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[ianaughty]

Rod just arrived at the gym for his workout session. The 43 years old foreman is still in great shape despite already past the 40 years old mark. He even considered himself to be in better shape now in comparison to his younger days, and he takes pride of that fact. Meanwhile, Jesse just finished his workout session and ready to hit back home where his fiancee already waiting for him with some great homemade dinner. Both men knows each other simply as "the other gym patron" and they gave each other an acknowledging nod when Jesse walked past by Rod. But then, as if a switch clicked in their mind, Rod suddenly pushed Jesse to the locker and grab him by his jaw

"Stay still, punk,"

And with that, the older bear starts kissing the younger bearded guy's neck and grinding his bulky muscular body, much to the pleasure of the younger bearded guy.

The kisses goes on for quite some time, both men let out a series of moans due to the pleasure brought from each other's bodies. The neck kisses then turned into full on sloppy kisses on the lips, lust clearly took over both of them as they battled for dominance, but Jesse clearly let the Rod lead the whole ride. In between their kisses, Rod said

"Glad we waited until we meet this pairing. Such fine studs,"

"Yeah, this totally makes so much sense. Better than that moody brooding 19 year old paired with that fit accountant. Now, my turn to lead, old man,"

And with that, Jesse pushed Rod away instead, a seemingly air of confidence just surged into him as he then grabbed Rod's gray tank and went on to ravenously kisses the older man

In the dropped backpack that belong to Jesse, his girlfriend already called for the 3rd time in the past 10 mins, eagerly waiting for her boyfriend to come back home. Guess she'll have to eat the dinner on her own

[ianaughty]

[ianaughty]

[ianaughty]

Darrius frowned at his phone. The mostly empty MARTA car wobbled on its tracks on its way to Midtown. He was meeting a few of his friends for a night on the streets of Atlanta—classes were over, graduation had concluded, and he was looking forward to the night in a whatever-happens-happens kind of way. So the sudden FaceTime ring coming through upset the steady high he was brewing, figuratively and literally.

The fuck was Miguel doing FaceTime’ing him?

Morehouse was known for its considerably large gay population, but Miguel was easily as the head bitch on top, in a manner of speaking. Darrius wasn’t prejudiced, by any means—he and his cousin had jacked off together tons of times through the years, who hadn’t, that shit wasn’t gay—but he couldn’t stand how much Miguel flaunted it all the time. The two of them had shared plenty of classes and Miguel was never shy about the occasional grin + wink. Darrius took a sigh and hit answer.

“What do you want, Migs.” Darrius monotoned in more of a whine than a question.

“‘Migs,’ uucgh, it’s Miguel, cabron, get it right,” Miguel sassed teasingly in his quick Puerto Rican accent. Darrius rolled his eyes as Miguel waggled his finger at him with his quick camera movements.

“Whatchu want Miguel,” Darrius groaned.

“Que impaciente, fine! Hold up.” Miguel changed his camera to his front facing camera and Darrius could see that he was stepping towards his bathroom. The hell was this??

“Hey yooo!” As Miguel stepped into the bathroom he appeared in frame reflected into the bathroom mirror, completely and totally nude. He’d at least had the decency to cover his junk with his other hand, but yeah, full birthday suit.

“Aww, come on, dude! What the fuck?! You really think I—”

“Shhh shh, espera, calm down, check this out,” Miguel tapped on his screen a few times, “Aaaaaaand, mira!” He tapped one more time on his screen.

“UUOOFGH…” Both of the guys huffed out a forceful breath on opposite ends of the call as if they’d been socked in the stomach, but neither felt any pain. Instead, Darrius felt like he’d been sucked into himself a little bit, like his entire frame got a little bit tighter, and a little bit more compact. His vainly snug clothing now felt comfortably loose on him as he looked down on himself to see that these sensations were more than that. He was smaller! Not puny, not his usual ball player size, but definitely many pounds lighter without his hard-earned muscle. And…? His tighter skin looked lighter, too?

He looked back at his phone to see Miguel’s head rolled back in ecstasy, his entire frame blooming outwards with athletic strength and size. “RRNNMMF,” he gurgled/grunted deeply through the phone as he rolled his head back around, his hair lengthened outwards and upwards and his features darkened. His facial hair remained the same but his features morphed and twisted with a shake of his head. It wasn’t more than a few seconds before Darrius pieced together just who exactly he was now looking at: himself.

“Ayyyy, lookin’ good Darrius baby!” Miguel intoned deeply with a waggle of his tongue.

Darrius could see now in his tiny window on screen that he looked exactly like Miguel too!

“Migs, the fuck??!” He hissed in a sharp whisper at his phone, drawing a couple inquiring looks from the fellow passengers, along with a just few double takes from folks close by who were certain they had seen another guy sitting there moments before.

