompting the brutes on stage to begin hitting an array of poses to show off their physiques. “No prizes for guessing what most of you are going to want from these adonis’!” He joked, kindling a hearty chuckle from the crowd.

Gavin took the microphone with him as he stepped down from the podium. “As per usual each one of our transfer models here today have been given the chance to set a few guidelines as to what is off limits and what’s up for grabs. They’ll be happy to share these with you as we proceed. Naturally this will be the same for each group we bring on stage tonight with the exception of our criminal selection. These are of course men who’ve been ordered to take part in our auction in addition as part of their sentences. As such these men don’t have the luxury of setting guidelines and so everything is up for grabs with them.” He said clear and sharp before making his way across the stage to the first hunk in line.

“Now to our first model of the night. Mr Chase Adams!” The crowd let out another swift applause. “What are your terms Chase?” He asked before holding the mic up towards the hunk with 1A pinned to his speedo.

“Well I’m cool with most stuff to be honest. I’m happy to transfer muscle, body fat, hair and all that stuff. The only things that are off the table for me I’d say are genitals and anything to do with my face.” Chase happily listed-off rather fairly. Soon after the bidding for his body began at around 300K. Many of the spectators were very eager to buy an opportunity to transfer with the well proportioned, fair skinned hunk. But there was one man in the crowd who wasn't the least bit interested in Chase.

Vince Hamlin.

He wore a casual grey suit that flattered his unassuming form fairly. Yet that very casual tone of his outfit made him seem a little underdressed when compared to some of the other men in the audience. Besides that he was easily identifiable by his shaven head and a nicely trimmed beard that framed his handsome looks perfectly. Vince leaned back in his chair as he waited patiently for the bidding on Chase to come to a close. The quicker they got to the sixth man in line, the better. Number six was only one Vince really had his eye on.

For the next half an hour or so Vince sat skimming through the pages of the pamphlet again or using his bidding paddle as a fan while he waited. He watched as the host descended down the line of hunks. The one after Chase was an asian man who had the face of a super model that almost seemed a little out of place atop his hulking body. After him was another white dude who was the smallest of the bunch but still huge compared to the average gym goer. Vince couldn’t help noticing how more of the overweight men in the crowd began bidding once when each guy mentioned that body fat transferral was on the table. At last however he found himself sitting up a little straighter when the host finally approached the sixth man in line.

“Next up is our 1F model for this month, Mr Darius Crawford! By the looks of it he’s our tallest hunk here tonight! But before we start fighting over him, what are your terms Mr Crawford?” He asked the looming man.

Just as the host had said, Darius was certainly the tallest contestant out of the bodybuilding batch. Naturally he was huge all over with enormous muscles that rippled along his rich ebony skin. Some of the gay men in the crowd were practically drooling at his mere presence, Vince included though he tried to hide it.

“For me, the things that are off limits are my genitals, my race and my age in either direction. Besides that everything else is up for grabs.” He spoke with a deep, masculine tone into the mic before giving a thumbs up to the audience.

“You heard him folks!” Gavin said as he turned back towards the audience. “Now how about we start the bidding at… let’s say Six Hundred Grand? That sound fair to you Darius?” He turned back towards the bodybuilder who gave a satisfactory nod. “Six Hundred Grand it is!”

Right away people in the crowd began raising their paddles. 650K, 700K, 800K, 950K! The number kept rising at a rapid rate and it was no surprise considering Darius seemed to be one of the biggest prizes of this selection. Just as the numbers were reaching the mid one millions however, Vince raised his paddle and shouted “Four Million!” There were a few glances in his direction, people slightly surprised at the sudden jump in bid.

“Going once!” The host beamed in Vince’s direction. “Going Twice?!” He added. “Any more bid’s!? This is your last chance! Go-” before he could finish he was interrupted by another bidder.

“Five Million!” Shouted a 60-something year old man.

“Seven Million!” Another one screamed with his paddle in the air.

“Twelve Million!!!” One more chimed in.

These bidders were persistent. More so than Vince had expected. Then again most of them are middle aged dudes with far too much money on their hands so he should’ve anticipated this. What he’d thought might’ve scared the other bidders off had only made them more eager as the numbers only went into higher and higher millions. And so with a big sigh he threw his paddle up again and shouted…

“TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY MILLION!!!”

The host and the audience were stunned. “T-two hundred and fifty… million? I don’t think we’ve ever had a bid that high on one person before.” The host muttered before quickly trying to regain his composure. “G-Going once!” He began. “Going Twice! Any last competitors?!” There was a brief moment of silence and… nothing. “Sold! To the handsome gentleman in the grey suit!” He announced proudly with wonder in his voice.

Vince practically fell back into his seat, grateful that he didn’t have to increase his bid any higher. “Fuck this had better be worth it…” he grumbled to himself before resigning to sit through the remaining men on stage.

After that the bidding returned to normal. The host continued down the line of remaining hunks on the stage as each of them sold for a decent price around a few million or more but none bothered to bid much higher. Vince couldn’t really care either way though. He’d already secured exactly what he’d come here for. And so it wasn’t long before the tenth and final man in line was sold meaning the show could continue on to its next phase.

“Alright everyone! That’s all for our bodybuilders tonight!” Gavin announced. “They’ll all be ready and waiting for those of you that won the bids after the show but before that we have our second wave of men!”

With that the hulking brutes made their way off stage to make room for the next group. Moments later ten more men stepped up on stage. Like the former group they were clad in nothing but speedos however they weren’t meatheads this time. Instead this group was a line up of some of the burliest and hairiest men Vance had ever seen. Most of them have strong builds made up of a generous mix of fat and muscle. Some of them were noticeably fatter and/or thicker than others with hairy bellies of varying sizes that all seemed to protrude over the waist of their speedos.

“Here we have tonight’s big burly bear selection! They’re some of the most prime beef furballs we know. Any one of these fabulously thick hirsute men would be perfect for anyone in the crowd looking to add a little more fur to their frame. Assuming they’re willing to part with it of course. Not to mention they’ve all got plenty of meaty thickness to share with anybody looking to fill out their frames with a few extra pounds of comforting fat!” Gavin said as he walked along the line of bears on stage, selling them to the audience perfectly.

The bidding began with Gavin introducing the first macho daddy bear in line but Vince wasn’t the least bit interested. He’d already gotten what he came for so he pretty much just zoned out for the rest of the bidding. Most of the bears had much lower starting bids than the bodybuilders due to them not being in as high demand. The highest the bids got up to during that second group was Eight Million. Respectable of course but nowhere near the massive bid he’d made. Though in honesty Vance still wasn’t sure whether he was proud or embarrassed to have bid as much as he did. He just had to keep thinking about his reward. It would soon be worth it.

