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kurokonosass · 10 days ago

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Barbearcue

Trevor doubts his boyfriend can host a real barbecue for their friends. After ordering the grill, both men find themselves gaining more than experience as their summer shindig draws near.

Age Progression/Bear TF! Who knew grilling could be so transformative? Hope you enjoy this tale of boyfriends becoming the old married couple they were always to be in time! -Occam

Charlie always prided himself on his abilities as a host. Usually it was game nights or Sex and The City rewatches, y’know stuff his crew of queens and nerdy twinks are expected to do. As the days quickly soared past warm and into searing, their little ragtag bunch started tossing around ideas for a proper summer shindig.

He wasn’t sure which among their bitchy friends suggested a barbecue, but as soon as it was floated everyone hopped on the idea. Charlie was sure they were trying to get a rise out of him or otherwise push his buttons, but the young man was already rising to the occasion.

“What do you think babe? Gas or charcoal grill?”

His boyfriend Trevor sighs as Charlie settles into his lap, knowing it’s already far too late to convince Trev to reneg on this idea. Weeks into his campaign on convincing Charlie to do something more sensible, Trevor has thrown in the towel and hopped onboard. Pointing at a random grill he offers his clear grilling expertise, “I mean what’s the difference right? Just do that one?”

Following Trevor’s haphazard finger, Charlie has half a mind to suggest his boyfriend isn’t taking this seriously enough. But then he sees the grill, and he can bring himself to look away. Trev’s saying something but Charlie can’t quite make it out as the sound of sizzling meat fills his ears, vision clouded by imaginary smoke that he can almost smell. His face reddens from heat that isn’t there. It’s perfect.

Eventually he comes to as his boyfriend shakes his shoulder, “All good babe?” He slowly nods as Trev continues, “Good, good- I was just thinking, don’t you think someone with a pool should probably host? I mean, it’s hot right? What kinda-” he’s stunned to silence as Charlie grabs his jaw in more brusque a manner than he intended.

Turning to him with his expression bordering on a scowl, he releases his grip and responds, “We’ve already decided this babe, we’re hosting. Besides, I already ordered the thing.” Even as he says it he realizes it’s not true- he hadn’t placed the order yet. Or he would’ve sworn he hadn’t? Before he even had a chance to double take his laptop pings with both an order confirmation and shipping date.

By Friday the pair were to be brand new owners of their new Grill-Master. Charlie awaits some retort from his boyfriend, but Trevor’s still stuck on how out of character it was for Charlie to grab his face like that. He wasn’t bothered by it, not in the expected way at least.

Really it was way hotter than it had any right to be. Trevor smirks as he jokes silently to himself that maybe this whole mess’ll man his boyfriend up a bit. Playing coy and hiding just how suddenly needy he is, Trevor learn in close for kiss, “Well, In for a penny I guess-”

While he’s in for a pound, it’s clear the stress of this impending shindig is affecting Charlie far more than it should. As soon as the grill arrives, Charlie sets to setting it up like a bat out of hell. By the time Trevor prepares some espresso and half thinks-up a bit, he wanders to the backyard to find Charlie’s grease covered hands already lighting the thing up, “Hah Hah! Oh ye of little faith, those bitches are gonna have the best burgers of their lives!”

Trev feels tension leave his shoulders hearing Charlie celebrate. He does seem quite the natural at this whole grilling thing, he tosses around the idea of ordering some novelty apron for him as he sneaks up behind his boyfriend for a hug. Throwing his arms around Charlie as he messes with fobs on the Grill-Master, he notices that his arms don’t reach as far around his boyfriend’s waist as they should, as they always have.

Before he can pay too much attention to the man’s slightly altered figure however, Charlie nuzzles into the cheek on his shoulder. Trevor recoils in shock as the face rubbing against his own scratches like sandpaper. Falling back a couple steps he balks as Charlie turns to reveal patchy stubble decorating his jaw, “Everything alright Trev?”

For their whole time together he’s never known Charlie to sport peach fuzz let alone stubble that must’ve taken a few days to grow. Racking his mind as he tries to understand how a face he sees more than his has grown such dense stubble without his notice. On the note of his inattention, lost to distraction Trevor doesn’t notice as Charlie closes the distance between them.

Now pulling Trev into a hug, allowing him to feel the new weight on his midsection, firm muscle between a barely present new layer of fat. Arms more muscular than he knows them to be, thicker biceps that threw together a grill in record time yank him close as he leans down to whisper into Trevor’s ear, once more scratching his face with new prickly stubble, “So babe, whaddya want for dinner?”

Biting his lip, Trevor tries to maintain his focus, but hearing his lover’s performatively raspy voice leaves him with little recourse but to melt in his arms. Worries fade away as he retires to an outdoor sectional. He may as well be kicking his feet and giggling as he watches Charlie work masterfully at the grill.