Miguel giggled excitedly on the other end, twisting and turning, getting a load of his new curvaceous angles, “Right?! Que guapoooo, no?” He let loose his hand protecting his modesty and did a saucy, gyrating, Latin step, his—Darrius’s—meat flopping around with his quick sways.

“Miguel, man, I’m serious, how th—the fuck is this?? I’m meeting up with my people tonight, Im out here in public, I’m trying to get my dick wet, I’m supposed to meet my family on Monday, why would y—?!”

“Hey, hey, tranquilo, hombre! I’m just trying to have a lil fun too! Don’t worry, baby! Look, who you seeing tonight? Angela? Krystal?”

Darrius was breathing heavy, angry breaths. He knew the two would be in the group tonight though. He allowed himself a few angry nods of the head.

“Those chicas loooove me, dude! We get along great, even though they want me. Always after mi leche, know what I mean? Fag hags, man, they always want a lil, truth! Go getchu some of that tonight, mano! I bet if you played the game right, you could bag them both at once if you wanted!”

Darrius pondered this through his angry breaths. When he mentioned getting his dick wet, he did have Krystal in mind. Hell, now that Miguel brought her up, Angela would be sick too. He knew that they hung around Miguel always, hung off him really. His mind immediately pictured the three of them fucking in knots on top of sweaty sheets, eating Krystal out while breeding Angela, catching them both off guard by his—oh, WOW, Miguel was packing. He could feel his borrowed hog swelling to obscene turgidity in his designer jeans. He leaned forward to hide its upcurved head from drawing too much attention to his tent.

Miguel must’ve noticed his change in demeanor and interjected, pleased with himself, “Seeee?! Not such bad night after all, huh?” He giggled and brought the camera close to his—again, Darrius’s!—face. “Also, I guess you just realized I’ve got you beat in at least one way, no?”

“Not funny, man. This shit’s still fucked up,” Darrius saved face.

“Still, you’re so fuckin’ STRONGGG, bro! I mean—RRRNNG!” Miguel flexed both his borrowed arms intensely, pursing his lips, lifted them up behind his head and crunched his abs into definition with another deep grunt, put one foot up on his bathroom counter and tugged on his chubbing meat as he popped his pecs a few times.

“Alright, alright, man, that ain’t what I wanna see,” Darrius had calmed down a bit.

“It’s all you, mano! Also, just enjoy the weekend, man! Don’t worry about the familia, bro, I promise I’ll call you back on Sunday and we can get this sorted back out.”

“Fuckin’ better, dude, I swear, I—”

“If you still want to.” Miguel concluded with another cheeky waggle of his tongue for the camera.

“Miguel, seriously, how—?”

“No time, amor, gotta take care of this,” he smacked his borrowed pole against his abs, “Then we both got a biiiiiig weekend ahead, right baby?”

“Migs—!!”

“Ciao, guapito!” Miguel hung up the call, leaving Darrius staring confused back at himself—well, not himself—in his phone’s screen.

What in the holy everloving fuuuuuck, he thought to himself, huffing out a breath and leaning back in his seat, his (frankly massive) tent now subsiding.

He didn’t feel terrible. He didn’t even look terrible, that was at least true. Miguel was right, girls were always hanging off him despite his disinterest in them sexually. He flaunted his looks and kept himself looking tight, like most of the Morehouse gays.

Darrius unlocked his phone—now having to input his code since his facial recognition no longer worked—and looked back at his reflection.

Clean. Svelte. Fresh. Sharp. Runner-muscled. Manicured. Almost pretty.

Hell, he could work with this!

He’d have to let his bros know he’d caught something, hopefully they’d buy it. Should they be surprised by Miguel showing up all the sudden? No, not necessarily. Miguel, as Darrius knew, had friends everywhere. Darrius’s friends may be upset for a moment by his intrusion, but after seeing how well Miguel could hang… after seeing how good of a wingman he could be… after seeing how skillfully Miguel could knock em back… after seeing how touchy-feely he and Angela and Krystal were getting throughout the night… He was sure they’d come around on Miguel in no time.

Darrius rolled his eyes with a sigh, figuring if this was how his weekend was turning out, he might as well roll with it. He started his texts to update his bros, planned his next steps, and scrolled through Angela’s and Krystal’s IG pages again, pawing at his newly well-endowed self greedily.

Hearing the intercom chime indicating his stop, he slipped his phone back into his pocket, adjusted his elephant cock under his waistband, and stepped into the hot, humid, Atlanta night air, his newly-loose clothes billowing in the thick summer breeze.

[ianaughty]

[ianaughty]

“Dude, Whoa.”

I just wanted to try the filter.

You know… the one that makes you look all jocky? Shirt all torn up, muscles puffed, that cocky smirk. I found the pic online. Saved it. Stupid horny impulse. I thought it’d be funny to pose like him.

So I did. Shirt off. Flex. Smirk.

Flash.

Everything… warped.