Eventually the tenth man of the bear group was sold before they exited the stage together. After them came a bunch of brainiacs who were all highly intelligent in one area or more and were willing to transfer some of that intelligence. Each of them proved their intelligence by answering a few rapid but complex questions in their area of expertise. Once they were finished however, the next set were all lean and skinny men who were advertised mainly as group that the more rotund men in the bidding crowd could transfer as much of their bodyfat as they wanted onto. More and more batches of men across the stage during the night. Once all the specialised groups had gone through, they simply had groups of miscellaneous men of varying body types randomly put together go up on stage as well for anything niche or different they may have to offer. Or simply to have a cheaper bid.

Vince hadn’t stayed to watch the whole of the show after making his bid on Darius. At some point he’d wandered off to the bar for a drink and some food while he waited for the bidding to conclude. Every now and then he’d hear the announcement speakers mention which group of men were coming on stage next. Though he hadn’t really planned on going back to watch the rest of the bidding, when the speakers mentioned that the criminal group was coming up last, he found himself pulling away from the bar and heading back into the main showroom to watch the final batch of men.

He got there just in time to watch as security escorted the criminal group up on stage. They were a mix and match of men who’d all broken the law in some way or another to land themselves on that stage and up for auction. If Vince was being honest none of them seemed all that special physically. Mostly average dudes without a whole bunch going for them, hence why their bids started fairly low. However it wasn’t their looks alone that made them stand out, it was the fact that they weren't allowed to set guidelines. The winning bidders would be allowed to transfer as much as they wanted between themselves and the criminal models regardless of agreement. No doubt some people in the crowd would get off on that. And so Vince watched as the host Gavin went down the line of criminal men, putting each one of them up for bidding until all of them had been sold.

“And with that, the bidding part of tonight’s event comes to close!” Gavin stated after returning to the podium. “Those of you who won the bids, please allow members of our staff to escort you to our transfer facilities. Everyone else feel free to help yourselves to the buffet near the bar if you haven’t already. There’s plenty of free food and drinks as a thank you from us for attending tonight!”

Vince got up from his chair and made his way over towards a group of staff with the other winners. The staff checked the numbers as well as each winner’s bidding paddle to make sure everything was in order. Once that was taken care of they were led through a pair of double doors, down a flight of stairs and through a maze of corridors with a seemingly endless amount of rooms. Each room however had a number and letter that matched what each model had clipped to their speedos. Every man from the first batch, the bodybuilders, had from 1A, 1B, 1C onwards up until 1J. Then moved onto 2A onwards for the second group of models, the bears. Vince wouldn’t get anywhere near those doors however as his journey ended quickly at 1F, the same number and letter that’d been pinned to Darius on stage.

“Right this way sir.” One of the staff kindly ushered Vince inside room 1F while the remaining winners continued down the hallway. Once inside he was almost shocked by the large futuristic looking machine that took up most of the room. It was a massive device that was connected to two chairs, both of which seemed to have some kind of helmet above them that was directly wired to the machine. He’d never seen anything quite like it… and they had god knows how many of these things?? It was only then that he finally noticed Darius, the gigantic hunk he’d won in the bid. He’d been sitting patiently waiting since the bodybuilders bid ended and was eager to get up from his seat and greet Vince.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr…?” Darius began, holding out a large hand.

“Mr Hamlin. But you can just call me Vince.” The rich man responded while accepting the handshake. “So I assume you’ve done this before?”

“Once yeah. A couple years ago.” Darius confirmed. “It didn’t hurt or anything. You just feel a bit weird for a while afterwards as you try to adjust.” He explained rather nonchalantly. “And thank you by the way. I never imagined someone would bid that much for me. I know the organisers take 40% but that’s still one hundred and fifty million my way… I can’t thank you enough.”

Vince smirked as his eyes scanned over the hulking man’s form once again. “Your body is all the thanks I need.” He then turned his attention to the staff in the room with them. “So what’s next?” He asked.

The staff explained that all they needed to do now was agree on what was being transferred. After that they just needed to get seated and the machine would do the rest.

“So what’s it gonna be?” Darius prompted, taking a couple steps back to allow Vince a chance to take in everything that was up for offer.

“Your muscle. I want as much of it as you can give.” Vince didn’t hesitate for a second. He knew exactly what he wanted and who could blame him. Darius was a monster with how massive he was. “It’s always been a dream of mine to be huge like you. I’ve worked out a lot over the years but I’ve always struggled to put on any decent size. But now… suddenly it’s all possible.” Vince had to try and stop himself from salivating over the pure adonis before him. If he hadn’t been imagining having all that muscle for himself, he’d have been picturing himself fucking Darius’ huge bubbly muscle ass instead. If he didn’t have so much restraint, he’d certainly have a boner right now.

Darius didn’t particularly mind the lustful stares the other man was giving him. He wasn’t gay but, with how much this guy was paying him, he couldn’t really complain. The least he could do was let Vince admire the merchandise. “Yeah I figured you’d say that. I am pretty huge huh?” He gave one of arms a quick flex. “Was there anything else you had in mind?”

Vince thought about it for a second as he looked up at the giant before him. That’s when it hit. “How about some of your height as well? I’m 5’10 but I’ve always wanted to know what it feels like to be over 6 foot and you look like you’ve got plenty to spare.”

Vince certainly wasn’t wrong. Last Darius had checked he was about 6’5. Naturally he was accustomed to always being the tallest man in a room.

“Depends. How much are you thinkin?” Darius queried.

Vince thought for a moment before answering. “How does 5 inches sound?”

Darius went back and forth in his head for a moment. 5 inches wouldn’t be too much right? He’d still be about 6 foot afterwards… “Alright, fine. 5 inches. But no more!” Darius put his foot down on that. He might’ve been getting paid a lot but he wasn’t about to drop down to 5’11 or below. He was a tall fucker and he wanted it to stay that way. Thankfully Vince seemed more than satisfied with that.

Just then some of the staff chimed in. “Alright so we’ve got 5 inches of height and as much muscle as can be safely transferred… Is there anything else you want to request, Mr Hamlin?” They were already inputting settings into the machine regarding the previous requests to prep the machine.

Vince pondered on it for a second. Tall and muscular, what more could he want? He was about to say that was all until his eyes nestled onto Darius’s bulge. “Well… I know on stage you said it was off limits but I was wondering…”

“Nope. Not happening.” Darius didn’t even need to hear the rest to know exactly what Vince was about to ask. “Sorry man. My girl doesn’t care how huge and buff I am but she loves my big dick. Can’t help you I’m afraid.”

