lumeluashton

[lumeluashton]

Fraternity Fallout

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

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

Fraternity Fallout

— Dude!? Why are you in that athlete's body!?

— I don't know, dude! What the hell is going on!?

Both guys shouted as dawn broke.

Last night had been one of the best parties (or at least it was at the beginning) of Kappa Eros Lambda — ΚΕΛ, the typical university fraternity with so many athletes that protein oozed from the walls. It was a “welcome” party, looking for new members, athletes with huge muscles and little brains, millionaires with enough ego or a pretty face to fit in. Clearly, the “losers” like nerds and anyone outside the mainstream were completely out of the equation, it was one of the most controversial and scandal-ridden fraternities, but one of the most desirable to join on campus. So it was an open-door party, anyone could come in (another thing was whether they would let you join). The women weren't allowed for that night. 

— Dude. Are you sure this is a good idea? — Adam muttered, hiding in the bushes next to Rick, his best friend. Both were outcasts at university, left behind because of their thin appearance, pimples, and lack of social skills. They weren't even nerds because they weren't particularly intelligent either; they were simply rejected, in all their glory, but at least they always had each other.

— Sure. What can they do? Nothing, it's an open house party, that's the rule.

— But why do you want to go in, man? They're going to ignore us, maybe even kick us out.

— Or maybe not, don't be so pessimistic – he gave him a light tap on the shoulder – This is the closest we'll ever get to being part of a fraternity, come on.

Like the pair of friends, other guys had similar ideas. Although ΚΕΛ was trying to be as exclusive as possible in relation to its future athletes, they knew full well that these were few and far between, either because of their lack of interest in belonging to a fraternity or because they were already in one.

The athletes watched as “ordinary people” entered, and could only sneer at them.

— At least there are more millionaires this time – muttered Kendrew, one of the university's “star” athletes and, of course, one of the right-hand men of Jason, the president of ΚΕΛ.

— And most of them are skinnier than spaghetti. My girlfriend could lift more weight than they can.

He narrowed his eyes, somewhat irritated.

Nerds, athletes, and other normal types entered, despite the athletes' annoyance at their presence. The drinks kept flowing, and it seemed that rookies, future hopefuls, and ordinary people were coexisting peacefully, dancing, talking, some of them having more in common than they might have thought.

— No way! You really like that video game? – one of the athletes, part of the swim team, commented while talking to a random nerd.

— Yes! It's one of my favorite video games.

The music was loud, the pizzas were arriving in droves, and the atmosphere was totally crazy.

— Chug, chug, chug! – the athletes shouted as they held a nerd upside down, who had a system of tubes connected to him to drop the drink from a barrel above.

Even a professor and a campus security guard had to come and try to control the situation due to some anonymous complaints (probably from the nearby sororities or the student complex behind them). Until, at some point during the night, everyone seemed to completely forget what had happened, like a black hole that lasted until 5 a.m., with the first rays of sunlight.

— Uh… – Rick muttered, opening his eyes as best he could. His head was throbbing relentlessly, everything around him was blurry. Had he drunk too much last night?  Perhaps there was a complete void in his mind, as if the night had vanished from that moment to this. He looked around; most people had left the party, there was no one around him, the music was playing softly, there was trash everywhere, but most importantly, HE was still inside the house.

The athletes would kick him out at any moment, if they hadn't already hazing him in the process. He looked down at himself. There was nothing strange like flour, marker marks, or even a rope, but there were two strangely different things about him: pectorals. He was wearing a compression shirt and a kind of jumpsuit, completely different from what he had worn the night before. He moved as best he could toward the bathroom, feeling his center of gravity acting differently, bigger and heavier, even having trouble coordinating his legs. Until he finally reached the bathroom, he staggered forward and finally saw his reflection.

— Holy shit… – he muttered under his breath. He saw the reflection of Marco, a Latin American exchange student and athlete. He was an idiot; they had only accepted him at ΚΕΛ because he was the ideal image of a brainless athlete (that and perhaps because of the issue of “inclusion”). He leaned close to the mirror, caressing his cheekbones with an arrogant smile – Wow... I knew you were hot, Marco, but I didn't think you were this hot.

He said, caressing his pecs and squeezing them, unable to stop himself from letting out a soft gasp. He bit his lip and then flexed his new tools with force.

— Fuck! They look so great!

He flexed again and again. Rick had never had muscles, not even an ounce of them, so now having two huge arms accompanied by tremendous pecs was driving him crazy. He ended up taking out his new phone, posing for the camera with a silly expression on his face.

— But what a huge tongue, god!

Kendrew had already woken up a few hours ago, and of course he had already noticed the changes his body had undergone.

— Damn, man. I didn't think the calculus professor had such great attributes.

He commented as he posed in tiny underwear, accompanied by sunglasses and other accessories. Quentin, another athlete in the fraternity, looked at him with a smile and a raised eyebrow.

— It doesn't count if you put your own clothes on him, bro. He always wears baggy clothes; he dresses like a grandpa to teach class.

— It doesn't matter! He still hides these beauties – he said, flexing his biceps with an arrogant smile. He even kissed them.

— What are you getting so excited about? You're just as muscular.

Kendrew chuckled, bringing his hands to his pecs.

— Because it's totally different, man! Besides, Mr. Ritcher is a mature man. Don't tell me you don't see him during class. I've seen you drooling over him – he teased his friend lightly, before running his hand over the other's pecs – You're not bad.

— Pff. In the body of a guard?

— Don't be a crybaby! The guy's not bad at all, he's a real Latin hunk.

Kendrew managed to grab his friend by the waist and pull him closer, their breaths slow and steady against each other.

— Pff. You're lucky I like you – Quentin murmured before they pressed their lips together, saliva colliding and flowing everywhere as they seemed to devour each other.

The rest of the house was in chaos of the same kind, the nerds, jocks, and other attendees were swapped with each other, others couldn't find any trace of their original bodies, others were totally uninterested in the subject.

Like the entire fraternity swim team, which had been taken over by other normal guys, not nerds, but not popular either, just average guys from the dorm.

— What huge things... No wonder they're so arrogant – muttered Edwin, who had deliberately put on all his sports gear when he realized the change, weighing his pecs, wearing that tight speedo while showing off. The scent of musk, chlorine from the pool, and something else “saltier” permeated his muscular skin. As he watched other athletes in the same situation.

He didn't know them, but it was a miracle they weren't already kissing, given the way they were acting, their hands fidgeting from side to side, their occasional glances, that licking of lips and “careless” bouncing of their chests.

— Is anyone coming to swim?

The last “member” of the swim team mentioned, he had been exploring his arms for hours, caressing them, playing with the hair on his armpits while rubbing his fingers against his nose, soaking them in the scent. He felt so vigorous, as if he could swim four laps back and forth. Before, he had been extremely lazy when it came to exercise, but now, he had those strong arms and huge legs in the blink of an eye.

— Um... Honey. Are you sure you want to do this?

— Yes, yes. I already told you yes, hurry up.

Stacy looked up at her boyfriend, Jason. Or at least who she thought was the president of the fraternity, which had now been taken over by a nerd, not just any nerd. Steve had been teased countless times by Jason and Dylan (the body now inhabited by Stacy), so playing with the cheerleader, pretending to be her boyfriend, and getting revenge on the bodies that teased him tirelessly was like killing two birds with one stone (plus, he liked Dylan so much, even more so as he was now. On his knees, with a look between innocence and hunger).

— But...

— For the last time, I already told you. I'm secretly bisexual, and I'm fine with it. Just do it, I'm waiting for you, honey.

Steve murmured in Jason's deep voice. He loved hearing him talk like that, feeling his throat rumble in the presence of his new voice, all the power in his hands now that he was Jason.

The absolute president of ΚΕΛ. Later, he would discover the truth behind all this, but for now, he would enjoy the moment.