I blink, and my whole body’s on fire. Arms huge. Shoulders like boulders. Pecs so thick they bounce when I breathe.

“Dude, what the f…” I start to say, but it comes out deep. Lazy. Stupid.

I look down.

Holy fuck. My cock’s already hard, a thick, heavy beer can in my gym shorts. It’s obscene. Veins up the side. Throbbing.

I grip it, and my whole brain shorts out. Like my IQ drains into my balls. I groan. Low. Dumb. Feral.

“Hhhhfuckk… y-yo, this shit’s… crazy, bro…”

I try to think. to fight it. but all I can feel is how tight my shirt is over these massive pecs. I grab one. Squeeze. My nipple’s hard. I grunt. Like a fuckin’ animal. I can’t even help it.

I lift my arm, sniff deep under my pit, ripe, warm, thick with sweat and… I moan. Eyes flutter. Head goes fuzzy. Brain just slides out the back of my skull.

“Fuuuuck yeah… I smell sick, bro…”

My hand’s pumping now, slow and hungry. Big, dumb strokes on this thick jock cock. Pre leaks like I’m tapped straight into some dumbass sex spell.

Shit, what was I—?

Fuck it.

Mirror looks hot.

I flex.

I smirk.

And I stroke harder.

[ianaughty]

[ianaughty]

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[ianaughty]

Building Each Other Up

I've been training Shane for years now. When he first started coming to the gym, he was just a scrawny kid fresh out of college, looking to put on some muscles so that he could impress the ladies.

I remember the first time we met. I saw him struggling with the barbell, his form all over the place, and honestly, it looked like he was going to throw his back out any minute. Being the seasoned gym-goer that I am, I couldn't just stand by and watch. So, I offered to help him out. After all, I'd been working out for years and liked to think I was in pretty good shape.

The gym had always been more than just a place to let off steam and bulk up —it was a sanctuary. As a closeted single guy in his mid-thirties, the gym was a place where I could discreetly check out guys, maybe even meet the occasional DL hookup without fear of judgment or exposure.

But then Shane came along, and everything changed. We started out as just friends, bonding over working towards our mutual goals in the gym. But as I trained him, helping him sculpt his body, our friendship deepened. He looked up to me, admired my dedication and expertise, and in turn, I found a sense of purpose and fulfillment in helping him reach his goals.

Over the years, Shane and I grew closer. We shared more than just sets and reps; we shared our hopes, fears, and dreams. And amidst all the sweat and strain, I found myself opening up to him in ways I never thought possible. I confided in him about my sexuality, my struggles with self-acceptance, and the challenges of living a double life. And to my relief and gratitude, Shane was always there for me, offering support, understanding, and a listening ear. It was truly the best friendship I’ve ever had.

Our unique bond didn't just stem from the amount of time we spent together at the gym; it was also fueled by our unorthodox training style. You see, we had a secret potion, which I had first discovered when I was Shane’s age.

To everyone else in the gym, it just looked like your typical pre-workout supplement. But for Shane and me, it was so much more. This potion had a remarkable ability—it allowed Shane to jump into my body.

When Shane would make the jump, I would become powerless, a spectator in my own body. He was in total control, and only he could decide when to jump back out. But the benefits were undeniable. Not only would he gain the muscle memory from the workout, but he would also inherit any gains my body had achieved from the session. And since I was already pretty muscular, Shane progressed rapidly.

Sometimes, during our training sessions, I would willingly let consciousness take a nap. I trusted Shane fully, so what did it matter if I checked out for a little while? Usually, Shane would jump out after he had showered and changed for me, and we’d go about the rest of our days. But there were occasions when I would wake up the next day, only to realize that he had remained in my body longer than expected. It was a strange sensation, waking up on those days, but I trusted Shane to do what was best for both of us so it was fine by me.

While our training sessions primarily took place in the gym, there were a few instances where I allowed Shane to use my body for purposes other than working out. I remember a couple of occasions when he wanted to pick up girls at the local bar. It was a bit weird for me, considering I was into guys, but I was happy to let him have a good time. Besides, there was a thrill in experiencing what my life could have been like had I been straight, feeling my body react with excitement at the prospect of engaging in intimate relations with a woman.

But it wasn’t long before Shane's dedication paid off, and his body became super ripped. He didn't need to rely on using my body to pick up girls anymore—he had the confidence and physique to do it all on his own. And even though he started to get a bit cocky at times, I was there to keep his ego in check.

It was around that time that we stopped using the potion and went back to being normal gym partners, pushing each other to get better. It hurts my ego to say now, but I think his physique is better now than mine ever was. Which is why Shane’s recent proposition really surprised me.

---

For the past few months, Shane had been pouring his heart and soul into training for a bodybuilding competition. Despite his relentless efforts, it seemed like he was still struggling a bit to reach his peak performance.

"Hey,” Shane said as we walked into the gym for our usual session. “So I'm struggling to get in as much training as I want to, and I could really use your help.”

