kokomomo666

[kokomomo666]

Pumping Dumb

Troy wasn’t exactly the sharpest guy when we first met, but back then, at least he could form full sentences. He was my college roommate—a six-foot-four, gym-obsessed wall of muscle who somehow balanced his protein-shake-fueled lifestyle with being a student. Well, tried to, anyway. It didn’t take long before he started asking me for “help.”

“Bro, I need to get bigger,” he had groaned one night, staring at himself in our dorm mirror, flexing his arms. “But, like, I dunno, bro… I feel like I ain’t doing enough, y’know?”

I adjusted my glasses and leaned back in my chair, hiding my smirk. Oh, I know. I had been waiting for this moment.

“You need a system, Troy,” I said. “Someone to guide you. Someone… smart.”

His eyes lit up. “Like you, bro?”

I nodded. “Exactly like me.”

And just like that, I had him.

The plan was subtle at first. I started with supplements—my own special mix, designed to boost his energy, accelerate his gains, and, well… gently suppress his higher thinking. The changes crept in slowly, so Troy never noticed. But I did.

He stopped questioning things. If I told him to do something, he’d do it—no hesitation.

“Drink this.”

“Okay, bro.”

“Do one more set.”

“Hell yeah, bro.”

“Skip that lecture. You don’t need it.”

“Yeah, bro, waste of time.”

Each day, he lifted heavier weights while his thoughts got lighter. His sentences got shorter. His vocabulary shrank. But he felt great, and that’s all that mattered to him.

----------------------------------------------

At first, I had to be careful. There were still traces of thought left in that thick skull of his. I learned that the hard way when I got too bold too soon.

One day, while he was sitting on his bed scrolling through his phone, I took the opportunity to get a little… hands-on.

“Damn, Troy,” I murmured, moving closer. “You’ve really packed on some size.”

He smirked, flexing his arm. “Hell yeah, bro. Feels tight.”

I reached out, letting my fingers graze over his biceps, testing their firmness. Perfect.

But then—

“Uh, dude?” His expression shifted, uncomfortable. He pulled his arm away. “Kinda weird, man. Like, chill.”

I forced a laugh, raising my hands. “Hey, just admiring the work, dude.”

He gave me a wary look, then shrugged it off, going back to his phone. But I made a mental note. Too soon. There was still something in him that resisted. I’d have to fix that.

---------------------------------------

By the time we hit week three, Troy was skipping every single class. His idea, of course—or so he thought.

“Dude,” I said one morning, watching him struggle to put on a tank top that barely fit his swelling torso. “College isn’t really for guys like you, y’know?”

He frowned, his thick brows scrunching. “Huh?”

“I mean, look at you, Troy. You were born to lift, to grow. You really think wasting time in lectures is gonna help you get swole?”

His lips moved slightly, like he was trying to process what I’d said, but I could see the gears in his head turning slower than before.

“Uh… yeah, bro,” he finally said, nodding. “Yeah! You right! I gotta, like… focus, bro. Just—just LIFT. Get BIG.”

I grinned. “Exactly.”

And just like that, Troy stopped attending College entirely.

-----------------------------------------------------

By week five, he had completely surrendered his decision-making to me without realizing it. He thought he was in control.

“Bro, should I eat this?”

“What do you think, Troy?”

His blank stare lasted a second too long. Then: “Uh… I think… I dunno, bro. You think for me.”

“I do, don’t I?”

He nodded, beaming, completely unaware of how empty his own head had become. I had done it. Troy wasn’t just dumb anymore. He was mine.

------------------------------------------------

6 months has passed since then, and now? Now I could touch him as much as I wanted.

“Hey, Troy,” I murmured, running my fingers along his thick arm. “You cool with this?”

Troy blinked, his dopey grin unwavering. “Huh? Uh… yeah, bro. I don’t mind.”

I squeezed his bicep, watching the way his muscle flexed under my grip. Perfection. “Why’s that?”

He tilted his head, slow to process. “’Cause… uh… I’m just… muscle, bro.”

I smirked. “That’s right. You’re just muscle. Just a big, strong body. No need to think, right?”

Troy’s lips parted slightly. “Yeah, bro. Just… body.”

I ran a hand down his chest, pressing into his pecs, feeling their firm weight. No resistance. Nothing but dumb compliance. My fingers brushed under his arm, grazing the warm, musky skin of his armpit. The scent hit me instantly—strong, masculine, overpowering.

“Man, you really are just a muscle,” I murmured, inhaling deeply. “Crazy, right? You used to think this was weird.”

Troy’s slack expression didn’t change. “Huh? Uh… nah, bro. Ain’t weird.”

I chuckled. “Oh, but you did think it was weird before. Remember?”

His forehead scrunched slightly, trying to think. “Uh… nah, bro. I don’t… remember.”

I grinned, giving his pec a playful squeeze. “Of course you don’t. Because a muscle doesn’t need memories.”

Troy nodded slowly. “Yeah, bro… just muscle.”

“Just a muscle that belongs to me, huh?”

There was a pause. Then, with a slow, stupid nod: “Yeah, bro. Yours.”

I smirked and grabbed the hem of his shirt. “You don’t need this, do you?”

Troy blinked, watching as I pulled it up over his head and tossed it aside. His bare torso gleamed under the light, thick with sweat, pulsing with heat.

“Just a big, dumb toy for me to play with,” I murmured, trailing my hands across his chest, his stomach, his arms. “And you’re fine with that, aren’t you?”

Troy’s lips curled into a mindless smile. “Yeah, bro… fine with it.”

“Good boy.”

I dug my fingers into his flexed bicep, relishing the way he didn’t even flinch as I placed my fingers dip into the crevices of his bicep to his armpits...

This dumb muscle hunk is really far gone. all his work, all his excursion, all his efforts to build this majestic body, all of it is all mine.

[kokomomo666]

Male possession

[kokomomo666]

PLAYING THE ROLE

The cheap hotel room smelled of stale cigarette smoke and faint mildew, a testament to decades of use and neglect. The walls were clad in faux wood paneling, their dark grain warped and rippled in places from old water damage. A flickering fluorescent light buzzed overhead, casting a sickly yellow hue over the cramped space. A battered bed with a sagging mattress, a scratched dresser, and a wobbling chair were the only furnishings.

In front of the smeared mirror above the dresser stood the man who no longer looked like himself. The reflection that stared back was a stranger—an imposing brute of a man with a thick red beard and a hard, weathered face. Tattoos snaked up his forearms and disappeared beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his black button-down shirt. The body he inhabited was broader, heavier, and rougher than the lean frame he’d once known. Even the way he carried himself had changed; his posture was different, his movements deliberate and laden with a subtle menace.

Agent Michael Rowe—or at least, the man who had been Michael Rowe—let out a slow, measured breath. Months of preparation had led to this moment. The bodysuit was seamless, molded with state-of-the-art technology to transform him into the spitting image of Ciarán O’Keefe, the ruthless right-hand man of the Molloy gang. The real Ciarán was rotting in a federal prison under a different name, his existence scrubbed clean from the records for this operation. And now, Michael was him.

The suit didn’t just alter his appearance. It modified his voice, deepening it to match the gravelly timbre of Ciarán’s thick Irish brogue. It even emitted faint pheromones designed to mimic the man’s natural scent—an earthy, musky aroma that carried hints of whiskey and leather. The technology was perfect. Too perfect.

Michael leaned closer to the mirror, studying the face before him. He practiced the accent again, letting the words roll off his tongue like liquid smoke. “Y’think I’m stupid, lad? That I wouldn’t notice yer hands shakin’ when ya counted the cash?” His lips curled into a sneer as he emphasized the sharp consonants and lilting vowels. It sounded natural, even to his own ears.

But the unease twisted in his gut. Every word felt less like practice and more like surrender. This wasn’t just a disguise; it was an invasion. Every moment he spent in this skin, he felt less tethered to himself. It wasn’t just the voice that was different. The smell of his own body—or rather, Ciarán’s body—was alien. The rough texture of his beard when he rubbed his jaw. The weight of the inked flesh on his arms, the faint pull of the bodysuit when he moved. It all felt… right. Too right.

Michael’s heart thudded as he stepped back from the mirror. His palms were sweating, his pulse quickening. This body exuded danger, power, and raw masculinity. It wasn’t just about fooling the Molloy gang. It was about becoming Ciarán. Living as him, thinking like him, walking into a meeting with arms dealers and convincing them that he belonged. He did belong.

And that terrified him.

He caught his reflection again, the fierce eyes glaring back. A sudden wave of exhilaration coursed through him, hot and electric. He clenched his fists, feeling the strength in his borrowed hands. The man in the mirror wasn’t afraid. He was ruthless, calculating, and primal. Michael felt his breath hitch as the thrill surged lower, tightening in his gut and stirring an ache he hadn’t expected.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his voice still cloaked in Ciarán’s brogue. His lips twitched into a smirk, the kind of smirk that promised trouble. He took a step closer to the mirror, tilting his head as he studied his reflection. What if he let himself slip into the role, just for a moment? What if he let Ciarán take over entirely?

The thought made his pulse race, his cock stirring against the confines of his jeans. He gritted his teeth, fighting the sensation, but it only grew stronger. It wasn’t just arousal—it was power. The kind of power he’d never felt in his real body. He unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt, exposing the thick mat of hair on his chest. He ran a hand over it, feeling the texture through his calloused fingers. It felt good. Too good.

His phone buzzed on the dresser, snapping him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the screen. A picture of his wife flashed up, her name glowing beneath it. Guilt twisted in his gut, but it was laced with something darker, something he didn’t want to acknowledge.

Michael picked up the phone, his fingers hovering over the Facetime video icon. The idea hit him before he could stop it. He could answer. Not as Michael, but as Ciarán. He could let her see the man he’d become, the man who made his blood burn with a reckless hunger.

His thumb hovered over the camera button. His breath was ragged, his heart pounding. Would he do it? Probably not. It could blow his cover, putting him and his mission in danger. But the thought of it—the risk, the danger, the raw heat of it—was too tempting to resist.

He swiped to answer.

Her face appeared on the screen, soft and familiar, a tether to the man he used to be. But her expression shifted, confusion knitting her brows as she took in his appearance.

“Michael?” she asked, her voice uncertain. “Is that you? Is that... him?”

He leaned in, letting the camera capture every inch of the rugged, transformed man he had become. The reflection of the nearby television flickered in his eyes, giving him an almost otherworldly quality. The brogue slipped from his lips, his voice low and thick with the persona he’d been practicing.

“Michael?” he repeated with a smirk. “Don’t know the name, darlin’. Y’must be mistaken.”

Her breath caught on the other end of the line. “What—what are you doing? Are you okay? You haven't... lost yourself again. Have you?”

He let his eyes narrow, his smirk deepening as he settled fully into the role. “Lost who? The man you know? Maybe this is who I’ve always been. You just never saw it.”

Her lips parted, her breath shaky as she stared at him. “Michael…” she began, but her voice trailed off, her eyes flickering with something between disbelief and fascination.

He leaned closer, his broad shoulders filling the screen, the tattoos stark against his skin. “Why so quiet?” he teased, his tone dark and dangerous. “Is it because this excites you? Because I excite you?”

She didn’t respond, but the way her lips pressed together, her breath shallow, gave him all the confirmation he needed. The power surged through him again, a raw, electric current that made his skin hum.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he pressed, his brogue curling around the words as he strokes the unfamiliar outline of another man's erection through his pants. “A man who will throw you against the wall and take what he wants. A man who doesn’t ask for permission.” He leaned back slightly, his hands moving to unbuckle his belt as he trained the camera on his crotch. “Look at me, darlin’. Really look. Do you want me to stop?”

Her silence spoke volumes. Her gaze locked on the screen, her cheeks flushed, her breathing shallow. It was all the answer he needed.

“Good,” he growled, his smirk turning predatory. “Because now that you're husband is out of the picture, I want you to spread your legs."

And as she slowly obliged while shaking like a leaf, he could tell that she hung on his every word. Well not his... but Ciarán's.

In that moment, Michael wasn’t pretending anymore. He wasn’t just an agent playing a part. He was Ciarán O’Keefe, and there may be no going back.

[kokomomo666]

In the dim light of the deserted office, Leo stirred from his unintended nap on the sofa, his senses immediately heightened by the presence of his boss and long-time friend, Victor, who was now an alien vessel of desire. As Leo's eyes fluttered open, he was met with a sight that was both familiar and bizarrely different. Victor stood over him, but there was an alien gleam in his eyes, a cocky, dominant arrogance that was not quite Victor's usual demeanor.

Leo's eyes widened in surprise, his voice cracking as he spoke, "Victor? What the hell? Everyone's gone home?"