When dinner is served he is shocked at just how good a job Charlie did. I mean he’s no chef but he thought most of grilling was prep work and he didn’t remember his boyfriend doing anything of the sort. Before he can offer compliments to the chef, he’s interrupted by Charlie slamming a filthy hand into the table and, after a barely muted burp, exclaiming “Man! That’s a damn good burger huh, hun?”

The words are like a freight train to Trev’s psyche, Charlie simply wouldn’t act like that. His eyes flicker from the greasy burger in his hands to the ever so slightly strained shirt Charlie has on. Something’s not right, something’s different. Unfortunately, after taking a thoughtless bite of the burger, his senses are swayed from pursuit as the intense flavor dulls any sense of concern.

The next few days leading up to the party continue like this. Trevor notices something strange shifting in his lover, some new hair in the drain, a beard growing thicker, more muscle decorating his upper body. His voice and mindset edging coarser, gruffer. He tries to question how his lover has stopped shaving, how a few curls have begun to peek up from Charlie’s neckline, but every query is waved off.

Trevor sees smile lines etching deeper near Charlie’s eyes as he prepares the grill for another dinner. Since it arrived he’s used every chance he gets to use the grill, easily pointing to the party as an excuse to hone his culinary expertise. And each time the meals he produces are all the better, Charlie’s talents progress far more than should be possible, almost directly correlating with every other impossible change that Trev can barely bring himself to notice.

Finally the morning of their little summer barbecue arrives. Trevor awakens to find Charlie stretching at the edge of the bed, grunting and complaining that his back feels worse for wear. Blearily rubbing his eyes, Trevor gasps as he finally takes in just how much his lover has changed. Somehow built more than he ever has been despite spending less time at the gym in the leadup to today. All over his form new copses of hair have sprouted, a jungle covers his chest while forests surge across his thicker waist and up from his burlier mitts.

Trev only stirs as the man he can barely recognize calls out to him in a huskier voice, “Alright there hun? Look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Beneath the thick mustache, Trevor sees the same tilted smile his lover has always had. Seeing it now puts his racing heart at ease. It almost reminds him of their wedding, uh, day?

Turning to look at the ring on Charlie’s ring finger, Trevor almost faints out from shock. Charlie races to his side before he can start to fall, “Hey hey hey honey!? It’s just a party, you know you can take it easy yeah?” Searching his face to find some semblance of reality, Trevor’s mouth tries to point out that Charlie didn’t use to call him honey.

Feeling a cold ring wrap around his own finger he resigns himself to whatever is going on, he’ll just play along. This is a dream, as soon as it ends he’ll wake up. And he’ll absolutely refuse to let his husb- boyfriend buy a grill, “Ugh- yeah, yeah I’m good, enough. So what’s the move for getting ready then?”

Lurching to his feet, he pays no mind as his own body has slowly begun to change. Slowly creeping up from wider, thicker soled feet his legs begin to coat with furry curls. Hidden underneath a blanket clutched to keep warm as he wanders to a pot of coffee in the kitchen, his own chest is patterned with a jungle of hair that already begins to rival Charlie’s.

He’s never really liked black coffee, but as his uh- husband pours two cups and immediately starts drinking he hasn’t the will to do anything but do the same. Scratching his jaw, Trev is uncomfortable with the sound of scratchy stubble as it creeps across his face. He’s always wanted a real beard. Refusing to acknowledge it any further, he turns to appreciate the profile of the steaming dark roast in his hand.

Watching Trevor stare off into the middle distance, with every sip of his own cup a joe Charlie’s stubble thickens and fills into a proper beard. With each taste he lets loose some grunt of satisfaction that Trevor feels should irk him, but instead he feels only affection. Such is the way after so many years of marriage he supposes, for a second that is. Then he rolls his eyes at himself for playing along a little too well. This does nothing to stay the muscle beginning to creep its way onto his form as years and experience continue to pile on him.

“Well Trev, I was thinkin’ I’ll probably get started grilling so it’s ready when the boys get in. And you can go ‘head and make sure the pool’s good to go.”

Trevor almost does a spit take before quickly swallowing and landing on laughter instead. “The pool huh? Guess I’ll prep the valet as well” Rather than latching on or continuing what must be a bit, Charlie treats the statement as real, “Oh you hired a valet? I don’t think any of the boys are gonna be driving y’know?”

Hearing Charlie refer to their friends as the boys twice in such short order for some reason sets him on edge. “Why are you saying that, the boys- like they’re so much younger than us?” Charlie puffs up his cheeks and scratches the back of his head. As he stands there his hair and beard begin to prickle with some greying hairs as across his muscular form, his initially defined muscle almost begins to readjust with age.

Feeling he’s stepped in it somehow he tiptoes around the subject, “Well Trev, I guess- I’m certainly no spring chicken, and you’re not that much younger y’know?” His eye twitches, they were always the same age. But looking at the man in front of him, scouring his memories, he does not find what age that is. Whatever. He gets back to the actual sticking point, “Sure. Fine, we’re decrepit hags- why are you bringing up a pool we don’t have.”