"Sure, what do you need?" I replied, genuinely curious about his proposal.

"I was thinking we could use the potion again," Shane began, his words hanging in the air. "But this time... you could take over me."

My heart stopped at his suggestion. In all my years of using the potion, I had never actually took over someone else's body. I had always been too nervous to entertain the thought. What if I got excited by a guy and it outed me to whoever I had taken over? And besides, none of my friends were really any better looking than I was, so why would I want that?

But this was something different entirely. I trusted Shane fully, and I didn't really have to worry about those concerns with him. Plus, the idea of experiencing the world through Shane's eyes and getting to be in his body for a change seemed oddly appealing. And it did seem only fair since he had spent so much time in mine.

"Okay, sure," I said tentatively, my mind racing with possibilities. "What did you have in mind?"

---

Shane came up with a plan where we would alternate control, with me spending two days in his body followed by three out. He believed that this schedule would give him the mental rest he needed to train as intensely as he was hoping—or at least, that's what he said.

For our first session, I phased right into his body in a private corner of the locker room. The sensation was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. I was overcome with a rush of unfamiliar sensations. Like I said, I had never actually been in another body before, and this wasn’t just any body.

Sure, I had muscles when I was his age, but they weren't nearly as defined or toned as Shane's. And I certainly never had this much energy, or this attractive of a face. I mean, I know I'm considered handsome now, but it took a lot of time (and a bit of plastic surgery, if I'm being honest) to get it that way.

I spent the next two days absolutely grinding, hitting double sessions in the gym both days, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from myself in the mirror. My chest and shoulders were absolutely massive now, each muscle defined and sculpted to perfection. It felt incredible, like I was invincible.

At the end of those two days, Shane was super thankful and went back to training himself. But as those next three days in my own body passed by, I found myself constantly thinking about Shane, yearning to feel that rush of power and confidence again. Soon enough, I did.

With the competition looming only a few months away, we stuck to our schedule, which started fine-tuning Shane's physique to perfection one intense training session at a time. And just like in the old days—but this time with the roles reversed—I used Shane's body for hook ups when I was in control. It was refreshing to have this much energy in bed, to feel the strength and vitality pulsating through every muscle. And with Shane's youthful appearance, I found myself attracting a whole new demographic of guys. No longer was I an older daddy, the guys I pulled just saw me for the hot young stud I was.

As the competition drew nearer, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in how far we had come.

But still, Shane still seemed to be a bit overwhelmed by the pressure. Despite our intense training regimen, he couldn't shake off the feeling of uncertainty and self-doubt. To help him out, we decided to up my stay in his body. What started as two days gradually turned into three, then four day stints, and eventually, I found myself spending an entire week inhabiting Shane's body.

He was thankful for the dedication and hard work I was putting in, and I could see the relief in his eyes every time I got out. But as the days passed, I found myself slowly becoming addicted to Shane's physique and his youth. There was something intoxicating about being in a body that radiated strength and vitality.

Things went awry, though, when I stayed for 11 days straight. I could sense that Shane was starting to get annoyed, his frustration simmering for at least a few days. Then, it reached a breaking point.

I could hear Shane's voice in my head, telling me to get out, to give him back control of his own body. But I ignored it. You see, my most recent booty call had been out of town, and I was itching to see him again. I knew he would be back tomorrow, and I just needed to hold out until then. I needed to pound his tight hole, I just couldn't think about anything else. I mean just look at this sexy video he just sent, can you blame me?

So kept brushing off Shane's protests, telling him, "No, no, just a bit longer. I promise."

Then, things went a bit sideways.

"Mark, seriously, get out of my head!" Shane's voice echoed loudly in my mind, his anger palpable.

"Just a little longer, Shane. I promise," I replied, trying to placate him.

"You've been saying that for days! I need my body back, man," Shane insisted, his tone bordering on desperation.

"I just... I have plans, Shane. Give me until tomorrow, okay?" I pleaded, my own desperation seeping into my voice.

But Shane wasn't having it. "No more excuses, Mark. Get out now!”

He started to fight back, trying to push me out of his mind. Despite having no physical control, his willpower was strong, and it had been quite a while since I'd entered his body. Who knew if it was possible for him to force me out?

But I couldn't afford to entertain those thoughts. Besides, Shane sounded annoyed, and I didn't know if he'd let me back in after that. So, I stubbornly held on, determined to see things through to the end, consequences be damned.

I fought back, pushing against Shane's consciousness with all my might. Our mental energies clashed, swirling around each other in a chaotic dance. Shane was strong, no doubt about it, but from all my years of using the potion, I was just ever so slightly more experienced in this realm.

I could feel him teetering on the edge of some sort of mental cliff, his resistance wavering. And then, seizing the opportunity, I gave him one final push. Suddenly, I felt my body convulse. I watched in astonishment as my old body, presumably with Shane inside, fell out of my hunky young body and stumble backward across the room before falling down.