For a moment Vince thought of offering Darius a little extra money in exchange but he could tell just by the look on the hunks face that it wasn’t going to happen. Luckily for Vince he had a backup plan… “Oh alright. Just muscle and height it is.” He waved his hands about a little before turning to the staff. “I suppose we’re ready now.”

Once all was decided both Darius and Vince were made to sign a few documents confirming that they both consented to the transfer and that Vince would pay his fee afterwards or would be reprimanded accordingly. And once that was taken care of, they were taken back over to the machine…

As the pair of them were getting strapped into the chairs however, Vince whispered to the man that was doing his straps. “Hey. I’ve got a deal for ya.” Then, as quickly and quietly as possible, Vince proposed that he would give the man and his co-workers in the room a hefty amount of money if they agreed to transfer some of Darius’ dick size to him despite what the hunk had said.

The staff member gave him an awkward look for a second, his moral compass clearly being challenged. “S-sir… you should know that’s against the rules. You shouldn’t-” he was cut off before he could finish

“It’s only against the rules if you or your buddies tell someone. Wouldn’t you rather earn a personal bonus on top of your pay check?” Vince continued to sweet talk the man into doing his bidding. “Come on. Just say yes. Nobody has to know…”

The man looked at Vince nervously. “I… well…” but before he could get a sentence out, Darius spoke up from around the other side of the machine.

“Yo! What’s taking so long over there?” I asked pointedly.

The staff member glanced back at Vince, thinking for a second before nodding at him. Vince grinned back in return, glad to see that his little gamble might’ve paid off. He watched as the staff member returned to his colleges, seemingly pitching Vince’s proposal to them as well. Thankfully for Vince, they all seemed eager to go ahead.

Before long both Vince and Darius had the helmets placed on their heads, ready for the transfer. Soon enough there was a loud engine-like roar as the machine blazed to life. For a moment Vince didn’t feel anything besides the buzzing of the huge device behind him so he was taken by surprise when a bolt of energy from the helmet came surging through his body. It was an almost indescribable feeling, as though he was being flooded with electricity. Yet instead of frying him to a crisp it was energising him instead! It felt… exhilarating! So much so that he didn’t even realise the transfer was already starting to take place.

Slowly but surely Darius’s muscle mass began to decrease. His arms getting smaller, his huge chest deflating, his legs shrinking. With every second that passed he lost more and more size. All of that muscle he’d worked tirelessly to gain steadily drained away along with all the strength that came with it. All of it being converted into pure energy that was processed by the machine. Before long Darius was a far cry of his former self, looking rather thin and lanky rather than the imposing he’d been previously.

Of course all that energy had to go somewhere and that place was Vince. As soon as the machine had finished absorbing Darius’ muscle mass, it began pumping all of that energy into Vince’s body. He felt it immediately. A burgeoning power growing inside him. Gradually his once average body started to inflate with newfound muscle. His biceps and triceps were the first things he felt. The way they ballooned with size as pulsing veins snaked across his skin. His back and chest were quick to follow as they broadened at a rate that caused Vince’s shirt and jacket to groan under the pressure. Even his thighs and calves began to thicken significantly by the second, causing his growing legs to strain against his suit pants. Before long a series of ripping sounds could be heard coming from all across Vince’s suit.

His jacket was the first to give in as the sleeves started to tear under the pressure of his ever growing shoulders and biceps. The sound alone was music to his ears. Vince couldn’t actually see what was going on due to the helmet but the ripping of his clothes was a good indicator of how huge he was getting! His upper body continued to broaden and expand until his jacket pretty much exploded to reveal the already ripping shirt underneath which no doubt wouldn’t last long. But before his shirt had the chance to give, his quads had the honour of bursting through his suit pants first in all their muscular glory. Their sheer mass couldn’t be contained any longer. And not a moment later the top button on his pants came flying off as well as his hips and waist grew thicker to accommodate. But not as thick as his ass. Vince’s once average butt ballooned to a colossal size, practically elevating him in his chair with its mass and giving him a nice round bubble butt just like Darius once had. Soon after he couldn’t help but let out a stifled grunt as his chest heaved forwards, two enormous pecs forming at last with hardened nipples capping each one off. Those being the final straw that caused his shirt to tear apart at last.

But of course just because Vince’s clothes were in tatters didn’t mean the growth was about to stop. There was still more energy from Darius the machine had to give! And so his body kept expanding, growing even larger with muscle. His thighs had grown so thick that it was impossible for them to not press against one another. His upper body had become so swole that his arms had been forced almost comically out to the sides both due to the enormity of his arms themselves and sheer size of his lats. By the time the machine had finally run out of energy to pump into Vince’s body, his muscles looked engorged with unbelievable size and strength. No wonder since it was cramming all the muscle of a 6’5 man into 5’10 body. He was so swole now that if the transfer ended now, he’d hardly be able to move properly. But of course that had been accounted for and was about to change with the wave of the transfer.

The machine returned its attention to Darius once again, sucking even more energy out of him. Only this time instead of taking his muscle, it was slowly shrinking his body in another way. His limbs and torso all diminished until his height had reduced its way down to 6 foot exactly. On the plus side for Darius, his body didn’t look quite lanky now as it had moments ago.

Of course as soon as this was done the energy was once again redirected towards Vince. He felt the energy filling him once again, only this time it felt a little different. Instead of expanding, he felt himself stretching out instead! His arms and legs all grew longer as his height increased. Only coming to a halt once Vince reached an impressive 6’3. Simultaneously the muscle he’d gained moments prior was now able to spread itself out more evenly across his larger frame in a way that allowed him to actually move.

Now was the moment of truth. Had that bribe truly been enough to get Vince the last thing he wanted? There was silence for a moment as if the staff were still debating amongst themselves on what to do. For a second Vince was worried his little plan had failed. That perhaps they weren’t going to go through with it. Or worse, the staff were considering reporting him. That is until the machine roared to life one more time…

“Hey uhhh… sorry you two but we just need to make sure there’s no ummm… imbalances between you both before we shut this thing down.” Said a voice over the speaker.

Darius was of course none the wiser but Vince knew exactly what that meant.

The machine slowly and carefully started sucking more energy out of Darius so that he wouldn’t take notice. Unbeknownst to the once massive man, his penis was gradually getting smaller until it had lost about 3 inches of its length and a bit of its girth. Even his balls shrunk slightly to match.