— Just like that… – he murmured, tangling his fingers in “Dylan's” hair – I knew you'd love it.

— Don't you think we should check on the students? – Mr. Robinson, the foreign language teacher, asked as he stood in a room of the house with two other men. From time to time, he checked out his new muscles. He liked how good they looked in the neon light that surrounded the place. It was a mess: full of cans, socks, sweaty uniforms, and magazines. It smelled strongly of sweat. It was quite stinky and smelly, but his colleagues seemed to have gotten used to it.

— Nah, they'll be fine – said the former Mr. Ritcher, who ironically ended up in Kendrew's body, as he scratched his balls, placing a sweaty sock against his face, inhaling it with a relaxed smile, as well as a large tent in his shorts – It's not even our problem anymore.

— But...

— Shhh! Will you guys shut up? I'm trying to get through this level – The former guard, who now inhabited one of the most muscular guys in the fraternity, was lying on the floor, controller in hand, not even bothering to put on more clothes than he had when he appeared in that body.

But the new Kendrew certainly liked to admire him while he played, the way he wiggled his hips every time he tried to make a move in the game.

— Do you think you could give me your socks? They look tight, let me take care of it...

But it wasn't just the fraternity where “problems” were occurring. In the student residence, things were also getting interesting.

— I always thought you were an idiot, but you've got good eyesight… – muttered Kyio, an athlete of Asian descent who had a strange feud with the guy he now saw in his reflection, Zack. Kyio was a boxing star, but Zack, the typical cocky skater with edgy vibes, made fun of him as much as he could, calling him a brainless gorilla, stinky, and other adjectives that only irritated the athlete. So now, finding himself in his body was quite an experience – Maybe I should get revenge for all your comments – he said to himself as his fingers cupped down there, then pulled them out to lightly inhale the scent, licking his lips. 

— I never dared to come out of the closet in my own body, but what if I do it in yours? I'm sure guys will go crazy for this – he said with a chuckle, caressing his new smooth abdomen.

Hopefully the new Kyio would feel comfortable with his body, because the new Zack was not willing to give up his for anything in the world.

— This can't be happening...

The real Jason muttered. He had ended up in the body of some random guy from college. His muscles had vanished, his model hair and posture had turned into messy strands of hair, thin arms, and a barely defined abdomen. His room, once filled with luxury items and designer clothes, had been replaced by simpler, smaller decor, typical of the tiny rooms in these residences.

But worst of all, he couldn't stop staring at his new feet for almost an hour. He had never been attracted to that subject, much less to other men. His tough guy attitude always came to the fore, but now he couldn't stop looking at those huge, temptingly sweaty and smelly feet. He wanted to touch them so desperately, to press them into his face to fill it with their stench, to fill his nose with that foul and yet delicious aroma.

— I must... I must resist – he swallowed hard in vain, unable to concentrate on anything other than those sweaty feet. 

The gym area was also chaotic, with sweat, sweaty singlets, and muffled grunts. Some were lifting weights, others were simply flexing their biceps, and others were about to go to the sauna room for “fun.”

Some didn't even bother to say their real names; it was as if they had taken on the identity of the person they were now inhabiting. Who would know who they really were? No one, there was no way to know or keep track of who was in which body, anyone could easily pretend, and the others would have no choice but to believe them. Sweaty, muscular athletes, bumping their faces with their armpits, enjoying their newly acquired power. As tempting as it was smelly...

— I knew you had such a delicious body… – Wyatt murmured, caressing his abs, letting his fingers slowly count them one by one. He lifted his armpit to inhale the stench, smiling – I think you stink even more than I do, buddy.

Because to be clear, of course that wasn't Wyatt, it was George. Another athlete who had no idea where his original body had ended up (probably in the hands of some scholarship genius who wanted to honor his old nationality).

But luckily for him, he had ended up in Wyatt's body. The guy he liked, he had never dared to say anything or even hint at it, he knew that fraternity environments were the least suitable for love to blossom between two guys. He wanted to have him all to himself, to feel his muscles, smell his armpits, feel those round buttocks that always showed through his gray pants when he went out running every morning, and now he had them, all to himself. Maybe not in the way he wanted, but hey, a prize is a prize.

Adam had woken up in a bathroom, the cold tile against his arms. He muttered a few things, opening his eyes when he felt the light hitting them, covering himself slightly, noticing how the size of his hands and the lightness of his fingers did not correspond to what he was used to.

— Rick?... – he asked into the air, although clearly no one answered. It was just him in that white space, the shower to one side, the toilet behind him, and the sink in front of him, and even more importantly, the mirror above it.

He stood up, having to lean on the ceramic, then found himself looking at the reflection of another guy, one who was foreign and unknown to him.

— Damn it! – he shouted. He brought his hands to his face, caressing it in disbelief. He knew this guy wasn't from ΚΕΛ, but from his bearing, he was surely one of the favorites to be selected – Yuck! Why don't athletes know what deodorant is? – he said, noticing the stench now coming from his new armpits. He looked back at the mirror, his confused expression turning into a smile.

— Shit, now I'm an athlete – he said, realizing the possibilities, or better yet, all the advantages that came with it. He flexed his biceps, made a couple of silly gestures in the mirror, and then weighed his pecs, playing with them.

— Wow. I think they're as big as a woman's – he said, laughing, bouncing them, squeezing them through that tank top, which was the only thing standing between him and his new babies.

He looked around again, and a mischievous smile formed as he looked at the showerhead. He began to take off everything he was wearing, except for his cap.

He let the water fall, feeling the drops slide down his muscles and dark complexion. He had always worn glasses, and they always looked bad on him. But now they looked so sexy, aviator style, so tempting.

— Now I'm a dumb, idiotic, muscular hunk – he muttered to himself, rubbing the water dripping down his thick pecs – You want to see me lick my armpits, buddy? Sure, who am I to refuse?

He lifted one armpit, stuck out his tongue, and began tracing a path through those stinky openings, enjoying the stench and the taste that lingered on his tongue, and even better: 

It was all his. No longer a loser or a nobody, he was now an extremely attractive guy with huge muscles and a face that could melt anyone he wanted. He got out of the shower, wrapped himself in a towel, and opened the door. He didn't expect to find anyone on the other side.

He must have been one of the applicants or a rookie, judging by how young he looked, but he seemed so focused on measuring his arms with the fingers of his other hand.

— Rick? – he asked. The guy looked up with a smile on his lips.

— No, pero puedo ser él si quieres – he said. That had been... Spanish? He didn't even bother to say anything else, he just left the room, trying to keep the towel in place.

He visited other rooms, finding almost the same result in all of them:

guys flexing their muscles, taking pictures, others kissing, some testing their strength, playing video games, talking to each other. In one room, he heard a lot of noise, like grunts and something wet hitting another surface, so he decided not to open the door. Other guys had tried on accessories they now had, like a guy of Asian descent who was wearing an anime outfit, probably some geek who had managed to get into that body.

He went downstairs, leaving behind the apparent wrestling team that kept flexing their muscles and smelling each other.

He was losing hope when he heard something coming from the living room. He noticed a dark-skinned guy wearing a singlet stuck between his pectorals. He was muscular, flexing his biceps while kissing them, licking his armpit, and running his huge tongue across the width of his new arms.

Adam had a hunch, slowly advancing toward the guy, who didn't even flinch at his presence, only focused on adoring himself.

— Rick? – he murmured.

The guy looked up, and there was a familiar gleam in his eyes.

— Adam?

— Dude!

But while the two of them were meeting, in the room above, another guy was quite focused on his reflection.

— Felix, Felix… – he smiled, looking at his legs, how strong they felt, how wet his socks felt from sweat. He played with what appeared to be a device, it looked like a phone. But it was something completely different, and the cause of all this mess – Now that I'm in your body, I don't think you can bother me anymore, do you?”