As he looked at me, confusion clouding his face, I couldn't help but say, "Well this is new."

To Be Continued ...

[ianaughty]

[ianaughty]

The blizzard knocked out our power and heat, and so my roommate and I were freezing. “We could sleep together for warmth,” he suggested. “Uh, I’m not sleeping with another guy,” I said. “No offense man. Just not into dudes.” “Me neither,” he said. “Yet.” He showed me the hypno files he had on his phone. Most were for seducing women but they also included a straight to gay file. “No way,” I said. “Come on,” he shivered. “We just listen to it for tonight. Get all gay so it’s not weird for us to cuddle. We stay warm and by tomorrow it’ll probably wear off.” I would never have agreed to it if I wasn’t so cold. “Fine,” I said. “It’s never going to work anyway.” We both sat down on the couch with the phone in front of us. The screen began to flash a spiral and a voice floated out. “Drifting to sleep,” it said, “so relaxed and tired. All your cares are gone.” I felt my body growing heavy. Maybe it was working after all. “It feels so good to give in,” said the voice. “You’re just a horny little bimbo jock.” “Waaait,” I slurred. Something wasn’t right about that. I turned to look at my roommate and saw his staring blankly ahead. The last thing I remember seeing was his boner sticking out of the top of his pants. When I finally came to, he was smiling at me. “How do you feel?” He asked. “Cute,” I said, then laughed. I wasn’t sure why. “Me too!” He giggled. He put a hand on my chest, and that’s why I noticed we were both naked. Was that unusual? I could have sworn we were always naked. “You look so good,” he said, fingering my nipple. I loved when boys did that to me. I licked my lips. “Did the power turn back on?” I said, noticing that the lights and heat had started at some point. “I guess,” he said, drifting his finger down my belly to my dick. “And it looks like you’re turned on too.” I smiled. “You little slut,” I said, pressing my dick against his hand. “Whore,” he said, curling his fingers around it to jack me off. For a moment I felt like there was some reason we didn’t want to have sex tonight but I couldn’t remember what it was. All I knew was that we needed to trade come with each other.

Get more stories of transformation, power, and control: https://amzn.to/2Rhaw5G

[ianaughty]

Obedience Test

He said he was going to the store. I told him to park instead.

I’m on my laptop, earbuds in, watching the live feed from his phone. He thinks it’s just for accountability. Said he doesn’t even remember why he shares location and camera with me. That’s the best part.

The screen clicks on. He’s alone in the car. Engine off. White t-shirt clinging to him like it’s afraid to let go. Chest rising. Muscles flexing with every slow breath.

I whisper into the mic.

“You can hear me now.”

His head jerks slightly. His brow twitches. Then relaxes.

I see his lips part, just barely.

“Yeah…” he murmurs. “H-hear you…”

His voice is slow. Distant. That delicious, dumb softness I’ve trained into him.

I lean in.

“Show me your chest. Slowly.”

He doesn’t hesitate. Just lifts the shirt with one hand, pecs rising in the frame. He flexes them without thinking. His abs ripple. His face stays blank, but I catch it, the twitch of arousal. The pride.

That little flash of he knows he looks good.

Good boy.

“Flex them harder.”

He groans. Not from effort… from pleasure. The sound is low, warm. His other hand drops to his lap. He doesn’t even notice it’s there.

“Touch yourself.”

And he does.

Slides his palm down. Rubs slowly over his cock through tight gym shorts. It’s already hard. Already leaking. I see the fabric twitch.

“Fffuck…” he mumbles.

I bite my lip.

His shirt’s bunched at his chest. His abs are slick. The car’s fogging just slightly. He’s still moving slow, steady, like this is normal.

Like obeying is safe.

“You’re not thinking anymore. You don’t need to think. Just follow. Just obey.”

His jaw slackens.

His pecs twitch.

He breathes deep, and I see the moment it hits. That soft wash of pleasure in his eyes. That warmth that says thank you. He strokes harder.

“Say it,” I whisper. “Tell me what you are.”

He shudders.

“I’m a good boy…”

“Louder.”

“I’m a good boy,” he groans. “Just wanna flex… stroke… be good for you…”

He’s red now. Sweat dripping down his chest. That blank, proud smile spreading across his lips like he knows he’s turning himself into the perfect toy.

All for me.

And I’m just watching.

Controlling.

Waiting.

“You’re gonna edge until I say otherwise.”

His moan shakes the car.

[ianaughty]

Erick Stratton: GOOD BOY

“Good boy,” I said, fully enjoying the show that Wyatt was putting on, “Now the right leg.”

He obediently shifted his weight and presented his right leg forward, flexing his powerful quads. Quads that had proven him equally valuable both on the football field and the wrestling mat.