When the machine turned its energy Vince however, it made the transfer nice and fast. Within seconds he felt his cock inflate rapidly, going from an average 5 inch cock to an impressive 8 incher with some added girth to top it off. The rich, conniving man couldn’t help but grin maliciously underneath the helmet as his balls swelled fatter as well.

A few minutes later the transfer machine was powered down properly before the staff returned to remove the helmets. As soon as they did, Vince looked down at himself in wonder. His body. It was everything he’d ever dreamed. Gigantic in every sense of the word with bulging muscle all over! He then glanced over at Darius who looked tiny in comparison. The intimidating bodybuilder he’d once been was now replaced by an average and rather skinny looking dude.

As soon as his restraints were removed, Vince tore away the remaining shreds of clothes leaving him in nothing but his dress shoes, socks and underwear. His ass cheeks were practically eating the underwear from behind while his fat new cock and balls created an unmistakable outline.

The very first thing Vince did was lift his hands up to grope his pecs, squeezing the muscle with pure wonder. They felt so soft yet when he tensed his pecs they became firm and hard. After that he bent forwards slightly and flexed both his arms together, feeling as they bulged with strength. His biceps looked like mountains on his arms as they peaked with insane size that not many would be able to match. And his lats… they were gigantic! Even after his increase in height, they were still pushing his huge arms permanently out to the sides, giving him more of a natural alpha stance. It was incredible. He felt incredible!

Before Vince could continue exploring his god-like build however, one of the staff members stepped up carrying a pair of large black boxer briefs, some white joggers and a huge black t-shirt. “We figured you might want a change of clothes before you leave Mr Hamlin. We always have backups.”

The rich Adonis smirked before taking the clothes. “Thanks. I had such a one track mind towards getting this muscle that I hadn’t even considered my clothes.” He glanced down at the remains of his suit strewn across the floor. “Sorry about that by the way.”

“It’s no problem at all sir. We’ve found most people actually prefer keeping their clothes on during a muscle transfer so they can rip out of them anyway. We assumed that’s why you didn’t undress.”

Without another word, Vince pulled down his insanely tight underwear and kicked them onto the floor. The staff turned away but not before getting a glance at Vince's huge cock swinging free. It seemed that despite his self control, he was still rocking a semi hard on already. Of course the new hunk couldn’t help smirking at this, knowing full well his cock already looked bigger semi-erect right now than it did fully hard before all this. He didn’t dwell on it too much though. After all, Darius was still in the room. Instead he just pulled up the new pair of briefs and joggers he’d been offered, loving how despite their huge size they still fit him perfectly. He did however decide to keep the t-shirt off for now. He wanted to savour this a little longer…

Meanwhile, as Vince marched over towards a mirror to admire himself further, Darius stood looking down at his own thin lanky body. He hadn’t been this skinny since he was a teenager. The last time he did a muscle transfer, the other guy already had a decent bit of muscle himself so the transfer wasn’t too crazy. But now? Lord knows how long it was gonna take him to put all that size back on. “Well… back to square one I guess.” He huffed, looking over at the rich white dude across the room who was now enjoying all his hard work. He couldn’t be mad. After all, he was getting an insane amount of money for this. But still. It just felt weird seeing and feeling himself like this.

The now miniature sized bodybuilder made his way over towards Vince who had now begun posing and flexing in the mirror, enamoured by his new reflection. To be expected after a transfer like this honestly. Even watching as he pulled down the joggers for a second to get a look at how juicy his new muscle ass was. Vince certainly wasn’t disappointed by the results.

“Hey man. Lookin pretty swole! You’re happy with the transfer then I take it?” Darius questioned, keeping a positive and warming attitude.

Vince turned to face Darius with a cocky smirk. “Oh you have no idea. It feels even better than I could’ve imagined. Happy would be an understatement!” He confirmed, flexing again. He also couldn’t help but relish in the fact that he was now the one looking down at Darius thanks to the height transfer. “Thank you Darius. I promise you I’ll take good care of all this.” He vowed before extending a hand out.

“You better. I certainly didn’t sculpt all that muscle so a rich white guy could waste it away.” Darius half-joked as he clasped the other man’s hand and shook it firmly.

As they shook Vince couldn’t help but grin inwardly. Darius still hadn’t noticed the extra dick transfer he got the staff the throw in. Not that it mattered if he did because soon enough he’d get the staff to erase any data logs on the dick size transfer from the machine's memory bank. By the time Darius realises what’s happened, he’ll have no way to prove it as all the staff in the room will be sworn to secrecy with Vince’s money. It was slightly evil, he knew that. But how could Vince pass up the chance to fuck and dominate dudes not only with all this muscle but with an even longer and fatter cock too! Besides, he needs bigger equipment to match his bigger body right??

The staff then took some time to go over a few details with the men. Listing possible side effects post transfer such as headaches and mild nausea for the first 24 hours while their bodies adjust and minds adjust to the change. Vince was hardly listening though, only focusing on how fucking jacked he was now. Once they were done with the formalities however, they said the pair of them were free to either leave or join the rest of the attendees at the buffet.

At last Vince slipped on his t-shirt, adoring how it clung desperately to his giant pecs while the sleeves struggled to hold his biceps. He made his way out to the buffet where some of the other winners were already being admired after their own transfers. There were a fair few others who’d buffed up considerably. Some seemed to have gotten younger with an age transfer no doubt. Some were fatter, some were thinner. Some had different faces and voices. And some looked the same as they did before, likely having taken nothing but intelligence or other mental traits.

The moment someone noticed Vince however, everyone stopped and looked. His transformation was the most insane of them all and it was no surprise considering who he’d won on the bid. Within moments the attendees and other winners alike came over to ask him how it felt and what it was like. All of them seemingly blown away by his transferral. Of course Vince revelled in the attention and it was now easier than ever to pick out the other gay men from the crowd by the way some of them gazed at him.

The rest of his evening was spent being admired and complimented on his new body. It gave Vince a sense of confidence and cockiness he’d never experienced before but he couldn’t deny how much he loved it. He was frequently asked to flex his biceps by the increasingly drunk attendees and some people had even asked him to pick them up off the ground to which he did with ease. He even learnt how to bounce his pecs, much to his and everyone else’s delight. One very drunk dude even made a comment about how he wanted to shove his face between Vince’s juicy pecs. A wish that Vince was happy to grant as he pulled the guy in for a hug and made sure to squish the dude's face between the two slabs of meat on his chest. After which Vince even gave the guy his number so they could maybe meet up another time when he wasn’t so drunk.