He stretched his feet to play with them, moving his new toes. He loved seeing himself in those expensive clothes, that sweat-soaked T-shirt and shorts, along with his smelly socks and sneakers. He wanted so badly to stick them up his nose and go crazy for hours. But talking to “the one who bothered him” was much more rewarding.

— Too bad that the whole organization you and your friends were so proud of is now in ruins, dominated by nerds, unpopular guys, and other outcasts.

He let out a mocking chuckle, as if the real Felix could hear him.

— Anyway. I hope you enjoy your just deserts.

He said, winking at the device, waving his stinky socks in the air before stamping them against his nose.

----

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

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

---

[lumeluashton]

Quick: Karma

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

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

Quick: Karma

- Fuck! That old lady was telling the truth! Look at these muscles!

I got picked on too much at school, I was the target of teasing from a guy named Jonathan. He had made my life miserable from the first second he met me, and from then on, hell hadn't stopped.

I would always stop at a magic stuff and esoteric store, just out of curiosity and because the stuff was really magical, that afternoon my eye was so swollen I couldn't even close it.

- Are you in trouble? Take this - An old woman who was as wrinkled as a raisin handed me what seemed to be a talisman, I denied, trying to give it back to her out of economic sense, she denied, closing my palm - It's a gift, you'll know when you use it.

She smiled softly, I headed for home. I felt my eye burn, so a mixture of emotions lodged in my heart, none of them pretty. They were all anger, hatred. Jonathan was an asshole, I wanted to make him pay, I needed that.

I felt the talisman start to heat up, almost to the point of burning my skin, I let out a gasp before sinking into darkness, I feared for my life, until I found myself in another room. I felt much heavier and stronger, I groped my way up until I found a mirror. Holy shit, isn't that right, I'm Jonathan now?! Just look at those muscles, guys will go crazy for me....

I was thinking of giving him a spoonful of his own medicine, but now I have a much better plan...

----

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

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

---

[lumeluashton]

Fraternity Fallout

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

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

Fraternity Fallout

— Dude!? Why are you in that athlete's body!?

— I don't know, dude! What the hell is going on!?

Both guys shouted as dawn broke.

Last night had been one of the best parties (or at least it was at the beginning) of Kappa Eros Lambda — ΚΕΛ, the typical university fraternity with so many athletes that protein oozed from the walls. It was a “welcome” party, looking for new members, athletes with huge muscles and little brains, millionaires with enough ego or a pretty face to fit in. Clearly, the “losers” like nerds and anyone outside the mainstream were completely out of the equation, it was one of the most controversial and scandal-ridden fraternities, but one of the most desirable to join on campus. So it was an open-door party, anyone could come in (another thing was whether they would let you join). The women weren't allowed for that night. 

— Dude. Are you sure this is a good idea? — Adam muttered, hiding in the bushes next to Rick, his best friend. Both were outcasts at university, left behind because of their thin appearance, pimples, and lack of social skills. They weren't even nerds because they weren't particularly intelligent either; they were simply rejected, in all their glory, but at least they always had each other.

— Sure. What can they do? Nothing, it's an open house party, that's the rule.

— But why do you want to go in, man? They're going to ignore us, maybe even kick us out.

— Or maybe not, don't be so pessimistic – he gave him a light tap on the shoulder – This is the closest we'll ever get to being part of a fraternity, come on.

Like the pair of friends, other guys had similar ideas. Although ΚΕΛ was trying to be as exclusive as possible in relation to its future athletes, they knew full well that these were few and far between, either because of their lack of interest in belonging to a fraternity or because they were already in one.

The athletes watched as “ordinary people” entered, and could only sneer at them.

— At least there are more millionaires this time – muttered Kendrew, one of the university's “star” athletes and, of course, one of the right-hand men of Jason, the president of ΚΕΛ.

— And most of them are skinnier than spaghetti. My girlfriend could lift more weight than they can.

He narrowed his eyes, somewhat irritated.

Nerds, athletes, and other normal types entered, despite the athletes' annoyance at their presence. The drinks kept flowing, and it seemed that rookies, future hopefuls, and ordinary people were coexisting peacefully, dancing, talking, some of them having more in common than they might have thought.

— No way! You really like that video game? – one of the athletes, part of the swim team, commented while talking to a random nerd.

— Yes! It's one of my favorite video games.

The music was loud, the pizzas were arriving in droves, and the atmosphere was totally crazy.

— Chug, chug, chug! – the athletes shouted as they held a nerd upside down, who had a system of tubes connected to him to drop the drink from a barrel above.

Even a professor and a campus security guard had to come and try to control the situation due to some anonymous complaints (probably from the nearby sororities or the student complex behind them). Until, at some point during the night, everyone seemed to completely forget what had happened, like a black hole that lasted until 5 a.m., with the first rays of sunlight.

— Uh… – Rick muttered, opening his eyes as best he could. His head was throbbing relentlessly, everything around him was blurry. Had he drunk too much last night?  Perhaps there was a complete void in his mind, as if the night had vanished from that moment to this. He looked around; most people had left the party, there was no one around him, the music was playing softly, there was trash everywhere, but most importantly, HE was still inside the house.

The athletes would kick him out at any moment, if they hadn't already hazing him in the process. He looked down at himself. There was nothing strange like flour, marker marks, or even a rope, but there were two strangely different things about him: pectorals. He was wearing a compression shirt and a kind of jumpsuit, completely different from what he had worn the night before. He moved as best he could toward the bathroom, feeling his center of gravity acting differently, bigger and heavier, even having trouble coordinating his legs. Until he finally reached the bathroom, he staggered forward and finally saw his reflection.

— Holy shit… – he muttered under his breath. He saw the reflection of Marco, a Latin American exchange student and athlete. He was an idiot; they had only accepted him at ΚΕΛ because he was the ideal image of a brainless athlete (that and perhaps because of the issue of “inclusion”). He leaned close to the mirror, caressing his cheekbones with an arrogant smile – Wow... I knew you were hot, Marco, but I didn't think you were this hot.

He said, caressing his pecs and squeezing them, unable to stop himself from letting out a soft gasp. He bit his lip and then flexed his new tools with force.

— Fuck! They look so great!

He flexed again and again. Rick had never had muscles, not even an ounce of them, so now having two huge arms accompanied by tremendous pecs was driving him crazy. He ended up taking out his new phone, posing for the camera with a silly expression on his face.

— But what a huge tongue, god!

Kendrew had already woken up a few hours ago, and of course he had already noticed the changes his body had undergone.

— Damn, man. I didn't think the calculus professor had such great attributes.

He commented as he posed in tiny underwear, accompanied by sunglasses and other accessories. Quentin, another athlete in the fraternity, looked at him with a smile and a raised eyebrow.

— It doesn't count if you put your own clothes on him, bro. He always wears baggy clothes; he dresses like a grandpa to teach class.

— It doesn't matter! He still hides these beauties – he said, flexing his biceps with an arrogant smile. He even kissed them.

— What are you getting so excited about? You're just as muscular.

Kendrew chuckled, bringing his hands to his pecs.

— Because it's totally different, man! Besides, Mr. Ritcher is a mature man. Don't tell me you don't see him during class. I've seen you drooling over him – he teased his friend lightly, before running his hand over the other's pecs – You're not bad.

— Pff. In the body of a guard?

— Don't be a crybaby! The guy's not bad at all, he's a real Latin hunk.

Kendrew managed to grab his friend by the waist and pull him closer, their breaths slow and steady against each other.

— Pff. You're lucky I like you – Quentin murmured before they pressed their lips together, saliva colliding and flowing everywhere as they seemed to devour each other.