“Now let me see those biceps again,” I encouraged him, “You’ve been working on them, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, Coach” he said, as if he was talking to one of his best friends, “Just like you told me to. Been hittin’ ‘em real hard. Tryin' some new stuff.”

The results of his hard work were apparent. Oh, to be a teenager with a body that was almost instantly responsive to a new workout routine. I smiled to myself as he continued to hold his double biceps pose, twisting and turning under the light to make sure I was getting a complete view of his progress.

“Good boy,” I told him, “You’ve been a very good boy. I think you’re ready now.”

“I am?” he said, with a light of excitement on his face.

“Yes,” I stood up from the old sofa his parents had moved into the family room. He didn’t even realize by now that I had completely undressed myself, “You can relax now.”

He dropped his arms to his side, and they fell with a heavy release. His body was glistening with sweat from our little posing session.

“Now really relax, stud boy” I whispered into his ear.

At the words “stud boy,” his eyes went blank and his head dropped down over his muscular traps. His breathing became calmer. I circled around him, examining my work. He was a supreme specimen of a teenage jock to begin with, but with my suggestions over the past month or so, he had really carved his body into something magnificent. He really was a good boy. Very few of my boys could measure up to him.

“Do you trust me, Wyatt?” I asked him.

In his current state, I knew that he could barely hear me. Still, he answered with a slight nod of his head.

“Yes, Coach,” he said in a monotone.

“And you want me to use your body however I want, don’t you?”

“Yes, Coach.”

I stepped up behind him and pressed my hand against his wide back.

“And once I’m inside, you’ll allow me full access to your mind?” I asked him, “Just like we talked about before? So that no one will suspect that you’ve let your Coach take total control of you?”

“Yes, Coach.”

“Good boy,” I told him. I let my hand slip inside as I took a deep breath in.

With an exhale, I allowed myself to be pulled totally inside of Wyatt’s body. In that quick moment, I felt a flash of resistance from Wyatt. His natural competitive nature coming through, I suppose. None of my other boys had ever tried to put up a fight. But still, I pushed through and let myself fill him up completely.

I breathed in through Wyatt’s mouth and allowed myself a few moments to catch my breath. I looked down to see Wyatt’s broad chest pulsing up and down under my control. Of course, I’d seen every inch of him by now, but seeing it all from this perspective was always special. I’d done it.

“Good boy,” I said, this time hearing Wyatt’s voice resounding in my head.

I ran up the stairs to the bathroom in his parents’ house, feeling the boundless energy in my youthful new body. I flipped on the lights and took a quick look at my most recent possession. Wyatt was my best capture yet, with the charm of those boy next door looks and an unstoppable body that I’d helped him sculpt.

I knew that his parents would be home soon, and all of his brothers and sisters would be done with school. It was time for me to clean up and silently slip into his life now, at least for the evening. But I knew I would be using Wyatt’s body many, many more times in the future.

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"Isn't it great to take care of yourself, but not from the inside?" asked the beefy blonde hunk while looking at his 40-something fat neighbor who obediently lathering the sunscreen in his powerful legs and now going up to his thick quads

"I can do the workout I always want to do with your strength and you can be the fat-fuck you are and eating all those shit you like. Bet the ribs I prepared before our switch tasted so good, huh? And those tiramisu too, what's the last time since you eat such good food? 2 years? 3 years?"

The muscular hunk, now inside his neighbor body, didn't really pay attention to all the talks coming from his former body. He's too enamored on how godly he built his physique. How it is a result of tremendous work of love and dedication. Total discipline and restraint. How it's so much better to worship such magnificent beauty withour actually having to work for it-----wait........what the fuck is happening here?

As he's sipping his Gatorade, the older neighbor in control of his hunky younger neighbor body realized the widening pupil of his former body. Oh well, snap, cannot let him get back into his senses, so he quickly squeezed his former body with his slick hairy and toned legs and then start to sit uoward rather than comfortably lounging in the seat. The fatfuck didn't even have time to react as everything happened so quickly. Before long, the balding head of the 46 years old neighbor is down in the young hunk's crotch. The hunk is making sure that he applied enough pressure too from the side as he squeezed his former head in between these tree trunk sweaty quads, making his former body lost in euphoric assault of senses

"Yeah, huff it good, you fat fuck. Huff. IT. GOOD. It seems like this is going to be a constant work for us two, huh? Well then, I'll make sure that you'll have my voice reverberated in your head all day long then to make sure that you will not slip out from my control anymore. I won't let you snap back to your senses ever again and I'm gonna make sure that you'll be my obedient housekeeper. Oh yeah, guess we just gotta make our house into one even bigger house and we live together from now on so I can keep my control over your mushy mind,"

Without his realization, the old man already lost its consciousness due to the pressure coming from both ends as the striated quads basically put the old man into a chokehold-like condition.