Before Leo could fully comprehend the situation, Victor, or rather the entity within him, began to speak. "Hey buddy, I'm not exactly Victor, but you see, that alien goo you rescued on your way to work? Yeah, that's me. I possessed Victor because, well, I read your mind, and what do you know? You've got quite the crush on him and I needed a body." The explanation from the alien, delivered with Victor's sarcastic charm, left Leo stunned, yet there was an undeniable thrill in the air.

The alien within Victor had read Leo's fantasies, his secret longing for this very scenario, and was now playing it out with an intensity that was almost too real. "Oh, you're in for a surprise, Leo," Victor replied, his voice dripping with a mix of his own personality and the alien's otherworldly charm.

Victor's hands were firm as they grabbed Leo's face, pulling him into a kiss that was anything but gentle. His lips were demanding, his tongue forceful as it invaded Leo's mouth, exploring with an alien precision that left Leo breathless. The kiss was a battle of dominance, Victor's tongue wrestling with Leo's, tasting every corner, leaving Leo dizzy with lust. "Wait, are we really doing this?" Leo managed to gasp out between kisses, his shock mingling with arousal. “Don’t worry about it and relax. Pretend that I’m the real Victor,“ said the alien.

As they kissed, Victor's hands roamed over Leo's body, admiring the contours with a touch that was both possessive and appreciative. "Look at you, Leo," Victor murmured between kisses, his hands tracing the lines of Leo's muscles, "You've always kept yourself in fine form. It's quite the sight, isn't it?" The alien within admired Leo's physique, enhancing Victor's natural appreciation but with a twisted, horny edge. Leo, still in disbelief, muttered, "I can’t believe that this is really happening."

Victor's mouth moved from Leo's lips to his jaw, then down to his neck, where he bit down, not hard enough to break skin but enough to mark, to claim. Leo's hands clutched at Victor's back, feeling the muscles tense under his touch as Victor continued his assault. The alien's breath was hot against Leo's skin, each exhale a promise of more to come.

With a swift motion, Victor's hand found its way into Leo's pants, gripping his hardness with a possessiveness that made Leo's hips buck involuntarily. Victor's strokes were deliberate, his grip tight, moving with an expertise that could only come from reading Leo's deepest desires. "You like this, don't you? Being dominated by your boss, your old pal," Victor whispered huskily, his voice laced with an arrogant satisfaction and a hint of sarcasm. Leo could only moan in response, his voice lost in the overwhelming sensation, "Fuck, Victor, this is insane."

Victor's other hand worked to undo his own pants, freeing his erection, which he pressed against Leo, letting him feel the full extent of his alien-enhanced desire. The contact made Leo's breath hitch, the heat of Victor's arousal against his own was almost too much. "You're really going through with this?" Leo asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and desire.

Victor then guided Leo's hand to his own hardness, making him feel the weight and heat of it. "Touch me," he commanded with a smirk, and Leo complied, his fingers wrapping around Victor, stroking him with a reverence mixed with desperation. Their hands worked in tandem, Victor's guiding Leo's in a rhythm that was both punishing and pleasurable. "You have excellent taste in men, Leo, especially with your obsession with this," the alien complimented, referring to his own cock with a cocky grin. Leo, caught in the moment, couldn't help but laugh nervously, "You're reading my mind, aren't you?" “Guilty“ the alien Victor replied with a smirk.

As the alien Victor kissed him, he suddenly paused, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You know, Leo," he said, his voice dripping with a seductive playful tone, "Remember that trip 6 years ago after my girlfriend left me? You were quite the friend, weren't you?" The memory, long buried under the layers of their professional relationship, surfaced with a vivid clarity, enhanced by the alien's ability to delve into Leo's mind. Leo's eyes widened, "You remember that? How do you... Oh, right, the alien thing."

Before Leo could respond further, Victor's hand tightened in his hair, pulling him closer as he whispered against his lips, "I know I said to never bring it up again but you gave me one hell of a blowjob to cheer me up, didn't you?" The kiss deepened, Victor's tongue exploring Leo's mouth with the same intensity as that night, but now with an added layer of alien prowess. Victor's other hand roamed down Leo's body, reigniting the sensations from that memory, making Leo's body respond with a familiar eagerness. "Yeah, I did," Leo admitted, his voice low, "But this is so much more than that."

"You've always had a knack for making me feel better, in more ways than one," Victor continued, his voice a mix of dominance and playful sarcasm, as he guided Leo's head lower, a clear indication of what he wanted. Leo, caught in the throes of desire and the rush of the resurfaced memory, complied, his hands working to free Victor from his pants. "I guess some things never change," Leo chuckled, his voice tinged with awe.

As Leo took Victor into his mouth, he started by teasing the tip with his tongue, swirling around it, tasting the alien-enhanced pre-cum that was surprisingly sweet. He then slowly took more of Victor in, his lips sliding down the shaft with a deliberate slowness, feeling every vein, every throb. Victor's fingers tightened in Leo's hair, guiding him with a firm yet caring touch. "That's it, Leo, just like old times," Victor groaned, his voice thick with lust, the sarcasm now replaced by pure, raw desire. Leo bobbed his head, taking Victor deeper with each movement, his tongue pressing against the underside, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked with an intensity that made Victor's hips buck. "Fuck, Leo, you're good at this," Victor moaned, his voice a blend of Victor's and the alien's.

As Leo continued, Victor pulled him up, flipping him over onto the sofa with a dominant ease. "Now it's my turn," Victor growled, his voice dripping with anticipation. He positioned himself behind Leo, spreading his cheeks with a firm grip. With a slickness provided by the alien's own lubricating abilities, Victor began to slide in, the head of his cock pressing against Leo, slowly at first, allowing Leo to feel every inch as he entered. Leo gasped, the sensation overwhelming, "Victor, oh fuck..."

Victor didn't stop, pushing deeper with each thrust, his movements becoming more forceful, more demanding. "You wanted me so bad, you brought an alien into our lives," Victor panted, his voice thick with lust and a hint of betrayal as he started to plow into Leo with increasing speed. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through Leo. "But here I am, thanking you for it, you twisted bastard," Victor continued, his pace relentless, his cock sliding in and out with a slick, rhythmic motion that had Leo moaning uncontrollably.

Leo's hands gripped the edge of the sofa, his body rocking with each powerful thrust from Victor. "I never thought it'd go this far, Victor. But I'm not complaining," Leo managed to say between gasps, the pleasure almost too much to bear. Victor's hands roamed over Leo's back, sometimes gripping his hips to pull him back harder onto his cock, enhancing the depth and intensity of each penetration. "I'm inside you, Leo, just like you always wanted, but with a twist you never imagined," Victor snarled, his dominance palpable, his thrusts now a mix of punishment and pleasure.

As they neared the climax, Victor's movements became even more frantic, his voice a rough whisper, "I'm gonna fucking cum, Leo, because of you, because of this twisted game we're playing." Leo was right there with him, the edge of release so close, driven by Victor's dominance and the surreal reality of their situation. "Me too, Victor, me too," Leo gasped out.

With a final, powerful thrust, Victor let out a guttural moan, his body tensing as he climaxed, the alien's influence making the experience more intense than anything humanly possible. His release filled Leo, hot and overwhelming, as Leo's own orgasm ripped through him, his body convulsing with the force of it, a culmination of desire, friendship, betrayal, and the bizarre gratitude that had woven through their encounter. "Holy shit, Victor," Leo panted, "That was... something else."

As they lay there, panting and spent, the office returned to its quiet state, but the night would forever be etched in their memories, a twisted, hot chapter in their long friendship, now forever altered by the alien's unexpected intervention. After a moment, Victor, still under the alien's control, helped Leo to his feet. They adjusted their clothes in silence, the air between them thick with the aftermath of their shared experience. With a smirk that was both Victor's and yet not, the alien guided Leo out to the car, the night air cool against their flushed skin.

As they drove to Victor's apartment, the silence was broken by Victor's voice, though it was clear the alien was in control, blending its own essence with Victor's personality. "You know, Leo," Victor started, his tone casual yet carrying an underlying alien amusement, "I've gotta say, that was one hell of a way to end a workday. Who knew you had it in you to spice things up like that?"

Leo chuckled nervously, still processing the surreal events. "Yeah, well, I didn't exactly plan on an alien possession to make it happen," he replied, trying to keep the conversation light.

The alien, adopting Victor's sarcastic tone perfectly, laughed. "Oh, come on, Leo, you've always been full of surprises. But this," it paused, letting Victor's voice drop to a lower, more intimate register, "this was something else. I didn't know you had such a kinky side." Leo shook his head, "Kinky? This is beyond kinky, Victor. This is... alien."

Switching back to its own voice but maintaining Victor's mannerisms, the alien responded, "True, but you seemed to enjoy it. And let's be honest, Leo, you've always had a thing for me. Now, thanks to you, I got to live out one of your fantasies in a way neither of us could've imagined." Leo, still in awe, admitted, "Yeah, I guess I did have a crush. But this? This is next level."

Victor's apartment came into view, and as they parked, the alien continued, now fully pretending to be Victor again, "But seriously, man, thanks for the rescue. I mean, who would've thought getting possessed would lead to this?" His voice was filled with genuine gratitude mixed with Victor's typical sarcasm. Leo laughed, "Yeah, who would've thought? But you're welcome, I guess."

They stepped out of the car, and as they walked towards the apartment, Leo found himself asking, "So, what now? You're not planning on staying in Victor permanently, are you?"

The alien chuckled, the sound eerily familiar yet otherworldly. "Nah, buddy, I'm just here for the ride. But while I'm here, let's make the most of it, yeah? Victor's got some catching up to do with his friend, and I've got some... unique experiences to try." Leo nodded, "Let's make the most of it then."

[kokomomo666]

Alien Appetite: Snacking The Biker

I chuckled at the funny face this random biker made at the moment my alien buddy crawled inside his ear.

I just love the faces they make whenever they're having their brains taken over by Cosmo, my tiny alien bug. They always freeze on the spot with those dumb facial expressions. Usually, with their eyes bulging in shock and their tongues hanging out. Sometimes, their eyes roll back, and some even stare in opposite directions, but they always have their tongues hanging out. It's kinda Cosmo's signature by now.

I grabbed my phone and snapped a photo of this one's face. It might sound weird, but I like to collect photos of the faces they make during the takeover. I have hundreds of photos like this saved on my phone because I like to jerk off to them later.

I heard a squishy sound coming from inside his head, and suddenly, his left eye moved abruptly in an unnatural, opposite direction. I chuckled as I snapped another photo. It was such a drastic contrast from the loud arrogant brat that he was just a few minutes ago...

_____________________

I was walking outside in search of the perfect host for Cosmo, who is my tiny alien bug who needs sperm to survive. The problem is—Or blessing, in my opinion—he is too small to digest the cum by himself; he needs a host body to digest the cum for him. So every month, when he gets hungry, we go hunting for a poor, unfortunate soul to become his next digestive system for the month. And, of course, once he finds the host, I'm more than happy to feed him with my cum.

I was starting to lose any hope of finding a suitable host. Half the day had passed, and I still hadn't found a hot man. Of course, any guy would serve to become a host, but I was a gay dude! Of course, I only wanted to pick the hottest guys. But I'm not that selfish, there was also the fact that fit, healthy guys had the tastiest and strongest cum, and Cosmo was very picky about his food. That was Cosmo's own words, not mine.

I sighed in disappointment. I was usually very good at hunting. Just like last month, I found a rich, muscular black hunk at the gas station. We had so much fun with that host; I was already missing sucking on that huge black cock... maybe I should pay him a visit tonight after finding Cosmo a host. Before leaving his hosts empty, Cosmo would always program what was left of their brains to continue living their lives on autopilot even without free will... of course I also asked him to make them treat me like their Master.

The autopilot thing was all my idea. Before I met Cosmo, he would basically leave his hosts in a vegetative state. The police had no clue why men in the city were being found with parts of their brains missing and their own cum in their mouths.

The search for a host continued without success. Maybe it just was a bad day, I thought.

As I was walking on the sidewalk of a house, I suddenly heard the loud screech of tires and the roar of an engine. A young, handsome biker abruptly stopped his bike just inches from where I stood. A few more inches, and he would have run me over.

It was my fault, I suppose I was too lost in my thoughts to notice the bike approaching, but before I could apologize, he spoke.

"Hey! Watch where you're going dumbass! I don't want a fat human pancake right in front of my house!" He shouted, flipping me his two middle fingers in a cocky manner.

I just stood there in front of him with my mouth agape, completely amazed by this good looking young biker.

His curly brown hair peeked out from under his backward cap, and the white tank top he wore showcased his toned, tattooed arms. He exuded effortless charm and youthful energy, even when being an arrogant prick. Those were always my favorites.

He would be perfect, I thought.