Eventually the night came to an end and everyone piled out of the event, eager to get home. On his drive home, Vince couldn’t help thinking about everything he was going to do now. Besides checking himself out every morning he was going to love the attention he was gonna get every time he walked into a room from now on. He was also going to have a ton of fun buying new clothes to fit his gigantic physique. Not to mention how empowering it was going to feel to be the biggest guy at the gym as he works to maintain all this size. And most of all he couldn’t wait to get some hot guys to worship all his muscle before he fucks their brains out. He already knew he’d be pounding the guy he gave his number to in the near future. Maybe he could even get ahold of some of the dudes from the auction who’d had some delicious upgrades.

Regardless Vince knew that he was gonna have the time of his life being this muscle beast of a man from now. He reached down and groped his now fully hard cock through his joggers, smiling as he felt a full 8 inches of thick man meat down there. Oh yeah he had A LOT of self worshiping to do when he got home.

#favorite

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clevertreephilosopher · 4 days ago

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"Oh yeah! This one definately has the right vibes for tonight!" I texted when he showed me his choice...

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clevertreephilosopher · 4 days ago

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Pump Pass: One Free Trial

Harry didn’t remember signing up for anything. But there it was: a thick, matte-black envelope in his mailbox when he came home from the office. The return address was blank, and the words on the card inside were sleek, simple, and strange.

“PUMP PASS — One Free Trial. Get Out of Your Head. Get Into the Game.”

He blinked at it, standing in his postage stamp of a kitchen, tie still cinched tight, plastic bag from Trader Joe’s dripping condensation onto the linoleum. Probably junk mail, he thought. But something about the embossed chrome letters made his fingers trace them twice before flipping the card over.

“Membership begins automatically. Check-in required. Results guaranteed.”

The next morning, the card was gone from his countertop, but there was a barcode tattooed faintly onto his wrist.

Harry was 38. Average in height, in looks, in libido. He worked in a beige office and went home to a beige studio. His last date had been three months ago, and even then, it ended in an awkward hug outside a Korean BBQ place. He’d all but given up. His libido had dried up. Porn didn’t even do much anymore. All he wanted was to feel something.

That’s why, on a lonely Tuesday after another forgettable Zoom meeting, he found himself outside TitanZone Gym, staring up at its flickering LED sign. It wasn’t his kind of place — all glass and steel and loud reggaeton beats leaking through the sliding doors. But the barcode on his wrist glowed faintly when he approached. The scanner let him in with a satisfying beep.

The gym reeked of sweat and iron. The air was thick. And the moment he stepped through, his head swam. His fingertips tingled. A bored-looking Asian guy with a clipboard at the front desk barely looked up.

“Trial member?” he asked.

Harry nodded.

“Nice. Locker 88. Towel's in there. Gear too. You’ll want to change.”

At first, Harry chalked it up to gym anxiety. His shirt was clinging strangely to his chest, his slacks felt tight around his thighs. The locker room mirror looked fogged, distorted. But when he peeled off his work shirt, he stopped short.

His shoulders looked…wider?

He brushed a hand across his chest and flinched. His pecs had swollen—subtly, but definitely. They looked… puffier. Like a guy who actually lifted. Not a lot. Just enough to notice. His skin was a shade darker too — faintly bronzed, even though he hadn’t seen the sun in days.

Locker 88 contained a tight black compression tank, sweat-stained gray shorts, and a pair of chunky neon sneakers. Not exactly his usual vibe, but… he felt compelled. He slipped them on.

The scent of the clothes hit him first. Not disgusting — just ripe. Testosterone, sweat, Axe body spray. It made something in him twitch.

He was hard.

“What the f—”

The mirror caught him again. His jawline was squarer. His short, thinning brown hair had grown slightly longer, darker, thicker. His eyebrows were straighter now. He didn’t look like Harry anymore.

“Ey, bro. You hittin' chest today?” someone asked as he walked out of the locker room.

Harry turned to see a massive Chinese guy in a stringer tank, sweaty and grinning, earbuds dangling. Harry was about to say, “Sorry, I’m new here,” but what came out instead was:

“Yeah, bro. Gotta get pump in da pecs, y’know?”

His voice had changed — heavier, with a thick Hong Kong lilt. He blinked, confused. He wasn’t from Hong Kong. He was born in LA.

Right?

Over the next hour, the transformation accelerated. Every rep on the bench press made his arms swell, his veins bulge. He grunted like a beast, not even caring. His skin deepened into a dark bronze sheen, coated in sweat. His nipples stretched wide over meaty, growing pecs. His face changed with every flex — high cheekbones, a square jaw, heavy lids, and a cocky smirk that wouldn’t leave.

By the time he went to the locker room mirror again, his old self was nearly gone.

“Fuuuck,” he muttered in his new voice, flexing in the mirror. His accent was thick now, heavy with swagger. “Shit, look good, bruh.”

He grinned stupidly at his own reflection, bouncing his massive pecs for no one in particular. His thoughts were slowing. Growing… simpler. Narrower.

Big chest = good. Girls like chest. Must train more. Girls like cock. Gotta fuck girl.

That last one made his cock throb.

He groaned and grabbed it through his shorts, the fabric already soaked in pre. No thoughts now — just the smell of his own sweat, the sound of weights clanking, the taste of Axe on the back of his throat.

And one word in his head, louder than all others.

“BANG.”

“Yo, you done?” the same dude from earlier asked.

Harry blinked. No… not Harry. That wasn’t his name anymore.

He turned, thick muscles glistening, a tattoo of kanji now covering his right shoulder. He smiled dimly.

“Call me… Jax.”

He said it without thinking, then scratched his thick neck, adjusting his massive balls in his soaked shorts.

“Gotta go smash some fuckin’ puss, bro. Legs tomorrow.”

He slapped his new bro on the back and left, earbuds blasting EDM, the sound of his own dumb chuckle echoing down the hallway. He didn't know who Harry was.

He didn't care.

Jax had gains to make. Girls to wreck. And a cock that needed constant draining.

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clevertreephilosopher · 4 days ago

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Filtered

Patrick’s Monday had been the same as his Friday. Spreadsheet. Coffee. Slack ping. Microwave lunch. Conference call. Slack ping. Spreadsheet.

At 34, he was past the point of hoping his office job would ever lead somewhere. He was grateful for the stability — a cubicle with a window, decent health care, and a good standing desk — but the truth gnawed at him like dry rot under wallpaper. No one at the office knew he was gay. No one would have cared, but he wasn’t sure anymore if he had the energy to explain. It had been… what, eight months since his last date? That guy from Hinge who said he liked hiking but mostly liked ketamine?

Patrick had forgotten how it felt to be touched with desire.

So when the text came in — an unknown number, just a link with the caption: “you gotta see how this filter hits you bro 😂🔥” — he should’ve just ignored it. But he was bored. At his desk. Alone.