"Damn this is fucking hot," the blonde hunk said as he stands up and looked at his former body passed out just like that. Then he let out a loud laugh as he realized the wet patch in front of his former body's short

"HAHAHAHAH THIS FATFUCK ACTUALLY SHOT ITS LOAD FROM THAT. Fuck, I was so pathetic!"

He just sneered at his former body after that, disgusted that he once looked like that and settled for that kind of body

"What a letdown. What a disgrace. Well, not anymore though," he said while absent-mindedly rubbing his cobblestone abs and leave his former body in the poolside. That fat fuck will wake up with some intense tan or maybe burnt, but that's not his business. He's just gotta make sure that when he's awake, he'll assault that mind once more and convince the old man to move together so he can keep a tab of his former body and never let that hunk's consciousness emerge ever again. Because if that happened, it will be one hell of a daunting task to keep in charge of this body (which already required so much energy to operate it) and locking a rebellious and very determined soul inside his former body. It's better if the soul there is a docile and submissive one as it requires very minimum amount of energy, and since his hunk of a neighbor is certainly not a weak-minded individuals, repressing his consciousness is the only way possible to do this feat. Gah, if only his neighbor is just a dumb hunk rather than a fucking engineer with Master's degree. Well....should he look for airhead of a muscle jock if it's too tiring to take care of this whole thing?

[ianaughty]

Teacher’s Pet Part 2

Quick recap: the sexy law enforcement major student, Blake, was blackmailed by his own criminology teacher Mr. Russo. Forced to become the perverted professor’s young sex toy, straight muscle boy Blake will have to endure any sexual ordeal the old ex cop has in order to keep his humiliating truth a secret.

Using an old hand towel in the classroom’s utility closet to wipe Mr. Russo’s spit off his face, Blake started massaging his sore jaw. His master, still sitting in his comfy office chair staring at the hunk’s naked body while jerking off, licked his lips at the sight of his hot, obedient student. Finally, Blake returned to his master ready for whatever twisted game the older man had in mind next.

“Alright boy, I’ll give you a choice. Would you rather get fucked or fucked up?” Mr. Russo offered.

Blake gave the man a stingy glare muttering, “Doesn’t matter…you’re just gonna fucking do both to me anyways…”

Mr. Russo rolled around in his chair laughing at the muscle stud’s witty comment. After calming himself down, he replied, “Smart fucking boy. You’re starting to catch on, faggot.” He then ordered the jock to get over the man’s knees and without a choice, Blake hesitantly did as he was told.

With the young hunk’s muscle butt exposed and defenseless to the older man, the perverted professor began bare hand spanking Blake like a child. Reveling in the loud smack sound each hit made and his muscle slave’s cries of pain that followed, Mr. Russo’s cock grew harder as he abused the shit out of his handsome student’s ass. 

Each slap leaving a red imprint on Blake’s gorgeous butt cheeks, Mr. Russo wanted to further emasculate the jock. From the bottom drawer of his desk, he pulled out a black, rubber buttplug. “Keep this in your ass or else…” Mr. Russo demanded showing Blake the toy that’s about to penetrate his tight ass.

“Y-y-yes si-ir” Blake replied breathing heavily for having his ass roughly spanked really took a lot out of the muscle boy.

Spreading the hunk’s ass cheeks apart, Mr. Russo then screwed the buttplug into Blake’s ass making sure the stud took the entire half foot dildo. The entire time, Blake groaned in pain as the plug slowly stretched out his poor man cunt. Now he has to carry the entire plastic toy in his anus until his twisted master says otherwise.

Mr. Russo then grabbed a stereotypical teacher’s ruler as his next weapon of choice. He then continued with his spanking fetish, smacking the wood ruler against Blake’s already red butt cheeks making the stud scream even louder. Chuckling at his bitch boy crying for mercy, the ex cop didn’t let up. 

Again and again, each blow stronger than the next, Mr. Russo continued punishing the young jock forcing him to count each painful strike. After what felt like an hour, Blake’s muscle butt was completely red with marks all over from his torturous spanking session. His ass was so numb, he could barely feel the butt  plug lodged up his ass. Sweating and breathing heavily with drool dripping from his lips, Blake’s body slowly relaxed in relief that the ass abuse was over.

Tired of the muscular body weighing over his knees, the dominant teacher pushed his breathless student off his laps and onto the cold floor. “Alright pretty boy, get your ass up and against the wall.” Taking his time, especially with his ass in pain, Blake managed to pick himself up without loosening his asshole and keeping the toy in like his master ordered. He trudged over to the wall in await for his next punishment.

Being slightly taller than his hot young bull, Mr. Russo stood face to face with his muscle faggot looking down at the boy against the wall. The instructor caressed and held Blake’s handsome face with his meaty hands forcing the hunk to look at him. 