So, in a quick move, I grabbed Cosmo out of my pocket and watched as he flapped his tiny wings and flew towards the biker, finding his way right into the arrogant brat's ear. Instinctively he slapped his ear as soon as he felt the intrusion, making his cap fall to the ground. But it was too late for him, because in seconds, his eyes bulged, and he stuck his tongue out.

A familiar sign that Cosmo had reached for the brain.

_____________________

Now, he is sitting on his bike, frozen and with the dumbest and hottest face expression ever.

I ran my hand over his curly hair and leaned closer to his face. His tongue was so big and inviting, just hanging out there, drooling. I just couldn't hold myself, I had to taste it. So I started to suck on that huge tongue with passion. He didn't respond to my sloppy kiss—of course, with an alien bug consuming parts of his free will, he was incapable of doing anything.

But little by little, I started to feel his tongue reacting to mine until I felt his hand on the back of my head, pushing me harder against his mouth, locking our mouths together. I felt his strong tongue dominating mine, making me melt into his muscular tattooed arms while I just let him explore my mouth, making sure he was pushing his tongue as deep into my mouth as he could. He then pulled away and smirked at me. "Master needs privacy for his feeding. Follow me to the garage." He said, with some traces of his arrogant persona still present in his voice.

"Is this your house?" I asked.

"It's my parents' house. They're inside so we're going to have to use the garage to feed my Master."

We walked into the garage, and once Inside, I closed the door, the garage was dark except for the light coming from the garage door's window.

I couldn't see anything, but when I turned around, I saw the biker lying on a car's trunk. He had unbuckled his belt already and was staring at me.

"Wanna make the honors?" He asked as he teasingly slid his hand inside his underwear.

I immediately dropped to my knees between his legs and pulled down his pants. His throbbing cock was bulging inside his boxers, and judging by the bulge, I knew he was well-hung.

Just another point in my favor, as Cosmo had a preference for well-endowed hosts to ensure proper feeding. I was very good at the game of spotting the most well-hung men, not even Cosmo knew how I was always right, call it my secret gay power.

With a single pull, his underwear joined his pants on the floor, and I was greeted with the sight of his 8 Inches hard cock, pulsating with life and leaking at the tip.

He put his finger on the leaking tip and sucked on his finger. He savored the taste for a moment and then made a *not bad* expression, "Master approves my cum," The young biker said. With that, his eyes rolled back, and he started to bend forward, his head becoming closer and closer to his hard dick. I heard some cracking and snapping sounds coming from him as he bent forward to the point he was unnaturally folded in half. His face was now just a few inches away from his cock. He opened his mouth, and his long tongue came out. His lips wrapped around the head and engulfed his shaft.

His eyes were still white as he took inch by inch and started to suck himself off with gusto.

The feeding was always my favorite part. I just continued on my knees, watching from closer this handsome cocky biker suck his own cock like he has done it a hundred times before.

In truth, he was just obeying Cosmo's commands, who surely had done it a hundred times before.

It didn't take long, and his muffled grunts filled the garage, he gulped down his cum like he was drinking water. Then he finally detached his lips from his shaft with a loud 'POP' sound.

A few more cracking and snapping sounds and he was sitting normally. He placed one hand behind his neck and stretched out, letting out a long sexy grunt.

"Fuuuckkk... my neck hurts so fucking bad, but anything to feed my Master," He said between grunts as he exposed his hairy armpit.

I leaned forward and buried my face in his musky pit. He didn't react and just allowed me to worship his sweaty armpits. He tasted and smelled like a real man.

"What's your name boy?" I asked as I took a deep long sniff.

"It's none of your business, you dirty fa-" He suddenly stopped talking mid-sentence, and his body tensed. Then his expression softened, and he continued talking, but now less aggressive. "My name is Blake..." he answered casually, "That's it, enjoy my armpits, you gay whore. They're sweaty and musky from a day of riding my bike with my friends under the sun."

I chuckled, "Your armpits taste wonderful, but there's a little alien inside your brain who enjoyed your cum a lot more than I enjoyed your pits. Cosmo is very picky about his food, you should be proud." I said, without taking my mouth from his armpit.

"Well, what can I say? Every girl who’s had the pleasure of getting a taste has only ever come back for more. My cum is alpha-grade, the kind that leaves anyone craving for more. They know it, I know it, and let’s be honest, who wouldn’t want a piece of that?" He braged, jerking his still hard shaft.

I smirked at that. I loved how Cosmo always kept their cocky personas even after becoming mindless meat puppets. Ok, I might have begged him to keep them this way instead of just turning them into cold robots, I liked them with some of their personalities. I continued licking and sniffing his armpits for almost an hour until he suddenly pushed my head away.

"Ok, that's enough dude! Jesus, you're not the only one hungry here. Get up,"

I did what I was told. As I stood, the tent in my pants was on full display. He stood up and stepped in front of me. His face was so close to mine that I could smell his cum on his mouth.

"Master is not sated yet, he wants more. Unfortunately, I already gave him everything I had in my balls, which wasn't much since I was in my girlfriend's house early today and I wasted my cum on that bitch."

My cock throbbed, knowing what was about to happen.

"Master is telling me that the only reason you helped him turn me into his brainless vessel was so you could receive a blowjob from a hot straight guy like me, is that true?"

I could only nod. He snorted in disgust. "I fucking can't believe I had parts of my brain consumed and my free will destroyed by an alien just because a pathetic gay guy is horny. You're sick, dude."

I was completely lost in the moment as the biker knelt in front of me. His lifeless green eyes were locked onto mine as he pulled down my pants, and when his mouth opened, I fixed my eyes on that massive tongue of his; thick and wet. Finally, his tongue wrapped around my shaft like it had a mind of its own. Holy shit, it felt incredible!

He started working me with that tongue, sliding it up and down my shaft like he was savoring every inch. His lips wrapped around my tip, sucking gently, while his tongue did all kinds of wild things, swirling and caressing me in ways that made my knees weak. I let out a low groan, my fingers found their way into his curly hair.

"Fuck," I muttered, totally overwhelmed by the sensation. I tightened my grip on his hair and pushed his head down further, feeling him take me deeper. His throat clenched around me, warm and wet, driving me crazy. He let out a soft moan, and the vibrations sent shivers through my whole body.

I pulled his head back a little, just to take in the sight of this arrogant biker's face. Then I pushed him back down, harder this time. His tongue kept going, sliding up and down my length, hitting all the right spots. I could feel that tension building inside me, I was getting close.

I grabbed his hair tighter, forcing his face against my crotch, making him take me all the way. He gagged a little but didn't back off—they never do—his hands gripped my thighs like he was begging for it. Watching him give in like that, so completely under the alien's control, pushed me right to the edge.

Finally, I pulled out and aimed straight at his tongue, which was hanging out, already waiting. My cum shot out, covering his tongue and dripping down his chin. He opened his mouth wider, letting me see it all before swallowing every last drop. I knew Cosmo was enjoying it just as much as I was, feeding off everything.

When he swallowed the last of it, he looked up at me with that blank gaze and a satisfied smirk. "No matter how many vessels I make, your cum will always be my favorite, my human friend," Cosmo finally said through Blake's voice.

Since that day, Blake became Cosmo's feeding host for the month and he would often send me a message asking me to meet with him.

_____________________

*One month later*

It was 4:00 AM. I was sleeping with Cosmo's previous host, the muscular black hunk that we found at the gas station last month. We were cuddling together when I was awakened by the sound of a text message. I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and saw it was a message from Blake. He sent me a mirror photo with a text.

"Master is hungry again, meet me at the parking lot near my house." Was all the message said.

"I'm on my way." I responded.

I grabbed my car keys and drove to the location. Arriving there, the parking lot was desertic like you would expect to be at 4:00 AM. It was cold, luckily I had put on a hoodie. I didn't have to wait long—Soon I saw Blake walking towards me, shirtless, wearing only his pajama pants. Looking hot as always.

"Sorry for waking you this early. I'm just very hungry. I need to eat some strong healthy cum, not some thin, unnourished cum," Cosmo said in full control of Blake.

"Blake isn't producing enough cum anymore? I assume," I asked as I pulled down my pants, freeing my flaccid cock, it was cold. Blake kneeled between my legs and started to stroke my shaft, right there in the open.

"He can only produce a few drops now. Not enough to keep me sated." He said putting his hands inside his pants.

He pulled out his cock and slapped it, I watched as It jiggled. "This thing is completely useless now."

"Wow, you really ran this host out fast, and Blake was a healthy young man, he should last for at least 40 days. You're becoming too greedy, you need to learn to control your hunger so the hosts can last longer."

Cosmo had to change hosts every month because, eventually, the hosts he was possessing would become infertile and stop producing cum forever. It was a side effect of the takeover and the constant feeding. Cosmo had explained to me before about the scientific factors behind the host's infertility, but I didn't dare to try to understand.

I moaned as I felt Blake's warm mouth closing around my shaft, it felt nice from the cold. "Fuck, I'm going to miss Blake. What do you think of us searching for a new host tomorrow? I'm sure Blake here would love to help us turn one of his hot friends into a brainless puppet just like him," I said between moans, as I finally gave Cosmo what he was so hungry for.

[kokomomo666]

I really have no idea about the whole logistics of it all, but everytime we started to feel like our meat suit a bit sagging or the human bodily sore or pain affected us, we always reported ourselves for a quick check-up to the "Clinic"

There, they will assess the vitality and overall condition of our meat suit and when the person doing the check up approved us to transfer, they will discharge us from the Clinic and then a coordinate within a text message would appear on our phone. The coordinate could lead us to the alleyway, a locker room in a gym, the bathroom stall of a seaside cafe, under the bleachers of the local highschool field, anywhere, but there will always be a fresh meat suit waiting there for us to take. I found this latest change of mine inside one of the unlocked locker within a gym literally located in the opposite part of the town from my previous living area. He's this stripper in a very popular gay nightclub on Downtown. If he's not busy dressing up and roleplaying offline, he dedicated his morning for calisthenics and some other outdoor games with the fellas before making salacious content of his own sweaty physical exploit for his thirsty, ready-to-pay admirers. Quite a turn around from the more stable, office-worker lifestyle I got used to in that previous body, but hey, I'm always open for a new challenge. So I guess, bye-bye Robert, and hello Mateo

---

A very quick and brief spinoff from the Check Up series, with the roleplay help from the OG author @fullfriendnerdclutch

I think this opened the series to a lot more bite-sized possibility rather than longer draft that could be left abandoned in developmental hell for ages

[kokomomo666]

Hollow Justice

It all started when I was passing by a group of logistic workers during my lunch break from the office. They were loud, obnoxious, and unfortunately, also ridiculously hot.

Our office received a new shipment of supplies that day, so the logistics team was busy unloading the deliveries into the warehouse.

One of them—a tall, Brazilian, bearded guy in a reflective vest—caught my eye immediately. But then I heard them mocking a young, shy, office guy who had just walked past. Their words hit like knives, and the shy guy’s face turned red as he quickened his pace.

I knew him from work. We never spoke to each other because we were from different departments, but he seemed like a nice guy.

"Look at that white collar faggot, even his walk is gay" The bearded logistic worker mocked while loading a heavy box into the cart.

"I think he was looking at your ass dude!" His coworker laughed.

"I will teach him to keep his eyes to himself next time!"

Something in me snapped. I wasn’t just going to let that slide. So, I followed the shy guy and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey,” I said, trying to sound casual but flirty. “I think you’re cute. Can I get your number?”

He blinked at me, wide-eyed, as if I’d just asked him to marry me. “Me?” he asked, almost like he didn’t believe it.

“Yes, you,” I said, smiling. He hesitated, but after a second, he pulled out his phone and we shared numbers. He looked so surprised like no one had ever hit on him before, and honestly, that just made me angrier at those jerks.

Number secured, I turned on my heels and went back to the group of homophobic workers. They were still laughing, still making my blood boil. I focused on the Brazilian guy—he was the worst of the bunch. Lucky for me, he broke off from the group and headed into the bathroom. Perfect.

I followed him in, keeping quiet as he used the urinals. Once the coast was clear, I made my move. From my pocket, I pulled out a syringe filled with my special bodysuit serum. As he turned to wash his hands, I jabbed it right into his neck. He gasped, and his body started to convulse as the serum took effect. Within seconds, he was deflating on the floor, his muscles, skin, and bones disintegrating away until all that was left was an empty husk—that handsome and tall blue collar worker turned into nothing more than a hollow bodysuit.

I dragged the limp bodysuit into the stall and took a moment to admire it. I lifted his head by the hair. His head was stretched down by the weight of his beard, making him slack-jawed, and his eyes were now just empty holes.

"Not so smug now, are you? I will show you who is a faggot," I mocked him.

I stepped into the suit, feeling his skin stretch and seal around me like a suit. Within seconds, I was him. His voice, his scent, his muscles—they were all mine.