The rest of the house was in chaos of the same kind, the nerds, jocks, and other attendees were swapped with each other, others couldn't find any trace of their original bodies, others were totally uninterested in the subject.

Like the entire fraternity swim team, which had been taken over by other normal guys, not nerds, but not popular either, just average guys from the dorm.

— What huge things... No wonder they're so arrogant – muttered Edwin, who had deliberately put on all his sports gear when he realized the change, weighing his pecs, wearing that tight speedo while showing off. The scent of musk, chlorine from the pool, and something else “saltier” permeated his muscular skin. As he watched other athletes in the same situation.

He didn't know them, but it was a miracle they weren't already kissing, given the way they were acting, their hands fidgeting from side to side, their occasional glances, that licking of lips and “careless” bouncing of their chests.

— Is anyone coming to swim?

The last “member” of the swim team mentioned, he had been exploring his arms for hours, caressing them, playing with the hair on his armpits while rubbing his fingers against his nose, soaking them in the scent. He felt so vigorous, as if he could swim four laps back and forth. Before, he had been extremely lazy when it came to exercise, but now, he had those strong arms and huge legs in the blink of an eye.

— Um... Honey. Are you sure you want to do this?

— Yes, yes. I already told you yes, hurry up.

Stacy looked up at her boyfriend, Jason. Or at least who she thought was the president of the fraternity, which had now been taken over by a nerd, not just any nerd. Steve had been teased countless times by Jason and Dylan (the body now inhabited by Stacy), so playing with the cheerleader, pretending to be her boyfriend, and getting revenge on the bodies that teased him tirelessly was like killing two birds with one stone (plus, he liked Dylan so much, even more so as he was now. On his knees, with a look between innocence and hunger).

— But...

— For the last time, I already told you. I'm secretly bisexual, and I'm fine with it. Just do it, I'm waiting for you, honey.

Steve murmured in Jason's deep voice. He loved hearing him talk like that, feeling his throat rumble in the presence of his new voice, all the power in his hands now that he was Jason.

The absolute president of ΚΕΛ. Later, he would discover the truth behind all this, but for now, he would enjoy the moment.

— Just like that… – he murmured, tangling his fingers in “Dylan's” hair – I knew you'd love it.

— Don't you think we should check on the students? – Mr. Robinson, the foreign language teacher, asked as he stood in a room of the house with two other men. From time to time, he checked out his new muscles. He liked how good they looked in the neon light that surrounded the place. It was a mess: full of cans, socks, sweaty uniforms, and magazines. It smelled strongly of sweat. It was quite stinky and smelly, but his colleagues seemed to have gotten used to it.

— Nah, they'll be fine – said the former Mr. Ritcher, who ironically ended up in Kendrew's body, as he scratched his balls, placing a sweaty sock against his face, inhaling it with a relaxed smile, as well as a large tent in his shorts – It's not even our problem anymore.

— But...

— Shhh! Will you guys shut up? I'm trying to get through this level – The former guard, who now inhabited one of the most muscular guys in the fraternity, was lying on the floor, controller in hand, not even bothering to put on more clothes than he had when he appeared in that body.

But the new Kendrew certainly liked to admire him while he played, the way he wiggled his hips every time he tried to make a move in the game.

— Do you think you could give me your socks? They look tight, let me take care of it...

But it wasn't just the fraternity where “problems” were occurring. In the student residence, things were also getting interesting.

— I always thought you were an idiot, but you've got good eyesight… – muttered Kyio, an athlete of Asian descent who had a strange feud with the guy he now saw in his reflection, Zack. Kyio was a boxing star, but Zack, the typical cocky skater with edgy vibes, made fun of him as much as he could, calling him a brainless gorilla, stinky, and other adjectives that only irritated the athlete. So now, finding himself in his body was quite an experience – Maybe I should get revenge for all your comments – he said to himself as his fingers cupped down there, then pulled them out to lightly inhale the scent, licking his lips. 

— I never dared to come out of the closet in my own body, but what if I do it in yours? I'm sure guys will go crazy for this – he said with a chuckle, caressing his new smooth abdomen.

Hopefully the new Kyio would feel comfortable with his body, because the new Zack was not willing to give up his for anything in the world.

— This can't be happening...

The real Jason muttered. He had ended up in the body of some random guy from college. His muscles had vanished, his model hair and posture had turned into messy strands of hair, thin arms, and a barely defined abdomen. His room, once filled with luxury items and designer clothes, had been replaced by simpler, smaller decor, typical of the tiny rooms in these residences.

But worst of all, he couldn't stop staring at his new feet for almost an hour. He had never been attracted to that subject, much less to other men. His tough guy attitude always came to the fore, but now he couldn't stop looking at those huge, temptingly sweaty and smelly feet. He wanted to touch them so desperately, to press them into his face to fill it with their stench, to fill his nose with that foul and yet delicious aroma.

— I must... I must resist – he swallowed hard in vain, unable to concentrate on anything other than those sweaty feet. 

The gym area was also chaotic, with sweat, sweaty singlets, and muffled grunts. Some were lifting weights, others were simply flexing their biceps, and others were about to go to the sauna room for “fun.”

Some didn't even bother to say their real names; it was as if they had taken on the identity of the person they were now inhabiting. Who would know who they really were? No one, there was no way to know or keep track of who was in which body, anyone could easily pretend, and the others would have no choice but to believe them. Sweaty, muscular athletes, bumping their faces with their armpits, enjoying their newly acquired power. As tempting as it was smelly...

— I knew you had such a delicious body… – Wyatt murmured, caressing his abs, letting his fingers slowly count them one by one. He lifted his armpit to inhale the stench, smiling – I think you stink even more than I do, buddy.

Because to be clear, of course that wasn't Wyatt, it was George. Another athlete who had no idea where his original body had ended up (probably in the hands of some scholarship genius who wanted to honor his old nationality).

But luckily for him, he had ended up in Wyatt's body. The guy he liked, he had never dared to say anything or even hint at it, he knew that fraternity environments were the least suitable for love to blossom between two guys. He wanted to have him all to himself, to feel his muscles, smell his armpits, feel those round buttocks that always showed through his gray pants when he went out running every morning, and now he had them, all to himself. Maybe not in the way he wanted, but hey, a prize is a prize.

Adam had woken up in a bathroom, the cold tile against his arms. He muttered a few things, opening his eyes when he felt the light hitting them, covering himself slightly, noticing how the size of his hands and the lightness of his fingers did not correspond to what he was used to.

— Rick?... – he asked into the air, although clearly no one answered. It was just him in that white space, the shower to one side, the toilet behind him, and the sink in front of him, and even more importantly, the mirror above it.

He stood up, having to lean on the ceramic, then found himself looking at the reflection of another guy, one who was foreign and unknown to him.

— Damn it! – he shouted. He brought his hands to his face, caressing it in disbelief. He knew this guy wasn't from ΚΕΛ, but from his bearing, he was surely one of the favorites to be selected – Yuck! Why don't athletes know what deodorant is? – he said, noticing the stench now coming from his new armpits. He looked back at the mirror, his confused expression turning into a smile.

— Shit, now I'm an athlete – he said, realizing the possibilities, or better yet, all the advantages that came with it. He flexed his biceps, made a couple of silly gestures in the mirror, and then weighed his pecs, playing with them.

— Wow. I think they're as big as a woman's – he said, laughing, bouncing them, squeezing them through that tank top, which was the only thing standing between him and his new babies.

He looked around again, and a mischievous smile formed as he looked at the showerhead. He began to take off everything he was wearing, except for his cap.

He let the water fall, feeling the drops slide down his muscles and dark complexion. He had always worn glasses, and they always looked bad on him. But now they looked so sexy, aviator style, so tempting.

— Now I'm a dumb, idiotic, muscular hunk – he muttered to himself, rubbing the water dripping down his thick pecs – You want to see me lick my armpits, buddy? Sure, who am I to refuse?