Tilting his head in confusion, Charlie halts preparing his grilling accoutrement and instead opens the blinds to their backyard. Trevor forgets even the wedding ring on his finger as he sees their backyard transformed entirely, surrounded by a few tables and an even more professional grilling set up than he remembered, there is a pristine swimming pool. He can scarcely find his tongue in his mouth as he stares at the glistening wind tossed waves splashing.

Not aware of the mental strain his husband is currently struggling through, Charlie simply laughs as he watches his lover sprint to the water and begin splashing it on his face. For half a second he recognizes it as a desperate attempt to wake oneself up, but such a thought is easy to make sense of. Trev’s just sleepy, yeah.

With a grunt Charlie hoists up as much meat as he can handle and wanders into the backyard too, humming to himself as Trev continues with whatever he’s doing. Lighting his grill and setting out his tools, Charlie feels content as he begins his favorite thing in the world. Trev playfully calling him a grill dad echoes through his mind, but as he stands at the helm of the barbecue, he can’t help but agree.

A beer materializes in his hands as he begins his joyous work. Words of caution from a doctor echo through his head as he takes his first sip, awfully early start to the day but shittt- he’s grilling! He’s gonna take it easy, besides if he chills maybe Trev’ll follow in his footsteps.

Setting the first meats on the tray, he continues daydrinking with every laid dog and placed patty. And as he does so something other than age begins to creep onto Charlie’s form. His tanned torso begins to expand as a few extra pounds begin to hang over his waistband. Trev always did say he wanted a bigger boy. Charlie grins as he pats his stomach as his gut slowly creeps larger.

Abs he only had for a few days in real time are promptly covered and then buried as he becomes the prototypical grill dad. No one wants a thin chef of course. Smoke and steam rising from the grill act as fertilizer to his new form, sending even more hair cascading across his burgeoning belly as his hairline begins to creep upward, more strands disappearing with every gained pound and indulgent drink.

Seconds standing there, stomach in hand patting its amassing mass, turn to minutes as he debates whether to go for his blase ‘kiss the chef’ or ‘I cook bear naked’ apron just thinking of them sends the man into a laughing fit. His uproarious guffaws made even louder and deeper by his heavier form finally stir his husband from his pathetic mumblings.

Still poolside, Trevor looks up with wild eyes to find that his husband has continued to change even in spite of his pitiable attempts to wake. Mouth drier than dry as he looks up to find the man of his dreams standing behind the grill, hair growing greyer as his torso expands into a perfect, hair covered beer gut. Of course, that’s nothing new, Chuck- er Charlie’s always been the man of his dreams.

He said as much in his wedding vows? He’s pretty sure? Perhaps thankfully, seeing the man at peace preparing for the festivities, Trevor can’t help but begin to give into the new lives apparently thrust upon them. Just as Chuck had hoped. Feeling something dance in his stomach, and something more concretely rise in his shorts, Trevor stares at his husband of oh so many years and smiles.

Memories of their extended time together lengthen and blur in Trevor’s mind as his form races to catch up to Chuck’s. Hair pushes out from every square inch available on his form. While staring at Chuck’s grabbable gut does more than ignite passion in himself, Trev has always taken care to spend more time on his physique as the years crept by. Age a prime concern for any once twink, as smile lines began to show on his bearded face he only took that as a sign to hit the gym harder.

He did always try not to let aging bother him too much, after all he always wanted to set a good example for the younger generation. And the years have been quite kind, for himself and for Chuck. As a few grey curls begin to join the garden of fur that coats him from head to toe, Trevor stands and wanders to his husband’s side, only groaning a bit as he does so- fair enough, it feels as if he’d sat there on concrete for decades.

Scratching his new beard on his husband’s shoulder, he whines in a voice rougher, “Ughh- no one ever said being so- distinguished would make you feel so tired all the time~” Chuck offers that half-bit a snort, “Think that’s just about all they say about bein’ old hun.”

Huffing to himself, Trevor asks if his husband needs any help around the grill. Chuck reminds him he’s lucky that he’s even being allowed this close to his perfectly ordered set-up, “Nah, you just go relax and make sure the pool’s all ready to go.” He could tell something was bothering Trev earlier, but looking into his husband’s eyes, even as he made his meek little appeal, it’s clear that some weight had been lifted from him.

As the hour of the party proper approaches, both men settle into their new selves. The perfect host finishes his preparation and grills more food than their guests would ever possibly eat, though he’s already prepared to-go containers for them all- these kids, never eating enough! Relaxing as commanded, Trevor’s mind being allowed peace finally adjusts to the new world, his hair growing grey as his husband’s hairline thins in rapidity.

And then the time finally arrives. In the end the pair do a wonderful job making sure that every twink, cub, butch, and doll in attendance cools off and feels safe. Chuck always strives to make sure his guests feel at home, and never is there a person he welcomes into his home that would be anything short of ecstatic to return. His new grill centric strengths having done nothing to dull his perfect host’s instincts.