I pulled out my phone, snapped a quick mirror selfie, and sent it to the shy guy's number with a message: *“I’m sorry for being such a prick to you earlier. I only act like that in front of my friends because I’m a closeted gay guy. Can't let them know I'm just a cock hungry whore. Please come and meet me in the bathroom. I will let you fuck my ass as an apology.”*

Then, I waited. As I waited sitting in the toilet, I played with my new thick, hard, brown cock. I would stroke it, and sometimes slap it, watching it bounce. I wondered about how many times he used it to fuck women, probably a lot... I then grabbed his ID badge that was on his neck.

Name: Thiago Henrique da Silva / Date of Birth: March 15, 1998 / Age: 26 / License Class: Class A (Allows him to operate heavy machinery)

I chuckled and then went back to play with Thiago's thick cock. After half an hour, I was starting to wonder if the guy would really show up when I heard the bathroom door creak open. I peeked through the stall door and saw him—nervous but intrigued. I opened the door and called him in.

He hesitated for a second, but the bulge in his pants said everything I needed to know. He slowly stepped in and locked the door. I could tell he was still not sure if the logistic worker was serious or if he was just about to prank him. I needed to show him that there was nothing for him to worry about.

So I kneeled in front of him and pulled down his pants. His hard throbbing cock sprang free and I wrapped the shaft with the worker's big calloused hand. I slapped his cock against Thiago's handsome face and winked at him in a flirty way. His face was priceless, he was shocked that a hot manly stud like Thiago was acting like a slut. I soon wrapped my new thick lips around his shaft and gave him a blowjob that would make him remember it for the rest of his life.

I suddenly felt his hands around my head and he started to facefuck me roughly, so rough that the mask started to slip off. Thiago's face became misplaced over my real face. It was a sight that would make the gay office worker run away and have nightmares forever.

Luckily, he had his eyes closed at the time, so I quickly fixed the bodysuit's mask, placing it where it should be.

After blowing him for some time, I stood up and pulled down my uniform pants, offering him Thiago's tight ass to fuck. It wasn't my first time being fucked, but the man I was wearing was still a virgin, so the office guy had to take some time to loosen the bodysuit's asshole. Once he was sure it was loose enough, he fucked Thiago like he was his personal bitch.

The boy might not be the best looking, but he sure knew how to fuck.

And me? I moaned, grunted, and played the part of the closeted homophobic blue-collar worker who couldn’t get enough of cock. When it was over and he finished inside me, he straightened his clothes, kissed me, and whispered, “That was amazing. I forgive you,” Then, he left, looking happier than ever.

As for the bodysuit, I didn’t need it anymore. I pulled it off and threw it into the toilet. I then grabbed a new syringe, injected the bodysuit with it, and watched as what was left of Thiago dissolved into black goo. I flushed the goo down the toilet and threw his uniform in the trash bin, but kept his ID badge for some reason...

I washed my hands and walked out of the bathroom with a smirk on my face, just as my lunch break was ending—justice had been served on my plate.

[kokomomo666]

The Masked Creator

Josh parked his car outside Ethan’s house and stepped into the cool evening air. Ethan had invited him over with a cryptic text that simply said, “Got something wild to show you.” Knowing Ethan’s penchant for eccentric hobbies, Josh was intrigued but had no idea what to expect.

When Josh entered the house, the living room lights were dim, with softbox lights glowing faintly from the adjoining studio. He could hear the hum of a fan in the background and a rhythmic creak of floorboards.

“Come on in!” Ethan’s voice called out, muffled yet cheerful.

Josh stepped cautiously into the studio and froze in place.

Ethan was standing under the glow of the lights, and he didn’t look like Ethan at all. He was wearing a hyper-realistic latex bodysuit, complete with a sculpted physique, detailed veins, and a lifelike mask that transformed his face into that of a strikingly handsome man. Over the suit, Ethan wore a fitted button-down shirt, tight jeans, sneakers, and a sleek watch. He looked like a model—or at least, someone Josh wouldn’t recognize on the street.

“Holy… That’s insane,” Josh said, unable to take his eyes off the transformation.

Ethan chuckled, his voice slightly muffled by the mask. “Right? This is my new gig—creating transformation content for my subscribers. They’re obsessed with these hyper-realistic suits.” He gestured at himself. “Full look, head to toe. The audience loves it.”

Josh stepped closer, his curiosity piqued. “How do you even get into something like this?”

Ethan shrugged. “Started as a side thing, but there’s a niche for everything online. The audience is mostly guys into hyper-masculine characters. They love the whole ‘becoming someone else’ vibe.” He glanced at himself in the mirror. “This setup’s a pain to wear, though. You sweat like crazy.”

Josh smirked. “Looks worth it. You don’t even look like you.”

Ethan laughed. “Wait until you see me take it off.”

Josh watched intently as Ethan began the process of removing the gear. He started with the mask, gripping it at the edges and tugging gently. The latex stretched, releasing with a faint, wet sound as Ethan’s real face emerged, flushed and dripping with sweat. He wiped his forehead with his arm and tossed the mask onto a nearby table, where it landed with a lifeless thud.

“Man, this thing is suffocating,” Ethan said, rubbing his face.

Next, Ethan kicked off his sneakers and started unbuttoning his shirt, peeling it off to reveal the suit’s sculpted chest beneath. Josh marveled at the craftsmanship; every muscle and vein looked real, as if carved from flesh instead of latex.

Then Ethan grabbed the bodysuit at his collarbone and pulled. The latex stretched and stuck to his skin, releasing with a faint suction sound as he peeled it down. First his chest came into view, glistening with sweat, then his stomach, and finally his hips. Josh realized, with a slight jolt of surprise, that Ethan wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

The suit slipped lower, revealing Ethan completely as it pooled around his ankles. He stepped out of it with a relieved sigh, his bare skin slick with sweat and flushed from the heat.

“God, that feels so much better,” Ethan said, running a hand through his damp hair. “I’m drenched. Gonna hit the shower. Be right back.”

He grabbed a towel and disappeared down the hallway, leaving the bathroom door slightly ajar.

Josh stood there, his gaze lingering on the discarded suit and mask. The faint warmth and musky scent of sweat still clung to the air, and he found himself staring at the hollow mask. It seemed to stare back, its lifelike features oddly inviting.

Unable to resist, Josh reached out and picked up the mask. The latex was slick and damp, slightly cool to the touch. His fingers traced its contours, and before he could second-guess himself, he stretched it over his head.

The mask clung to his skin, warm and snug, molding perfectly to his features. He turned to the mirror, startled by the transformation. His reflection wasn’t his own—it was someone else entirely.

His curiosity deepened.

Josh began undressing, tossing his T-shirt, jeans, and boxers aside. He grabbed the bodysuit, feeling its weight and warmth. The inside was slick and damp from Ethan’s sweat, but he didn’t mind. Sliding one leg in, then the other, he felt the latex stretch and cling to him like a second skin. He pulled it over his torso, adjusting it until it hugged every curve and muscle.

By the time he’d smoothed it over his arms and shoulders, the suit felt like it was a part of him. He glanced in the mirror, marveling at how different he looked.

Finally, Josh slipped on the jeans, shirt, and sneakers Ethan had worn, completing the look. When he turned back to the mirror, he barely recognized himself. His heart raced as he ran his hands over his chest, feeling the smoothness of the suit beneath the clothes. The warmth and dampness were oddly comforting, the snug fit exhilarating.

The sound of the shower shutting off made his stomach drop.

“Josh?” Ethan’s voice called from the bathroom.

Josh froze, his reflection staring back at him with wide, unfamiliar eyes. His heart pounded as Ethan’s voice echoed down the hall.

“Josh? You still here?”

He scrambled to step away from the mirror, his hands fumbling to undo the snug latex suit, but it clung stubbornly to his skin. The bodysuit, still warm and sticky from both Ethan and now Josh’s sweat, seemed unwilling to let go. Before he could think of a plan, Ethan appeared in the doorway, a towel slung over his shoulders.

Ethan paused, blinking in surprise.

For a moment, the two of them just stared at each other. Josh, standing there fully suited, wearing Ethan’s clothes and mask, looked like a transformed version of the man Ethan had been moments ago.

“Dude,” Ethan finally said, breaking the silence. A grin spread across his face. “I didn’t think you’d actually try it on.”

Josh felt his face flush under the mask, though it didn’t show. “I… uh… couldn’t help it. You left it out, and I got curious.”

Ethan stepped closer, his grin widening. “No, this is awesome. You actually look amazing in it.” He circled Josh, inspecting the fit. “Man, I didn’t realize how well it’d work on you.”

Josh hesitated, unsure how to respond. “You’re not mad?”

“Mad? Are you kidding? This is perfect.” Ethan clapped his hands together. “This gives me an idea. My audience is always asking for transformation collabs. You and me, wearing the suits, doing a dual character thing. It’d blow their minds.”

Josh blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, you want me to… like, make content with you?”

Ethan shrugged. “Why not? You clearly look the part.” He gestured to Josh’s reflection in the mirror. “Seriously, you’re nailing the vibe. Plus, I could show you some of the tricks to really sell the transformation.”

Josh glanced at himself in the mirror again. The mask and suit were so lifelike that he almost didn’t recognize the man staring back at him. He shifted on his feet, the snug latex clinging to his body with every movement. The idea of performing in front of an audience was intimidating, but… exhilarating.

“I don’t know…” Josh said, hesitating. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

Ethan smirked. “You’re already halfway there. Besides, it’s not like it’s live or anything. We can just shoot some footage and see how it turns out. If you don’t like it, no pressure.”

Josh bit his lip, considering. The suit felt strangely empowering, and Ethan’s enthusiasm was contagious. “What would we even do?”

Ethan’s eyes lit up, and he began pacing the room, already brainstorming. “Okay, so we could play up the whole transformation angle. Like, you’re the new guy trying out the suit for the first time, and I’m guiding you through it. Then we could do a big reveal at the end, showing both of us suited up. My subscribers love seeing stuff like that.”

Josh still felt nervous, but part of him was intrigued. The suit, the transformation, the way Ethan had reacted—it all felt thrilling in a way he hadn’t expected.

“Alright,” Josh said finally, a small smile creeping across his face. “I guess I’ll give it a shot.”

Ethan clapped him on the shoulder, his grin triumphant. “Yes! This is going to be epic. Let me grab my other gear and suit up. We’ll get started in no time.”

As Ethan darted off to retrieve his equipment, Josh turned back to the mirror, his heart racing. He didn’t know what he was getting himself into, but one thing was certain—this was going to be an experience he’d never forget.

[kokomomo666]

You will definitely not be disappointed.

Kick is a 56-year-old man who has been a single father for many years. He has never had a wife. He adopted a boy when he was young, Harry, a handsome 19-year-old teenager.

Harry falls in love with his personal fitness code senior named Zack. Harry is anxious because he is going to confess his love to Zack that evening. Kick, seeing his son's anxiety, comforts his son.

Hey son, what are you worried about?

I'm just worried about the consequences after I confess my love to Zack. Hey son, don't worry. Everything will be fine. I'm sure you won't be disappointed.

When Harry finished speaking, he smiled hopefully.

Thank you, Dad. I hope so.

After Harry finished speaking, he walked out, saying that he would go confess his love now.

Time passed and Kick sat in his house. He was a little worried because it had been hours since Harry had returned home. The door opened and Harry walked in with a sad face.

Kick immediately understood the situation and was about to go and comfort him but was stopped by Harry. He told Zack to take some time to think about it before leaving him, which worried Harry.

Harry, who was very worried, walked quickly to his room, making his father, Kick, sad. He didn't want his son to be sad anymore. He walked to the basement, there was a secret door that revealed a strange storage compartment. He took out a bottle of potion from the compartment before walking out of the house.

At Zack's house, he heard a knock on the door and immediately met Kick. Zack opened the door and was splashed with strange water by Kick. Before he could scream, his body slowly disintegrated, leaving only skin that looked like a suit.

Kick continued with his plan, he managed to get into the house before anyone could see him, he took off his clothes and immediately put on Zack's body suit, the figure of the near-retired man disappeared almost instantly as the figure slipped into the body suit.

When he put it on, Kick transformed into Zack, both his face and voice, and he sent a message to Harry.

"Harry I need to talk to you come to my house now it's unlocked come in message sent to Harry" Harry read it almost immediately he didn't reply but ten minutes later the sound of running hurriedly stopped at Zack's door

When Harry opened Zack's door, he didn't find Zack there. He walked to Zack's room, and was shocked to find Zack in a towel. "Hey Harry, I just wanted to say I agree."

Zack got up and came closer to him. If you want I will be….. Before he could answer Harry rushed in and kissed Zack passionately. “Yes I want. I love you.” Good. Zack said as he pulled the towel off to reveal his hard cock. Let’s get started.