He tapped the link.

His front-facing camera blinked open automatically. A deep warble sounded in his AirPods. The screen turned blue, and his reflection… shimmered. He barely had time to blink before it snapped a picture, made a glitchy noise, and crashed.

Patrick flinched.

The app was gone. The link didn’t work anymore.

He furrowed his brow and rubbed his temple. Weird. The camera had made his skin look darker, more golden, almost oiled. His cheekbones looked sharp. Was that a fade? He hadn’t gotten a haircut in weeks. He must’ve looked at that reflection for less than a second — and yet something about it still hummed behind his eyes, like static in his skull.

Shrugging, he put his phone away and got back to work. Slack ping. Spreadsheet. Nothing out of the ordinary…

Until around 4:00pm, when he realized he hadn’t stopped bouncing his leg. He always hated that — jittery movement drove him nuts. And yet now, the rhythm of his leg bouncing up and down felt… comforting. Like his body wanted to move. No, like it needed to. His work shirt felt suddenly stiff. Tight around the chest and arms.

He lifted his hand to scratch his shoulder.

Pause.

That… wasn’t right.

The fabric under his fingers was cheap, synthetic. Stretchy. Not his usual crisp button-down. He looked down.

The cuff on his wrist had changed. It wasn’t the striped shirt he’d worn this morning. This was… a compression tee. A tacky one. Tight. His forearm looked thicker. He blinked. The fabric stretched as he shifted in his seat. The logo at the bottom hem read: BeastMode Athletics.

“What the fuck,” Patrick whispered.

His voice had a slight rasp to it. He cleared his throat. The sound came out deeper. Bassier.

He opened his phone again to check his reflection.

And stared.

The face looking back wasn’t completely different — but it was sharper. Straighter nose. Fuller lips. Skin bronzed and gleaming like he’d spent a week in Tulum. The stubble across his jaw was thicker than usual, and his neck… was wider.

A chill ran down his spine.

He hurried to the bathroom, trying not to be obvious. As soon as he locked the door behind him, he peeled off the tight shirt — now clinging to his frame like it had always belonged there.

His chest was no longer flat and soft. It sloped outward, two pecs forming a meaty cleft down the middle. Below that: ridges. Tight, blocky abs. Like someone had pressed a six-pack into his stomach, and his skin had simply molded around it. His underarms stank. Bad. Like a locker room on a hot day. He reached for his deodorant in his pocket—only to find he was carrying a small black vape instead.

He dropped it. Backed away. Looked into the mirror again.

His eyes weren’t afraid anymore.

They looked… cocky. Droopy-lidded. He reached up and ruffled his hair.

He wasn’t scared. He should have been. But instead, a dull, dumb warmth spread through his chest, like a sunlamp turned on behind his ribcage. For a moment, his lips curled into a smile.

Then his expression shifted — confusion flickering across his brow. “Wait—wait, what the fuck am I smiling for?”

He fumbled his shirt back on and left work early. Said he was feeling sick. By the time he got home, he was sweating through the back of the shirt. His phone buzzed.

New app installed.

FILTERD+ “Upgrade in progress, bro.”

He swiped at it, but the screen just showed a selfie — him, shirtless. Except he wasn’t shirtless now. But the reflection on screen? That Patrick had already changed. Completely. Same bronze skin. But now, bigger pecs. Hair shorter, gelled. A fake Louis Vuitton crossbody slung across one shoulder. Teeth gleaming white. Tongue stuck out between a pair of glossy lips. “AYO 🔥🔥🔥” scrawled in neon font above him.

Patrick dropped the phone. His ears were ringing. He staggered to the bathroom again — and barely recognized the man in the mirror.

The chest was broader. The biceps thicker. Veins visible down his arms. A flash of ink — a tribal tat? — snaked out from under his sleeve. He tore the shirt off and gasped.

The man in the mirror winked at him.

He tried to say something. Anything.

But what came out was a chuckle. Low. Cringey. Arrogant.

“Bro,” he muttered. “I’m lookin’ so fuckin’ tight right now.”

His heart dropped. His own voice sounded like a 24-year-old douchebag about to go live on TikTok. Worse, he felt kind of proud. And horny. His phone lit up with new notifications:

💦 Roxy: “U up 😘?” 🥵 Chantel: “Still thinking about last night 😩🔥” 👀 CamGirl_Crystal: “You’re a total dom fr.”

He didn’t know these women. But his body reacted anyway. His cock twitched in his shorts, which were now gym shorts, not slacks. His boxers were gone. He was going commando.

He moaned. Loud. Guttural.

His hands gripped the edge of the sink, arms bulging with pump he hadn’t earned, pecs glistening with sweat. A puff of vape-scented mist wafted out from his mouth without him meaning to exhale. It smelled like sour apple and arrogance.

“Yooo,” he grunted, smirking at himself. “I could fuckin’ wreck some pussy right now.”

His stomach gurgled. His feet spread apart. His spine popped, posture straightening like he owned every room he walked into. A gold chain formed around his neck. He grinned. He flexed. Took a mirror selfie. Opened Instagram. Captioned it:

“Feelin’ like a king 😤💦 who tryna slide?”

Somewhere, a faint voice deep inside screamed. Begged for someone to help.

But it was hard to hear.

Too many notifications.

Too much dopamine.

Too many girls DMing him moaning voice notes.

Patrick was slipping.

And Ryker was rising.

The clock read 3:06 AM.

Patrick lay spread across his mattress in nothing but a pair of soaked gym shorts. Sweat beaded down his chest in thick droplets. The sheets were kicked halfway off the bed. His thighs stuck to the fabric. His muscles ached—not from exercise, but from becoming.

His phone was pulsing with soft neon light on the nightstand. Buzz. Buzz. Every vibration made his half-hard cock twitch in his shorts. He hadn’t touched it in hours, but it was still chubbing up with every beat of synthetic dopamine. He could still hear the chime from earlier:

“Upgrade in Progress, bro. Keep grindin’ 💪🔥😈”

He stared at the ceiling fan, which had started to creak. It spun lazily above his slowly mutating body. His feet had pushed over the edge of the mattress—size 11 now? No, maybe size 12. His toes curled reflexively. His calves looked like they were carved from some impossibly vain god.

He opened his mouth to speak. To whisper his own name.

“Pa…trick.”

It came out clumsy. Like his mouth wasn’t made for that word anymore. The “trick” curled in the back of his throat like something foreign. Wrong.

He turned onto his side. His arm, now lined with a thick vein and coiled muscle, thudded heavily against the mattress.