He lifted one armpit, stuck out his tongue, and began tracing a path through those stinky openings, enjoying the stench and the taste that lingered on his tongue, and even better: 

It was all his. No longer a loser or a nobody, he was now an extremely attractive guy with huge muscles and a face that could melt anyone he wanted. He got out of the shower, wrapped himself in a towel, and opened the door. He didn't expect to find anyone on the other side.

He must have been one of the applicants or a rookie, judging by how young he looked, but he seemed so focused on measuring his arms with the fingers of his other hand.

— Rick? – he asked. The guy looked up with a smile on his lips.

— No, pero puedo ser él si quieres – he said. That had been... Spanish? He didn't even bother to say anything else, he just left the room, trying to keep the towel in place.

He visited other rooms, finding almost the same result in all of them:

guys flexing their muscles, taking pictures, others kissing, some testing their strength, playing video games, talking to each other. In one room, he heard a lot of noise, like grunts and something wet hitting another surface, so he decided not to open the door. Other guys had tried on accessories they now had, like a guy of Asian descent who was wearing an anime outfit, probably some geek who had managed to get into that body.

He went downstairs, leaving behind the apparent wrestling team that kept flexing their muscles and smelling each other.

He was losing hope when he heard something coming from the living room. He noticed a dark-skinned guy wearing a singlet stuck between his pectorals. He was muscular, flexing his biceps while kissing them, licking his armpit, and running his huge tongue across the width of his new arms.

Adam had a hunch, slowly advancing toward the guy, who didn't even flinch at his presence, only focused on adoring himself.

— Rick? – he murmured.

The guy looked up, and there was a familiar gleam in his eyes.

— Adam?

— Dude!

But while the two of them were meeting, in the room above, another guy was quite focused on his reflection.

— Felix, Felix… – he smiled, looking at his legs, how strong they felt, how wet his socks felt from sweat. He played with what appeared to be a device, it looked like a phone. But it was something completely different, and the cause of all this mess – Now that I'm in your body, I don't think you can bother me anymore, do you?”

He stretched his feet to play with them, moving his new toes. He loved seeing himself in those expensive clothes, that sweat-soaked T-shirt and shorts, along with his smelly socks and sneakers. He wanted so badly to stick them up his nose and go crazy for hours. But talking to “the one who bothered him” was much more rewarding.

— Too bad that the whole organization you and your friends were so proud of is now in ruins, dominated by nerds, unpopular guys, and other outcasts.

He let out a mocking chuckle, as if the real Felix could hear him.

— Anyway. I hope you enjoy your just deserts.

He said, winking at the device, waving his stinky socks in the air before stamping them against his nose.

----

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

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

---

[lumeluashton]

Under The Table

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

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

Under The Table

A CORPUS.INC's story

— Mfffhhh!

He groaned as he struggled against whatever was holding him down. His gaze darted from side to side, but it was useless; he couldn't see anything, and he felt cold. What had they done to his clothes? Where was he?

— Subject 686 – a scientist in front of him said as he examined him and wrote down various things in his notebook, taking measurements of his pectorals, biceps, and other parts of his body. He even gave him a tug that made the guy groan and move more insistently. His breathing was heavy, growling and trying to pull more on his restraints.

— Who is this for? – Another voice emerged from the darkness (or at least what he perceived as darkness). He tried again to shout for help, but was completely ignored.

— I think it's for a college principal, I'm not sure. The report only says that he specifically asked for this one – he said, using his pen to poke him in the chest.

— Maybe it's a problem student. It's strange when they ask for someone specific.

— Yes, yes. Help me put the anesthesia on him. If he keeps fighting, he'll end up bruised, and they'll complain about the condition of the product.

In the same room, at the other end, a man was in the same situation. He had stopped fighting a few minutes ago and was simply lying still, breathing slowly, connected to some terminals and cables that led to a machine.

— Subject 100, name: Kenji Yoshida. Taken from a local gym. 

— A perfect specimen to add to the remote control catalog. Just a few adjustments left to make. We need to clear his mind so he can house another one in the process.

— And he won't remember anything at all. Right?

— Mm... — the scientist murmured, jotting down a couple of things — I'm afraid not.

— He won't remember anything?

— No, not that. Technically, he'll never be conscious again. Once we apply the procedure, he'll always need an external consciousness to function.

— I thought most rental bodies were only for people who volunteered for it.

— And that's how it is. Athletes in trouble, parents who want to pay the mortgage, guys with debts bigger than their muscles.

She said, moving forward. The sound of her heels hitting the floor, making the tiles echo as her gaze turned to another “experiment.”

— But we can't rely on that alone. Sometimes athletes are ‘absent’ for weeks and we're left with drunkards with potbellies – she said with a grimace – So, we look for places to get those vessels, add them to the catalog, and so on. You know, bureaucratic processes.

— But is that specified in the process?

— Not at all.

— But... But that's against policy.

— Oh, dear. You're new, aren't you?

— Um... Yes, intern program...

— Interesting. I think you should go to the training room first. I think they'll have something... peculiar to show you.

----

Hello everyone!

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

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

---

[lumeluashton]

I was working for one of the most influential companies in the world. Our company, held the keys to groundbreaking technology and coveted secrets that other corporations would stop at nothing to obtain.

It started like any other day. I arrived at work, and went to my desk. However, a rival company, hungry for our coveted secrets, had devised a plan through the use of cutting-edge body swapping technology, they infiltrated the Company.

I was going about my duties when suddenly, a janitor that came to empty my trash can locked my office door and grew a menacing smile. Before I knew it I was knocked out.

When I awoke, I was bound to a chair. I was met with the site of my own body stood over a computer downloading something off of it. My body noticed that I was awake and turned to me. The imposter gloated, taunting me with my own body,

"You have a great frame, it's going to be a shame I only get to spend such a short time in here" the imposter said, tracing his hands across my body slightly moaning. "One of the side effects of the body swapping machine is increased arousal, you'll see soon" he said with a smirk as he motioned to the large boner beneath the Janitors jumpsuit I was now wearing. The imposter in my body turned and purposefully sat on the desk causing my body's butt to be in my face as he continued downloading information.

I began to fight the restraints, and I heard the door creaked open as my boss entered into the room.

"Stop! He's stealing our information and he swapped me into this body!" I pleaded, my voice hoarse with urgency.

For a fleeting moment, a flicker of concern crossed my boss's face. But before I could exhale a sigh of relief, his features contorted into a wicked grin.

"Oh, I'm well aware," he said, his voice dripping with malice.

My heart sank as he turned to face the imposter in my body, who stood beside him with a smug grin plastered across his face. I watched as my boss began to sloppily make out with my body.

"You're too late, we've got your boss as well and I already finished in his office" my boss said with a sinister smile. "How much longer til you're finished in here" the imposter in my bosses body asked my former body.

"About 10 minutes" the imposter in my body reported.

"Plenty of time" my boss replied as he began to unbuckle his belt.

[lumeluashton]

Gerardo Sacco

[lumeluashton]

CAP Program ~ Frank/Jaewon pt. 2

The Cultural Appreciation Program (CAP for short) is a program used as punishment for racial based discrimination in the workplace.

Frank woke up with a gasp, the harsh buzz of overhead lights echoing in the sterile CAP lab.

“What the hell—” he blurted out, but the words that escaped his mouth weren’t in English.

“뭐야?!”

He blinked, startled. He could think in English, but whenever he tried to speak, fluent Korean came out instead. It was jarring—like his brain and body were working against each other.

“Welcome to the Seoul CAP facility,” an attendant greeted him in Korean. “The transfer is complete. You’ll be escorted to your assigned residence shortly.”