พวกเขาเริ่มมีเซ็กส์อย่างเร่าร้อน เสียงของพวกเขาก้องไปทั่วห้อง และเสียงเพลงแห่งเซ็กส์อันเร่าร้อนของพวกเขาก็ดังไปตลอดทั้งคืนจนถึงรุ่งเช้า

เช้าตรู่ แฮรี่และแซ็คตื่นนอนในเวลาเดียวกัน พวกเขาถ่ายรูปเพื่อระลึกถึงวันแรกของพวกเขาในเช้าวันนั้นYes, my love, I won't let you down, Zack said with a smile. แต่แซ็คคิดกับตัวเองว่าเขาจะต้องเปลี่ยนจากการเป็นพ่อบุญธรรมมาเป็นแฟนของลูกชายของเขาไปอีกนาน

[kokomomo666]

Divulgence

"The heck?! If he won't stop taking images of us, I will make him", fussed my brother's friend.

"Calm down big guy, he will only jack off to the images of yours," my brother Michel sneered into the camera, "isn't that right, shrimp?"

I rolled my eyes and turned away. Surprisingly, the jerk of a brother asked me today if I wanted to accompany them. After I refused to follow him and his best friend, he stubbornly insisted and even threatened me to tell our parents a fetish secret of mine.

"Why would you tell them? That's not even true?"

"No need to deny it, weirdo! Shut up now and come with us. Guess who they'd believe more: the smart and good-looking son, who always makes them proud, or the weird gay kiddo playing D&D all day long." He smiled wickedly and pushed me through to door.

"What an arrogant jerk," I thought to myself and gave in.

I silently followed them, waiting to uncover why I was even with them. But they just went into town, doing their thing: going for girls, chatting and drinking. I felt totally out of place, and his best friend, David, made no secret of his displeasure with my presence. So I took pictures of them to have at least some kind of reward. Besides them being total douchebags, they had the bodies of fine athletes. That's why I ignored their mocking talk and just waited to return home.

As we entered our house, his friend David said goodbye to my brother.

"Next time we meet, leave that weirdo at home."

"Don't mind bro. See you tomorrow. Be ready for leg day."

I stormed into my room, shut the door and wanted to check out the images I had taken. I was ready to jack off, when suddenly my brother burst into my room.

"Fuck! Michel? Get out!"

"Dude! It didn't even take you five minutes to jack off at home?", he jeered at me.

"Get out Michel!"

"Hey bro, cool it. I have to show you something.", he tried to sooth me. Suddenly he started taking his clothes off.

"What the fuck are you doing Michel?", I couldn't comprehend what had gotten into him today.

"Stop stressing me out, egghead. I'll show you!" He hold up his hand to me. "Isn't this a handsome body of mine? Look at these muscles and the package. Awesome, isn't it?"

I completely felt assaulted as my brother admired himself after rushing in, when I was about to start masturbating. Of course he looked handsome and I was completely jealous, but it was my douchebag brother!

"Be prepared Nick!" he grabbed into the corners of his mouth and started to unnaturally pull it over his head. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw a familiar face appearing—the face of my chubby best friend, Ben. It was surreal to see Ben's face on top of Michel's thoroughly fit body.

"Finally you're quiet," Ben laughed with own voice "I told you it will work!"

I was too stunned to speak.

"I thought you would be happier to see me, Nick. Well, here I am—wearing your brother. Quite the flawless performance I delivered, wasn't it? You had no clue, right?!" A smile formed on Bens face, while the face of my brother was stretched around his neck.

"When did you …?"

"Ah that was easy, I took my chance when you were at the cinema with your parents. Your brother of course didn't expect me to assault him. So it wasn't as difficult as expected to inject him with …"

"Dude that was four days ago!" I said in shock.

"Well. I lost track of time when I put your brother on. I hadn't worn him a full minute when you and your parents returned home. I was very nervous, but then I realized as soon as I fully disguised myself as your brother, I had access to all his mannerisms, memories, and dirty little secrets." He tapped his head and flashed a smile toward me. "Then I wanted to make sure you and your parents couldn't notice any difference. And damn was it easy to fool all of you. I really enjoyed living your brother's life and you didn't give me the impression that you doubted I was him either. That's why I didn't tell you sooner, but now I couldn't keep it to myself any longer."

All I could answer in that moment was a simple "OK." On the one hand, I didn't want to believe him despite the evidence; on the other hand, I was more than ready to explore Michel's body.

Ben came closer to me, smiling, and placed my hands on his chest — on Ben's chest. One could notice the relief in Ben's demeanor after revealing himself. "Sorry. Wait!" he exclaimed. He took the edges of Michel's face and started to pull it over his head once again — no more signs of Ben's brown eyes. "Better, right?" he asked with my brothers voice.

I was more than ready to go over my brother's body.

"Be my brother, Ben! Be Michel" I demanded.

"You do know that Michel would bash you for touching your own brother?!" He sighed contentedly. His friendly face changed immediately to an expression of disgust.

"What the fuck is wrong with you shrimp. Drooling over your own brother? I'll show you how a real man will handle this…" he commanded while flipping me over.

[kokomomo666]

Facade of Justice

The dim, flickering lights of the underground lair cast jagged shadows on the cold concrete walls. Valorion, hero of the Justice Force, hung suspended, his wrists bound by energy restraints that drained his strength.

His metallic spandex bodysuit, accented with gold and silver, clung tightly to his muscular form. A sleek cowl fully enveloped his scalp, leaving only his eyes, nose, and mouth exposed, while framing his chiseled jaw, adding to his air of intensity and mystery.

From the shadows, Darksteel emerged like a phantom, his dark coat sweeping behind him. As the ruthless leader of the notorious organization Midnight Shadow, his presence radiated danger. His movements were slow and deliberate, his sharp face framed by a high collar. Piercing green eyes glinted with quiet amusement as they lingered on Valorion's bound form

“You can’t win, Darksteel,” Valorion growled, his voice strained but steady. “Even if you kill me, another hero will rise.”

Darksteel’s cold smile faltered for an instant, and in a single swift motion, he drove his knee into Valorion’s groin. The impact sent a sharp, searing pain radiating through Valorion’s body, forcing a gasp from his lips as he doubled over, his bound wrists the only thing keeping him from collapsing. His body throbbed with the aftershock, vision blurring as he struggled to catch his breath.

Darksteel leaned in close, his voice low and venomous. “Kill you?” he whispered, almost playfully. “I don’t need to kill you to break you. By the time I’m done, you’ll beg to stay forgotten.”

He turned and walked away, the door sliding shut with a hiss. With a soft hiss, the door slid shut behind him, sealing Valorion alone in the crushing silence of the chamber.

Valorion clenched his fists, forcing himself to focus, to breathe. Yet that uneasy feeling remained—the nagging sensation that unseen eyes were still watching him.

Minutes stretched into an eternity, broken only by Valorion's ragged breathing. Suddenly, a muffled explosion shattered the quiet chamber. The wall crumbled inward, and through the smoke, a masked soldier in Midnight Shadow’s black uniform stepped in.

Valorion tensed, unsure if this was a new threat or another of Darksteel’s games.

The soldier strode purposefully toward a sleek panel embedded in the wall. His gloved hand hovered over a red glowing button, its metallic surface gleaming under the dim light.

“Trust me,” he muttered before slamming the button.

A sharp hiss filled the air as the energy restraints flickered and then disengaged with a burst of sparks.

Valorion staggered momentarily as his limbs were freed, the dull ache from prolonged captivity flooding back. Before he could steady himself, the soldier turned to him, his movements quick and deliberate.

“Come with me,” he urged, his voice low and distorted. “I’m getting you out.”

With no other choice, Valorion followed through the dark corridors. Faint alarms echoed as they reached the surface. They burst through the lair’s exit, only to find themselves at the edge of a steep cliff overlooking a fast-flowing river far below.

“We don’t have much time. We have to jump!” the soldier yelled, and before Valorion could react, they plunged into the icy torrent.

The current grabbed them instantly, pulling them downstream with violent force. Fighting the cold and the rushing water, they swam to the riverbank, emerging drenched and gasping for air. The soldier pointed to an old, abandoned warehouse in the distance, and without a word, they made their way toward it.

Inside the warehouse, the air was thick and damp. Water dripped from their soaked clothes, the cold clinging to their skin. “We need to get out of these clothes,” the soldier said, removing his mask to reveal his face.

He was young, in his early twenties, with intense brown eyes and a faint, troubled smile. His lean, athletic frame, broad shoulders, and narrow waist exuded strength. Wet hair clung to his forehead, giving him an air of both vulnerability and allure.

As he stripped away the remaining layers of his soaked uniform, his skin gleamed faintly in the dim light, revealing his body as the damp fabric pooled at his feet.

Valorion hesitated for a moment, then slowly pulled back his cowl mask, revealing his face. His bold features came into view: a sharp, chiseled jaw, a firm, resolute mouth, and tousled blonde hair that draped slightly over his forehead. His intense eyes, framed by thick brows, shone with an aura of concealed power.

As he peeled off the metallic spandex bodysuit, his physique emerged—broad shoulders, a powerful chest, and heavily defined muscles sculpted like stone. His thick cock, now freed from the tight confines of the bodysuit, hung between his strong thighs. The cold bit at his skin, but it was the soldier’s gaze that sent a deeper chill through him.

“What’s your name, boy?” Valorion asked, noticing the soldier’s lingering gaze.

“I’m... Ethan,” the soldier stammered, quickly looking away.

“Aren’t you one of Darksteel’s soldiers? Why did you help me escape?” Valorion pressed.

Ethan hesitated, then sat on a nearby crate. “I’ve watched you for a long time,” he confessed. “You inspired me, made me realize there’s more to life than following Darksteel’s orders.” His voice wavered. “I became a soldier for Midnight Shadow out of desperation. I had nothing. They promised me everything, but it was all a lie. Watching you fight gave me hope for change.”

Valorion’s expression softened. He placed a hand on Ethan’s shoulder, a rare warmth flickering in his eyes. “You’ve made the right choice, boy. But you’ll still have to face your past,” he said gently.

Ethan looked up, his eyes brimming with tears. “I know... I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice breaking.

Valorion pulled him into a tight embrace. “It’s okay. We’ll face it together,” he whispered.

Ethan buried his face in Valorion’s chest, their bodies pressing together, skin against skin. He hugged Valorion around the waist and rested his head against his abs. Valorion’s cock was half-hard, and it was now nestled against the top of the soldier’s head.

“Forgive me,” the soldier whispered. “Forgive me for everything.”

Valorion stroked the back of the soldier’s head, his fingers running through his wet hair. “There’s nothing to forgive, boy,” he said gently. “You’re changing. That’s all anyone can ask.”

The soldier sobbed against him for a few moments, then slowly he looked up. His eyes, bright and warm, shone up at Valorion, his face only inches from Valorion’s hard cock.

Valorion felt his heart beating hard. It had been a long time since he’d felt so close to someone. As a superhero, he had to maintain a certain image, and that meant it was difficult to let people get close.

He was always in control, always had to be.

But here and now, in this abandoned warehouse, with this young soldier’s eyes looking up at him, he felt that control slipping away. He felt his pulse hammering against the soldier’s hand, his cock throbbing against the soldier’s forehead.

Ethan reached up with his hand, and slowly, gently, cupped the side of Valorion’s face. His thumb traced Valorion’s cheekbone, and his fingers curved around the back of his neck.

“Thank you,” the soldier murmured. “Thank you.”

Without hesitation, Ethan tilted his head and pressed his lips to Valorion’s. Valorion froze for a moment, caught off guard. The moment hung between them, heavy and charged. The warmth of Ethan’s body, the steady thrum of his heartbeat, and the intensity in his gaze ignited something deep within Valorion. The resistance melted away, replaced by a rush of desire. Slowly, he surrendered, pressing his lips back against Ethan’s.

The kiss deepened, and the tension between them dissolved into something raw and urgent. Valorion closed his eyes as he felt the soldier’s cock, hot and hard against his own. A low moan escaped his lips, mingling with the fervor of their embrace.

Valorion ran his hands over the soldier’s body, feeling the lean muscle of his shoulders, the hard swell of his chest, the ridges of his stomach. He reached around and grabbed his ass, and gave it a squeeze.

Their cocks brushed against each other, and Valorion couldn’t stifle the groan that escaped his lips. The soldier echoed him, pressing his tongue more firmly into Valorion’s mouth.

The soldier sighed, pressing his body against Valorion. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he moaned.

As their hands explored each other’s bodies, a sudden wave of dizziness swept over Valorion. His vision blurred, and the strength he had regained began to fade.

He pulled back, resting a hand on Ethan’s chest, his eyes growing heavy. In moments, the hero collapsed gently onto the cold floor, falling into a deep, heavy slumber.