He stared at the glowing phone screen again.

It showed a still image of his face. Or… the face that was now calling itself Ryker. Slick with sweat. Pouting. Jawline rigid and obscene. One eyebrow cocked upward like a smirking parody of confidence. Golden skin, gleaming like it had been oiled for a photo shoot. A faint V-cut emerging just above his waistband. The caption blinked below in looping font:

“you fuckin ready to be famous, bro?”

He blinked. Tried to close the app.

But his thumb moved on its own. Double tap. Swipe. Zoom.

His feed was filled with clips now — not of nature documentaries or queer indie shorts like it used to be — but of HIM.

Ryker.

Ryker flexing in locker room mirrors. Ryker laughing with his tongue out at half-naked girls. Ryker doing the "dumb bro face" for TikTok filters and moaning, "Sheeeshhh!" Ryker licking his own nipple. Ryker face-fucking someone in night vision. Ryker saying, "If she got a fat ass, I ain’t askin’ for her pronouns, fam." And laughing.

Patrick’s throat closed.

His brain screamed. He dug into himself, searching for his memories — anything. His first kiss with Aaron in college. That trip to Montreal with Eli. The little bonsai tree on his desk. His Spotify playlists. His Sunday reading hours.

But they were all muddy. Sliding. Melting into a haze of bro-core beats and titty-jiggle sound effects and autotuned moans.

His cock twitched again. Harder. Leaking now.

He sat up, panting.

His pecs bounced. Full. Bulging. He hadn't worked for them. They had grown while he slept. A dull soreness echoed deep inside his bones, like the transformation had gone marrow-deep.

“F-fuck… something’s wrong,” he whispered.

But the voice was wrong too. Deeper. Lazier. Hornier.

It wasn’t his voice. Not really.

He shuffled to the bathroom. The floor creaked beneath his heavier steps. The air was thick with the smell of BO, weed, and Axe body spray. His smell now.

The light flicked on.

The mirror stared back.

And it wasn’t Patrick anymore.

Not even close.

The man in the mirror was bigger. Bulked out. He had thick traps that arched like mountains. Arms that pulsed. A line of sweat trickled down a deep canyon between his pecs. His jawline was movie-star sharp. And he was smirking — full, cocky, smug. The kind of smirk that said he hadn’t read a book since high school, and he was still proud of it.

He watched his reflection flex his chest.

One pec. Bounce. Then the other.

His nipples were now pierced. Gold hoops with little diamond studs. When did that happen?

He opened his mouth to say “I need help.”

But what came out was a TikTok audio snippet.

“Yooo, she bad as fuuuuck,” he groaned, eyes fluttering shut.

He stumbled back, breathing hard.

His hands went to his face. It was his face, wasn’t it? But different. The bones were wrong. The skin had that obnoxious influencer glow. His eyebrows were too perfect. His lips were pouty, like a model trying to go viral.

And he could feel something behind his eyes.

Something in his thoughts.

A new voice.

Louder.

Hornier.

Stupider.

More Ryker.

“Bro. Stop trippin’. You’re HOT. You’re LIT. You’re that DUDE.”

Patrick whimpered. “Please… I want to go back.”

“Go back to what, bro? Some boring gay cubicle bitch? Nah. You got THOUSANDS of girls begging for your nut, man. Wake the fuck up.”

His phone vibrated again.

New notification:

✅ Finalization: 100% 🧠 Patrick: Archived 💦 Ryker: Activated 📸 TikTok Live in 3…2…1…

Without meaning to, Ryker tapped the screen.

His smile spread. Lips shiny. Eyes dull with horny haze.

LIVE

“Yooooo what’s good, bitches! It’s your boy Ryker. I just woke up, and my balls are so fucking full. Who’s tryna help a king out?” 🥵🔥👅💦💪🍆

He flexed. Turned sideways. Slapped his own ass. Donations flooded in. Comments exploded. Girls spammed thirst emojis. Gay boys begged to serve him.

Somewhere, something very small and faint tried to resist. A whisper of Patrick, like a candle flickering under a hurricane.

But Ryker just blinked.

Grinned.

Vaped.

And burped.

“Damn, bro. I’m hungry. Might nut, then hit Chick-fil-A.”

He slapped his cock. Laughed.

Patrick was gone.

Not repressed.

Not sleeping.

Deleted.

Ryker flexed into the mirror again. Then grabbed his phone and DM’d three girls he barely remembered fucking last week.

“Send vids, I’m tryin’ to bust while my protein shake blends 😈😈😈”

They obeyed. They always did.

He didn’t know why.

But he knew it felt good.

And that was all that mattered.

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clevertreephilosopher · 4 days ago

Text

The Wrong Towel

Ryan was the kind of guy who shrank into the background almost by default. Early twenties, skinny, pale skin, and a little bit of a nerdy vibe that came out when he adjusted his glasses mid-sentence or nervously smiled when someone caught his eye. His hair was always a little messy but clean, like he’d run a comb through it absentmindedly at best. Today at the gym, he wore a soft cotton tee and faded joggers—nothing flashy, just comfortable.

He had a small ritual: after working out, he'd dry off meticulously, wrap his towel just so, and then hit the locker room for a quick shower before heading out. But today was different.

Ryan reached for a towel from the stack in the corner by the treadmills, and without thinking, grabbed the one folded on top. It was thicker, heavier, and smelled… different. Maybe a bit musty? He shrugged it off as he wiped the sweat from his forehead.

As he moved through his routine—light cardio, stretching, some machines—he felt a strange heat creeping through his body. Nothing alarming yet, just a growing buzz, like an energy spark. But there was something else too: a dull tension knotting in his shoulders, a tightening in his jaw he hadn’t noticed before.

He glanced at his reflection in the glass wall by the weights. His face looked the same—still shy, still timid—but his eyes had shifted. There was a sharpness there now, a kind of challenge lurking beneath the surface. He blinked, trying to shake it away, telling himself he was just tired.

When Ryan settled onto the bench press, the transformation started small, almost imperceptible. His usual careful movements became sloppier. He grunted louder than necessary, the sounds rough and crude, slicing through the calm gym atmosphere. Each rep was harder, more aggressive, his arms flexing with new strength, veins popping out like cables.

He caught sight of a group of guys nearby, all the usual gym-bro types: big, loud, their conversations peppered with crude jokes and flexing. Ryan’s gaze locked onto a guy’s bicep as he slammed a dumbbell down with a satisfied grunt.

A sudden surge of desire bubbled up inside Ryan, unfamiliar and unsettling. His mind, usually filled with worries about whether he looked awkward or had spinach stuck in his teeth, started shifting gears.