That was all he got before being ushered into the city, his head spinning as he adjusted to the smaller, leaner frame he now inhabited. Jaewon’s body. The guy he’d swapped with as punishment for harassing a Korean coworker back in the States. Frank had expected something… educational, maybe humbling. He didn’t expect to be dropped into the middle of Seoul, unable to speak English, wearing someone else’s skin.

When he got to Jaewon’s compact apartment, the culture shock deepened. The apartment was minimal, the toilet had more buttons than a car, and the kitchen was… confusing. Desperate to get his bearings, he unlocked Jaewon’s phone.

That’s when he found the BlushFans app.

At first, he thought it was spam—until he opened it and saw dozens of high-quality photos and videos. All of him. Or rather, Jaewon’s body—shirtless, posing, flexing, winking at the camera. Comments and messages poured in: “Can’t wait for the next livestream 😍” and “You’re so hot, oppa.”

Frank nearly dropped the phone.

“Wait… he’s a—? I’m a—?!”

“나는… 뭐야…” he muttered aloud, frustrated that even now, he couldn’t say what he was thinking.

Jaewon wasn’t just a CAP volunteer—he was a gay BlushFans star. And Frank, like it or not, had just inherited the job.

As he stared at himself in the mirror—slimmer, smooth-skinned, undeniably attractive—he realized with a sinking feeling that this was his life now. No language. No familiarity. No privacy.

And the first live stream? Scheduled for tomorrow night.

[lumeluashton]

CAP Program ~ Frank/Jaewon pt. 1

The Cultural Appreciation Program (CAP for short) is a program used as punishment for racial based discrimination in the workplace.

When Jaewon opened his eyes, the world felt strange and heavy.

The buzzing of the fluorescent lights above him mixed with the sterile chill of the CAP lab. He sat up slowly, feeling an unfamiliar weight in his chest and arms. A calm voice crackled over the intercom:

“Welcome, Jaewon. You are in the Cultural Appreciation Program facility in Oregon. Your swap is complete. Please remain seated while final scans are processed.”

It was real. After months of applications, screenings, and training sessions, his first CAP assignment had begun. He’d signed up for the program out of curiosity—a chance to experience life in a different body, a different country. The idea felt like something out of a science fiction novel, but here he was, living it.

And now he was inside the body of a young American man named Frank, sentenced to the program after harassing a Korean coworker at his job. Jaewon had no connection to the victim. He had simply been next in line.

He moved his hands—large, pale, veined. Powerful. Flexing his arms, he could feel the muscle under his skin, the strength that wasn’t his but now somehow was. He stood, catching a glimpse of himself in a wall mirror: tousled brown hair, sharp jawline, broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his tight brown tee. He lifted it and marveled at the sculpted abs beneath.

This body was athletic, attractive—nothing like his leaner, quieter frame back home.

A CAP assistant soon entered the room and handed him a phone and a small welcome packet. “You’ll find all your information inside. You have full access to Frank’s apartment, employment history, and spending account. We recommend laying low for the first couple of days as you adjust.”

“감사합…” he began instinctively—but stopped. That wasn’t right. What came out of his mouth sounded like: “Thank you.”

He blinked.

“Can I… speak Korean?” he asked, testing it again. “Annyeong—wait. Wait…” He tried again, and again English came out. In his mind, he could still think in Korean—he could hear the words clearly in his head—but his mouth didn’t follow.

“What the hell…” he muttered, then laughed nervously. “Okay, that’s weird.”

Language override. He remembered them mentioning this in orientation—something about the brain adapting to the vocal patterns and reflexes of the host body. But he didn’t expect it to feel so… disorienting. To think in Korean but only speak English? It made everything feel even more surreal.

As he began heading outside, the cultural shock hit him full force. People greeted him casually, without hesitation or suspicion. At the coffee shop down the street, the barista smiled brightly at him. “What can I get for you today?”

Jaewon hesitated, expecting to stutter—but the words came easily, naturally, with an American accent.

“Uh… just a black coffee. Medium.”

“Coming right up!”

He took a seat by the window, watching people pass on the sidewalk. In Korea, he’d grown used to second glances, judgmental looks, the occasional muttered comment. Here, he was just another guy. No one stared. No one whispered. It was peaceful in a way that almost felt unfair.

He looked down at his reflection in the glass. This wasn’t just a swap of skin. It was a swap of privilege. Of perception. Of freedom.

And as he sipped his coffee, flexed his new fingers, and listened to his thoughts swirl in Korean inside a mouth that only spoke English, Jaewon found himself smiling.

He didn’t want to go back.

[lumeluashton]

Shadows of the Soul: Part 1

Victor Kane had always been a creature of shadows, even before the iron bars of Blackridge Penitentiary tried to cage him. Convicted for a string of depraved acts that made even hardened criminals whisper in disgust—seducing, corrupting, and discarding men like used toys—he was the kind of pervert who reveled in the taboo. Gay to his core, Victor's desires were a twisted vortex, pulling in anyone unfortunate enough to catch his eye. But prison had given him more than scars; it had gifted him forbidden knowledge. In the dim glow of smuggled grimoires, he'd learned black magic from a dying inmate, mastering the art of soul transference—swapping bodies with a mere incantation and a touch.

His escape was messy, born of desperation after a botched riot. Victor slipped through the chaos, cloaked in a stolen guard's uniform, but hubris was his undoing. In a dingy motel on the outskirts of town, high on freedom and adrenaline, he couldn't resist logging into an old hookup app under his real name. "Victor Kane, back in action," he'd typed, attaching a selfie that screamed his identity. The alerts went off like fireworks; cops swarmed within hours. Sirens wailed as he bolted into the night, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and exhilaration. "Fools," he muttered, weaving through alleyways, his muscular frame—tattooed and scarred from years inside—propelling him forward. But the net was closing; flashlights pierced the darkness, shouts echoed: "Kane! Stop or we'll shoot!"

Rain-slicked streets led him to the old stone church on Elm Street, its steeple a jagged finger accusing the stormy sky. Victor burst through the heavy oak doors, gasping, his clothes torn and soaked. The sanctuary was dimly lit by flickering candles, the air thick with incense and sanctity—a stark contrast to the hell he'd fled. He collapsed against a pew, chest heaving, when a soft voice cut through the silence.

"Easy there, son. You're safe here." The priest emerged from the shadows of the altar, a man in his early thirties, with an intelligent face. His eyes—deep, brown pools framed by long lashes—held a kindness that could melt stone, but Victor's perverted mind twisted it instantly: *Those eyes would look incredible gazing up during a blowjob, pleading and eager.* Father Elias Hawthorne, as his name tag read, wore simple black robes that hinted at a lean, athletic build beneath. He approached without fear, his hand extended. "The police? They're outside, but this is God's house. I won't let them take you without hearing your story. Sanctuary means something here."

Victor smirked inwardly, his dark magic humming in his veins like electricity. The cops hammered on the door, demanding entry. "He's dangerous, Father! Open up!" Elias stood firm, barring the way. "Not until we talk. Everyone deserves a chance at redemption." Victor rose, feigning gratitude, his hand clamping onto the priest's shoulder in what seemed like a thankful grip. But under his breath, he whispered the ancient words: *Anima mutare, corpus trade.* A surge of ethereal energy crackled between them, invisible to all but the participants. In an instant, souls ripped free—Victor's perverse essence flooding into Elias's body, while the priest's pure spirit was thrust into the convict's hulking form.

The swap was seamless, disorienting. Victor blinked through new eyes—Elias's eyes—adjusting to the glasses, the lighter frame, the unfamiliar surge of... innocence? He looked down at his former body, now inhabited by the bewildered priest, who staggered back, staring at his tattooed hands in horror. "What... what have you done? This isn't me!"