Ethan stood over Valorion’s unconscious body, his expression shifting. His lips curled into a cold smile as he gazed down at the fallen hero. “I told you before,” he whispered, his voice dripping with malice. “I don’t need to kill you to break you.”

His fingers moved to the back of his neck, searching for a hidden seam. With a firm pull, the seam gave way, and the false flesh began to peel back with a soft, wet sound.

Piece by piece, Ethan’s face loosened, slipping off like a second skin. Beneath it, sharp cheekbones and cold, angular features emerged—pale skin and green eyes gleaming with wicked amusement, framed by stark white hair. The face that now stared back wasn’t Ethan’s at all. It was Darksteel.

He continued the process, running his hands over his chest as Ethan’s toned physique began to sag and distort. His fingers traced the hidden seam at the back of his neck, slipping beneath the skin-tight suit with a precise, deliberate motion. With a firm pull, the suit loosened, the synthetic skin giving way as Ethan's athletic frame unraveled, revealing the far more imposing figure beneath.

With each pull, Darksteel’s true form emerged—his broader, muscular shoulders pushing through. His thick arms flexed as he freed them from Ethan’s false limbs, pulling each finger from the synthetic hands. The soft, squelching sound of the suit separating from his skin filled the room, heightening the unsettling atmosphere.

The skin, the muscles—everything that had made Ethan seemed to fold and fall away like a snake shedding its skin. Darksteel grunted as the tight material peeled off, the strange mix of squelching and tearing echoing through the warehouse.

Ethan’s build vanished, replaced by Darksteel’s sculpted physique. His broader shoulders and defined chest rippled with taut muscles, each honed by years of discipline. As the bodysuit slipped lower, Darksteel’s lean waist and carved abdomen came into view, a striking contrast to Ethan’s softer, less defined form.

The most delicate part remained—the groin. The tightness there had been a constant reminder of the suit’s control, and as he carefully slid it over his hips, Darksteel winced at the almost overwhelming relief. His skin, now exposed to the cool air, tingled with liberation.

With one last pull, he freed himself from the legs of the suit, feeling the tension fade as it pooled at his feet. His real skin glistened with sweat, faint impressions left from where the suit had gripped him tightly.

Darksteel breathed deeply, running a hand over his exposed chest, relishing the sensation of being in his own skin again. His muscles ached from the suit’s pressure, but a strange satisfaction remained, a reminder of the power and allure the suit had granted. He stretched, the stiffness fading from his limbs as he moved freely, unbound—like a predator finally released from its cage.

As he stared at Valorion’s unconscious body on the ground, Darksteel’s cock began to throb with excitement. His eyes roamed over the hero’s muscular form, tracing every curve. Clearly, the hero was still under the effects of the Kiss of Delusion.

The Kiss of Delusion was one of Darksteel’s special powers, causing his victim to become dizzy and unconscious. While under its effects, the victim’s dreams transformed into illusions imagined by Darksteel, allowing him to torture his opponents with their worst nightmares.

However, for Valorion, there was no need for such illusions. Darksteel had already implanted the perfect fantasy into his mind—one that would surely drive him mad once he awoke from his deep slumber.

Darksteel slid his hands down to Valorion’s ass and grabbed both cheeks, spreading them apart so he could see the hero’s tight asshole. His dick was now so hard it felt like it was going to explode at any minute.

He took a deep breath, savoring the moment, then plunges his cock into Valorion’s asshole in a single, fluid motion. With a swift spasm, he released his seed, letting it surge deep into the hero’s body. The essence, laced with his own cells, now flowed through Valorion’s insides, poised to begin its work. Now, all he had to do was wait.

Within minutes, a small lump began to form on the hero’s back. This was another of Darksteel’s abilities— the Flesh Husk Generation. By claiming his victims through intimate domination, Darksteel could cultivate a perfect replica skinsuit of their body, known as a Flesh Husk. This power allowed him to mimic not only their appearance but also their abilities when worn.

The transformation began with the Seed, a pulsing mass that grew and reshaped itself over several minutes. Once fully matured, the skin could be easily peeled from the victim’s body.

Darksteel gripped the warm, pliant flesh and, with a smooth tug, detached it. He marveled as the skin shifted, forming an exact copy of Valorion’s powerful body—from the broad torso to the muscular legs and arms, down to the smallest details of fingers and toes.

His fingers traced the flawless pecs, gliding over the hard contours of the sculpted abs, feeling the raw strength beneath the surface. A dark thrill surged through him, making him harder as he imagined what it would feel like to wear it—this hollow shell, waiting to be filled.

Slowly, he stepped into the suit, his legs sliding into the cool, flesh-like material. The suit clung tightly to his calves and thighs, making his body feel heavier, more defined. It wrapped around him like a second skin, reshaping him with an intoxicating intensity. As he pulled it over his waist, his legs bulged with muscle, his calves tightening, and his thighs swelling with power.

A gasp escaped his lips as the suit enveloped his torso. His once-lean chest swelled, pecs inflating into rock-hard slabs. His breath quickened as he stared at his new form—heavy pecs and ridged abs, as if carved from marble. The tightness around his torso was exhilarating, every inch of him reborn into something unstoppable.

The suit wrapped around his arms, thickening them into powerful limbs. Darksteel flexed, watching veins ripple beneath the synthetic skin. His fingers tingled, overwhelmed by the surge of strength. He clenched his fist, feeling untamed power coursing through him. Every movement felt deliberate, controlled—his body amplified, perfected beyond its limits.

As the suit closed around his core, the tightening at his groin made him catch his breath. His cock, nestled in the sheath, shifted from discomfort to a deep, sensual pressure. A groan escaped as he adjusted, feeling the sheath conform perfectly to his body. The suit gripped every part of him, shaping him into the powerful being.

Finally, he reached for the mask. The face had a sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and shimmering blonde hair. Darksteel held it for a moment, then, with a deep breath, pressed the mask against his own face.

The adhesive activated instantly, molding his features into those of the towering blonde hero. He touched his cheek, feeling the hardness of the jawline, the rough stubble, and the cool synthetic skin as it seamlessly fused with his own.

Darksteel stood still for a moment, letting the full weight of his transformation sink in. His breath remained steady, but his pulse pounded beneath the thick slabs of his new chest. He raised a hand to his pecs, lingering over the firm, unyielding surface. Every inch of his torso was taut, solid—the suit enhancing his form to its absolute peak.

He turned his arm slightly, admiring the way the muscles shifted and stretched, as though they were alive, ready to crush or lift anything in his path. His legs felt heavier beneath him, solid pillars of muscle wrapped in the tight, flesh-like suit.

Darksteel’s gaze then shifted to Valorion’s iconic uniform, now dry, gleaming in the low light. The metallic spandex clung to every curve and ridge, practically begging to be worn. Darksteel’s pulse quickened as he reached for it, imagining how the fabric would embrace his body, completing his metamorphosis.

With steady hands, Darksteel lifted the spandex suit, feeling its weight shift, the material almost alive in his grip. His heart raced as the zipper slid open with a soft click, echoing in the still room. He took a deep breath, anticipation buzzing through him.

Slowly, he slid one leg into the suit. The fabric wrapped tightly around his thick calf, conforming to his powerful form. It stretched smoothly over his thigh, sending a jolt of excitement through him as it gripped his body like a second skin. Every movement heightened his awareness, the suit accentuating the solid muscle underneath.

He slipped his other leg into the suit, feeling the material mold to every contour of his legs. It seemed to know him, every ridge and curve fitting perfectly, leaving no space between him and the sensation of strength. The tightness was exhilarating—every step, every flex felt amplified by the form-fitting fabric.

As the suit slid over his hips, his breath hitched. It clung snugly to his groin, shaping him with precision, making him feel not just powerful, but in control—dominant. Adjusting himself slightly, the suit sealed him inside the illusion of a superhero’s body, and the thrill coursed through his veins.

He glanced down, watching the spandex stretch over his broad chest, highlighting the massive pecs that rose and fell with his rapid breathing. It hugged his torso with a snugness that made him feel invincible.

Darksteel’s hands trembled as he pulled the suit higher, over his shoulders, the fabric wrapping his arms like liquid metal. His fingers slipped into the sleeves, and the spandex tightened around his biceps. He flexed, watching his muscles bulge under the tight material, every motion enhancing the power that surged through him.

Darksteel adjusted the cowl over his face, sealing the heroic visage as his own. The transformation was complete. He looked down upon Valorion's still and sleeping form with a sinister smile.

"Sleep well, hero," he whispered with a cold, victorious grin. "In your dreams, you may still save the world, but in reality, it's my turn to reshape it."

------------------------------------------------------

The next day, Valorion stirred awake, his senses slowly coming to life. The soft beeping of nearby machines filled his ears, and his body felt weighed down, aching from an unknown ordeal. His eyelids fluttered open, revealing a sterile, white room. The smell of antiseptic and the bright lights above made everything feel strange, unfamiliar. He blinked, adjusting to the harsh brightness, realizing he wasn’t in the warehouse anymore.

His breath hitched as he moved, his body bound not by his suit but by a stiff hospital gown. “Where am I?” he thought. He shifted slightly, his hand brushing against the cold metal railing of the bed.

Beside him, Ethan sat quietly, his eyes fixed on Valorion.

“You’re awake,” Ethan said softly, his voice calm. The young soldier was wearing a hospital gown too.

Valorion’s mind felt foggy, his memories jumbled. He glanced around at the machines, the sterile environment. A hospital? His heart quickened. “How did we get back?” he asked, his voice rough, cracking from disuse. “Back to the city?”

Ethan smiled faintly, but there was something guarded in his expression. “We were helped by some kind people,” he replied, his words vague. “They found us and brought us here. You’ve been unconscious for hours.”

Valorion frowned, his mind racing to remember. Flashes of their escape mixed with something more—something intimate. But his thoughts were fragmented, the details slipping away like sand between his fingers. He couldn’t tell if what he remembered was real or a fevered dream.

Before he could question Ethan further, the young soldier stood abruptly, his movements sharp. “You should rest more, Valorion. We can talk later,” Ethan said before swiftly exiting the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Valorion frowned, trying to recall what had happened. Flashes of their escape blurred with memories of something more intimate, something he wasn’t sure was real or imagined. His mind raced back to the moments before he blacked out—the feeling of Ethan’s body against his. Was it just a dream? He couldn’t tell.

Valorion lay still, his thoughts circled back to the blurry memories. Had they really shared those moments together? He let out a deep breath, closing his eyes, trying to recall the missing pieces. He wasn’t sure what was real anymore.

Suddenly, the door burst open again—this time with a chaotic surge of people. Reporters, armed with cameras and microphones, flooded into the room, bombarding him with questions.

“Valorion! Can you explain the viral video?” one reporter demanded, shoving a microphone toward him.

“Viral video?” Valorion repeated, a wave of unease washing over him.

“Yes! The footage of you and this guy named Ethan!” another reporter chimed in, holding up a phone that displayed a still image—an image of him and Ethan together in an unmistakably intimate moment.

The hero’s chest tightened as panic set in. A video of him with Ethan? He scanned the room in panic, searching for Ethan, but the soldier was gone. His pulse raced as the realization hit him like a punch to the gut. There’s a video of us? His hands gripped the bedsheets, his knuckles turning white. How could this be happening? How could anyone have recorded them?

Meanwhile, down the hospital’s quiet back corridors, Ethan moved calmly, his footsteps echoing softly in the otherwise empty hallway. He slipped into an unoccupied utility room, locking the door behind him. The dim light flickered overhead as he walked toward a small mirror on the wall.

His lips curled into a malicious grin as the memories of the warehouse flooded back:

After Valorion fell into a deep slumber, Darksteel called the real Ethan to come to the warehouse. Once there, Ethan was stripped of his uniform and had struggled against his captor. However, Darksteel, wearing Valorion’s muscular form, was far too strong. Ethan’s voice had cracked as he begged for mercy, but Darksteel silenced him, using the hero’s body to dominate him completely. Every moment was recorded as Darksteel, in Valorion’s skin, had taken his time fucking the young soldier. The sounds of Ethan’s desperation echoed in Darksteel’s mind even now, as he remembered how easily he had broken the man. After that event, he had the real Ethan confined in another secret lair with a reminder of who was truly in control.

With a cruel grin, Ethan—no, Darksteel—reached up and tugged at the tip of his nose. The synthetic skin loosened, and he carefully peeled it back, revealing his true face underneath. His sharp, angular features came into view, and his cold, green eyes gleamed with satisfaction as the mask of Ethan dangled from his hand.

He reached into a nearby bag and pulled out a full mask of a bearded man, rough around the edges. With practiced hands, he slipped the mask over his face, transforming into yet another persona. He checked his reflection, ensuring every detail was perfect.