Watching his husband do as good a job as ever from the pool, Trev can’t help but join in on the hosting fun. While the headline is of course his husband’s truly Michelin star cooking, should they offer those to home chefs, Trevor similarly enthralls their guests in a way only a gay old queen can. The younger folk find themselves drifting over to the man in the pool, waiting on bated breath as stories drip like honey from Trevor’s mouth.

The gaps in his memory fill in as he finishes his transformation into the perfect partner for Chuck, and his husband does the same in turn. By the time their guests leave, the two men who began the week as twenty something twinks shift into their final form of furry queer elders. Decorated with wrinkles and enough fur to clog their pool drain.

Trevor apologizes for pressing his husband so hard at the start of this little operation, for the life of him he can’t even recall why he’d ever discourage his husband from grilling! As in literally, it doesn’t make sense. But hey, all things change in time. The pair do a wonderful job doting on their guests and making sure their gayborhood block should be well fed for the next few days.

Finally when the guests leave do the husbands get a moment to enjoy the summer day themselves. No party pressing down on them or strange confusing episodes rising up. No, now the two halves of one whole simply get to enjoy the lives in which they find themselves.

Trevor sips on his drink as he watches Chuck finally step away from his grill and float on the pool. Truly the best host- the best husband anyone could ask for. Trev’d clean the grill for him as he dozes but he’s sure he’d get chewed out for messing with such a prized possession. No, for now he’ll just repose, and wait for whatever life sees fit to bestow upon them next.

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kurokonosass · 17 days ago

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Drowned in Lust

The air in Terrence and Julian’s dorm room hummed with a nervous energy thicker than the usual scent of crisp and sterile dorm room of two tidy nerd. Julian, perched on his worn desk chair, looked less like a college sophomore and more like a nervous raven – all sharp angles, pale skin stretched taut over bone, and a mop of jet-black hair that looked permanently wind-ravaged. He adjusted a crumbling leather-bound book, muttering under his breath, while Terrence, hunched on his bed, fidgeted with the hem of his t-shirt.

Terrence is a classic 19 years old nerd: glasses perched on his big nose, slightly too-large hoodie, luminous black skin because he's rarely outside and not because of skin care and a general air of intellectual curiosity mixed with social awkwardness. Right now, though, that curiosity is warring with a palpable anxiety. They are about to attempt something definitely not classic nor nerdy. The target, DJ, the university’s wrestling star, a hairy, musky, arrogant mountain of a man who embodied everything Terrence isn't.

“Okay, Ter,” Julian said, his voice barely above a whisper, yet cutting through the tension. “The sigil is drawn. The incantation is keyed to his astral signature – extracted it from the official team roster photo database, cunning, isn't it? – and the sympathetic link is established through… well, let's just say a small, personal item of his I acquired.” Julian offered a tiny, sly grin, which Terrence chose not to inquire about. “When I chant this, focus your will. Project yourself. Think of being him. His size. His… smell. His arrogance,”

"His smell?" Terrence swallowed hard

Julian nodded, eyes gleaming behind his own thick-rimmed glasses.

"Yes. A key identifier. You know how pungent it was, you sniffed it right on its source. Remember that moment when he shoved you but pictured yourself as the one shoving a nerd to his pits. Now, silence. And focus."

Julian begins to chant. The words are guttural, ancient-sounding, completely alien in the sterile dorm room. A flickering candle cast dancing shadows, making Julian’s angular face look even more gaunt. Terrence closed his eyes, trying to push away the image of DJ’s sneering face and focus on the idea of his body. Size. Strength. Musk. Confidence Arrogance. He then feels this strange pulling sensation, like his consciousness is a kite string being yanked violently.

Suddenly, the chanting stopped. Terrence’s eyes snapped open. He's not on his room any longer as the floor underneath him feels different, creaked differently, much more pressure.

He is standing up. His perspective is higher. Broader. Looking down, he sees not his usual slender arms, but thick, corded biceps covered in a surprising amount of dark hair. He feels a weight in his chest, a solid mass of muscle. The air smelled different – not ramen and linen, but… sweat. A deep, earthy, animalistic musk.

He is in DJ’s room in the Phi Kappa frat house. Sunlight streamed through a window overlooking the manicured lawn. Weights were scattered on the floor. A wrestling singlet hung on a hook alongside a damp Under Armour compression. He gives both a good whiff before deciding to put on the Under Armour, the musk is fresher and more......potent, more DJ, him.

As soon as he finished putting on the damp clothing, thrill sensation, hot and alien, shot through him. He flexed his hands. They are enormous. He runs one over his chest, feeling the coarse hair, the hard pectoral muscle beneath the tight black Under Armour currently hugging his body. He walks to the mirror. DJ stared back – broad-shouldered, his face set in a default expression of bullish intensity. He grinned, and the face in the mirror grinned back, a wide, toothy, slightly unnerving expression on that unfamiliar canvas. It feels… powerful. Intoxicating. Even more so when he takes a deep breath while flexing his biceps, the headiness of the sweaty musky pits and DJ earthy cologne stirred something for the newly-in-control Terrence

Julian’s voice, tinny and urgent, interrupted the lustful observation Terrence currently conducted as it comes from the small, enchanted pendant Terrence still clutched in his new, massive hand.