The doors burst open then, cops flooding in with guns drawn. Victor, in the priest's body, pointed dramatically at the hulking figure. "Officers! Thank God you're here. That's him—Victor Kane! He forced his way in, threatened me!"

"No! Wait!" The real Elias, trapped in Victor's body, lunged forward, eyes wide with panic. "I'm Father Elias! He's done something—switched us! Please, believe me! I'm the priest!" His voice, now deep and gravelly, cracked with desperation as handcuffs snapped around his wrists. The cops dragged him away, ignoring his pleas as ravings of a madman. "It's black magic! He's the monster! Listen to me!"

As the sirens faded into the distance, Victor—now Elias—stood alone in the empty church, a wicked grin spreading across his borrowed face. He adjusted the glasses, running a hand down the robes, feeling the smooth skin beneath. *Oh, the things I'll do with this body,* he thought, his mind already swirling with depraved plans. Corrupting a priest's form? Turning sanctity into sin? The possibilities were endless, delicious... and just beginning.

[lumeluashton]

Formerly Man’s Best Friend

Raphael only adopted me because his ex girlfriend, Lainey, always wanted a puppy. The couple of young lovebirds treated me like their child. But deep down I knew Raph always hated the name she gave me, Nug. Lainey loved chicken nuggets and thus I was named Nug for short. When the pair broke up, Raph was adamant to fight to keep me just to make his her suffer. It nearly broke me seeing Lainey so sad when she walked away for the last time. Raphael threatened legal action to keep me, knowing full well she couldn’t afford a lawyer.

A month had gone by and I was holding on by the skin of my teeth. Raphael neglected me rarely feeding me, often only refilling my water everyday but not my food bowl. I had been living off scraps for a while. This was it, I didn’t think there was much whimpering I could do to save myself anymore. That’s when a knock came at the door.

After a knock turned into a pound on the door, Raph lazily made his way to answer it.

“Sir we got several complaints about concerns of negligence of an animal here.” the disembodied voice said in the distance.

“Negligence? Who put you up to this? Was it that bitch Lainey?”

“Sir we need to take a look inside the home.”

Two men barreled their way in and saw me lying in the ground. When they saw me I saw them dart toward Raphael. That’s when I finally passed out. Was this how it all ends?

I could feel myself hard like I am every-time I rest well. I didn’t want to open my eyes and face another day without food, choosing to revel in my lustful arousal. Trying to hump my soft dog bed I tried to dig my flat face into the bed when I realized I was lying down on a bed with pillows. My beds a little mat though….did I sleep on Raphs bed? He’s gonna kill me. I tried to get up quickly before he would notice when I realized nothing felt right. Opening my eyes confirmed the issue.

“Wha-how?” I stopped the thoughts as words came out of my new voice box. I quickly like a reflex grabbed at my throat with my calloused hands, instead of paws.

I stood up and looked at my legs, a thin piece of fabric the only thing concealing the full Monty from my vision. Clumsily I tried to stand up and begin making my way to the nearby restroom.

Fumbling with the light switches on the wall, I couldn’t help but gaze around the parts of the room I had never seen from down below. I found the shower and turned on the hot water. The steam pushing me over the edge as I realized my curious dog nature mixed with my arousal. I couldn’t help myself as I began huffing my new human form. Sniffing became licking, kissing, and sucking my new smooth and hairless skin. My attention was increasingly being drawn down below as the water made the scene hotter, literally.

I moved one calloused hand down to grip my new humanhood as I squeezed my inflated chest with the other. Suddenly it was making sense why Raph would come in here sometimes and I’d hear him groaning. I moved my meaty paw hard and fast. Like father like fur baby I guess, animalistic shouts erupted from my new human throat. I wanted to go faster and faster until it crept up and eventually needed to be released. Unhhhffahhhh yessss! I couldn’t help myself I didn’t close the door to the stall and erupted all over the walls and floors. My canine inquisitive nature overtook Raph’s and I licked the nearest wall clean.

No clothes felt so free and so right. I let the air dry me as I graced the inanimate walls with my bare form. I picked up Raph’s phone he was always preoccupied using instead of feeding and caring for me. Hours were lost figuring out how to use the device but as I eventually picked up enough insight on how to use it, I made my way onto social apps. Timelines and posts were overwhelming. But these apps with pictures and swiping were much easier to take in.

I clicked around some App Stores and found other apps with just pictures and squares. That was even easier than the swiping. I took a picture to set up an account and left the other info blank. Within seconds the grid lit up with people reacting and sending me messages. I guess I was popular.

There was something that got me really excited about this one profile with these nice drawings on his arms. He kinda looked like Raph too and I liked that. Maybe humans came with doppelgängers and I found his! I sent him my location and told him to hurry over. I put on a hat to be more presentable when a knock came at the door.

He was wearing clothes and looked shocked but very visibly happy when he saw me. He must’ve been happy to find his twin too! He came at me with such animalistic energy. He put his mouth on mine kinda like Raph and Lainey used to. I returned the action as we danced our tongues around each others.

He started to get undressed but I was so excited I helped him and probably ripped his shirt. But he didn’t seem to mind if anything he seemed to like my initiative. I got ambitious and picked him up before placing him on the nearby kitchen counter. He stopped the moment to say he’s never been handled like this and he wanted to remember it.

Snapping a pic, he captured the moment before I laid him back and we went…..over….and overrrrrr again. All night. I just wanted to go rounds and rounds. But he got tired after the third and just passed out. On the bright side he’s great to cuddle with.

[lumeluashton]

An Intense Workout

[lumeluashton]

We Need to Go to Your Apartment Now

[lumeluashton]

Body swap idea:

Younger brother is jealous of his older brother (who's a popular jock, Captain of the football team, handsome, tall and beefy). After all, he is short, skinny like a pole, and plain looking. The only positive thing the younger brother have, in his own opinion, was his massive dick.

Yet, he was so jealous, he wishes he could swap bodies with his older brother. Which seems like a dream come true until he looks inside his pants, and realizes his brother not only wasn't hung, but was outright tiny.

The older brother is completely okay with the swap, due to this.

The Jealous Younger Brother

From the moment Eliot could walk, he was in Grant’s shadow.

Grant, two years older, seemed designed by nature to be admired: tall, broad, athletic, with the kind of easy smile that made people forgive him for anything. Captain of the football team, adored by teachers and worshipped by classmates, Grant ruled the school without even trying. His teammates called him “the natural,” the girls swooned, and even the guys respected him.

There were even rumors. Whispers in locker rooms and giggles in the bleachers — that Grant was hung like a horse. It made sense to everyone: the golden boy must be golden everywhere.

Eliot wasn’t so sure, but he had no proof either way. And secretly, that rumor stung the most. Because the only thing Eliot had ever been proud of was the huge endowment that he carried around. If the rumors about Grant were true, then what did that leave Eliot with? Nothing.

At sixteen, Eliot was short, thin, and plain, a background extra in Grant’s movie-star life. The only thing he had to cling to was the one secret trait no one could see.

But it wasn’t enough.

One Saturday night, their parents out of town, Grant threw a party. Teammates filled the living room, music pounded, and cheerleaders clung to his arms. Eliot hovered in the kitchen, ignored as usual, watching his brother soak up attention like sunlight.

When he slipped away upstairs, Eliot flopped onto his bed, seething.

Why him? Why does Grant get everything? If I had his body, his face, his muscles… I’d finally matter.

He whispered into the dark: “I wish I was Grant. I wish I was in his body.”

And the universe — cruelly or kindly — granted his wish.

Eliot woke heavy. His arms, his chest, his whole body felt different. He staggered to the bathroom, flipped on the light — and gasped.

Grant stared back at him in the mirror.

The square jaw, the broad chest, the beefy shoulders — it was all his. Eliot flexed, watching muscles ripple. He pulled off his shirt and ran his hands over abs. He laughed, a deep, rich sound that felt amazing in his throat.