Next, he pulled out an unremarkable outfit designed to help him blend into the crowd. He donned a plain gray hoodie, faded jeans, and worn sneakers. A baseball cap, pulled low over his eyes, completed the look. The beard, the weathered face, and the casual outfit—this disguise would let him disappear into the crowd, unnoticed.

Satisfied, he slipped the Ethan mask back into the bag and unlocked the door, stepping out into the hospital hallway. Nurses and staff passed him by without a second glance as he walked through the corridors, heading for the exit.

Outside, Darksteel blended effortlessly into the bustling city streets. He paused for a moment, looking up at Valorion’s hospital window from a distance. Through the glass, he could see the chaos inside—the flashing cameras, the reporters bombarding the hero with questions. A cold smirk played on his lips as he watched Valorion’s world unravel.

With everything going as planned, Darksteel's smile widened. He turned and walked away, vanishing into the crowd like a shadow.

But the game wasn’t over.

It had only just begun.

-- ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ---

Commissioned by: 9momored

"Thanks for reading! Feel free to DM me with suggestions or commission requests. Don’t forget to follow me on my other platforms for more updates and content!"

[kokomomo666]

I mean yes he's hot, but when you're in your 50th or something cycle (legit lost count) of changing bodies, it gets a bit dull. Human skin is just so weak, 3 days wear and suddenly it starts flaking, scaly, and disintegrating, I constantly need to change bodies if I want to stay on Earth and fool the other humans to drag them into sinful activities. A pretty jockboy like him can certainly damage some devout virgin or turned the trigger on those closeted homos, and I have every intention to do all that during my limited time

[kokomomo666]

"Not so strong anymore, don't you, Coach? Fffuuccckk.....I cannot wait until this lips get stretchy enough to receive me, will be quite a change of scenery when I'm inside you,"

[kokomomo666]

Trading Spurs for Sneakers

Tyler and James had always thrived on their shared sense of adventure, but this time, they were about to push the limits in a way they had never done before. When Tyler invited James to stay with him for the week, they came up with a challenge: not only would they swap clothes, but they’d wear full-body silicone suits that made them look exactly like each other. They’d go out in public as each other, and for the entire trip, they would live in each other’s skin—literally.

Tyler’s style was straight out of a western catalog. His wardrobe was filled with rugged denim, thick leather boots, and plaid shirts, all carrying the earthy scent of the outdoors. James, on the other hand, was all about streetwear. His clothes were sleek and oversized—designer hoodies, joggers, and fresh sneakers that gave off an urban, stylish vibe. The idea of stepping into each other’s style was thrilling enough, but the bodysuits took it to another level.

When James arrived, Tyler showed him the silicone suits. They were disturbingly lifelike, each one a perfect replica of the other, right down to the tiniest details—skin texture, hair, even the faint freckles on Tyler’s arms. The suits were smooth, soft silicone that would cover them completely, with zippers running down the back, meaning they’d need to help each other into their new bodies. Attached to the suits were masks, just as detailed, transforming them from head to toe.

“So, you ready to become me for the next few days?” Tyler asked with a grin, holding up James’s suit.

James ran his hand over the suit’s smooth surface, already feeling a shiver of excitement. “Only if you’re ready to rock some streetwear,” he teased back.

They headed to the bedroom, and that’s when things got interesting. Tyler helped James first. He unzipped the back of his own silicone replica, and James stepped inside, sliding his legs into the suit. The silicone was cool against his skin at first, but it stretched perfectly, molding to his body like a second skin. As Tyler pulled the suit up, James slipped his arms into the sleeves, feeling the soft material hugging his muscles, creating the illusion of Tyler’s broad, rugged physique. Tyler tugged the mask over James’s head, adjusting it carefully so the silicone fit snugly over his face. The cool sensation of the mask pressing down, forming around his nose, cheeks, and forehead, was strangely comforting.

When Tyler zipped up the back, James couldn’t help but admire the feeling of the suit fitting him perfectly. It wasn’t just wearing Tyler’s skin—it *felt* like Tyler’s body. Every movement was smooth, every gesture natural. His hands, now Tyler’s rough, calloused hands, flexed as he stared at the mirror. It was like he had become his friend, in every possible way.

“Your turn,” James said, voice altered slightly to sound like Tyler’s.

Tyler grinned and stepped into James’s bodysuit. The experience was just as surreal for him. The silicone slid smoothly over his legs, pulling snugly against his skin, transforming his usually broader build into James’s slimmer, leaner form. Tyler could feel the cool material warming up as it molded to him, turning him into an uncanny replica of James. When James tugged the mask over Tyler’s face, the sensation of the silicone wrapping around his head was exhilarating. The mask fit like a glove, sealing him into James’s identity.

Tyler moved in front of the mirror, marveling at the transformation. His own reflection was gone, replaced by James’s face, his tattoos, and his slim frame. The bodysuit moved fluidly with him, and he could feel every part of the suit stretching and flexing like real skin. It wasn’t just a costume—it felt *real*.

“Man, I think I could get used to this,” Tyler said, his voice now identical to James’s.

James laughed, admiring how weird and amazing it felt to see Tyler’s face reflected back at him. “Same. This is wild.”

Next came the clothes. James reached into Tyler’s closet, pulling out a pair of well-worn jeans. They were thick, stiff, and smelled faintly of leather and dirt. He slid them up his legs, the denim feeling tight and rugged, a stark contrast to the soft joggers he was used to. The jeans clung to him in a way that made him feel powerful, like the sturdy fabric was wrapping him in strength. He fastened the heavy belt with its oversized buckle, feeling the weight of it pressing against his stomach. Next came the plaid shirt. The material was rougher than anything he usually wore, but it felt good as he buttoned it up, the tight fit making him feel more grounded, more solid. The cowboy boots were the final touch. As he slid his feet into them, he felt a satisfying firmness, the boots hugging his feet in a way that made every step feel strong and deliberate.

Tyler, meanwhile, was having the opposite experience. He pulled on James’s oversized hoodie, and it felt like slipping into a cloud. The fabric was soft, almost silky, and it pooled around his body in an effortless way. The joggers came next, sliding over his legs like butter, loose and relaxed. He pulled on a pair of James’s sneakers—lightweight and cushioned, like he was walking on air. The sensation was completely different from the structured feel of his boots, but it was freeing in a way he hadn’t expected.

Dressed in each other’s clothes, they both admired themselves in the mirror, reveling in the strange thrill of looking and feeling like someone else. It was more than just a swap—it was like stepping into each other’s lives, fully embracing the new persona.

Now it was time to go out. They headed into town, each fully committed to their roles. Tyler, now dressed in James’s streetwear, strolled down the sidewalk with a casual swagger, loving the way the loose hoodie swayed with his movements. The soft material brushed against his skin, a constant reminder of the freedom and ease of James’s style. It made him feel relaxed, like he could blend into the city’s energy without trying.

James, on the other hand, was adjusting to the ruggedness of Tyler’s outfit. The jeans were stiff but in a comforting way, like they were made for hard work and adventure. Every step in the cowboy boots felt strong, as if they grounded him with each clomp on the pavement. The belt buckle pressed firmly against his waist, a constant weight that made him feel solid and secure. The plaid shirt hugged his shoulders in a way that gave him a sense of confidence he didn’t usually feel in his streetwear. As they walked, he felt powerful, like he was embodying the spirit of Tyler’s lifestyle.

They hit the streets, walking into coffee shops, browsing stores, and even stopping at a park. Everywhere they went, they marveled at how natural it felt to be each other. Tyler loved the lightness and ease of James’s clothes, the way the hoodie made him feel like he was gliding through the day without a care. James, meanwhile, relished the weight and structure of Tyler’s outfit, feeling every bit the part of a rugged cowboy.

As the day wore on, the bodysuits felt less like costumes and more like their real bodies. The silicone had warmed to their skin, moving naturally with every gesture. The masks clung comfortably, fitting so snugly that they forgot they were even wearing them. There was something liberating about the whole experience—the idea of fully stepping into someone else’s shoes, literally living as the other person for a day.

By the time they returned home that evening, they were laughing, still fully enjoying their swapped identities. They helped each other out of the suits, peeling the silicone away, but even as they returned to their own bodies, they both knew they’d never forget the thrill of being someone else.

“That was insane,” Tyler said, wiping sweat from his brow, but still smiling. “I think I could do that all week.”

James grinned, tossing the bodysuit aside. “Same. Let’s do it again tomorrow.”

[kokomomo666]

Trading Spurs for Sneakers

Tyler and James had always thrived on their shared sense of adventure, but this time, they were about to push the limits in a way they had never done before. When Tyler invited James to stay with him for the week, they came up with a challenge: not only would they swap clothes, but they’d wear full-body silicone suits that made them look exactly like each other. They’d go out in public as each other, and for the entire trip, they would live in each other’s skin—literally.

Tyler’s style was straight out of a western catalog. His wardrobe was filled with rugged denim, thick leather boots, and plaid shirts, all carrying the earthy scent of the outdoors. James, on the other hand, was all about streetwear. His clothes were sleek and oversized—designer hoodies, joggers, and fresh sneakers that gave off an urban, stylish vibe. The idea of stepping into each other’s style was thrilling enough, but the bodysuits took it to another level.

When James arrived, Tyler showed him the silicone suits. They were disturbingly lifelike, each one a perfect replica of the other, right down to the tiniest details—skin texture, hair, even the faint freckles on Tyler’s arms. The suits were smooth, soft silicone that would cover them completely, with zippers running down the back, meaning they’d need to help each other into their new bodies. Attached to the suits were masks, just as detailed, transforming them from head to toe.

“So, you ready to become me for the next few days?” Tyler asked with a grin, holding up James’s suit.

James ran his hand over the suit’s smooth surface, already feeling a shiver of excitement. “Only if you’re ready to rock some streetwear,” he teased back.

They headed to the bedroom, and that’s when things got interesting. Tyler helped James first. He unzipped the back of his own silicone replica, and James stepped inside, sliding his legs into the suit. The silicone was cool against his skin at first, but it stretched perfectly, molding to his body like a second skin. As Tyler pulled the suit up, James slipped his arms into the sleeves, feeling the soft material hugging his muscles, creating the illusion of Tyler’s broad, rugged physique. Tyler tugged the mask over James’s head, adjusting it carefully so the silicone fit snugly over his face. The cool sensation of the mask pressing down, forming around his nose, cheeks, and forehead, was strangely comforting.

When Tyler zipped up the back, James couldn’t help but admire the feeling of the suit fitting him perfectly. It wasn’t just wearing Tyler’s skin—it *felt* like Tyler’s body. Every movement was smooth, every gesture natural. His hands, now Tyler’s rough, calloused hands, flexed as he stared at the mirror. It was like he had become his friend, in every possible way.

“Your turn,” James said, voice altered slightly to sound like Tyler’s.

Tyler grinned and stepped into James’s bodysuit. The experience was just as surreal for him. The silicone slid smoothly over his legs, pulling snugly against his skin, transforming his usually broader build into James’s slimmer, leaner form. Tyler could feel the cool material warming up as it molded to him, turning him into an uncanny replica of James. When James tugged the mask over Tyler’s face, the sensation of the silicone wrapping around his head was exhilarating. The mask fit like a glove, sealing him into James’s identity.

Tyler moved in front of the mirror, marveling at the transformation. His own reflection was gone, replaced by James’s face, his tattoos, and his slim frame. The bodysuit moved fluidly with him, and he could feel every part of the suit stretching and flexing like real skin. It wasn’t just a costume—it felt *real*.

“Man, I think I could get used to this,” Tyler said, his voice now identical to James’s.

James laughed, admiring how weird and amazing it felt to see Tyler’s face reflected back at him. “Same. This is wild.”

Next came the clothes. James reached into Tyler’s closet, pulling out a pair of well-worn jeans. They were thick, stiff, and smelled faintly of leather and dirt. He slid them up his legs, the denim feeling tight and rugged, a stark contrast to the soft joggers he was used to. The jeans clung to him in a way that made him feel powerful, like the sturdy fabric was wrapping him in strength. He fastened the heavy belt with its oversized buckle, feeling the weight of it pressing against his stomach. Next came the plaid shirt. The material was rougher than anything he usually wore, but it felt good as he buttoned it up, the tight fit making him feel more grounded, more solid. The cowboy boots were the final touch. As he slid his feet into them, he felt a satisfying firmness, the boots hugging his feet in a way that made every step feel strong and deliberate.

Tyler, meanwhile, was having the opposite experience. He pulled on James’s oversized hoodie, and it felt like slipping into a cloud. The fabric was soft, almost silky, and it pooled around his body in an effortless way. The joggers came next, sliding over his legs like butter, loose and relaxed. He pulled on a pair of James’s sneakers—lightweight and cushioned, like he was walking on air. The sensation was completely different from the structured feel of his boots, but it was freeing in a way he hadn’t expected.