"Terrence? Can you hear me? Did it work?"

Terrence cleared his throat. The sound is a low rumble.

"Yeah, Julian. It worked."

"Oh my god," Julian breathed, awe and relief plain in his voice.

"Okay, excellent! Now, remember the plan. Gather what we need – his training regimen, maybe some contacts, intel on the team. Just observe, don't interact too much. And get back here as soon as possible. This link isn't permanent without constant reinforcement, and I don't want to lose you in there."

"Right, right," Terrence mumbled, already distracted. He stretched, feeling the incredible reach of the muscles in his back and shoulders. He rotated his neck, hearing the subtle clicks of bone and muscle. This body… it's amazing. He dropped the pendant onto a nearby dresser, ignoring Julian's increasingly frantic squawking.

He spent the next hour in DJ's room, utterly captivated. He flexed every muscle, noting the hard ridges of his abs, the thick columns of his thighs. He examined the hair covering his limbs and chest, the stubble on his jaw, the sheer, unholy presence this body exuded. He caught his reflection in the mirror, striking poses the real DJ probably practiced religiously. He knelt down, testing the strength in his legs, then stood up effortlessly. He sniffed himself, burying his face in the crook of his elbow, breathing in the potent, unique musk. It's not just body odor; it's the smell of raw power and animal confidence. It is everything he isn't, yet, confusingly, it's him.

The world outside felt distant, irrelevant. Julian's instructions faded into the background. Terrence is lost in the sheer physicality of being DJ.

Back in the dorm, Julian’s anxiety mounted with each passing minute of silence from the pendant. Terrence hadn’t responded in an hour. An hour! The astral link is stable for a while, but the longer Terrence stayed, the harder it would be for him to pull back, or worse, for the real DJ’s consciousness to fight back and potentially trap Terrence in a limbo, bodiless yet trapped inside a body that never really belonged to him

Julian paced their cramped room, wringing his hands. He knows Terrence is probably just overwhelmed, exploring. But Julian’s occult studies had taught him caution and the dangers of lingering in borrowed forms. He had to get Terrence back. He couldn't risk yelling into the pendant and alerting the real DJ that his body has been taken over by another entity. He needs to go there. To the lion's den.

Sneaking into Phi Kappa feels like navigating an enemy fortress. It's late afternoon, quiet between classes and evening activities. The front door is unlocked (of course it is), letting out faint traces of lingering party smells from the night before – stale beer, something vaguely chemical as if trying to suppress whatever smell emanated in from last night that is more stubborn to get rid off, and that same potent musk he’d only ever smelled on DJ and the rest of the jocks from a distance. Julian creeps down a hallway, his slight frame feeling ridiculously exposed to this animal lair. He listened for voices, footsteps. Nothing. Dead silent. Except one.

He reached DJ’s room – the door is slightly ajar. He peered in, his heart leaping. DJ is there, staring out a window, flexing a massive arm. Relief washed over Julian, quickly followed by a fresh wave of anxiety. DJ looked… lost in his own thought. Utterly absorbed.

"Terrence!" Julian whispered urgently, pushing the door open a crack.

DJ (Terrence inside) spun around, eyes widening slightly before narrowing into a look Julian knew all too well from the real DJ. A look of predatory amusement.

Before Julian could say another word, DJ is already across the room in two long strides. A massive hand clamped over Julian’s mouth, muffling his surprised yelp. The other arm wrapped around his back, pulling him tight against DJ's sweat-slicked chest. The musk was overwhelming up close, a hot, potent cloud that made Julian dizzy.

"Shhh," DJ whispered, his voice a low, hot rumble right next to Julian’s ear. Fuck......is this Terrence? Or is it the real DJ?

"Look what happened to the curious cat. Little Julian. Sneaking around the frat house?"

Julian squirmed against the iron grip, eyes wide and panicked behind his glasses. This isn't the plan! Terrence is acting like… like him. The real DJ. This might even be the real, unrestrained and fully conscious DJ!

DJ chuckled, a deep sound vibrating through Julian’s chest. He steered Julian backward, away from the open door, into a less visible corner of the room. He keeps the hand over Julian’s mouth, pressing firmly but not painfully.

"You shouldn't be here, man," DJ continued, leaning in close, eyes twinkling with something primal. "This ain't your world. All muscles, parties, and… ladies." He winked, a slow, deliberate blink that felt bizarre coming from that face. "Lots and lots of horny ladies. Couldn't keep them off me last night, man. Had to lock my door just to get a minute." He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "You wouldn't know about that, huh? Stuck in your room with your books and… rituals?"