“Damn, bro… check out that ass,” a voice echoed in his head—not his own, deeper, rougher, dripping with arrogance. Ryan’s lips twitched, almost forming a smirk before he caught himself. No way, that wasn’t him.

But the voice didn’t fade. “Bet you’d wreck that chick in the pink tank. Tight little body, begging for it.”

Ryan’s heart hammered, but it wasn’t fear this time. It was a raw, impatient hunger. He felt his posture straighten, chest puffing out involuntarily. The soft curves of his frame started to harden, muscles swelling beneath the fabric of his shirt, his shoulders broadening.

He wiped his face again with the towel, and now it was unmistakable—the smell wasn’t just musty; it was heavy with sweat and something sharper, a musk that clung to the fibers. Ryan frowned but didn’t stop.

“Bro, you gotta own it,” the voice pushed. “Less nerd, more beast. That’s how you get what you want.”

Ryan’s fingers clenched the towel harder, knuckles whitening. His brain fuzzed out, thoughts scattering until only blunt instincts remained. The once-shy twink was receding somewhere deep inside.

In the mirror, the reflection was changing too. His eyes darkened, brows thickened, jaw squared. His lips curled into a dumb, cocky grin—half challenge, half stupidity.

He dropped the towel on the bench beside him, the damp fabric leaving a faint, pungent trail behind. It was heavier now, soaked in a scent that screamed ‘not clean.’

Ryan stood, chest rising and falling with deep, heavy breaths, and headed toward the weight rack, the dim outlines of his old self already fading like a ghost.

The clang of weights echoed through the gym like battle cries, but Ryan didn’t just hear it — he felt it, pounding through his veins, shaking his whole body. His breaths were thick and heavy, chest puffed out like a prize fighter, eyes narrowed with a mix of determination and something else: raw, unfiltered hunger.

The towel lay crumpled on the bench, soaked and rank. Ryan ignored the sting of sweat dripping down his spine, the slick slickness coating his skin. He no longer cared about neatness, or smelling nice. Hygiene was for losers, and losers didn’t get what he wanted.

He reached for the dumbbells with a grunt that ripped from deep in his throat, muscles bulging, veins throbbing like ropes under his skin. His fingers, once delicate and precise, now looked thick and scarred, rough from years of hard work—even though they hadn’t been until minutes ago.

“Yo, bro, you gotta push harder,” a voice inside him snarled, low and dumb. “Show ‘em who’s boss.”

Ryan flexed, feeling a strange, new confidence flood him. His thoughts were shallow, almost numb, boiling down to the essentials: look big, talk loud, get what you want. Words felt unnecessary; little grunts, smirks, and cocky nods said it all.

He caught sight of a girl tying her hair by the water fountain, petite and sporty in tight leggings. His gaze locked, and without thinking, his mouth curved into a stupid, leering grin.

“Damn, baby, you know you want this,” he muttered under his breath, voice thick and rough like gravel.

The awkward, stammering Ryan who might have blushed or looked away was gone. Instead, an obnoxious, sweaty beast stood in his place—horny, predatory, and confident in a way that made his old self want to scream.

He wiped his face again with the towel, grimacing at the smell but not enough to stop. In fact, the stench seemed to fuel him, a badge of raw masculinity. His armpits were slick with sweat, hair thickening and curling wildly as if rebelling against any grooming.

Ryan’s jaw clenched, muscles rippling as he turned back to the bench press. Each rep was harder, louder—his grunts deepening into guttural roars that turned heads and earned some smirks from the other bros.

“Yeah, that’s it, bro. Own the fuckin’ gym.”

The voice inside him laughed, stupid and cruel. It whispered dirty jokes about “milking bitches” and “stacking plates” but Ryan barely understood the words anymore; all that mattered was the feeling—the power, the heat, the endless, aching need.

He was bigger now—thicker arms, broader shoulders, chest rising in solid waves beneath his soaked shirt. His boxers clung to a swelling cock that throbbed without shame, and the stupid grin never left his face.

As the final rep slammed home, Ryan tossed the towel back onto the pile near the lockers. It was soaked through, smelling like a swamp of sweat and gym funk. The perfect bait for the next unlucky soul who grabbed it without thinking.

Ryan didn’t care. He never cared about that kind of thing anymore.

With a cocky grunt, he slapped his sweaty chest and swaggered out of the weight room, already eyeing the next target—the next girl, the next bro to challenge, the next gym to dominate.

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clevertreephilosopher · 4 days ago

Text

My boyfriend has this ability that I've grown to enjoy. He can swap bodies with anyone he wants, which is cool and all, but sometimes he hops in the most random bodies.

Today, I was at the doctor's office for a routine physical, and I have to admit, the doctor is pretty hot. He's got this distinguished gray hair, a nice beard, and a fit body. I mean, I wasn't there to check him out, but a guy notices these things, right?

As the physical continued, I observed my doctor’s demeanor shift . His expression changed from professional to puzzled. His body convulsed, arms flexing outward as he leaned back in his chair. A low moan escaped his lips, confirming my suspicion. The doctor’s body finally relaxed, his head dipping briefly before snapping back up, now with a wide grin. My boyfriend had taken control, and the appointment had just gotten a lot more intriguing.

“Enjoying the view?” he asked with a smirk, his voice still carrying the doctor’s authoritative tone. I felt a surge of anticipation as he stepped closer. “I always wondered what you thought about your doctor. I mean, you told me he was good looking, but not really my type. But that's why you're here, right? To see what it's like to be with a hot, older doctor?”

Before I could answer, he stood up and walked towards me. I could see the outline of his large cock in his pants. He walked up to me and slapped on a glove.

"Now, I'm going to have to stick this finger up your asshole. It's a routine part of the exam, and it's for your own health." he replied, mimicking the doctor's mannerisms perfectly. "But you'll have to lean over the exam table while I do it."

I couldn't say no. I leaned over the table, and felt his gloved finger slowly slide into my ass. He worked it in and out slowly, as I could feel the pleasure build up inside me. I had to admit, I was enjoying it.

"Everything seems to be healthy" he continued, pretending to examine but I knew what he was after. "But I am going to have to take some more tests, just to be sure."

He pulled his finger out of me, and then walked around to the front of the table. I looked up at him, and could see his cock was now fully hard in his pants.

"I think you're going to need a home visit… to ensure that everything is okay," he said, his voice commanding. "And I'm going to need to examine you again."

I knew what he meant. He wanted me to go back to his place, so he could fuck me in the doctor's body. But I couldn't say no, he always knew what bodies to hop into.

195 notes · View notes

clevertreephilosopher · 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.