“I really don’t want to fuck up that pretty face of yours.” He then gave a rough jab into Blake’s muscle tit causing the seemingly alpha stud to whimper a bit. “You really do spend a lot of time in the gym….nice chest, tight abs. There was another student I fucked around with that had a body almost as nice as yours.” Mr. Russo kept commenting as he punched Blake’s stomach and chest then kneed the poor boy’s crotch a few times just enough to cause the muscle boy to groan and yelp in agony. “He wasn’t as handsome as you, but he sure took my dick like a fucking champ. So you got a lot to work up to, champ.” The teacher kept throwing punches just to assert his dominance over the hunk’s bulky body, torturing his sexy student with bare knuckle abuse. “I just want to know….whenever you’re fucking with that girlfriend of yours, do you ever think of my face?” Mr. Russo chuckled as he kneed Blake’s defenseless manhood again causing the jock’s face to squint and wail in anguish. 

Looking up at the pervert in contempt, Blake mustered up the nerves to say, “F-fuck you…” to the older man’s face.

“Looks like you’re not completely a pussy boy are ya?” Mr. Russo teased as he started slapping Blake’s chiseled face. “You know what boy? I think you deserve some good dick.” The perverted professor smacked Blake’s face around a couple more times just to show the big man on campus who’s really in charge.

Dragging the hunk’s body again, the criminology teacher shoved the muscle boy’s body onto his desk and held his legs up in the air in a prime position. Smacking the stud’s red ass a few times just to get some noise out of the jock, Mr. Russo finally removed the butt plug that stretched Blake’s tight ass slightly wider.

“Don’t worry faggot, just imagine it’s your buddy Johnny fucking you again.” the instructor taunted as he rubbed his rock hard dick against the jock’s man cunt. Mr. Russo began stroking the stud just to put the straight fucker into a mood then began pushing his manhood inside Blade’s ass.

“Ahhhhhh…oww…….aaaahhhhh….fucking hell….shit!” Blake would groan as the girth of Mr. Russo’s cock stretched the poor college stud out even more. The horny teacher kept pushing until the base of his crotch kissed the rim of Blake’s asshole. Feeling the teacher’s entire package inside of him, Blake continued groaning and shouting while squirming his body around.

“Don’t bitch out on me, faggot.” Mr. Russo reached his arms out and grabbed on to Blake’s shoulders for support and balance. He continued fucking the muscle boy shaking the table and slamming his wet, veiny dick into the stud’s prostate.

Unaware of his body acting on its own, Blake actually started wrapping his bulky legs around Mr. Russo’s back, which is an unspoken authorization for his master to continue but harder. Realizing his muscle slave’s sexy body is acting on its own accord, Mr. Russo planned to satisfy its needs. He twisted the young stud’s sensitive nipples making him moan and started thrusting even harder, slamming his crotch against the college boy’s bruised ass. Grunting like a gorilla, the older man fucked Blake like they were hot, sweaty animals in a college classroom.

“Well would you look at this, I’m fucking the hottest jock on campus.” Mr. Russo kept joking around as he pummeled poor Blake’s prostate. “A lot of young girls around here wish they could get a crack at your body, stud. Too bad they don’t know what a dick loving cum dumpster you are.” All Blake did was continue groaning and breathing heavily as his own college teacher kept raping the straight hunk’s warm cherry. 

As Mr. Russo pinched the jock’s nipples even harder and stroked his cock with more intensity, Blake kept twitching his muscles feeling all the sexual tension build up in his body. “F-f-fuck.” Blake would moan to himself as he’s getting his muscular ass pounded.

“What’s the matter, faggot? You enjoying my dick too much?”

“F-fuck…I’m gonna fucking cum!” Blake finally blurted. Looks like the combination of having his prostate tickled, his nipples played with and his cock jerked got the college stud all hot and bothered.

“Wanna cum for me, stud? Come on, let it out, faggot!” Mr. Russo demanded. And like a good fuck slave, Blake’s cock exploded shooting a thick stream of the young bull’s potent cum all over his chest as he grunted in pleasure. “Fuck yeah! Damn that’s fucking hot.” Mr. Russo suddenly felt close to climax from just watching his handsome student orgasm all over his desk.

Giving the jock a couple more pumps, the perverted professor finally busted a nut deep inside the stud’s body, breeding him like the bitch he is. The older man then leaned forward to embrace the hunk and forced Blake’s lips against his. Showing the jock what it’s like to tongue wrestle with another man, Mr. Russo went deep into the younger man’s mouth, tasting lips and swapping spit. 

The teacher backed away to caress Blake’s face uttering, “I’ll be honest boy, I have fucked around with Johnny before. But he’s no where  near as good as you pretty boy.” Mr. Russo then gave Blake another intensely sensual smooch. “In fact, I think I’ll have both you boys stay after class next week.” Again, the criminology instructor went back down to taste the handsome jock’s lips again. 

“Whatever man….as long as no one else knows about this shit….especially my girlfriend.” Blake muttered.

“Don’t worry about that shit. You hot studs are now my property and I don’t fucking share with anyone.”