Julian could only make muffled noises, his breath hot against DJ's hand. The sheer physical dominance is terrifying, even knowing it's Terrence based on that final hint because there's no way a bonafide popular and more senior jock like DJ is aware of Julian, let alone his interest in the occult. It is DJ’s body, DJ’s power, bearing down on him. And the smell… God, the smell. It is everywhere, thick and intoxicating, but it's still thankfully Terrence in control

DJ leaned closer still, his breath warm on Julian's ear.

"You look nervous, Jules. Haven't seen a real frat boy lair, have you? All that sweat… the smell… gets to some guys. Makes 'em weak in the knees. Ladies? Oh, they opened themselves easy," He paused, then slowly, deliberately, lowered his hand from Julian’s mouth.

Julian sucked in a shaky breath. "T-Terrence? What are you doing?"

The predatory glint in DJ’s eyes softened, replaced by an intensity that is purely Terrence now, but amplified by the commanding presence of the body he inhabited.

"I'm figuring things out, Julian." He stepped back slightly, but his large hands still rested lightly on Julian’s shoulders. "And I realized… acting like him…" He gestured vaguely at the room, at the body he is in. "...is unexpectedly fun." He looked Julian up and down, a slow, assessing gaze that made Julian blush furiously. "Especially when I know how you look at him."

Julian’s eyes went wide. "What?"

"Don't play dumb," DJ rumbled, stepping closer again. "I've seen you. Glancing away quickly. The way you sometimes linger near the wrestling practice room, watching me and the boys throwing and tackling each other. Wishing it was you huh straddled on the mat with cocks pressing with a jock in singlet? You like the… physicality, don't you? The power. The… musk." He lowered his head slowly, burying his face in Julian's hair, breathing him in. "You smell like old paper and nervous energy." He lifted his head, a smirk playing on DJ's lips. "He would just push you around, call you names. But I'm not him. Not entirely."

DJ slides his hands down Julian’s arms, then hesitated. Julian trembled, caught between fear and a forbidden, burning desire. He could barely think over the scent of DJ’s body, the sheer proximity to this overwhelming physical form.

"You came looking for me," DJ said softly, his voice deeper, rougher, than Julian had ever heard it. "Curious." His eyes held Julian’s. "Maybe you deserve a reward for your curiosity,"

He moved slowly, deliberately. He lowered his head again, not to Julian’s hair this time, but towards his shoulder, then lower, towards the chest encased in a thin t-shirt. Julian gasped as DJ breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of him. Then, DJ lifted his head and, with a look that was both tender and intensely focused, guided Julian's hand to his own broad chest.

"Feel this," DJ murmured, pressing Julian’s hand against the hard muscle, the coarse hair. "Smell this." He guided Julian’s hand higher, towards his neck, then gently, inevitably, towards the crook of his shoulder, where the thick hair is damp with lingering sweat

Julian is lost. All his apprehension melted away, replaced by a tidal wave of sensation. The heat radiating from DJ’s body, the gritty texture of the hair and skin, and the overpowering, intoxicating musk – it is exactly what he had secretly craved, fixated on from afar. With a shaky breath, Julian leaned in, burying his face against DJ's chest inhaling deeply. He moved hesitant hands over the hard expanse, tracing the outline of a pectoral muscle, feeling the beating of the heart beneath and looking at the cross gold pendant that smelled like sweaty metal if that's even sensible. He risked moving his face lower, towards the armpit, thick with hair and radiating heat and scent. He breathed deeply, worshipfully, lost in the raw, animal reality of it.

Julian gasped, his face flushed and eyes wide with fear as suddenly he's lifted from the corner next to that pile of dirty laundry to the table that soon cleared out from any other items, the perfect sacrificial table

DJ smiled with a sinister grin, amused, as Julian flinched,

"See, Jules, I've been thinking. This body... it's something else, isn't it?" He flexed experimentally, muscles rippling under the skin. "Makes me feel things... want things... that scrawny little Terrence never could."

He leaned in, his voice a low growl. "Things like this..."

Suddenly, DJ spun Julian around and shoved him face-down on the table. Julian yelped, flailing, but a heavy hand between his shoulder blades pinned him easily. He feels this large, muscular thigh push between his own, spreading his legs. Hot breath ghosted over the back of his neck.

"Like this," DJ repeated, his voice a rough purr. "Like pinning down a scrawny little twink and making him my bitch."

Julian whimpered in surprise, his hips bucking involuntarily as a large, calloused hand pried at his ass. The reality of it crashed over him like a wave. This is happening. He is at DJ's mercy, DJ's mercy with Terrence in control, and it is... it is more arousing than he'd ever admit.

DJ chuckled darkly at Julian's pathetic resistance. His hands are all over Julian's body now, groping and teasing, uncaring of Julian's little mewls and gasps.

"Keep struggling, Jules. Feels so good when they fight."