Dressed in each other’s clothes, they both admired themselves in the mirror, reveling in the strange thrill of looking and feeling like someone else. It was more than just a swap—it was like stepping into each other’s lives, fully embracing the new persona.

Now it was time to go out. They headed into town, each fully committed to their roles. Tyler, now dressed in James’s streetwear, strolled down the sidewalk with a casual swagger, loving the way the loose hoodie swayed with his movements. The soft material brushed against his skin, a constant reminder of the freedom and ease of James’s style. It made him feel relaxed, like he could blend into the city’s energy without trying.

James, on the other hand, was adjusting to the ruggedness of Tyler’s outfit. The jeans were stiff but in a comforting way, like they were made for hard work and adventure. Every step in the cowboy boots felt strong, as if they grounded him with each clomp on the pavement. The belt buckle pressed firmly against his waist, a constant weight that made him feel solid and secure. The plaid shirt hugged his shoulders in a way that gave him a sense of confidence he didn’t usually feel in his streetwear. As they walked, he felt powerful, like he was embodying the spirit of Tyler’s lifestyle.

They hit the streets, walking into coffee shops, browsing stores, and even stopping at a park. Everywhere they went, they marveled at how natural it felt to be each other. Tyler loved the lightness and ease of James’s clothes, the way the hoodie made him feel like he was gliding through the day without a care. James, meanwhile, relished the weight and structure of Tyler’s outfit, feeling every bit the part of a rugged cowboy.

As the day wore on, the bodysuits felt less like costumes and more like their real bodies. The silicone had warmed to their skin, moving naturally with every gesture. The masks clung comfortably, fitting so snugly that they forgot they were even wearing them. There was something liberating about the whole experience—the idea of fully stepping into someone else’s shoes, literally living as the other person for a day.

By the time they returned home that evening, they were laughing, still fully enjoying their swapped identities. They helped each other out of the suits, peeling the silicone away, but even as they returned to their own bodies, they both knew they’d never forget the thrill of being someone else.

“That was insane,” Tyler said, wiping sweat from his brow, but still smiling. “I think I could do that all week.”

James grinned, tossing the bodysuit aside. “Same. Let’s do it again tomorrow.”

[kokomomo666]

Stepping Into His Boots

Ethan had always been a city guy, but when James—the rugged cowboy who owned the ranch—asked him to house-sit, he couldn’t say no. There was something about James, older and confident, with a body shaped by years of hard work. He commanded attention without even trying, and Ethan found himself drawn to that power. Maybe a little too drawn.

The ranch was isolated, miles away from the nearest town. The first few days were peaceful, the kind of solitude Ethan thought he needed. But soon, being surrounded by James’s things—his clothes, his truck, his boots—began to mess with his head. James was everywhere, even when he wasn’t.

One evening, after watching the sun dip below the horizon, Ethan found himself wandering into James’s bedroom. He lingered by the closet, heart pounding in his chest. **It was wrong to even think about it**, but he couldn’t stop himself from opening the door. Inside, the familiar scent of leather and sweat hit him, sending a rush of adrenaline through his body. He hesitated for only a moment before stripping off his own clothes, leaving them in a messy heap on the floor.

His hands trembled as he reached for James’s black briefs, the soft cotton holding the faint scent of detergent and James’s musk. He slid them on, the fabric clinging tightly to his body, the sensation sending a shiver down his spine. The arousal he felt was immediate and undeniable. **He shouldn’t be doing this**, but it was too late to turn back now.

Next came a pair of James’s worn jeans. The rough denim scraped against his legs as he pulled them on, the weight settling around his hips. They fit a little loose but snug in all the right places. Each time he moved, he felt the denim press against his skin, heightening the sensation of stepping into someone else’s life.

He grabbed one of James’s denim shirts, the fabric rough under his fingers. As he buttoned it up, the familiar scent of sweat and leather enveloped him. It was like wearing James’s skin. The shirt hung a little loose, but it made him feel powerful, like he was James.

But something was still missing.

Ethan’s gaze drifted to the top shelf of the closet, where a mask was tucked away behind some boxes. He pulled it down, his breath catching in his throat when he realized what it was—**James’s face**, captured in uncanny detail. It was smooth, realistic, and eerily lifelike. Why would James have this? He hesitated, knowing this was a step too far. But the temptation was overwhelming.

With trembling hands, he lifted the mask to his face. The silicone was cool and soft as it molded to his skin. As he adjusted it, he looked in the mirror and gasped. **He didn’t look like Ethan anymore—he looked like James.**

The transformation was complete. From the snug fit of the briefs to the heavy cowboy boots on his feet, from the rough denim to the mask, Ethan had become James. He couldn’t help but smile at his reflection. **It was wrong, but it felt good.** Too good.

He had to see if he could pull it off in public.

With James’s truck keys in hand, Ethan headed out the door, his heart racing with a dangerous thrill. The drive into town was a blur of excitement and fear. What would people say? Would anyone notice?

When he parked the truck outside the local bar, Ethan took a deep breath. **This was the moment of truth.** He stepped out, adjusting the cowboy hat on his head, and walked confidently inside. The familiar hum of conversation and country music greeted him, but he felt like he was in a dream. Eyes glanced his way, but no one looked twice. A few men at the bar nodded at him, just like they did with James. **They believed it.**

Ethan walked to the bar, leaning against the counter. The bartender, a grizzled man with a thick beard, gave him a nod. “Evenin’, James,” he said, sliding a glass of whiskey across the bar.

Ethan’s heart nearly stopped, but he forced a casual smile. “Evenin’,” he replied, his voice steady despite the wild rush of adrenaline surging through him.

He took a sip of the whiskey, letting the burn calm his nerves. **He had done it. He was James, and no one knew.**

But after a few minutes, the excitement started to make him restless. His heart raced, and he felt hot under the mask, the tight press of it against his skin growing more uncomfortable. **He needed to take a breather**. With a quick glance around, he slipped off the barstool and made his way to the bathroom.

Inside the bathroom, he locked the door behind him and faced the mirror. He stared at his reflection—James’s face staring back. Slowly, he reached up and began peeling the mask off. The cool air hit his damp skin, and Ethan let out a sigh of relief as he pulled the mask free, wiping the sweat from his brow.

But just as he was about to catch his breath, the bathroom door opened. Ethan froze.

Standing in the doorway was a man—another regular, dressed in a flannel shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots. His eyes widened as he took in the sight before him—Ethan holding James’s face in his hands, the mask limp and unmistakable.

For a second, neither of them spoke. Then the man smirked.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” he drawled, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

Ethan’s heart pounded. **This was it. He was caught.** But the man didn’t seem angry. He seemed... amused.

“You were doin’ a good job out there, pretendin’ to be James,” the man said, his eyes glinting with mischief. “But looks like you’re havin’ some trouble keepin’ up the act. How ‘bout we make this more interestin’?”

Ethan blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

The man grinned, a playful, almost challenging look crossing his face. “Let’s switch. You put on my clothes, and I’ll put on that mask of yours. Let’s see if we can fool ‘em together.”

Ethan’s breath caught. **Switch?** The idea was absurd, but the rush of adrenaline—and the possibility of getting away with it—was too tempting to resist.

“Fine,” Ethan said, his voice low, the thrill starting to take hold again.

They quickly stripped down, the small bathroom thick with the scent of sweat and anticipation. The man’s clothes were warm from his body as Ethan pulled them on—first the flannel shirt, rough but comfortable, the faint smell of cologne lingering in the fabric. Then the man’s jeans, snug around his hips, a little worn at the knees but perfectly broken in. They felt different from James’s—lighter, softer, more worn—but still foreign enough to make his heart race.

Meanwhile, the man slid on James’s mask, adjusting it with a knowing grin. “How do I look?” he asked, his voice muffled slightly as he adjusted the edges of the silicone.

Ethan stared, his pulse quickening. **The man looked exactly like James now.** It was uncanny. “Like him,” Ethan replied, his mouth dry.

They exchanged a look, both fully aware of the madness of what they were doing. But neither of them stopped. The switch was complete.

They walked back to the bar, side by side. The bartender gave them both a nod as they returned to their seats, none the wiser to the switch that had just happened. Ethan sat down, feeling a strange mixture of excitement and discomfort in the man’s clothes. The flannel shirt scratched against his skin in unfamiliar places, the jeans tighter than what he was used to. But it only added to the thrill.

They finished their drinks in silence, exchanging the occasional glance, the knowledge of their shared secret making the moment electric.

When they were done, the man—still wearing James’s face—tipped his hat to the bartender. “See ya ‘round,” he said, his voice eerily close to James’s now.

Ethan followed him out to the truck, their boots crunching against the gravel as they climbed inside. The drive back to the ranch was quiet, the air thick with tension. Neither of them spoke, but the unspoken understanding between them lingered.

Back at the ranch, they headed inside. Ethan’s heart pounded as they made their way back to James’s bedroom. **It was time to switch back.**

They stripped quickly, the man pulling off the mask and handing it back to Ethan. The silicone was still warm from the man’s skin. He grabbed James’s clothes, putting them on again, the familiar weight and scent wrapping around him like a second skin.

When the switch was complete, they stood in front of the mirror, Ethan back in James’s clothes and the man back in his flannel and jeans.

“Well,” the man said, a sly grin on his face, “that was somethin’.”

Ethan nodded, his heart still racing. **It had been more than something. It had been a thrill he’d never forget.** As the man tipped his hat and left, Ethan stood there, staring at his reflection in the mirror—James’s face staring back at him once again.

He had gone too far tonight. But the excitement, the danger... it had been worth every second.

[kokomomo666]

Merdeka I

(Independence day's special short story. Terjemahan Indonesianya menyusul ya!)

"Good work out there, Ilham!" said the Chief.

"Sir, yes sir!" He responded sharply, standing at attention. He was a 24 year old police officer, tall and dark skinned, with an athletic build from years of training. Today was his shift at the Polsek office in the town of Banyuputih. The station was oddly quiet, no usual afternoon bustle of citizens filing in to report crimes or seek assistance. Ilham decided to do a sweep of the perimeter just to stay busy.

As he exited the back gate, Ilham heard a strange buzzing coming from the direction of the bathrooms behind the building, far from the main offices. "Hello?" he called, hand hovering over his holstered gun. No response but the buzzing grew louder. Squinting against the intense glare, Ilham’s breath caught in his throat as he laid eyes on the strange creature before him… It was a tall, strange being, its form completely white metallic and featureless with a gaping mouth, it hovered eerily above the ground, seemingly inspecting something within one of the stalls. A neon bluish aura seemed to radiate from its being, casting a glow over the room. Ilham’s heart pounded as the alien turned towards him, its empty gaze somehow brimming with curiosity. 

“Astagfirullahaladzim!" (Oh my god!) Ilham shouted as he reached for his gun. But the alien was advancing towards him, its movements so fluid, Ilham knew he had to act. He fired off a round, but to his horror, the bullet had no effect. The alien's metallic skin simply repaired itself, unfazed by the attack. "Get away from me!!” Ilham shouted.

The alien continued its steady approach, its mouth opening and closing in what sounded like strange, electronic buzzing whispers. Ilham braced himself, but when the alien raised its hand and a searing beam of light erupted from its palm, he had no time to react. The laser bolt struck him in the chest, and Ilham convulsed before everything went dark.

As Ilham’s limp form crumpled to the floor, the alien leaned in, its featureless head tilting from side to side in an almost curious gesture. Reaching out its hand, it gently brushed its fingers through Ilham's hair. 

"Hmm? Zzzzz...zzzzz...zzzzz..." it seemed to ponder, as if fascinated by this strange, new discovery. 

“Zzzz...zzzz..."

The alien tilted its featureless head again, then fired another burst of energy. Ilham’s body rose into the air, limp and lifeless. The alien stared and inspected him for a moment, then with a flick of its wrist, the alien enveloped Ilham's unconscious body in a shimmering field of energy, lifting him into the air.

"Zzzz..." the alien hummed. 

The alien hovered over Ilham, its faceless head tilting curiously. It shot another beam of energy at him, making Ilham's jaw drop open with a moan. "Zzzz..." the alien hummed. Its body then shifted into a weird, bluish white metallic liquid that flowed through the air. It latched onto Ilham's torso and started creeping up towards his open mouth. He gulped it down, gagging and choking as it slid down inside him. His head jerked back, his eyes rolled back as his body convulsed. After a moment, Ilham went completely still. Then his eyes blinked open - his dark brown eyes replaced by an icy blue before returning to normal. He tilted his head like the alien but his expression was lifeless and disconnected. 

"Zzzz... my name…” Ilham's voice came out garbled, alien and human tones mixed together. "Ilham... I'm a... zzzz... human..." 

Ilham's face twitched and jerked, like there was a part of him still struggling. But then the alien settled back in. The possessed Ilham turned and walked out of the bathroom toward the main offices without a sound...