He had done it. He was Grant.

Then curiosity struck. Nervously, eagerly, Eliot tugged down the waistband of Grant’s shorts.

His grin collapsed.

What he saw was… small. Shockingly small. Nowhere near the monster the school had always whispered about. The “horse” everyone imagined was just a myth. Grant — the perfect Grant — was tiny.

And Eliot’s pride, the one thing that made him feel better about himself, was gone.

Grant, now stuck in Eliot’s skinny frame, didn’t even look upset. When Eliot confronted him, he actually chuckled.

“You’re me now, huh?” Grant said, flexing Eliot’s twig arms in the mirror. “Damn. I look like I’d snap in a breeze.”

“You’re not angry?” Eliot asked.

Grant shrugged. “Why would I be? You get the spotlight, the pressure, the practices, all that crap. I could use a break. And…” His smirk widened as he adjusted Eliot’s waistband, clearly aware of the size he now carried. “…if this is the trade, I think I’m the one who won.”

Eliot’s stomach sank.

At school, being Grant was intoxicating. High fives in the hall, cheerleaders on his arm, teachers calling on him with smiles. Eliot walked taller than ever, finally basking in the attention he’d always craved.

But the cracks showed fast.

In the locker room, changing before football practice, Eliot tried to keep to himself. But guys noticed. A few side-eyes, a few muffled laughs. “Hey, guess Grant’s not as big as the rumors said,” one teammate whispered.

Eliot’s face burned. The dream body came with a humiliating secret.

And then came something even more confusing.

During practice, as sweat poured down his broad chest and teammates slapped him on the back, Eliot felt a strange heat in his groin. A teammate bent over in front of him, and to his horror, his tiny borrowed cock stiffened in his shorts.

His eyes widened. No. No way. This isn’t me.

But it wasn’t him. It was Grant.

That was when Eliot realized another truth: his brother wasn’t just carrying the burden of captaincy and perfection. He was closeted, hiding a part of himself Eliot had never suspected.

The proof hit minutes later. As the team was filing off the field, one of the senior linebackers — tall, cocky, with a grin that suggested secrets — walked right up to Eliot. Before he could react, the guy grabbed him by the face and kissed him, hard and fast, like it was nothing new.

Eliot froze, the kiss lingering just long enough for everyone else to look away like they’d seen it before.

Then the guy leaned in, lips brushing Eliot’s ear. “Can’t wait to fuck that ass later tonight,” he whispered.

Eliot’s knees almost buckled. His stomach turned. Not only had he inherited Grant’s body — he’d inherited Grant’s secret boyfriend too.

The kiss on the field haunted Eliot the rest of the day. His face still burned when the linebacker — Connor, he finally remembered the name — shot him little smirks in the hallway. By the time practice ended, Eliot’s nerves were fried.

When he tried to duck out of the locker room, Connor was waiting. “Come on, babe. My place.” He said it with such casual authority, as if they’d been doing this forever — which, Eliot realized, they had. At least, Grant had.

Eliot stammered, trying to come up with an excuse, but Connor slung an arm around his broad shoulders and steered him toward the parking lot. No one blinked. No one looked surprised.

At Connor’s apartment, Eliot’s heart raced as the door clicked shut. Connor pressed him against the wall, kissing him deep, and Eliot’s mind screamed in panic. This wasn’t him. He didn’t want this. But his body… Grant’s body… betrayed him. The tiny cock in his borrowed shorts twitched, stiffening as Connor’s hands slid lower.

“You’re already hard for me,” Connor whispered against his lips, smug. “Knew you’d be begging for it tonight.”

Eliot’s stomach churned. He had wanted Grant’s life so badly — and now he was living parts of it he had never imagined.

Meanwhile, across town, Grant was sprawled comfortably on the couch in Eliot’s skinny frame, phone buzzing with notifications. He’d discovered just how much of a reputation Eliot’s endowment carried, and he wasn’t shy about flaunting it.

He sent out teasing selfies, jeans bulging obscenely. Girls who had never given Eliot the time of day were suddenly blowing up his inbox. And Grant was loving every second of it.

“You wanted my life,” Grant muttered with a smirk, snapping another picture of Eliot’s new “gift.” “Guess I wanted yours more.”

The weeks that followed locked Eliot into a double life.

By day, he was “Grant,” the golden boy, captain, the leader everyone admired. By night, he was trapped in Grant’s secret, expected to meet Connor, to kiss him, to let Connor’s hands roam further each time. Every protest died on Eliot’s lips when Connor pressed against him, because Grant’s body responded even when Eliot’s mind rebelled.

And every time, Connor whispered the same filthy promises: “Can’t wait to fuck that ass again.” “You’re mine, Grant.”

Eliot would lie awake afterward, staring at the ceiling, humiliated. The one part of himself he had treasured was gone, replaced by a body that dragged him into situations he’d never wanted.

Grant, on the other hand, thrived. He wore Eliot’s skinny frame with surprising confidence, using his massive size below the belt like a weapon. He didn’t even need the captain title or the muscles anymore — Eliot’s body was infamous now, and Grant leaned into it, turning Eliot’s old insecurities into his own playground.

Eliot knew there was no going back. Grant would never trade again. Why would he? He’d escaped the pressure of perfection, the locker room whispers, the burden of secrets.

And Eliot? He was left with the glory, the muscles, the attention — and the humiliating truth hiding beneath it all.

The golden boy’s life came with strings Eliot had never seen. And now, tangled in them, he finally understood: envy hadn’t given him freedom. It had only built a prettier cage.

[lumeluashton]

[lumeluashton]

Eyes on the Prize

Oh shit! Oh shit! I better get back before Sean starts looking for his dad… I mean me! Don’t want him coming in here and seeing his naked cum-soaked dad next to one of his passed out classmates do we?

I’ve been crushing on his dad ever since the first time I saw him come in for a parental meeting. With that bearded face, tatted arms and masculine scent - I just knew I had to have that sexy body of his right then and there.

Thankfully my opportunity came as he decided to come and spectate one of Sean’s basketball matches. Tricking and locking him into the empty locker room, he stood no chance as I jumped on him, forced him into a kiss and injected him with some sedatives. Was the kiss necessary? No… but I just had to know at least once how it felt to be on the receiving end of those lips. After all, they would soon be mine.

Dragging his heavy unclothed body onto the middle of the tiled floor, I laid myself next to him and began the ritual I had prepared for ages. With my hand wrapped around his hairy thick cock, and forcing his big hand to grasp my twig-like member, I began jerking us both off in tandem while chanting. And as soon as I saw his big balls scrunch up I readied myself too - making it so we both shot our loads at the same time. I barely had time to get a breather before we both began shaking violently - a seizure-like motion running through us. I felt myself slowly slide to the side, not physically but spiritually. As did he…

Soon enough, as the world had finished shaking and my vision cleared, I found myself looking up at the locker room roof through new eyes and my rugged hands running through my hairy chest. Our souls had just been irreversibly switched. His soul - stuck in a skinny young boy’s body, and mine - forever occupying this sexy hairy dad bod. I still felt a little bit groggy, but thankfully most of the sedatives had transferred over to my former body.

I spent the next five minutes getting my motor functions back, ten minutes of flexing in front of my reflection, and a further twenty minutes… moaning in the showers before returning back to watch the rest of Sean’s match.

About fifteen minutes passed before a naked skinny boy came running into the gymnasium - screaming about how he couldn’t remember where or who he was. The teachers concluded that he must have slipped and fallen in the showers, before dragging him away to the nursery. While all that happened the only thing I could do was grin and try my hardest at preventing the tent in my pants from showing…

[lumeluashton]

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

Mr. Perfect

Mr. Congeniality

Mr. Know It All

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

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

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

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

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

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