He pressed his chest flush against Julian's back, crushing him into the table. Julian felt a thick, hard bulge grinding against his ass and nearly came on the spot. The musk is everywhere, flooding his senses, stoking the fire in his gut.

DJ mouthed at the back of Julian's neck, nipping and sucking, leaving dark marks in his wake. His hands shoved under Julian's shirt, mapping every inch of skin, pinching his nipples hard enough to hurt. Julian writhed, lost to it, a needy moan slipping past his lips.

The hand between his shoulder blades slid down to cover his mouth, muffling any further sounds.

"Yeah, just like that," DJ growled in his ear. "Gonna fuck you so hard you forget your own name, little man. Gonna make this tight ass mine."

He punctuated the words with a sharp thrust of his hips, grinding his bulge against Julian's crack. Julian's vision goes white, his own neglected cock throbbing where it is trapped under his body. He is delirious with it, drunk on the raw power and musk and heat of DJ's body pressed all over him.

DJ ripped down Julian's pants with one swift motion, baring his ass to the air. A spit-slick finger probed at his entrance, making Julian clench and whimper. He'd never been taken like this, so roughly, so... dominantly. It is humiliating, degrading, and so fucking hot.

The finger pushed inside, stretching him open. Julian bucked back against the intrusion, needing more, needing everything. DJ worked him open with quick, rough thrusts of his fingers, twisting and scissoring, no care for Julian's comfort.

He nipped and growled filthy promises all over Julian's neck and shoulders.

"Gonna wreck this ass... ruin you for anyone else... make you crave my cock like a bitch in heat..." The words dissolved into dark chuckles that vibrated through Julian's body.

Julian panted desperately into DJ's palm, his cock leaking a steady stream of pre-cum onto the floor. He is babbling now, garbled moans and pleas falling from his lips. He needed it, needed DJ to fuck him into oblivion, to make him submit to that glorious body, to lose himself in the raw animal heat of it.

The fingers left him empty for a devastating second before something much larger pressed at his entrance. Julian keened, high and desperate, as the thick head of DJ's cock popped past his rim.

DJ groaned, long and low, as he sank into Julian's body in one brutal thrust. Julian screamed, muffling it against the hand over his mouth. It burned, so big, so deep, splitting him open, reshaping him from the inside out as his back arched like he's one of DJ's bitches from last night

DJ doesn't stop until he is buried to the hilt, his heavy balls slapping against Julian's ass. He ground into Julian's prostate, making him see stars.

"Fuck, so tight," he growled. "Built for my cock, aren't you? Gonna pound this ass till you're nothing but a sloppy mess."

He draws back and snapped his hips forward, setting a brutal pace. The table shook with the force of his thrusts, the sounds of skin slapping on skin echoing obscenely in the room. Julian could only take it, overwhelmed, impaled on that massive cock, circuited by those powerful arms and chest and thighs as his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he moaned calling Terrence to stop

"I ain't stopping man, I ain't Terrence MMFFUUCCKKK"

"NGGGAAHHHHHH FFFUUUCCKKK D...DJ....PLEASE...MMMMMMHHHH.....I....I.....DJ PLEASE STOOOAAAPPPPH"

It is too much, the pressure and stretch and raw power of DJ's body combined with Terrence's dark promises. But being called DJ really caused him to be even more brutal in his thrust as the satisfaction washes over him. He's doing such a mind-bending job, he's even fully mistaken as the real DJ! Julian eventually couldn't hold it any longer as he comes with a choked sob, his untouched cock spurting weakly. His ass clenched down, milking DJ's cock, drawing him deeper.

DJ groaned into the back of Julian's neck, his thrusts going erratic. He pistoned into Julian's ass, chasing his own pleasure, using Julian's body for his own satisfaction like his best friend is merely an object

With a final, bruising snap of his hips, DJ comes deep inside Julian, flooding his guts with hot cum. Julian whimpered and shuddered through the aftershocks, pinned down and filled with DJ's release, claimed and owned in the most primal way.

DJ slumped over Julian's back, both of them panting harshly. His softening cock slipped free of Julian's abused hole, followed by a gush of cum that dribbled down his thighs.

Julian lay there, face-down and ass-up, used and dripping, aching in all the best ways. He knows he should feel humiliated, should be pushing DJ off him, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Not when he is floating in a haze of endorphins and raw, animal satisfaction.

DJ stirred, his weight lifting off Julian's back. Julian hissed at the sensation of cool air on his spit-slick skin and the feel of DJ's cum dripping down his legs. He stayed bent over the table but then slumped to DJ's bed yet remained still like a broken puppet, too boneless to move, his glasses knocked askew on his face.

A large hand landed on his ass, squeezing roughly.

"Good boy," DJ rumbled, palming Julian's abused cheek, "I knew this ass could take it. We're gonna have so much fun, you and me."

Julian shivered, equal parts dread and anticipation coiling in his gut. He knows he is in trouble, trapped with an-all powerful jock possessed by his best friend horniest impulses and thrall to his own body. But fuck, it felt good. Too good.

Both of them are so absorbed, so utterly consumed by the forbidden contact and the overwhelming scent, that neither of them heard the door open until a voice shattered the moment.

"Yo bro, couldn't find----DJ? What the actual…?"

Chase. Bleached-blonde, red-bearded, broad-shouldered, muscle jock with a perpetually cocky smirk. He simply stand still in the doorway, groceries in hand, staring at the bizarre scene: DJ, their resident wrestling god, naked and sweaty with the skinny, emo-looking kid from the arts quad, who is currently slumped on DJ's bed with floppy 3 incher and wetness that must have come from back-breaking sex.

Julian simply freeze in bed, mortified. DJ straightened up slowly, his expression unreadable. Chase dropped the bags, his smirk replaced by utter confusion and a dawning disgust.

DJ looked at Julian, trembling and exposed beside him. Then he looked at Chase, the archetypal jock, the very image of physical prowess Julian seemed drawn to. An idea, sudden and audacious, formed in Terrence’s mind. Julian didn't just need to sniff and fucked by power. He deserved to be power

"Chase," Terrence said grumbly, drawing from DJ's memory on how he would address his roommate when he's slightly pissed, his voice flat, powerful.

Chase eyed him suspiciously.

"Dude, what the fuck is going on? You know that President Stern and the entire uni board watched us like a hawk, bullying that---

"No bullying in here bro," DJ interrupted, stepping towards Chase. Julian watched, bewildered and terrified, as DJ moved with a purpose the real DJ usually reserved for the wrestling mat, "everything's mutual. He wanted to be a bitch so I treated him the same way I did Pamela or Jo or Molly or Trish, and the rest," DJ said with a casual predatory smirk as if looking for an understanding as he reached out, not roughly, but with unexpected speed and focus, grabbing Chase by the shoulder. Chase, caught off guard, stumbled back, dropping his groceries.

"What are you…?" Julian gasped, realizing the look in DJ’s eyes. It's the same intense focus Terrence had had moments before the first ritual.

"Julian," DJ said, his voice taking on a commanding tone that reverberated with the power of the body he was in. "Focus. Now. Think of Chase. His strength. His… everything you admire."

Julian, still reeling from the whole fucking and the sudden intrusion, stared at Chase’s muscular form, his thick beard, his sheer physical presence. He's the platonic ideal of the jock, just like DJ. Better, even, in some ways. As his focus intensified, he felt the familiar pull, the deep-seated yearning for that kind of physical reality.

DJ placed a hand on Chase's forehead, his eyes locking onto Julian's. He began to chant, the words he read in the next page to the one he and Julian read for this whole takeover of DJ. It's a simpler, more direct command. A transfer.

Chase’s eyes widened in alarm, unable to break free and his body seized and mouth agape as something shifted in him. As his eyesight goes blank, his body goes rigid for a couple second and then slumped slightly. At the same moment, Julian can feel that familiar tug, that violent yank on his consciousness, the last thing he witnessed before darkness engulfed him is his own skinny body on the bed with eyes wide, before everything shifted to reveal that he is inside Chase now, he is Chase.

His gasps sounded different. Deeper. More resonant. He looked down at his hands. They are massive, covered in a light scattering of red hair. The arms looked pumped, as if he's constantly working on it and pumping it with blood and concoction of serums to grow it. A simple flex stirred the hunger in him as he looked at his massive biceps swell while his other hand busily roaming across the carved landscape of his new possession. He feels the weight of his own limbs during the exploration, the solidity of his core should have surprised him but then he is Chase Axlerod, he is jacked and self-obsessed so this is how things should be. He runs his hand over his face, feeling the rough texture of the thick beard. In front of him, he watched as his old body collapsed to the bed with his eyes vacant white while he turned and face his sweaty, reeked roommate

They stand there for a long moment, two minds that knows each other intimately, now encased in bodies they had only admired and feared from afar with even more knowledge they can use for their satisfaction. The air is thick once more with the remnants of the sex DJ just did with Julian's body and the ritual, and a sudden, explosive charge of possibility. Chase's body feels powerful, grounded, different from DJ's raw, animalistic strength, but equally potent.

With a devilish smirk, Chase pawed at his 5 incher roid-affected pecker in his shortd

"Bro, so as I said, couldn't find that Trojan you asked me so I guess we're going in raw tonight bro. How about I cleaned you up first from all this seedy sloppiness before we get out from here for some beers and pussy? You reeked,"

"Oh, what an interesting offer bro. I can definitely use some warm shower and a thick, gooey liquid lathered across my body," DJ replied with a knowing smirk, his semi now grows hard once more while his balls readying themselves to produce more of the little DJ's to swarm Chase's tight straight boy pussy

---

Finally, an original. Well, I cheated. I used AI for the original draft after outlining the prompt. But then, I reworked the latter part of the story, add some finer details, added a lot more conversation, so here it is. Hope yall bust your nut to this piece

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